#stay as far away as u possibly can from the coast

[toofypigeon]

went to draw at the beach and a big wave went right over me and all my stuff. Now my sketchbook is a soggy mess and the sea emptied 3ink bottles ...

i managed to finish it tho and the lifeguard came and took a photo :)

[fruvittea]

hi can u write an angsty love triangle with jake and jay from enhypen pls <3

whispers in the rain ✧˚ · . part one

— ✺ pairing: jay x reader x jake

— ✺ genre: slice of life, angst, suggestive, fluff, childhood best friend, love triangle, college au, slow burn

— ✺ synopsis: jay is your childhood best friend. that’s all he will ever be. a summer with jay and his friends changes how you feel for him when jake comes into your life. and jay begins to think that was a mistake.

— ✺ warnings: for this part none so far

— ✺ word count: 1.6k

— ✺ authors note! hi thank you so much for reading, this is my first fic with multiple parts that i will be writing hope you guys like it :)

part 1 | part 2

Ever since you bumped heads with Jay in the 3rd grade you two have been inseparable since. Both your mothers had thought you two would end up getting married. That is not the case. Friends are what you are and what you will remain to be. Jay has never shown any romantic feelings for you. As cold as he may seem to be, you never felt the possibility of him feeling more for you. After all, he dated girls left and right. And none of them were the one in his eyes.. So what made you think that you were? Having a long time crush on a friend can be exhausting and at some point it becomes embarrassing. So by the time you and Jay graduated that was when the feelings were stored deep away. Never to be seen again.

“You know you really should get out there…get to know some people.” Is what your friends would say. Telling you to not mope about Jay if you weren’t going to do anything about it.

They were right. But you were stubborn. Of course you weren’t going to do anything about your crush. But you didn’t want to let go of your feelings for him. There was just a sliver of hope left in you.

“Okay fine I’ll explore other options.” You lied.

That was two years ago. Now, you're in your 2nd year of college going into your 3rd. No significant other. Just pointless dates that never went anywhere. Jay on the other hand was thriving hundreds of miles away from you. You hated the fact that he occupied your mind every now and then. Every so often the two of you would talk on the phone, just to catch up. Nothing further. You two hadn’t seen each other since summer. And you did miss your best friend.

It was towards the end of finals. You were studying for the last one. Last one and then you were free. Eyes glued to the computer you focused on the endless number of lessons you missed.

ring ring ring

Turning towards your phone charging on the bed side table you noticed that Jay’s name was on the screen. Studying can wait. You picked up the phone bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, what are you doing for summer?”

“Nothing yet…why?”

“Come with me to the East Coast. You remember the beach house my parents own? I’m inviting a few friends to stay. I think you’ll like them. It’ll be for half the summer, maybe longer if we feel like it.”

Your eyes widened. “This is so sudden. I don’t know if I can. I mea-”

“My mom talked to yours’, she said you were free.”

You blinked. Of course she did. “Okay, well, then consider me there.”

“Perfect, see you then.” He hung up

You stretched your hands before continuing to type away. But the sudden invite did cause you to stray away from focusing on your studies. Who were the few other friends? When were you leaving? Where were you staying? This took over your mind. What a great way to distract you from studying.

next day

“So he just asked you to stay with him in the East Coast during the summer?”

“Yeah.”

“Just you two?”

“No.”

“Oh. Bummer.” You were telling your one (and only really) friend Amara. You two decided to go to the same college after graduation and have been close since.

“You’re still so hung up on him. Like why don’t you just confess. It’ll be good to get the rejection out of the way.” She said doing her school work.

You lifted your head from the desk. “Well it’s not that easy. And also rejection is the whole point. I don’t want to be even though I know I will be.”

“You needa figure this out. It’s been years. And when I say years I mean YEARS.”

You roll your eyes at your friend burning holes into your body as she stares you down. “Yeah.” You sigh. She’s right.

“Well, I’m leaving next week once I get back home.” You say continuing your work.

“Really? That sudden?”

“Yup, he texted me last night letting me know the extra details. He’s mentioned before that his family has a beach house and I’ve never been invited until today. It’s in Delaware, of all places.”

“Ohhh his daddy’s got money I see.”

You chuckle at her statement. “I am excited though.”

“Who knows things may change between you two. And for the better.”

“Mmm I highly doubt it, but a girl can only hope.”

“You gotta stop being so hard on yourself y/n, really.”

time skip

You wiped the hair out of your face as you got the last of your things together. Two carry ons and one large backpack. It didn’t seem like enough. But it was going to have to do. Besides, some shopping out there wouldn’t hurt. The screen of your phone lit up.

I’m here. The text was from Jay. He wanted to pick you up for your guy's flight.

As you were getting ready to haul everything to the car you heard the footsteps of your mom getting closer and closer. “Honey, you ready?”

“Yes, I am just about to load everything into the car.”

“You know I won’t be mad if something happens between you and Jay.”

“Mom, enough. It’s not like that.”

“You might say so, but I see how that boy looks at you.”

“Well you’re wrong. Can you please help me?” A second pair of footsteps came closer.

knock knock

“Hi Mrs. L/n. Hi y/n.” It was Jay. Did he hear the whole conversation between you and your mom? You cursed yourself silently as he came up to you engulfing you in a hug. His scent reaching your nose, intoxicating you.

“Wow, you smell good.” He said pulling away. His tone was almost nervous.

You try not to blush. “Thank you, I guess. I didn’t even put anything on yet. I was actually about to say the same for you.”

“There’s no need to for you.” The two of you stood there for a second, his eyes to the ground yours on him, before your mom cleared her throat. Indicating for you two to get moving.

“Oh right, I’ll take these, we’re going to be late.” He picked up the two carry ons, one in each hand, in a rushed manner.

“Have fun you two!” Your mom shouted from the driveway before Jay sped off in his car.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet. Something was on his mind you could tell. Glancing over to the man you noticed his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tight.

“So,” he broke the silence, “how have you been?”

“Oh, uh, I’ve been good, just tired from studying for finals.” You sigh.

“Tell me about it. But don’t worry our trip will take the weight off your shoulders. There are some people I’d like you to meet. I think you guys will click pretty well.”

You kept silent. Hopefully. You noticed from the corner of your eye him turning his head toward you a couple times.

“Hey, are you good, you’re pretty quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m good just tired, I woke up early to pack.”

He smiled. “Of course you did. Always been the same since high school.”

You lightly laughed before closing your eyes while he drove to the airport. Jay noticed your body slump. He gave you one last look before continuing to focus on the road.

“Y/n…Y/N. It’s time to wake up, I’ve already parked.” His voice so delicate as if he was trying to put you back to sleep. You opened your eyes, Jay’s face was inches from your trying to make sure you were going to wake up.

“Come on sleeping beauty, we gotta go.” You finally process where you are while getting out of the car. You both grab your stuff and head to the terminal. All of your belongings stacked up nicely into the cart, both tickets in your hand while Jay pushed the cart. The two of you made your way to the terminal after security.

“The gate is this way.” Jay walks ahead of you towards a group of young guys. You cautiously walk behind your friend. Meeting people has always been difficult, now meeting a group of guys? This was going to be a long trip. Jay turns around motioning for you to walk faster. Finally reaching the group of guys you made eye contact with the lot of them. They were all cute for lack of better words.

“These are my friends from college. Jungwon, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Niki, Heesung, and Jake.”

They all gave you a wave or smile, kindly introducing themselves to you. You took in the presence of the group fixating on- what was his name? Jake? He was pretty.

“So you’re y/n? Jay always talks about you, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jake.” The tall man makes his way to you reaching out his hand for you to shake it. His eyes meeting yours, there was a sort of sparkle to them. He seemed interesting.

“It’s nice to meet you too --all of you.” You smile trying to hide your nervousness. Suddenly the announcement for the flight surrounded the terminal.

“Okay shall we get on the plane?” Jay gave a smile before having everyone walk over.

“Jay switch with me, I wanna get to know Y/n more.” You heard Jake whisper to Jay. You could see Jay’s smirk from the corner of your eye.

“Okay, here ya go,” he exchanges the ticket with Jake.

You walk up past them a bit, acting oblivious to the conversation.

“Hey, y/n. Looks like we’re sitting next to each other.” He flashed his ticket to you with a smile on his face.

“Oh nice, we can get to know each other.” You smile back. You were hoping to sit with Jay but his pretty friend will do.

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

💌 pm me if you want to be on the tag list

[ilydeku]

fortune cookie | izuku x reader

"Hey excuse me." Your father sticks his hand up, signaling to the viridescent haired boy almost passing by. He stops, making his way over to your table. The faint smell of sweet cologne allured you.

"Yes, how can I help you, sir?"

"My daughter here thinks you're really cute-"

"DAD!" You sink down in your seat, your hands quickly covering your flushed face. How embarassing. You can't believe how he could even say that out of nowhere. You've never even mentioned anything about any oc the waiters in the resteraunt, though you'd be lying if you said you weren't keeping an eye on this particular one.

"Oh?" The boy turns to you with a smile. "What's your name?" The only response he got was you sinking lower, under the table and out of view, hands glued to your face. Never in your life have you had the urge to die the very moment.

"Her name is Y/n," your father replies for you.

"Pretty name. Nice to meet you, y/n!" He walks away to his next task while father laughs at your current state. He pushes a plate of food over as some kind of apology and smiles.

"Dad whyy?" You crawl out from under the table as the coast was clear, laughing along with him.

"What? You can't stay alone by yourself you know."

"What's with this now? You've always kept me far away from boys."

"Well, that boy looks like he got something in him. I can feel it."

.

After the wonderful meal, your father called for the check. You relaxed and leaned against the back rest of the chair, full and satisfied. Two fortune cookie were brought along with the check. Curious, you opened up the one given to you just to read the silly fortune.

'You will know it when you see it. It will know you when it sees you.'

"Pshh." You were about to discard the slip of paper when a figure in the background catches your eye, the same waiter that you were embarrassed in front of. You almost considered running out of the resteraunt, but it looked like he was trying to tell you something. He extends his hand in front of him and waves it slightly, probably telling you to wait, then he makes a fist like he's holding something and twirls his finger in the air. You tilt your head and giggle, not understanding the signs he's giving you. He face palms and giggles himself. He must've looked pretty stupid. He pointed to the fortune in your hand and twirled his finger once more. Pinching the paper in both fingers, you flipped it to the other sidea and almost choked.

'I always thought happiness started with an ‘h,’ but it turns out mine starts with ‘u.’ :) 0XX-XXX-XXXX (My name is Izuku Midoriya by the way!)'

Your face glowed in excitement and nervousness. This couldn't possibly be a joke right? He had this fortune cookie custom created just for you. No one would go that far for a somebody just to mess with them. Izuku Midoriya. You stared at him for a second. He looked genuine. Very cute. Hard believe he actually gave you his number after he witnessed you being obliterated by your father. Your eyes slowly trailed up to the the boys face. He blushed and gave you a bright smile before waving and returning to his work.

"What's that you got there y/n?" You father asks as he gets ready to leave. "''S that your fortune?" You smiled at the note in your hands, pocketing it safely as you both left the resturant.

"No...not a fortune. More like my future."

support me? :)

[elysianslove]

your brain is so big and sexy‼️ your writing makes my mouth froth‼️ could u write some smut headcannons for big boy eren yeager? im in love w ur writing plS ㅠㅠ

please i love u sm wtf 

and omg tysm for requesting for eren,,, i spend hours just watching edits of him and levi i am: in Love. i hope you enjoy this <333

nsfw under the cut! eren’s aged up, my loves! i listened to west coast and meet me in the pale moonlight by lana del rey, but both slowed, while writing this, and idk why it fit so well? anyways <3333

i have a feeling that even timeskip eren is the farthest thing from experienced, so it’s more than likely you’ll be taking a lot of his firsts. but he’s a very diligent and determined person in general, so he definitely makes up for it with his enthusiasm. 

however, once the awkwardness and hesitant stage is over,,, 

i wouldn’t go as far as saying he prefers oral giving over receiving, but he truly is in heaven in between your thighs. maybe it’s an ego thing, but he adores hearing his name leave your lips breathlessly and endlessly, loves to see the way you arch your back or twist your fingers in his hair. and when you try to push him away but his mouth stays latched onto your cunt? holy shit. 

while on the topic of giving oral, he wants you sitting on his face, or hoisting you up against the wall, your legs perched on his shoulders. he loves the way you slowly and eventually give into him, trusting him to hold you up, or noticing how you no longer hold yourself up and you’re just pushing your cunt down against his mouth shamelessly. he loves it!!! 

he does love to receive oral too. i think it’d make him a little shy the first few times he did it, or the first few times you offered. he still would never really initiate it, but he never declines. he doesn’t fuck your throat, per se, but he can cum in seconds if you deepthroat him. he will unintentionally thrust up into your mouth and have his cock graze your throat, and yes when he really gets into it, he might grab your hair and push your face harsher and deeper against him, forcing you to swallow more of him. especially when he’s seated, he doubles over almost over at the feel of your warm mouth around him. 

in regards to where he likes to cum,,, well

eren probably really likes it messy ngl 

so if you’re blowing him, almost always will he pull out and cum on the tip of your tongue, smearing the tip of his cock all along your lips. if it gets anywhere else, he’ll collect it on the tips of his fingers and push them into your mouth

wait i know i’m getting sidetracked but eren definitely has a thing for you sucking on his fingers holy shit. he absolutely just shoves them into your mouth while you two are fucking, or just pushes them onto your tongue to force your mouth open so that you’re drenching his palm and your chin with drool. i’m telling y’all, he likes it messy. 

anyways back to what i was talking about. the same way he pulls out of your mouth to see you coated in his cum, more often than not he’ll do the same as he’s fucking you. he’ll pull out till the tip of his cock barely rests inside of you, spilling all over your inner walls. but because of how he isn’t really inside of you, it so easily seeps out of you, which then he’s given the courtesy of fucking it back into you. this is so filthy im so sorry. 

eren’s an ass man. can’t convince me otherwise. of course, he loves titties, can kiss and suck at them for days, but the ass,,,

it’s not even sexual at this point he just likes groping you in general

i also believe eren’s a huge kisser during sex. like he’s always either sloppily kissing all over your mouth, sucking on your tongue, both your lips glossy cause of the saliva. or he’s serenely kissing you, both hands cupping your cheeks as he fucks into you at a steady pace, so deep, not insanely fast, not teasingly slow

honestly? he’d be more willing to sub than dom. it’s not that he’s not a top, because he definitely is, it’s more that he’s willing to sacrifice control than enforce it on you, you know? 

wait one more thing. you know that face grabbing thing that some do during sex? like your eyes are rolling back and your face is red and your mouth is hanging open, your tongue slightly lolling out and you’re so far gone? at that point eren would absolutely adore just grabbing your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks together. you just look so pretty like this beneath him. like i said, he’s definitely a top,,,

this is already so long should i talk about his kinks

im gonna talk about his kinks

praise kink! huge praise kink! he loves to praise you, loves you praising him! tell him how good he feels, how he’s perfect for you, and he’ll tell you all about how pretty you look beneath him/on top of him like this, how well you take him, such a good girl...

dumbification kink. he’s not going to explicitly degrade you and call you stupid, or stupid for his cock specifically, but he loves seeing how so visibly your kind hazes over, how you willingly let him do anything to you because you trust him all that much

dacryphilia. it ties into dumbification. he does not want to hurt you, he just likes seeing you so overwhelmed with pleasure that tears start to fill your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. it’s not a sadism thing, honestly, it’s more of a guarantee that yes, you’re enjoying yourself this much.

edging, but on him. please, he would so be into getting edged, even to the point of hours. i don’t know why, but i’m so sure of the fact that he’d like being reduced to such a mess, begging and sobbing for you to let him cum, his cock, so swollen and full, leaking so much precum, the tip nearly purpling. he just adores it when that band finally snaps and he’s able to let go; it’s incredibly satisfying 

voyeurism, but only in the sense that he wants to watch you pleasure yourself. he strikes me as someone that is very possessive of their partner, so he wouldn’t want anyone else to see you in such a state, only him. but he really does get off to watching you, like so much. 

marking. again: possessive. he loves marking you in any possible way, which means whether it’s from his bruising grip on your waist and hips or his lips and teeth sinking into every other part of your body. 

choking, but him receiving it. he will never lay a hand on you, and he’d never trust himself to ever choke you. but your hands are so small in comparison to all of him that the pressure around his throat is barely there, but it feels nice. like he’s all yours. 

that being said, he wouldn’t be into impact play at all. nothing that involves every hurting you like i said.

okay im so sorry this was so long clearly i have too much to say this is embarrassing 

[let-me-write-shit]

Hey! Idk if u r taking requests hint if you are, can u do one where harry+y/n+bby paxton are out and about but all the sudden get swarmed by paps and then one of the cameras accidentally hit the baby and the clip goes viral and celebs and ex-1D members and stans all start coming to the defense and share stories about how awful the paps are? U don’t have to haha

A/N: Thank you so much, @gwen-and-harry, for this request! I’m sorry it took so long! Hope this is alright!

Word Count: 5,227

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Paparazzi

The outpour of love and well-wishes after the announcement of the birth of their firstborn son was touching and comforting. Harry and Y/N were lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful people. Still, the eagerness of the public to get the first glimpse of the newborn and the new parents began to grow. No one had seen the couple out since before their son was born and Paxton was nearly three months old, now. People were becoming desperate.

There were more and more fans outside of their house as the days passed. Y/N and Harry had people running errands for them and luckily had the help of friends and family, as well, who would stick around for a few days at a time to give them little breaks and were more than happy to get some time with the happy baby. But as the sun stayed out longer and the temperature began to rise, the new family felt the yearning for a nice summer holiday.

They’d planned it for weeks, excited to take pictures and videos of Paxton’s first time at the beach. Harry had found a perfect house with a private beach off the coast of Italy and even decided to bring along security. And even though he didn’t do it often, he thought the circumstances warranted renting a private plane to take them to the beautiful country.

Harry and Y/N were very cautious in showing any images of their baby. No one, aside from close friends and family, even knew of his name. Having been the victims of stalking, they didn’t want their son to be subjected to that and tried everything in their power to protect their child. There were brief moments when it was typical for it to be vacant outside their home, so they planned their escape down to the minute; bags loaded in the car from the night before, and two security guards standing by to rush them to the car.

Paxton was already buckled into his infant car seat and kicking along, happily, as Y/N cooed at him, dangling toys and pinching his chubby legs while Harry peered out of the window, waiting until the coast was clear. She noticed her husband straighten up more just before the security guard said, “Let’s go.”

Harry hoisted the brown leather diaper bag further up his shoulders and tossed a muslin blanket over the top of the car seat to cover Paxton, just in case anyone happened to see them. He took hold of the car seat and carried his baby out to the car as swiftly as he could while Y/N followed closely behind him. It took two minutes for everyone to get settled in and pull out of the driveway before they felt like they could breathe a sigh of relief.

Y/N and Harry shared a look of burden. The lengths they had to take just to keep a bit of privacy and normalcy was insane. And still, they weren’t out of the woods yet. Although they were flying privately, they still needed to drive to the main airport where their plane would depart from a strip off to the side. Everything seemed to be alright, so far. Usually, Harry could tell if it were going to be crazy if there were cars of fans chasing them, and that was not the case, so he let his guard down.

But, as they approached the backup in the car queue through the airport terminals, they slowly came to realize that this wasn’t going to be as easy as they anticipated. They were at a standstill for over ten minutes, unmoving, with cars honking loudly around them. It seemed that there was roadwork on a few of the lanes ahead that caused a jam. Quickly, they had to make a decision that they didn’t miss check-in with their pilot.

After much deliberation, they decided that the only solution would be that Harry, Y/N, and their baby would have to walk down the strip accompanied by one of the security guards while the other security guard continued with the car and would eventually meet them at the plane with all of their luggage. Y/N couldn’t stay stuck in traffic, her claustrophobia was already starting to make her panic. The fresh air would do them all some good, and besides, there weren’t an overwhelming amount of people walking along outside. Most people were in a rush to get in. They thought they’d be able to handle it.

Poor Paxton was fast asleep, but it was a pretty far distance to be lugging a heavy car seat while trying to walk as quickly and discreetly as possible down the sidewalk to reach the end where their terminal would be. At least by carrying him, if someone did recognize them, they’d be able to shield their son better.

Gently, Harry unfastened the buckles from Paxton’s car seat and slipped him out, passing him over to Y/N without waking him. It was warm out, but Y/N made sure to wrap Paxton loosely in the thin muslin cloth and cover his face enough so that he could breathe well against her chest, but his face couldn’t be seen. The couple made sure to wear their sunglasses and Harry took hold of the leather diaper bag before the security guard jumped out and opened the door for them.

Quickly, they started making their way down the sidewalk, heads down to not call attention to themselves, and following their security guard’s strides who was barely a step ahead of them. Horns blared and echoed around them, stuffy fumes from car engines congested the area. For a moment, Harry thought they might actually get through unrecognized. But that quickly came to prove wrong.

It always started as just a feeling of being watched before turning into a slightly louder buzzing as people, wondering if it was really him, began to mutter. This then turned into a few shouts and calls. He ignored the first few calls until he realized that too many people started to notice. He turned, smiled, and waved at them as he continued. This usually satisfied fans enough to not follow him. But then he saw it. The cluster of cameras. Paparazzi.

They looked shocked to see him, at first. He guessed they were likely here for someone else at first and he was just a bonus. Just his luck. The security guard tightened his gap and Y/N felt a hand on the middle of her back as Harry protectively pushed her along so they could keep moving faster. Still, they were already halfway there and it wasn’t more than they were used to.

However, more people became increasingly aware that not only was Harry Styles there, but also his wife and newborn baby. Harry always had a good relationship with the paparazzi, but the incitement to get the first look at their son was causing them to swarm the new parents.

“Harry, how does it feel to be a dad?”

“What’s your son’s name?”

“Where are you headed?”

“Harry, does he look just like you?”

“Can we see?”

The questions were never-ending and almost too hard to hear as everyone talked at once. Surrounded by not only paparazzi but also curious fans, it became harder to move. Their security guard did his best to keep everyone at bay and to keep moving forward, but it soon became too crowded to move. Y/N held her baby closer to her chest as he began to wriggle and squirm from all the noise, sharing a brief look of concern with Harry who tried his best to remain calm and friendly while also trying to make way for his family out of the ring of paps that surrounded them who became more aggressive with their questions, closing in on them.

Cameras started bumping together, voices became louder, and the paparazzi began to shove each other, fighting to get closer to the celeb. Some fans began to notice how reckless they were becoming and started to yell at paparazzi along with the security guard who was still trying to push through to make room for them, only inching their way forward now.

“Back up, they have a baby!” a few girls screams were muffled behind the shouts of the paps.

Paxton was wiggling more now and started to whimper as Y/N and her husband were being yelled at in all directions. Y/N could feel paps nudging her back, getting too close for comfort. When the security guard noticed, he’d yell at them, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was only one person against dozens of others. Her claustrophobia was in full swing and her heart began racing, breath becoming more of a pant. She felt a tug on her shirt followed by a deep voice beckoning, “Come on, let us get a look at the happy family.” They had gotten bolder in touching her purposefully.

Y/N spun around, “Please don’t touch me,” she yelped.

Lights started to flash in her face and she felt a hand tug at the muslin cloth that was protecting her son. Instinctively she swatted at the hand and pulled her son in tighter, shouting, “Don’t touch him!”

Harry turned, protectively shielding his wife and son, urging her in front of him, fans still yelling as another pap shoved his camera in between them so hard that he managed to whack the top of Paxton’s head with his flash attachment, causing the baby to flail and burst into wails, sobbing into Y/N’s chest at an ear-piercing level.

Before Y/N of the security guard could even react, Harry leaped at the pap, shoving him backward, and began screaming at him so ferociously that it created a momentary standstill. No one had ever seen Harry so angry before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, eh?! That’s my baby, you fuckin’ dickhead!” Harry’s accent became thick with rage, shoving the startled man’s chest which made him back away.

“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do anything!” the pap could be heard saying, shrinking away.

A few other paparazzi were taking the side of the pap and snapping pictures and videos of the incident while most yelled along with Harry as well as fans. Harry kept at him, screaming even louder and angrier, “You smashed my sons head with your fuckin’ piece of shit camera,” he yanked the camera out of the pap’s hands and chucked it to the ground, a few pieces breaking off and sliding every which way, continuing to shove the pap back while the security guard tried his hardest to contain the situation and get people to back off.

“Harry! Please!” Y/N cried, her heart pounding in panic and on the verge of tears.

Harry was seething, glaring at the pap who had backed away, nervously, before the awareness that Harry was surrounded by people, most with their phones out, started to sink in. The crowd had given them some more space now, and he looked back to see the concern on his wife’s face as she bounced and patted the back of their crying son in her arms in an attempt to console him.

With one last scowl at the offender, Harry hissed, “Don’t come near my family again.”

He picked up the brown leather diaper bag off of the ground; he must have dropped it during his fit. Hiking it back up his shoulders, he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist as the security guard led them away from the crowd, fans calling their support after them and continuing to yell at the paparazzi.

The rest of the walk was silent, still too rattled by the situation to find the words to say. By the time they reached and boarded the plane, Paxton had fallen back asleep and it didn’t take long for their other security guard to reach them.Should have just stayed in the car, Y/N thought, getting settled in a seat with her son, She loosened the muslin blanket around his face, but not too much to disturb his sleep. Harry stayed towards the front of the plane, barely out of earshot, to talk to the security after their belongings were loaded.

A few minutes in, Harry could be heard raising his voice at them, angry about how the situation was handled. Y/N winced, trying not to listen in as she kept her attention down at her son who was suckling on the inside of his cheeks as he slept. It was almost time to feed him, but Harry still had the diaper bag. She felt bad for the security, there wasn’t much they could do, and she knew Harry was only yelling because he was upset that his son was in danger. It wasn’t like Harry to take things out on other people, but he had become increasingly protective since becoming a dad.

Moments later, Harry and the two security guards made their way back, and although Harry still looked tense, Y/N could tell that they had talked things out and was willing to bet that Harry apologized to them, too. It still didn’t make her husband any less angry. He plopped in the seat beside his wife with an exaggerated sigh and leaned over to get a good look at his sin, gently pushing the muslin cloth away as he ran his hand over the baby’s soft, fuzzy head. A splotch of raised red skin could be seen forming from where the camera had hit him.

Y/N snapped her attention to her husband and saw the distress stretch across his face and with an overwhelmed frown he said, “I better take a picture of this. Just in case,” and he pulled his phone out from his pocket.

She knew what he meant. Just in case that pap wanted to press charges for destruction of property or assault. If he did decide to press charges, there’s no way he would win. There’s more than enough photographic and video evidence of the assault on their baby. But over the years they had learned that they could never be too careful.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, and the pilot and flight attendant introduced themselves, checked ID, and went over safety procedures before the plane started down the runway. Harry stared down at his son the entire time, not letting go of his tiny hand that was wrapped around his middle finger. Y/N knew how worried he was feeling, and with an understanding smile, she carefully passed him their baby.

She grinned as Harry shushed him back to sleep when he began stirring, stroking his cheeks in total adoration of the little boy he held in his arms. His heart ached as he caressed the red splotch at the crown of the baby’s head, angry that grown adults would act in such a way, especially in the presence of a child.

“Do you think we should get a doctor to look at him?” he asked as their plane ascended.

Y/N nodded her head, “I think he’s fine but better safe than sorry. We’ll take care of it tomorrow. I think we all need to relax when we get there. It’s been a long morning.”

It wasn’t a long flight to Italy, but it wasn’t calming, either. Y/N fed Paxton while Harry fretted about the flurry of texts and missed calls he was bound to have by his managers, PR, and legal team, certain that videos and pictures will have been released by then. And just like he predicted, they landed to nearly thirty missed messages of all sorts, including links to articles titled, ‘Harry Styles Attacks Paparazzi Outside of London Airport’. They couldn’t bring themselves to open or read any of it, but Harry did spend a majority of their nearly thirty-minute car journey on a conference call with his team talking about the situation and discussing ways with which they could handle it.

Harry cut in after a while, saying, “Alright, listen. I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be on holiday with my family. Can someone please make an appointment with a doctor out here to look at my son tomorrow and text me the details? We’ll talk about this another time.”

Harry wasn’t assertive a lot, but when he was, it always turned Y/N on. She kissed his cheek with a grin as he hung up the phone and squeezed his hand. His mom and sister were one of the many who had texted them after seeing the news and they made a quick FaceTime call to them, venting about the encounter and reassuring them that Paxton was fine, showing them the sweet baby’s face when they finally pulled up to the vacation rental and ended the call.

It was just after noon when they arrived at the house, and instead of unpacking, everyone left their luggage by the front door and took the food they had picked up from a drive-thru on the patio by the pool where they overlooked a beautiful, private beach lined with white sand and water the most beautiful shade of blue. Harry bounced a cooing baby on his lap while they ate. The couple silenced their phones, trying their hardest to avoid the onslaught of calls and messages they were bound to receive.

After lunch, everyone finally put their things away, got changed into their bathing suits, and headed to the pool for their first swim of the year. For just a few hours the coupe was able to forget about the inevitable problem they were facing and enjoyed their time together as a family.

Paxton seemed to enjoy the water once he warmed up to it, screeching joyfully and splashing at the surface while mummy and daddy took turns holding him and pushing him in the inflatable raft they brought. They laughed at the baby boy’s reaction to getting water droplets on his face and all the noises that escaped his tiny lips.

They stayed in the pool until nightfall when they wrapped themselves in towels and sat around the fire pit to keep warm while one of the security guards left to pick up dinner for everyone. Normally, Harry would feel bad for having someone else get him food, but given the circumstances, he felt it was for the best.

He looked over at his wife, her eyes red and irritated from the chlorine, and the high points of her face sunkissed from the warm, Italian sun. Her hair was slicked back, though that didn’t stop Paxton from getting a hold of a chunk of her hair and tugging as she fed him. Harry’s smile started to face into a frown when he noticed the red splotch on the crown of his son’s head was not tinged a blue-ish purple. It had started to bruise.

Y/N noticed her husband’s silence, and with an understanding and reassuring squeeze to his hand, she softly said, “He’s okay, Bub. Just a little sore when you touch it, but still a happy boy.”

“I know,” he nodded, “Still pisses me off that it even happened, though. I should go see if anyone was able to make an appointment for him, yet.”

He ambled off inside to find his phone that he left on the nightstand, ignoring all of his notifications and going right to his assistant’s texts to see the information of the doctor that was kind enough to agree to come to them tomorrow morning and take a look at Paxton. He did a quick background search on the doctor, pleased to find that she had come highly trained and recommended, and he sighed a breath of relief.

He then decided to take a look at some of these notifications, a little worried about the backlash he might have received. But, he was surprised to see the response of support and even shocked by some of the names that had reached out to him or spoke up about the fight.

The first people he noticed were his mom and sister who both made and shared an Instagram text post that read, ‘There is a lot that you have to deal with and compromise on when you have a fanbase or a following, and one of those things is privacy. It’s something so many of us take for granted, and so far, Harry and his lovely wife have taken it in stride, rarely complaining. They’re aware, just like the rest of us, that being a ‘celebrity’ and the lack of privacy in his line of work is an unfortunate given. However, when the safety and privacy of a newborn child are at risk, this type of behavior can become extremely dangerous. There is a time and place for paparazzi, and hurting a child to get a few snapshots is deplorable. Change needs to happen’. In the caption of the photo, there was a petition link that called for adjustments on laws when it came to paparazzi and children.

A lump formed in Harry’s throat as he read, reliving the moment his son had gotten hurt a mere few hours ago. There was so much running through his head. He felt like an idiot for losing his temper, he should have known not to lash out like that, especially when there were so many cameras out. He was pissed that the paparazzi put him in a situation where he felt like lashing out was his only option. He was upset that he couldn’t enjoy their first vacation as a family with their new baby because he was too worried that people might spot him. He was scared for the future of his son, worried that he’d have to look over his shoulder every step of the way to make sure his son could have even just a shot at living a semi-normal life. And he was grateful for the support of his family and for them speaking out and trying to invoke change.

As he scrolled through his notifications more, he saw that Lizzo had also posted a video to Instagram and tagged him in it. He played the video and chuckled, feeling comforted, when her face popped on the screen, shouting, “If y'all don’t leave my baby daddy, Harry, and my sister-wife, Y/N, alone! They had a baby with them! Like this child is basically straight out the womb, and y’all sick motherfuckers are out here grabbin’ on ‘em just to try and take a picture?! A picture?!” she looked disgusted as she shook her head, “These paparazzi are getting bolder every day. This shit needs to stop. I need each and every one of you to click the link on my bio. Things need to change. Yesterday.”

He went to her page and saw the same link that Gemma and his mom had posted to their story. And that wasn’t all. As he continued to go through his notifications, he saw that he had been tagged onto one of Niall’s tweets a ton. He opened the link to see what Niall had written.

‘Absolutely disgusted to see what happened to my friend @Harry_Styles, his lovely wife @Y/N, and their little lad today. Truly criminal that these paparazzi can do things like this with little to no repercussion. I’m so sorry the two of ya had to go through that. Absolutely fuming for ya.’

With a tight-lipped grin, Harry nodded and made a mental note to text Niall later and thank him. For now, he pocketed his phone and rejoined his wife outside who had just finished feeding Paxton and putting him in a portable rocker beside her to nap, her feet propped up by the edge of the fire, wiggling her toes in the warmth. He kissed her forehead before taking his seat on the other side of her, informing her of the response, so far, of the day’s events.

Throughout the week, more and more people had started to speak up. The doctor had come around to take a once-over of Baby Styles, deeming him healthy, just bruised, and leaving them to enjoy their vacation, utterly astonished by the number of people who had spoken out to condemn the paparazzi and share their experience.

Louis had called him shortly after the doctor had left while they were on the beach. Paxton was screeching on his tummy, holding his head up and beating his chubby fists into the sand. Harry watched his wife smiling and clacking at her baby, completely smitten by the two of them, as he and Louis caught up. The last time they talked was when Louis congratulated them on the birth of his son. This time, Louis called to make sure they were doing alright. Harry was still trending online and, being a father himself, he knew how upsetting it was when your kid was brought up in the media. Especially when they had to deal with the repercussions of the paparazzi.

“Man, it just blows my mind the shit these low-lives can get away with. Please tell me you’re gonna press charges, mate,” Louis seared.

Harry groaned, “I don’t think I can, mate. I broke his camera and shoved him. We’re pretty much even.”

“Even?” Louis repeated, “Mate, he hurt a baby. He’s done much worse than you did!”

“Not according to the law, man. Not really. Besides, he’s fine. Just a bruise, thank God. Was more worried about, Y/N, if I’m honest,” he whispered, trying not to let his wife hear, “You should have seen her. Thought she was going to have a panic attack because of her claustrophobia.”

Louis tutted and sighed, “Poor lass. She's alright now, though, yeah?”

“We’re on the beach, so she couldn’t be happier,” Harry laughed, watching as Paxton gazed in awe at the little sandcastle Y/N had just made.

They had received texts from friends, like Mitch and Sarah, who made sure that they and the baby were alright as well as posted a link to the petition. Big-name celebrities with kids, like Chrissy Teigen and John Legend, as well as Hilary Duff and Matthew Koma, had also come forward in light of the issue to share their experiences of being paparazzi’d with kids. He’d never had the pleasure of meeting them, but was sure to send them messages of thanks.

Ariana Grande had tweeted ‘Sending my love to the Styles Family. It’s scary when you can’t walk down the street with a newborn without being harassed. Please sign the petition to finally start holding those who cross the line accountable.’

Liam Payne texted Harry and mentioned it in one of his Instagram Live videos when asked by fans saying, “Yeah, I spoke to him. Apparently, the guy had bruised the poor baby’s head, but he’s doing alright. They’re a bit shaken by the whole thing, I don’t blame them. It’s-It’s just sad, you know? For all the years I’ve known Harry, he’s the last one to get rattled to the point of fighting someone I’ve met Y/N a few times and well and she was always kind and easy-going. But when you’re worried about the safety of your wife and child, I don’t think anyone could say they’d just sit back and take it. You’ve got to draw the line somewhere.”

James Corden dedicated a segment in his show talking about the dangers of paparazzi and his own experiences with being harassed, including the time he was out with his son, and Harry joined them.

“To see, very early on in his career, the amount of people that followed his every step- I mean, he was only with us for a couple of hours and it got so crazy that after thirty minutes I had to have Harry walk a bit ahead of us so that the paparazzi wouldn’t swarm my son. By the end of the day, we were exhausted. I can’t even imagine having to deal with that daily. I know how I felt about it at the time and my son was older. We were a bit more comfortable as parents. But these two have their first, brand new baby. The idea of leaving your house for the first time as new parents and being hounded by volatile people who have no care for anyone but themselves is terrifying. My heart goes out to him and his family,” he finished.

Dozens more came out of the gate to condemn careless paparazzi, but probably the most surprising of them all was Gigi Hadid.

It was no secret that Harry and the model had a strained relationship that dated back to the drama surrounding Zayn’s departure from One Direction. The two never really cared to get to know one another and there was always some unsaid animosity in between them for whatever reason. He never had anything against her. Still, it was there. So, when she spoke out in defense of Harry’s actions, it was in headlines everywhere.

Gigi was very vocal about it on all of her social media platforms, writing rants on Twitter, text posts on Instagram, and even making videos saying, “You know, it’s just disgusting how celebrities can be stalked and harassed every single day by people like these paparazzi and the response is always ‘well, that’s what you signed up for’. It never made sense to me. Like, why is it considered normal? Why does it have to ‘come with the territory?’ These celebrities didn’t sign up to have their lives picked through with a fine-tooth comb. Especially not their spouses or children. They don’t deserve to be harassed or stalked just because of who they fell in love with or made a family with. A lot of people forget that celebrities are just humans.

We’re normal people with abnormal jobs. My job is to model. Harry’s job is to sing. We shouldn’t be in fear to step out of our house that day, afraid of being stalked or our children being hit in the heads with fucking cameras. I’m no stranger to how dangerous and scary paps can be, and since becoming a mom myself, I’m even more cautious. We hardly leave our house. We have so much security it’s unreal. We shouldn’t have to live like this.

Having fans come up to us in the streets and saying hi or taking pictures with us is one thing, but to have these paps shoving their camera in a child’s face, blocking our way out, and endangering them is something else entirely. Paparazzi need to be held to a higher standard and they need to be held accountable. I really feel for them.”

By the end of their vacation, there was so much positive support from fans and other celebs that Harry and Y/N was feeling overwhelmed with love. They both reached out, personally and privately, to as many people as they could to thank them for speaking out and signing the petition. Their team decided that a simple response, in true Harry fashion, would be best. On Instagram, he posted a picture of Paxton’s sandy feet and captioned it,

‘All Is Well. Thank you. With Love, H.’

------------------------------------

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans @gwen-and-harry

[baecvlt]

hi um.. this might be an odd request and ofc you dont have to do it but uh can i get a byakuya togami x reader (smut oneshot) in which the reader has a degradation kink and well, its byakuya, you can decided on the rest

The Same Deep Water as You

in which the reader is degraded by Byakuya Togami 

Byakuya Togami x Reader

smut

(as stated in follow up dm) fem reader

requested by anon: first tike working with this kind of thing

warnings: degradation and slightly masochist actions to be aware of (not too severe). good ending tho so..

enjoy !

She was a quiet girl, never really spoke to anyone but Makoto and Kyoko. They weren’t so awful. While others weren’t awful, she didn’t think of them as approachable. She could talk to them, but she couldn’t be too trusting. Especially of—

“What did I tell you about looking in my direction, you cretin”

Byakuya Togami.

Makoto and Kyoko looked back at Byakuya, staring. “I wasn’t staring,” she argued,“Honestly, I wasn’t”. He approached her,“So, I’m a liar now?”. She shook her head frantically, hoping he’d go away. “Give it up, Togami,” Kyoko said,“Leave the poor girl alone. She’s having a rough day”. She looked away and put her head down on the table. “Whatever,” he said,“I’m not even half interested to know why. Just keep your distance”.

She had no idea what was wrong with him, why his cruelty shone on her and no one else. He was a dick to everyone, but most of all towards her. It was kind of starting to hurt, but mostly because being in this situation of a killing game was rather stressful. Byakuya’s unnecessary cruelty didn’t help. Still, she tried to keep a smile, if not, at least a friendly face.

“Well, Makoto and I have business to attend to with that whole next blackened bullshit. See you later. By the way, just stay out of Togami’s way. He’s a prick, it won’t do u any good to be near him. Okay?”

She nodded, taking his advice a little too literal.

She did exactly as Kyoko told her as she tried keeping a routine. She went to her room, grabbing her very little laundry. She walked to the laundry room, pusbing open the door. When she got a view of the room, she immediately turned back, for Byakuya was sitting there doing his laundry. She went to her room, set her clothes down, and waited for Byakuya to leave.

Finally, he was gone. This allowed for her to wash her clothes. After drying and folding, she decided it’d be a good idea to relax and enjoy what the school had to offer, such as the sauna. What? Who cares if this is a killing game? It was far more luxurious than anything she had in her day to day life. She has the right enjoy things. Wearing her bathing suit underneath, she walked her way to the sauna, but before that, she stripped down and put her normal clothes in a locker. Then, she was off.

As she sat in the heat, she thought to herself. All these thoughts were regarding Byakuya. It was things like “Why is he such a dick?” and “Why me? What did I do?”. They were all valid thoughts. At this point, he was treating her worse than he treats Toko. It’s got to he something he has against her. Then again, she couldn’t act like she didn’t like it. The sheer degradation of it all gave her a thrill, but Byakuya wasn’t fucking her so really he had no reason to act that way. Just as she wrapped up her thoughts, she decided it was a good time to leave before the sauna burned her skin right off. She walked right out of there. When alone, she was pretty confident about herself, her body. Its when she’s around others that she gets quiet. Judgement is a fear of hers, so she’s learned that the more you say/do, the more susceptible to judgement you are.

...but she was alone, she didnt worry.

Confidently, she walked out of the sauna. Despite the heat, it was refreshing. She opened her locker, getting her clothes out. She began to get dressed, realizing no one was around, then straight up stopped giving a fuck. She got her normal underwear on without interruptions, sliding on her pantyhose then skirt. Now it was time for her top. She took off her bikini top and replaced it with her bra. That was when she heard footsteps approaching, but they faded, so she ignored it. Putting on her long sleeve button up, her torso faced the entrance as her eyes focused on her buttons.

“Christ, screw me”

Without thinking, she replied,“Give me a time and place?”. She very slowly realized who the voice belonged to as she stopped buttoning up her shirt. Byakuya stared, she covered her mouth. “Eager, aren’t you?,” he scoffed. She finished her buttons as she walked right past him, ignoring his snide remark. That perv. Surely, he could’ve said something. He was there for a while. Was he judging her or did he like what he saw? Who knows?

What we know now is that the Togami’s raised a weirdo.

This only gave her a better reason to avoid him. Everytime she went somewhere, if she saw him there, regardless if he had seen her or not she’d walk out. Like when she wanted a snack, he was there. “Hey,” he said to her, but she was gone. This also happened in the Rec Room, where she was playing with Celeste. He walked in, looking for Makoto. Even still, and mid-game, she dismissed herself. If only there was one place where she wouldn’t have to see him. Then, she remembers she overheard Byakuya say he was in no need of the library.

She figured it’d be a good opportunity for her to go there and read something, be in solitude. She’d been there once and it was so quiet. She walked her way there, peeking first to make sure the coast was clear. She picked up a random book of poetry. It didn’t matter what book it was really, she just wanted to read. She was glad the library was unoccupied. It was quite peaceful. Unlike the sauna, it took her mind off Byakuya. God, he’d be perfect if he wasn’t a prick. Why was he so cute? So attractive? If given the chance, she would show him how she cares, but what’s it worth if he despises her for no reason? Oh, well. She had read enough pages, deciding to leave an hour later. Suddenly, she got the feeling that she wasn’t alone. She had a pretty good instinct when it came to these things.

She didn’t want to be the next victim of anything, so she ran out and hurried to her room.

Bing-bong, Bing-Bong!

Nighttime, how great. Well at least that night ended on a rather okay note, despite everything else. Just as she was headed to her bed, there was a note slipped underneath her door. It startled her, picking it up.

“Come to my room at once. Togami”

Great.

So not only did she have to endure his verbal abuse during the day, it seems it could also branch out at night. She knew she didn’t have to go, but maybe if she did as he said, he’d back off. She walked to his room, only a few doors down the hall. She knew, this was disobidience of the bed time rule, but in that moment, it was the least of her concern. She put on her clothes from earlier today, heading out. She knocked on the door, waiting for him to open the door, and it did after a few seconds. Her heart was pounding as the door opened, his blue eyes shining in the dim light. “Y/N,” he greeted casually. She noticed he still wore his suit and in no way looked like he was at all getting ready for bed. “Good evening, Mr. Togami”. She wanted to be as respectful as possible. “Come in”. She cautiously stepped in. He closed his door, going to sit on his bed afterward.

“Sit”

She sat down on his chair, still nervous. “You look so tense,” he said in a softer tone, much softer than his usual demanding tone,“Relax”. She nodded. He looked at her and got up. Walking behind her, he ran his fingers through her soft hair. “How does it feel to be the object of my lust?,” he whispered. A chill ran down her spine as she muttered,“What?”. “Do you want it?,” he asked,“Me, treating you like a stray dog, I see how it excites you. I’d be more than willing to give it to you”. Her breath hitched and her face was hot. “Y-Yes”. He raised a brow. “Use you words, Y/N,” he said, placing a hand on her throat. “Fuck me, please,” she groaned, craving him. That was enough for him to start putting her on edge. He wanted her to beg, he loved to hear it. “How long has it been since you’ve been touched this way”. 

“Too long”

His hands reached for her breasts, teasing them as he kissed her neck. “Oh my god!,” she cried. Her legs spread and he took note of this. “Go to bed,” he ordered,“I want you on your back”. She didn’t hesitate. She leapt to his bed and lay down. He immediately followed, hovering over her. He pinned her wrists down and began kissing her skillfully. She couldn’t help, but bite him and him flinching further increased her excitement. “What the hell?,” he cursed, she smirked. It angered him that she was having fun with this. He pulled off her skirt and ripped open her pantyhose, spreading her legs. “From now on, you are to call me master and nothing else,” he told her, moving her panties aside and licking her pussy. His tongue focused on her clit, but god, it felt good. She whined, reaching for his hair. While she was able to pull it a little, he grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her down again. His tongue began focusing on all other parts of her, rolling his thumb on her clit, softly. All she could do was squirm, but even that was hard to do. “Who’s pussy is this?,” he asked. 

“Yours, master”

“That’s my girl”

She was cumming, practically dripping the more he touched her. He let go of her wrists, allowing her to finally tease her breasts and play with his hair as he ate her out. He loved her taste; she was sweet. Without moving his mouth away, he carefully worked two fingers into her, allowing him to taste her even more. “How’s that making my little slut feel?,” he asked. “Really, really good. Please, m-master,” she whined, but other than that, it was all incoherent babbling. She was frantic at that point.

“Look at you,” he whispered as his mouth was really going into it,“You’re making quite the mess, you know?”. “I know, master”. Her apologetic tone begged a question. “Come here,” he ordered. She sat on the balls of her feet, waiting for his next words. His hand was soft as he put it on her cheek, caressing her.

“Has my little slut had enough?”

She shook her head, muttering,“I want more”. Her lust-filled eyes stared into his as she went for his belt buckle. “Not like this,” he said, sitting down properly. “Okay,” he assured,“Come here, doll”. She went for his belt buckle and undid it. Carefully, she took his cock out, spitting. “Master, you’re aching”. He twitched as she stroked his sex with those words falling from her mouth. His stomach sank as feeling of her hands touching him this way dawned on him. He needed her, so bad.

“Bend over for me”

Her stomach lay flag on the bed as her ass was in the air, waiting for him to fuck her. “Shit,” he exclaimed, that was the first time she’d hear him cuss. “What’s wrong?”. He sighed.

“I don’t have any protection on me”

Thats when she reached into her shirt and bra, handing him a condom. “What the hell? How long did you have that in there?”. “No more questions,” she said softly,“Come on, baby”. Slowly, he teased her entrance, rubbing his cock slowly and making her shiver before grabbing her hips, slamming into her. Upon impact, her pussy spasmed around his cock as she reached for the pillow in front of her. He gasped, his fingers digging into her soft skin. “I’m gonna stretch you out”. She whined into the pillow as he repeated that, slowly at first. As much as he wanted to pound into her, he knew knew if he did that, he wouldn’t last long. “Ah! master, that feels really good,” she cried,“I need more.. please!”. He could barely speak. “I go at whatever pace I want, slut!,” he managed.

“M-Master, is it because you know you’ll cum fast if you do? Even thinking about pounding me makes you go slower than you already are, doesn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

His hand slammed onto her ass. She winced, gripping the sheets as he picked up the pace. Her eyes then rolled back. “Is this what you wanted?,” he said with gritted teeth. She let out a shaky cry and said,“Master, it’s what I needed”. A mirror was in front of them, Byakuya using it to check how she reacted to certain things. Letting him hit all around her walls drove her insane, but he still wasn’t going so hard. She also used the mirror to her advantage. She saw how he was struggling to fuck her hard without cumming. She wanted to mess around too. She smiled with lustful eyes, putting two fingers in her mouth and drooling over them. “What the hell”. Her playfulness left him flustered. He grabbed and held her up by her hair and slammed into her repeatedly.

“Oh, master, don’t ever stop! Please, don’t stop!”

He held her up with his hands on her breasts, kissing her neck. Her stomach went crazy, finding new ways to make her sick every time he hit her sweet spots. He had no problem finding them, he must have them memorized by now. There was about her, something so fucking intoxicating. She was like a drug and he was addicted. At first, he despised her for it, but soon enough, he started love her for it and that was scary. It all hit him when he saw how this woman devoted herself to him, even before fucking. She always respected him and saw him for other than money or looks. Immediately, guilt struck him.

That’s when he wanted to take things slower and actually look at her as they fucked. He sat up as she straddled his lap, riding his cock slowly, rhythmically almost as they kissed. Their kisses were much more passionate. His lips let her win, allowing her to kiss him sweetly. His hands held her back, hers wrapped around his neck while one played with his hair and it all felt right. Melting onto one another, he admired her eyes and how satisfied she appeared to be and how angelic her face was when he hit just the right spots. They spoke in between kisses. “Master-”. He shushed her, softly, rather than abruptly. “You don’t need to call me that now,” he whispered as he caressed her cheek.

“Byakuya, fuck, I love you”

“I love you too; all of you,” he muttered, maneuvering her hips in a way that made her groan. She rolled her hips down and tightened around him. That was when he realized that he could no longer continue. “I think I’m-”, he grunted and gasped, digging his head into her chest. “Did you cum?,” she asked, Byakuya nodding. His head suddenly peeked up. He was flustered and asked,“Did you really mean all that? You love me?”. He spat the word as if it sickened him. She nodded and played with his hair.

“I knew you’d mock me for it. Falling in love during the killing game? Pathetic”

“So... am I also pathetic?”

“No, what?”

“I said it too. Does that make me pathetic?”

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered,“Of course not”. There was a moment of silence between the two, where they just lay there and waited till someone said something. “I’m gonna head to my room,” she said. He nodded, although deep down, he protested and wanted to ask her to stay. He couldn’t do that, though. So there, he watched her get dress and leave the room with a funny walk.

The next morning, she got dressed and on her way to meet with the others. Upon opening her door, she was greeted by Byakuya. “Oh, good morning, Togami,” she said,“I didn’t expect to see you-”. He suddenly kissed her, taking her by surprise. “I love you and I want you to be mine,” he blurted. It shocked her even more since this was extremely out of character for him. “What?”. He held her hands. “Ever since we made love the other night, it’s been impossible for me to stop thinking of you”. People stopped at the door, staring because for some reason he heavily emphasized that fact. “You what?,” Kyoko asked. Byakuya stood in front of her to block her.

“Come on, Y/N”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he asked for your hand (in a way). He loves you? It was hard to believe, but the more you thought about it, the more it felt right. What are you to say?

[ipuckwithhockey]

Every New Beginning- M. Raffl

a/n: I couldn’t sleep last night so here’s almost 4k words of me missing Raff already. 

summary: You and Michael had a good thing going for nearly five years but when reality sets in you both start to think that all good things must come to an end. 

warnings: Swearing

When you left your patient’s room and headed to the nurse’s station you weren’t expecting to see a six-foot redhead waiting for you. Sure, he’s visited you at work occasionally and you don’t mind that he’s here now, but those visits in the past were always planned in advanced, were usually accompanied with a quick lunch, and didn’t take place at 10pm on a Monday. 

You met Michael a few years ago when you moved to Philly to start your residency at U-Penn’s hospital. You were just out of medical school and still focused on achieving your lofty career goals and Michael was in his prime playing for the Flyers. Neither one of you had any intention of settling down or putting in the time and effort required in a serious relationship and so the two of you fell into a casual relationship that consisted mostly of late-night activities after you were both done with your shifts. 

You were only twenty-five back then, and now you were pushing thirty. Eventually that casual relationship evolved into something more, and now you weren’t just fuck buddies, you were actually the best of friends. But even though you considered each other best friends neither of you ever made any move to solidify what the relationship that had spawned from late night texts had actually become. 

Your family and friends all wondered why you hadn’t settled down and they asked why you insisted on keeping a casual hook up around for almost five years when you were getting the age when a woman should be finding a man to marry. Michael’s family and teammates all pestered him for never making it official between the two of you, and never understood why he insisted that the two of you were just friends. But that’s all you were. You were friends. Friends that liked to have sex, friends that only thought of each other when anything particularly good or bad had happened, friends who spent the little free time they had with each other. 

And maybe the reason why you hadn’t ever stopped sleeping with Michael was because a small part of you knew you had feelings for him, but maybe it was also because you work nearly 80 hours a week and don’t have the time nor the energy to date at the end of the work day. 

Maybe the reason why Michael never tried to make you his was because he knew you were too good for him, too smart, and too beautiful. Or maybe it was because he had tried dating when he was younger and every girl he met was too annoying, too fake, or too greedy. Maybe the dynamic you had together was just too easy to ever change. 

But life isn’t fair, and just like the old saying, all good things must come to an end. 

“Hey! What are you doing here? Everything alright? You look perfectly healthy and I’m a pediatrician so if you’re sick, you’re in the wrong wing of the hospital.” You joke as you walk up to him where he’s waiting at the nurse’s station and you drop off some charts before turning your full attention to the man who had been patiently waiting for you. You still had your nose in your patient’s charts when you walked up to him, and so you hadn’t noticed the tired look in his eyes, and you hadn’t seen him nervously popping his knuckles as you approached. In fact, when you��re at work, especially during a long shift, you’re usually so focused on your patients that you don’t notice much of anything else in general. Which is why you had also missed the phone call and text that Michael had sent you hours prior, and the messages your friends scattered around Philly had sent with condolences and sentiments of shock. 

Michael knows now, with your lighthearted joke, that you don’t know. That you hadn’t seen his call or his text from earlier. And when he doesn’t say anything at first and you see that serious look in his eyes your attitude changes from lighthearted to concerned, “Is everything okay?” And while Michael knows that everything is not okay, he also knows that this isn’t a medical emergency, at least not one that can be fixed. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to come by before heading out.” He says, and even though he knows you don’t know, he doesn’t have the guts to come out and say it just yet. There’s a look of confusion on your face, “I didn’t think you guys left for the west coast until next week? Or are these 24 hour shifts finally getting to me?” You try and make light of the situation even though that look concern is still spreading across Michael’s face. 

“Yeah, the guys don’t head out until next Wednesday…” He says it and he can see the wheels in your head start to turn. That’s when you remember what day it is and your heart plummets. You’ve been working third shift, and you were two hours away from finishing your current 24-hour shift. The last 22 hours have been pretty hectic, and the thought of the NHL’s trade deadline had completely slipped your mind— until now. 

“Can um- Can we walk outside real quick?” You ask and you don’t really give him time to answer, instead you just head down the hall and out the side door to a small courtyard and Michael follows behind you. When you’re both outside, you’re still processing what he said when Michael interjects, “I’m just on my way to catch my flight. I wanted to come by to see you before I left.” 

You nod your head, and you don’t know what to say so you step into him and wrap your arms around his steady body and his arms wrap around yours, “Where are you going?” You whisper against his chest, and you focus on his heartbeat thumping against your ear. 

“D.C.” He says simply. That’s not too far you think. But you also knew that this was a possibility, him getting traded, and you know that his current contract ends this summer. He could end up anywhere in the league next year. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it as his lips place a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you let out a sigh before letting your arms drop from around him as you step back. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” and you say it just as simply. 

“Then why do I feel so guilty?” And that’s what breaks your heart. You’re both standing in front of each other, and after five years you know each other well enough to know that this thing between the two of you is more than just another friendship. And while you both hate yourselves for never making this what it could have been, you also know that it wouldn’t change what’s happening now. You were still working toward your goals and so was he, nothing about that has changed. There’s nothing to say in that moment, nothing either of you could say to make it feel like you haven’t wasted the last five years, and so Michael places his hands on either side of your face before bringing your lips to his. 

It’s a gentle kiss, and as your lips move slowly against his you know that this moment is full of words that neither one of you can speak. When Michael finally pulls away from you he sees the tears running down your face, and you try to to look away even though his hands are keep you steady in front of him. His thumbs gently run across your cheeks and you let your eyes close as he wipes away the tears you selfishly let fall. You know that this has to be harder for him. He’s leaving his life in Philly behind, his teammates, his best friends, and you. 

You bring your hands up to gently remove his from where they still rest on either side of your face, “You’re going to miss your flight.” 

He nods reluctantly in agreement, and he places on more kiss on your forehead before he turns to leave. Michael never was one for many words, and he doesn’t have to say it, you’re sure you know how he feels and you know he’ll miss you just like he knows you feel the same way for him. 

*

Two Years Later (July) 

You finally feel like you’ve settled into your new place, even though it’s been almost six months since you moved. Moving back home to Seattle was an easy decision, especially when one of the country’s best Pediatric Nephrology programs calls and offers you an attending position. 

You set out at an early age to be a doctor. In high school you decided you wanted to be a surgeon. In college you decided you wanted to go into pediatrics. In medical school you decided you wanted to study kidneys. Everything you wanted for your career had happened and now you’re a nephrology specialist and surgical attending at Seattle Children’s Hospital. 

You should be ecstatic. You should be over the moon that everything you thought you could ever want had happened. You should feel grateful that you get to live in the city you grew up in and that you can spend as much time with your family as you’d like. You should be happy, but you aren’t. 

After Michael was traded to the Capitals you stayed in touch, calling and texting when you could. You spent the night together when they played the Flyers for the last time that season, but when summer rolled around, and he signed a two-year contract with them you knew you couldn’t keep holding on to something that would never work. When you called to congratulate him on his contract, he could sense that something was off, he could hear in your voice that you weren’t yourself, and when he asked you couldn’t lie. 

You told him you thought that whatever was going on between the two of you needed to end. You embellished with some lies, telling him that you needed to be focusing on your work and that you were getting too old to have a fuck-buddy, especially when he was living 150 miles away, and when he started to protest you were quick to shut him down. You told him that you both knew that it couldn’t last forever and that it was okay because all good things must end, and as much as you tried to convince yourself that what you were saying was true, you knew that you didn’t believe any of it. You knew that you loved him and that you wouldn’t find another man that knew you the way he did. But you also knew that your worlds were only growing further and further apart. 

The next year or so was hard. You stopped returning Michael’s calls and you distanced yourself from anyone who was associated with hockey. You threw yourself into your work and your patients and before you knew it a year had passed. As much as you knew that you were only barely keeping your head above water, you also had no idea how to fix whatever mess you had made for yourself. You were thirty-one years old, married to your job, and single. Oh, and still in love with a guy you knew you couldn’t have. 

You weren’t sure what to do or if there was anything you could do, but when Seattle Children’s called and made you an offer you took it as a sign. Your parents were thrilled that you were moving home, and you thought that this was a change that you needed. Something to break up the monotony. Something to shake up your life and to help you get back on track. The excitement you had mustered up for your new position was met with an amazing medical program, but you still had that same empty feeling you had when you were back in Philadelphia. So, you did what you did best, and you continued to work your ass off. Morning, noon, and night you were working with patients and roaming the halls of the hospital, but when your shift inevitably ends you find yourself backing your apartment… alone. 

You’ve never been one for TV and now that you try to avoid hockey all together, you don’t usually watch any at all, but tonight you just felt an itch to reach for the remote that rests on your coffee table. You turn on some random sportscast in the background while you scroll through emails on your phone, and you almost miss it but your well-trained ears pick up on the familiar name. 

“Michael Raffl signing a one-year contract with the Seattle Kraken is probably the most surprising thing to come from this off season so far!” The moderator on the TV says and you have to shake your head as if to wake yourself from what feels like a dream. Your hand instinctively reaches for the remote to turn up the volume and you continue to listen to what the talking heads have to say. 

“You know, everyone thought he’d be retiring this year, he’s 34 and has a nice chunk of change in his bank account, I’m surprised he isn’t heading back to Austria.” 

“I think this could actually be a good signing for them. They need some veteran presence on their young team and Raffl brings experience and a solid presence on the third or fourth lines. He could really bring something different to their game.”

“They’re getting him for cheap too! It’s seems to me like he’s interested in the team or just wants to keep playing if he’s taking this kind of deal.”

You can’t believe what they’re saying. Michael signed a one-year contract in Seattle. And while you don’t keep up with hockey anymore, you remember from all the conversations you’ve had with him, he had already been thinking about retiring in a few years back when he was traded to the Capitals. Why would he sign a mediocre contract with a team on the other side of the country for one year? But you don’t let yourself go where your heart wants to take you. You’re sure he doesn’t even know that you’ve moved from Philadelphia and even if he did, you’re sure he wouldn’t have signed with a team just because you were going to be in the same city. 

It’s been two years. It’s in the past. 

*

Six Months Later (December 31st) 

You’re not sure what you’re doing here. You’re in dress that’s probably too short and too tight, and your feet are killing you. But you let your co-worker, Jen, drag you out for New Year’s Eve. She’s a twenty-seven-year-old Nurse from your department and while she’s sweet and fun, she’s also almost five years younger than you and her stamina for nights out is a lot better than yours. You spend most your time at the hospital and when you’re not there you’re with your family or opting for a nice dinner or quiet bar instead of crowded clubs and house parties. 

You’re sure that most of the people in this club are closer to Jen’s age than to yours, but you put a smile on your face anyway and try to have fun. Jen’s fiancé has been stuck to her side all night, and even though some of your single co-workers are out with you too, you still feel a bit out of place. After the fourth twenty-something guy approaches you, drunk, and with a not-so-charming pickup line, you’re ready to head for home. It’s just about 11:45, and you think that if you can get an Uber you can be home before the ball drops. 

You’re just about to make your move toward the doors when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The uninvited hand only adds to your desire to leave, but when you hear a familiar voice in your ear you stop dead in your tracks. The hand is still touching you and his body is now close against your back when you hear him say your name for the first time in years. 

You turn quickly and you swear you’re hallucinating but when your feet trip from your swift movement and he quickly steadies you with his arms, you know he’s really there. 

“Michael… Wh-What are you doing here?”  Nothing feels like the right thing to say. Michael isn’t sure what words to use either, even though he’s replayed this moment in his head a million times by now. He’s practically run through every possible scenario of running in to you. If it was in the grocery, surely it would happen in the frozen section. It would probably be around 1am and you’d both be there to grab a pint of ice cream. If it was at a coffee shop, you’d be ordering your usual latte with almond milk and he would be ordering his black coffee to-go. He even imagined it happening at one of his games. But when some of the young single guys finally got him to agree to come out tonight, he hadn’t thought about the possibility he would find you in a club in downtown Seattle on New Year’s Eve. 

“I live here.” He says it matter-of-factly over the loud music blaring around you and your first instinct is to say, “I know.” 

He knows that coming out here was a risk and he knows that it’s been two years and he knows that you’ve probably moved on, but hearing you say that you knew he had been here all this time and hadn’t reached out made his heart hurt with a pang of disappointment. And for a minute you’re just standing there with people rushing around you, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You’re not sure what this “moment” is for or why now of all times the two of you are faced with each other again after all these years. 

You decide you don’t have anything to say, and you just shake your head, “I can’t do this.” You say it quietly but bluntly before moving from his grasp and weaving through the crowd of people on your way to the door. When you make it outside you don’t realize that he’s followed you and when you reach the sidewalk you hear him call your name as he comes up behind you. 

“Wait. Please.” He begs as he reaches for your arm.  

“What?! What do you want from me?” You ask as your turn to face him, and it’s more of plead because you realize now, in the cool winter air that your chest hurts from heartbreak that’s two years old, and your mind is racing with what he could possibly say to make up for the seven years of avoiding those feelings. You’ve thought about what you would say to him if you ever saw him again, but now all those rehearsed lines have vanished and for some reason you’re angry. Angry with him. Angry with yourself. Angry that you’ve wasted over half of a decade loving him. 

He lets go of your hand and he anxiously runs his hands through his hair, and now, thankfully all those scenarios he’s run through his head are coming to true, “I just want you to know that I loved you.” He says but all you hear is past tense. “I loved you from the first night I met you. God. You were so smart I had no clue what you were talking about, but I knew I wanted to listen. I loved you for five fucking years and never had the balls to tell you.”

“And then reality set in and I got traded and you shut me out- And I don’t blame you for that either.” He interrupts himself. “I don’t blame you for getting tired of waiting or for knowing that you deserved more, and I thought that you were right, all good things have to end. And I really thought that I would get over it and that maybe I’d find someone who was half as good as you who would make me happy enough, but I never did.” His eyes are bright and searching yours for some indication that you’re hearing what he’s saying, but your facial expression hasn’t changed, and you stand there staring back at him blankly. “I never stopped loving you. And I know that it’s selfish but when I heard you moved and Seattle offered me a contract, I had to take it. If not for the opportunity to keep playing, then for a chance to at least tell you how I’ve always felt about you. How I feel about you now.”  

He’s still trying to figure out if you’ve heard anything he’s said but when you let a little laugh and shake your head in disbelief, he knows he’s too late. So he presses his lips together tightly, and lets his head fall in defeat as he starts to turn away from you. 

You’re so taken aback by everything he’s said. It’s like you knew everything he just told you all along, but hearing him say it aloud, hearing him mirror exactly how you’ve felt for the last seven years, you know that this is one of those moments that life gives you that you can’t pass up. And just as your mind is catching up, Michael is moving to turn away from you, but before he can turn his back your hand is gripping his shirt and pulling him into you. 

When your lips collide the weight that has rested on your shoulders for the last two years is finally lifted and your bodies sink into each other the way water fills an empty glass. You’re consumed in each other as your mouths reacquaint each other and your tongues dance together like they did so many years ago just as you hear the city around you counting down, “5…4…3…2…1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!” 

And when you pull apart from each other, his arms still holding your waist and your hands still in his hair, you take a moment to take each other in. He’s older now and the features of his face are deeper, but his eyes still make you feel warm and safe and happy. He swears you look the same as the last day he saw you in Philly, and the warmth of your soft skin against his hands and the way you still have that same sheepish look after he kisses you, makes him feel like that twenty-five-year-old kid he was all those years ago.  And yet, after all this time, now you finally know that every ending is just a new beginning. 

[phoebehalliwell]

if you could give 3 positive and 3 negative personality traits to each of the next gen, what would they be?

ooh love it. okay. we know i talk a lot. A Lot. i’m doing this in waves. first set of siblings under the cut (wcm). 2.9k. ily!

wyatt i think it’s say kind bc like. he genuinely tries really hard to be a nice person. considerate which is kind of the same as kind but again he like. he knows the elders almost killed him as a little kid he knows there’s a world where he does go dark side and that does weigh on him, so he tries to put other’s feelings first as much as possible. and then third positive trait ummmm generous which again is kinda all in the same category but it’s like. like wyatt is insanely talented not just like as a witch tho he’s that too he’s also like really smart but he’s not a dick about it he’s one of those kids who’s always like i’ll help u with your homework! what r u doing after school later! like. he has a wealth of knowledge and he doesn’t just sit on it he likes to share. this is one of the reasons henry jr is also so close with wyatt because like. they both share this genuine love and interest in the study of like old magicks so to speak like. histories of witches and demons etc most classes the rest of the next gen honestly find kinda boring. on the flipside his negative traits would be like um a tendency to play by the book he’s a little too strict not because he necessarily believes in it but more again he wants to stay in line so as not to get you know. murdered or w/e. another negative trait is a i would say wyatt gets like way too overattached, especially in relationships, but it’s not limited to that. yes he’s a jump then fall guy & i’ve written about this before (multiple times), but i also think it’s the same with like innocents. like the fact of the matter is is that you literally cannot save anyone but wyatt has never and will never learn to accept that and i think he gets. he takes it real hard whenever he loses somebody and gets really pissy and closed off in the aftermath. a third negative trait is like. overprotective. like. in my writings he’s not the twice blessed anymore but he’s still wicked powerful, and he’s also like. the eldest. so he kind of feels this burden to protect his family. it doesn’t help that throughout their youth like chris ever the demon hunter always sought out trouble and leo who Really Didn’t Want To Watch Chris Die Again kind of always passed on whatever the mission was to wyatt. which, yeah, gave chris issues, but it also gave wyatt issues! because in his head, it really is his responsibility to handle these things for his family. and, yes, sometimes he can relinquish this power a little bit like not actively hover over his family while they’re demon hunting, but if he’s not you know. actively there, he’s either scrying or he’s sensing (if he can do that idk) and just. he’s got this feeling that anything bad that happens to his family is his fault. like he has this great power, so if someone gets hurt, like, he should have been there because he definitely could have stopped it. however, this energy kinda harshes everyone else’s buzz, which is why the other tend not to involve wyatt in their plotlines too much.

moving on to chris who just for the record i already wrote for but thanks to the beauty of this site i accidentally clicked the wrong button & now it's gone. so. take two! i don't remember what i said. okay so first trait i'm giving him is. i honest to god cannot remember what i said previously no wait that's a lie because i remember now because it was interesting. because i think chris is interesting, and i think that's a good thing. because like. i wouldn't describe him as likeable i would not say he has the personality trait of Likable™ because like. he doesn't. but people still really like him. because he is interesting. like they see him and go huh wow i wanna know what's going on there all in all i think people kinda gravitate towards him. but of course flipside i think he doesn't necessarily choose to become friends with everyone who approaches him i think he tends to be a bit picky just because you know he's so guarded so i think he has friends but no like. really super close friends. so like first negative trait is he kinda appears aloof because i mean. he's kinda gotta lotta issues you know and it's not something you can really easily explain to someone non-magical because magic is so deeply ingrained into who he is (which also adds to the aloofness because there are just certain topics he'll drop certain things he just won't talk about and its not because he doesn't care or anything it's just like. that's a really big reveal and rather that spin some elaborate web of lies i think chris just like straight up does the i can't tell you that bit, which makes him seem you know well like aloof kinda a little bit dickish). and then of course there's also like. like a lot of vulnerability involved in understanding who chris is he really doesn't have any middle layers nothing that sits between the surface mortal chris and the charmed chris with an inferiority complex it's either you know it all or you know. he just seems aloof. but again like. i think he's interesting. so much so that a lot of people are just kinda willing to look past that. so like. a lot of just external relationships. surface level. & then another defining trait of his on the positive side is clever. because like. he's smart. like i think he's a really skilled witch i think he's an excellent spellcaster and then like. i also think he can do math and stuff (in my fic he is a coder so like. yeah.) but i think it's kind of beyond just like Oh He's Smart i think it's the way he applies his brains applies his knowledge that really kind of sets him apart from the rest i think he really is clever. and then third positive i think chris is resourceful. i think like. i think he likes to have a sense of indepence away from his family because like. i mean he is a halliwell and he doesn’t shy away from that but at the same time he doesn’t really want to like. lean on that rest on well the thing is it’s not even his laurels to rest on. he wants to have this sense of independence and he’s actually p good at getting it. like i having him living on his own (so 2 speak, he has like. 4 roommates? i’m p sure) and yeah he’s not super great at it from just like. a living perspective you know but he’s making it i think like paying his own rent all that and yeah like the food he eats isn’t great and his room is kind of always a disaster but like. he’s made it p far i think a lot farther than people thought he could no disrespect. so i think he's really able to take what lifes gives him and make the most out of it i don't think he likes to coast by on others' accomplishments. which kinda segues into the second negative trait which i think you probably could guess he's overly-independent like independent to a fault. because like. i think he really wants to define himself with kinda comes in a two-fold way because like. okay in-family he wants to. okay so like obvi, there's a major drop off in power between him and wyatt. and i think he's always kinda been insecure about it think what on earth caused such a cosmic fuck up that he's just a telekinetic and then his brother is like. a baby god. so i think chris really feels this need to prove himself worth of a place in the warren line like cement his skills as and really say you know i deserve this title. and then flipside!! he really doesn't want to rely on titles you know he doesn't want respect because he's a charmed one or because he's a halliwell he wants respect off his own merits he wants people to know him by his actions not the legacy he carries. (also maybe gives reason for chris to occasionally use the name chris perry in the altered timeline??) and then. kind of building off that negative trait for his third one i'm saying listless because like. i think the crucial difference between the chris from the dark timeline and chris from the light timeline is like. darktl!chris has always had purpose. like yes it's a shitty purpose it's a burden it's too much to place on one boy but he is the last halliwell you know it's like basically all on him to stop wyatt from you know annihilating the world. (someone should probably tell him the cupitches exist in the dark future lmao) you know from like very very early on in his life darktl!chris has known he's destined for something big and honestly he might fail but he's gotta give it the ole college try because this is the world on his shoulders he's gotta put up a good fight for it. lighttl!chris literally does not have that. he does not have some grand, epic purpose, some monumental destiny to fulfill and like. what is he supposed to do, you know? why is he here? and he feels like he should have some epic destiny hmm well no not exactly he wants some epic destiny but he feels like if there were some epic destiny to be had it'd probably pass over him in favor for something better just like everything else in his life does. like why is he here? literally why is he here i mean okay so like disclaimer is that chris in my story is like. 20/21 and um. also a college dropout lmao haha and like. call a spade a spade we're probz looking at some undiagnosed depression here like give him a zoloft he'll be fine but like. chris feels like he's kinda on a raft in the middle of open ocean in a sense like. the best option is to pick a direction and paddle and hope he reaches land but he's literally in open ocean there are no markers no indicators he doesn't know where to go and like. if he picks wrong he's just heading closer and closer to nothing at all emptiness death whatever And There's No Way To Know Which Way Is Towards Land. and if he fucks up, like, he's screwed. shout out to all my early twenty-somethings. woot woot. but yeah. i think chris really wants a sense of purpose that simply put he does not have and honestly? will not be getting. i am not giving him a prophecy. i am not giving him a destiny. he will have to live with that. and, at this point in his life, i think he's doing a p bad job at that. lmao.

melinda!! baby girl. angel. honestly? i'm going to give her kind too because i think a large part of her just really wants to help people. i've previously called her the most-whitelightery of the next gen, & then also she is currently going to school with designs to become a nurse because like. she's also an empath you know and i think she definitely has aspirations to kind of mix her magical and mortal sides find a balance of both worlds and use her magic powers to enhance how she can better care for people in a mortal way. i'd also say she's really understanding. like, she's the third sibling to the wyatt-chris duo And she's an empath like. even if she doesn't get it, she gets it. like. things are complicated relationships are complicated like she can literally feel all sides of the story whenever there's a wyatt-chris-leo argument and like. what? is only one of them right? is only one of them allowed to feel the way they feel? no. she gets it. she all kinda understands where they're coming from. she understands. and then third positive trait she's really loving. like she's not a person who's stingy with her love (in a platonic sense. i think it a romantic sense it gets a lot more complicated because like. as an empath on the first date well it's just too weird man and it's. it's not like she can't keep her feelings sorted it's just like knowing exactly how they feel about her….. like it's weird. pass.) but i think she really like. i think she loves her family i think she loves her friends like. ❤. wow. on the more negative side i think she kind of like. self sacrificial. like she'll goes to the ends of the earth for the people she loves before she ever stops to think about herself. she doesn't. like she won't self advocate she won't draw a line in the sand when it comes to the ones she loves she fails to um. to see how sometimes her needs might actually be more important that others like. like if she loves you she will walk until her feet bleed. like. you have to be real careful because like. if you ask her to do something like she'll do it you can tack on that "but it's fine if no you don't have to" because if she feels your need to have this task done she'll do it. it's for love. but it's not good. (she will also extend this to non-loved ones again if she feels their need their like desperate need because at the end of the day she's a giver. hey kinda like the giving tree. i think she loves that book.) i also think she's just a shade naive and i kind of hesitate to use that word because like. i feel like it implies kind of a lack of worldly experience and like. melinda has seen a lot. but i think she like really does kind of see the world through rose colored glass i think she believes that people are intrinsically good and want to help each other and um. this can kinda tee her up for a lot of heartbreak and/or disillusionment with the world when kinda the reality is placed there right before her and it just kind of blows. i think it kind of hurts fresh every time. and then a third and final negative trait i think she like takes on too much, from an emotional standpoint, and doesn't really give anything back. kinda the same as self-sacrificial, but like with a twist. like, yes, as established, she has a lot of love in her heart, and she will take on her friend's emotional burdens (as well as any other burdens they might have for her) but then kinda gives nothing in return. she's a bit guarded in a sense. because again. this all comes back to the empath thing. kind of build on the dating thing. you really get live feedback on what exactly they think about you when you unpack, and like. melinda can't take that. she's too in her head on how this directly impacts their view of her and then she's just reading them and not focusing on her own problems you know like. like ladies if you've ever hit like. 1:30 in the morning at a slumber party when shit starts going from hehehe chetoh doost lasdkajldf to like. i don't think i could ever reasonably get married because divorce has really been the only constant in my life and i genuinely don't think i could trust another person enough to tie myself to them legally.? that's melinda's mcfuckin time to shine i think she does play therapist/peacemaker like a lot she likes it because again. she likes helping people! especially the people she loves!! but um. she'll never partake the other direction she really doesn't like getting vulnerable herself because like. you know if your friends are lying to you like you say something really personal and then cap it off with a y'know? and they all go yeah totally but you can feel them going what,,, the fuck. no?? like. like melinda could not take that it has not happened to her yet (probably) but she's come up with the hypothetical and she could not take that. this doesn't really extend to family just because she knows them so long like oh what chris thinks she's lame? okay. wyatt thinks she's overreacting? yeah i know what i've seen buddyboy. & then. for the record. neither or her brothers would never think she is lame or overreacting even If melinda is being lame or overreacting because they just like wouldn't they know her too well. but melinda's def the person who comes up with worst case hypotheticals in regards to her relationship/empathy powers like. all the time.

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. I || JJ Maybanks x Reader

Words: 2667

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: self harm (kind of?)

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: the second time she saw him, it was at a kook party.

A/N: Okay so I KNOW i havent finished WB (im not even halfway lol) but i got this idea from rewatching euphoria. you dont have to look too closely to see that ive mirrored a couple of seens, but the plot, while inspired by euphoria, wont be the same. let me know what you think, or if you wanna be tagged!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

This story does follow the plot, so beware of any spoilers.

This town seemed too perfect. Sure, you were on the poor side of the town, but the houses were well kept and everyone was happy and friendly. It was as far from home as you could get. You hated this. The boxes stacked up in the boot, and the bags piled up in the seats behind you. The fact that you were over two and half thousand miles away from home. The fact that this was a new beginning you were sure you didn’t need. 

You watched as people loaded boats with shopping bags or crates of beer, and how they all seemed to be happy with their small roles in this small town. It was everything you hated and more.

You looked at your dad, in the seat next to you. He kept his eyes on the road, glancing down while he tried to find a radio station with decent music. He settled on reggae track by Bob Marley, and hummed along. You rolled your window down, smelling the salty air that blew in from the coast even as you wound your way further into the poor housing of this end of the island.

That was when you saw him.

He was on his bike, no helmet, his longish blonde hair waving around his face, and a baseball cap slung backwards over his head. You drove past, pushing your head out of the window to keep the view, and his eyes found yours in a way you couldn’t describe. You held his gaze until the car turned, pulling into a driveway. Your new house.

Your dad turned to you with a long sigh.

“I know you’re not happy about this.” he started, and you looked at his concerned face.

“I just don’t understand how moving almost three thousand miles will change anything.” you reasoned.

“Well, you know why. She’s not here, and you won’t have to deal with all of that shit that happened at school.”

“So we’re running away?”

“Y/N, just give this place a chance.”

You nodded. “Dad, how can we afford this?”

He looked at you defeatedly.

You continued, “I mean, with the divorce, and what she did, how could we afford the moving fees and the house? Cross-state moving fees are mad, let alone when you’re on an island too.”

“Hey,” he shook his head, “I’m the adult, I’ll worry about that.”

In your first week on the island, you made friends with a girl called Sarah. She was from Figure 8, but had explained the dynamics between the pogues and kooks to you, and invited you to a party. It was her boyfriend, Topper’s, but she explained that plenty of pogues and tourons would crash anyway.

You arrived without her, a pair of cycling shorts and a crop top thrown over your bikini in a minimal-effort kind of way. Your one stab at an effort was the blue and purple glitter dabbed over your cheek bone to recreate a highlighter effect. When you got there, you could immediately tell you were underdressed. Everyone else were in shirts and dresses, and your glitter was definitely too ‘city’ to be cool here, so you stuck out, obviously the only pogue there. You spent twenty minutes trying to find Sarah, picking up some vodka on your way around. 

Eventually, after leaving a few texts, you sat down on the kitchen counter and nursed your vodka. You had no idea how long you sat there for, but at some point, Sarah’s brother stormed in. You recognised him from one of Sarah’s instagram posts, but you knew he’d never seen you in person. He looked high. And angry.

“Get out of the fucking kitchen!” he was yelling, and people began to filter out, but due to your obscured path, you couldn’t get out. He turned on you.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, “‘Cause I don’t fucking know you!”

“Uh,” you mumbled, “I’m Y/N, I got invited by a friend.”

Where the fuck was Sarah?

“Well I don’t know any Y/Ns. And I don’t see any fucking friends!” He yelled, slurring and stumbling. “Does anybody know Y/N?” 

You looked around the gathering crowd, trying to spot Sarah, hoping she would appear and get you out of this.

“I said, does anybody fucking know Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in this house?” He cornered you, and you were beginning to panic. How the fuck do I get out of this situation?

You didn’t even realise what you were doing, but you felt yourself grab a knife from the counter and thrust it towards him. He stumbled back and you stepped forwards.

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” you shouted, watching him lean back against the wall in fear. You didn’t even register doing it but you felt the blade slice your arm.

You stepped back, addressing the shocked audience. “By the way, I’m Y/N,” You looked around, finding those blue eyes you’d seen a week ago. “And I just moved here.”

You dropped the knife on the counter and pushed your way out of the house, pulling your phone out when you got to the pavement. You checked your messages with Sarah.

You: just got here, where r u?

You: girl, where u at?

You: sarah, i dont know anyone, where r u?

You: im going home, shit turned sour. Msg me later.

Putting your phone away, you looked around. You hardly knew where you were, and you were desperate to get home.

“That was quite a show.” You heard a voice behind you. Shit.

You turned, and saw your blonde haired boy. “Well I knew someone was gonna get hurt either way, so I chose to deescalate the situation, you know?”

He nodded, reaching for your arm, looking at the cut. “You need to get that looked at.” 

“You offering?” you asked, pushing down a smile. 

“Sure.” he shrugged. You looked at him. He looked at the ground, an uncharacteristic shyness taking him over, “Can I stay at yours?”

You watched him stare at the ground, and however much you wanted to ask, you chose not to. “Sure, we just gotta be extra quiet.” 

He grinned, “‘Course.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “This is where I confess that I don’t actually know my way home.”

“We’ll work it out.” he grinned.

When you reached your house, learning that it was only a minute down the road from the blonde boy’s friend's house, you opened the door as quietly as possible, the pair of you pulling off your shoes and carrying them for extra quiet. You snuck up the stairs, trying to avoid the creaky stair boards, and pausing in terror every time there was a creak. By the time you’d made it to your room, the only other room upstairs being a bathroom, you both relaxed. You searched your moving boxes, finding your brother’s old sweat and tee for him, and going to the bathroom so that you could change into an oversized top and old gym shorts.

When you came back, a first aid kit in hand, the boy sat you down on the bed and began to address the cut.

You watched him work in silence. “What’s your name?” you whispered, and he glanced up at you, a smile on his lips.

“JJ.” he said simply, a small smirk adorning his lips as he finished dressing your arm.

You flopped down, so that you were lying on your back in the bed, and he looked at you with an odd sense of curiosity. “Lie down.” softly, you coaxed.

“Usually I get to know a girl before I get in her bed.” he joked, and the way you laughed made him want to freeze the moment in time. 

“Why do I feel like that’s not true?” you snarked.

He gasped, putting his hand to his chest in feigned hurt, “Oh Y/N, I’ve known you for an hour and you’re already breaking my heart!”

“What can I say?” you bantered, “I’m just pure femme fatale.”

He crawled onto the bed, resting his head on the pillows above you. “Oh,” he replied, “I’m sure.”

You flipped onto your stomach, looking at him, relaxed, head on the pillows, gazing down at you. “At home, there weren’t any guys like you.”

He laughed, unsure of himself, “Love, there aren’t any other guys like me.”

You hummed, fiddling with the corner of your throw blanket, looking at him through your lashes, you giggled. “You’re so full of shit.”

He grabbed a pillow and threw it straight at your head. You picked it up, your face scrunched up from the impact, and he laughed. You sat up, crossing your legs, and threw it back at his face, only he caught, laughing, saying something about you having a bad throw. He put the pillow back, and you crawled back up the bed, lying on your back, your arms touching as you both stared at the ceiling.

You glanced at him, taking how his warm tan contrasted the blue light of the moon that shone through the large window above your bed. You took in the way his muscles gave him definition, and how the top stretched slightly over his chest, and how his long blonde hair splayed over the pillow, your own, waist-length hair tickling his arm as you lay there. You took in the curve of his nose and the tiny, mischievous smirk that never seemed to leave his face. You took in his long eyelashes and the blue of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks.

At some point, you drifted off.

When you woke up, you were tucked into him, your legs tangled in his, hair spread over his arm. His eyes were still closed, and you didn’t move from your spot, keeping your eyes on his face.

“You know,” he murmured, “If you take a picture, it’d last longer.”

Blushing, you pulled away. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” you sat up, feeling his fingers trace the curve of your back as you moved out of his reach. You left the bed, looking back to see him sit up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you watched him take in the way your top fell over your frame. You searched your moving boxes again, looking for an outfit for the day. You really needed to move everything into the wardrobe. Eventually, you pulled out a bikini and shorts. You looked back at him, and he grinned at you.

You looked at him curiously, “What are you doing today, JJ?”

He thought for a second, electing against going home, but rather to go to John B’s for a day of weed and joking around. “Introducing you to my friends.” he shrugged, “The one who lives a minute down the road.”

You nodded, “What are we, in a relationship?” you joked, “Introducing me to your friends? Next thing I know I’ll be round for dinner.”

He felt dirty when you said that, shrinking into himself, hoping that you would never experience the shit that came with meeting his dad. You must have realised you’d hit a nerve, because you backtracked, saying you’d been stupid and whatever you’d said to upset him wasn’t intentional. When he looked back up, he saw how the tears of worry were building, and he immediately changed his demeanor, rushing forwards to hug you, assured you that it was all good. 

You went to get changed, leaving him in your room. 

He looked around. The corner was full of boxes yet to be unpacked, the open ones mainly clothes. There was a desk under the window, with some makeup, a book and a notebook thrown on top. The wardrobe doors were open, revealing that the few clothes that were in your wardrobe were very messily so, most either hung up or on the floor. There was a shelf above the hangers, with a shoebox pushed carefully to the side. He pulled it out, conscious that he was snooping. He pulled the lid off, and saw a set of pictures.

The first - you at a funfair when you were a little, a boy two years older (must be your brother) and a woman, almost identical to you, hugging you close. The second, you were older, perhaps twelve - you were wearing a Christmas onesie that matched the woman’s, your brother and dad laughing as you and the woman - your mother - danced around. The third - you were in a hospital gown, and your mother was crying, holding you close. 

There were more, but he didn’t look. Under the photos, there was a tiny crocheted rabbit and a baby blanket with little elephants on it. He heard your bathroom door open, and rushed to put the lid on, putting the box back. You walked in, smiling at him as you checked your phone.

Dad missed calls (6)

Bro missed calls (3)

Sarah missed calls (11)

You sighed, checking Sarah’s messages.

 Sarah: Sorry!! I heard what happened, i should hv been there. Meet up 2day?

You: Rain check? I met a guy last night and he wants to introduce me to his mates.

Sarah: U go girl!! Enjoy urself, msg me if u need me <3

You flicked off Sarah’s messages, glancing back at JJ, who was looking at your make up.

Mom: Darling, call me when you can.

The last text made you want to throw up, and you tossed your phone on the bed, drawing JJ’s attention back to you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod, grabbing your purse and picking your phone back up, and getting ready to go.

“Okay, I’ll go down first, I’ll signal if there’s no one there so you can come down.” you ran down the stairs, checking the kitchen and living room, then giving JJ the all-clear. You left the house, letting him walk you to his friend’s place.

He took your hand, guiding your through the front door and into the house. You wrinkled your nose at the mess, food, clothes and empty cans littering the room. “This is a mess.” you muttered, stepping over an empty packet of sweets.

“His mom left when he was three and his dad’s missing, the lack of adults means… well, you can see what it means.”

You nodded, only just noticing a boy asleep on the sofa next to you. JJ leans over, sighing. “That’s Pope, I’ll go get John B and see if Kiara’s here.” he let go of your hand, walking down the hall, leaving you with the sleeping boy. You watched the boy shuffle and then open his eyes, jumping at the sight of a stranger standing over him. 

“Who are you?” he asked, sitting up and staring at you. 

“JJ’s friend.” you said, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re the girl who cut herself.” he said, recognition relaxing his features.

“My reputation precedes me.” you laugh, and he stands up. 

“Food?” he offers, walking to the kitchen.

“Y’all have food here? It looks like you live off Swedish Fish and beer.” 

He grins, “That’s the life.” he jokes, pulling a slice of moldy bread from its packet, and then throwing it straight in the bin. “That said, John B does need to get groceries more.”

“I do?” you heard a voice behind you. You turned, and were met with the sight of a tall brunette boy. He stares at you for a second, and rather than Pope’s blunt recollection, he grins, “You’re Y/N, right?” You nod, “You left quite the impression at Topper’s party.”

“What can I say?” you laughed.

JJ came back from the hallway, accompanied by a girl. “You must be Y/N!” she greets, smiling brightly, “I’m Kiara.” 

“Well…” JJ pipes up, “Let's take the HMS out to the marsh and introduce Y/N to the OBX properly!”

“I’m down.” Kiara shrugged, “I don’t have any shifts today.” 

“Sure,” agreed Pope.

“Leave in twenty?” John B offered.

[pagesandmagic]

folklore || the 1

description: she left the outer banks two years ago and now she’s coming back for the summer. they haven’t seen each other since she skipped town without telling him. they’ve both hurt each other, so how do they come back from heartbreak?

warnings: slight swearing, angst, S L O W B U R N. 

series based on songs from the album ‘folklore’ by taylor swift.

author’s note: i haven’t wrote any kind of series in YEARS so this is going to be a challenge, but i’m so up for it. s/o to tay for coming out with the most beautiful album ever. (also thank you for your support of everything i’m doing lately. holy crap it means so much.)

 Part Two (this is me trying) | Part Three (mad woman)

JJ. 

he knew she was on her way back to the outer banks.

it had been two years since he saw her face. he hadn't heard her voice in 24 months. 730 days. 17,520 hours. 1,051,200 minutes. it was the longest he had gone without speaking to her since they were ten. 

now, at the age of 20, he was feeling a hole in his heart that he had never felt before. there were so many moments of wanting to call her, drop everything and go to her.

he knew that photography was her dream and that she couldn’t have turned down the offer to travel the country with a popular wedding photographer, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less when she left. 

she left without a word to him, instead telling the other pogues the day before she skipped town. in so many ways, his world came crashing down in front of him. but he knew he didn’t deserve a goodbye. he hurt her in the same way, if not more.

her. 

the car ride to the outer banks was a long one. after finishing her last wedding of the spring, she decided to take the summer off after working every day for almost two years. she missed her family and the friends who became her family. 

she kept in touch with the people closest to her, sarah, john b, pope and kiara. they were the ones who encouraged her to chase her dreams, but not to forget where she had come from. they were the reason she was making the 15 hour drive back to her hometown. spending the summer back in the place she grew up would be both wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. 

she missed her friends more than anything, but terrifying because for the first time in all of her 19 years, her life was going impeccably well. she said yes to an opportunity that allowed her to live outside of the outer banks and chase a dream that she had had since she was little. her entire life had been filled with “no’s” and playing it safe, but for the first time her life was fulfilling. 

but the outer banks was home. she missed the salty smell of the beach and the heat of the north carolina coast. she missed the chateau and drinking with the pogues into the morning. she missed the simplicity that came with living on a little island and was ready to spend a summer living a quieter life. 

she felt a pit in the bottom of her stomach, thinking about the one reason she almost didn't come back. jj maybank.

jj. 

he was sitting at the edge of the dock, his feet dangling into the cool water. a chill ran down his spine, from the temperature and at the thought of seeing her tomorrow. what was he going to say? should he say anything at all? everyone was home from college for the summer and would be at the chateau waiting for her. they would spent the day on the water, just like old times. except this was nothing like the old times. 

everything had changed. college was just the beginning of the end. he could feel it in his bones. it seemed like sarah and john b were on a fast track for marriage. with all the impulsive things they had done in the past, jj was sure they would “accidentally” end up in a courthouse someday or john b would propose with a fucking ring pop out of spontaneity. 

kie and pope had an "on and off" relationship, almost every week. most of their friends couldn't keep up. kie would spend a few months traveling, then visit pope for a few months, long distance took it's toll on them, but they were making it work. 

so he was the only one left. the only one waking up alone. the only one that stuck around in the obx. he wanted so desperately to get out for good, to leave and never come back. but what was he going to do? it's not like he was set up for success. there was always one road block after another preventing him from leaving. so he just stayed, worked his ass off to bring the chateau back to life and fix up the place that he now called home. hoping that one day it would all pay off. wondering each day if one thing had been different, would everything be different? 

her. 

she had just crossed the border into north carolina when her phone lit up. 

can't wait to see you tomorrow, Fin! 

of course, sarah would be the one to text her first. a smile grew across her face reading the nickname her friends had given her in middle school. it's what most people in her life had now called her, and it just stuck. she honestly couldn't remember where it came from, but it felt good to be a part of something familiar again.

she had been pretty nervous about seeing her friends, knowing that she had dropped the move on them suddenly, unexpectedly. it definitely wasn't fair to them but she needed out of the outer banks. it was hard to live there. reliving the pain that made her want to leave in the first place. seeing jj everyday dug the dagger in her heart a little deeper. 

they were good together. like really good. the most shaping points of their lives were spent together. she remembered the night they spent together the summer before their sophomore year of high school. 

the pogues had left for a party at the boneyard, but she decided to stay back at the chateau because of a headache. jj stayed with her in order to avoid the possibility of seeing the touron he had just had a one night stand with. 

they set up camp in the living room, jj beat her three times at mario kart and she beat him the last round. he offered her a blunt and she said no, too nervous that the volleyball team would do a random drug test before school started. instead she spent the night letting the vodka burn down her throat as jj filled the room with smoke. 

they had been going on four years of friendship and she was by far the closest to him. if jj was there, so was she. most days, they seemed like a package deal. each of the pogues had begun to notice and questioned them almost daily. 

two hours into their night, she wasn't sure if it was the buzz she had from the alcohol or the way that jj was intently staring at her as she drank, but the words escaped her mouth without any second guess. "have you ever thought about us?" all jj did was nod. soon enough, their mouths collided in a mess of weed and alcohol and their bodies felt as if they melted together. and that was the beginning. 

from that night on, they were inseparable for almost three years. spending days on the hms pogue, drinking too late, eating at the wreck, visiting the drive in theater, riding jj's bike around the island. those three years were the best of her life. he pulled her walls down, gave her a reason to keep moving forward. they dreamed of traveling the world together, getting out of the outer banks for good. she thought he was the one. the one who would be her person for life. the one she would grow old with. the one she would create a life with. 

that's not something you can throw away overnight. but he did.  

[crime-bot]

! Creature Gets Lost in a Bootleg OmegaMart, More at Eleven !

A small, grey weasel of a dragon was in the dim and cool alley of a street. They were rummaging through a garbage can, making a little mess of clatters and clangs, but coming up with nothing edible. They paused to droop and lament over their misfortune. In the middle of the pause, and through the midst of discarded cans and empty bags, they caught a glimpse of yellow, clear as day. It must’ve been a banana! Or cheese! They gasped with some new vigor ignited and reached their scaly arm in to get it, but when they got hold of the thing and pulled it out it was just a plastic lemon. They grumbled and angrily threw it at the ground. It bounced away and stopped, resting near the alley’s wall opposite of them.

Their stomach growled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” Greyscale said, “I’m trying to find something! Can’t you have any pa-”

They looked up as they hollered and noticed some smoke in the sky, above the surrounding brick buildings.

“Oh, what now, a fire-?”

They had to admit, they’d be intrigued by the idea of a fire somewhere, and at least that’d take their mind off their stomach. What else could smoke mean, after all? They knew the saying: where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

They lept to a pipe that scaled the side of the alleyway and climbed it to the rooftop only to discover the smoke was coming from a particularly not-up-to-code shipping truck, but what wasn’t what caught their eye.

Behind it was a large building with the words “DELTAMART” displayed proudly over a set of clear doors, standing tall and sure in the light of day. A grocery store! That’s just what they needed!

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll have to wait for much longer,” Greyscale said.

They lept and bounded down from roof to windowsill to dumpster. Right as they hit the ground, they made a dash through the parking lot desert, behind the truck, and right right up to the doors, then abruptly stopped and clung to the wall in an attempt to stay out of the eyes of anyone from inside.

They did a double-take, looking for anyone nearby. No one was around. They poked their head around to peak through one of the glass doors of the building that towered over them, a looming mass of bricks and corporate design.

There were some people walking around inside, carrying overflowing cornucopia baskets and pushing carts full of different treats, tools, and other products, but that wasn’t what got them the most. The aisles they could see were filled to the brim with food, and a couple of visible setups of fruits and vegetables looked so delicious and tantalizing in their array of colors that they sparkled to the dragon like precious gemstones.

Greyscale drooled a little with wide eyes.

They anxiously waited until there were barely any people near the doors, and anyone that was there appeared too thoroughly occupied to notice anything sneaking in.

They whispered, “the coast is clear!”

The creature sprang from their hiding spot and scrambled ins-- wait, no, nevermind, they just bonked headfirst into the glass door.

A first-time customer in a nearby checkout aisle got startled out of her waiting stupor and looked over to the sliding doors. Nothing was there.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“I hear everything,” said cashier #23,457, mid-scan of a bag of milk with one of his hands.

Understandably, that monotone answer concerned the customer, but she tried to brush it off. She just needed some milk for a recipe quick, and this was the closest store to her house.

“So-- Um,” she pressed on, “what about that thud from outside?”

“Ohh, haha, yeah I did,” he admitted, “Someone probably just walked into one of those doors again.” He handed the customer a grocery bag with her bagged milk inside and said, “Anyways, have a good day!”

Warily, she took the bag.

“You’re... not going to check on th-”

“H-H-Have a good day!” He said.

Now truly weirded out, she quickly said, “alllright thenIwill!” and walked out as fast-yet-also-not-running as she could.

It’s safe to say she’ll make the effort to not come back.

Seeing their chance, Greyscale scurried in under an exiting woman’s line of sight before the glass doors closed behind her.

At last, they made it into the glory of fluorescent lighting and vibrant food! In the midst of their wave of triumph, they continued to make the effort to stay hidden, taking cover behind some shopping carts.

The store was very nicely kept, they had to note. The white and navy blue checkered floors were spotless, and all the aisles and displays of different sorts were a combination of white, and/or blue, with some yellow, too. From where they were hidden, the whole place smelled cold and vaguely sterile, but they didn’t complain about it. They knew that was just how supermarkets were.

They took a great big breath in preparation and ran from the cover of the shopping carts, still with the effort of being undetected. As they perused in their own only slightly feral way, they dove behind grocery aisles, clambered up shelves, and hid in crates to stay out of workers’ and customers’ perceptions.

During this act of stealth and agility, they noticed an aisle with no people in it full of candy from atop a set of shelves.

“Aw, how sweet of fate!” they mused.

The creature made a B-line for it, jumping across gaps between short distance of aisles, and snagged a small bag of candy that had fallen to the checkered floor. They tore into it and began to eat a mouthful of the tart, brittle sweets inside.

Among the midst of the corporately pleasant music playing throughout the store, its jingle chimed in.

It sang, “De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

They noticed the jingle and stopped their snacking to chuckle.

“You’re right about that,” they said, “I wonder what other good stuff this place has!”

They focused back on their bag of Candy Spiders (Now With 70% More Spiders!), just in time to notice one of the confections moving amongst its kin with its bone-pick legs.

A shocking moment of registration passed. They yelped at the realization and threw the bag away from themself as far as they could.

They sputtered, “Did-- did that--? No-”

They paused and slunk back up to the bag, warily.

The bag was motionless.

Slowly, cautiously, they batted it with their paw. They reeled it back away from the bag, as if it might jump up and bite them. Still, nothing inside moved.

They blinked a couple times and began to doubt what they thought they saw.

“Huh, h-ha, maybe this candy’s expired..” they said.

Greyscale left the bag behind to wander about some more(and put some distance between them and the Candy Spiders, but they didn’t want to fully admit that), and checked the rest of the products out.

They trotted through the deli area, passing by a stiff employee who was still in the process of regaining energy from his charging deck, fixated on the selection of meats. They even tested grabbing a slice of ham, and he didn’t notice one bit!

Once they were done with that, they visited another place that no one was in at the time. It didn’t have anything meant to be edible, but it sure was beautiful. Countless flowers were displayed in rainbows of colors, and the air was chilly to keep them all preserved for longer. Greyscale stayed there, smelling the roses both figuratively and semi-literally, until they had enough of that. They walked out of the section and past a sign that read, ‘HYBRID FLOWERS’. One of the tulips opened its eye.

After that snack and slice of ham they had, Greyscale was undoubtedly more content with their level of hunger, but they wanted to try to make the most of this place. After all, when they’re amongst a bounty of food, it’s good to get as much as they can before they go. They put their two front paws up on the ledge of a refrigerated bin full of organized fruit and poked their snout in, looking to choose which might be tastiest. Should they have a pear, or maybe an apple? Oh, but the peaches looked good, too!

Out from under the side of a display pyramid of apples behind them, a glitching, writhing tentacle rose to inspect its produce.

Ah, yes, every apple was shiny and in order... It had the pigeon grease to thank for that. It was about to retreat back under the apples, but something caught its attention. What it noticed was grey, and.. It wasn’t shaped like a customer either. It was rummaging around in a nearby refrigerator bin full of fruit strictly for customers.

Greyscale felt a couple of taps on their back and jumped, then turned to face-

“aAh-!!”

Nope! Nope, nope nope! They scrambled into and out of the freezing bin of fruit and away from the shifting, glitching-- thing in front of them. It lunged, and they turned and ran only to skid to a halt before smacking into a glass display case of ears.

Oh nonono, they shook the shock from that off and sprinted left into an aisle, only to see one of the store workers pulling can after can out of his mouth to put on the shelves.

They quickly turned again to climb up a shelf from the opposite side of the aisle as fast as they could. They really, really, really shouldn’t be here-

They tried to escape, find a way out, but the more and more they ran and jumped and turned, shifting from running on the ground to balancing on top of aisles, the more the grocery store grew and stretched into a labyrinth.

“NononononoIcan’tbetrappedthere’sgottabeaneXIT-”

They stopped briefly, shuffling and turning in place and trying to catch their breath, looking for anything that could possibly function as a sign to point them out. They launched themself from where they stood again only to smack into a pair of legs they hadn’t noticed.

The owner of those legs, a tall, nicely dressed woman, looked down at whatever had bumped into her.

Greyscale screamed and ran as soon as they realized they got noticed yet again.

“Huh…” she said, “one of the fish they’re selling must’ve got out again.”

She shrugged and continued to read the label of some canned wood she grabbed from a shelf of assorted canned inedibles.

Still thoroughly spooked, Greyscale bolted through the open door of a storage room to hide, but it only led to an expansive area of ventilation pipe trees and tubes protruding out of the ground and sky and distant walls in a variety of angles, all painted in a mess of glowing neon patterns.

The little dragon darted about the dark and dizzying manufactured forest, too worried about getting caught by any foe to realize the nature of the location surrounding them until they finally looked back. They began to slow down to a trot when they didn’t see anyone.

“There’s…” they huffed, “no one.. there…?”

Upon that realization, they slowed down even more, but that wasn’t enough to keep them from losing their footing on a pipe nestled into the glittering ground.

“HuhuUuAH-!”

Before they had a chance to save themself, they were swallowed into further oblivion and shot down the pipework with a series of clunks and shouts, thumping, denting into each abrupt turn going deeper, deeper, faster, faster until they were finally spat out to the end.

Greyscale was flung from the mouth, still held at the whim of momentum, and tumbled to a stop, toppled over themself. The result of that disorienting ride was a dizzy, discombobulated dragon, complete with stars going around their head as it bobbed about, trying to get their bearings despite their eyes having trouble focusing on anything for the time being.

They knew it was bright, or-- maybe it was dark? They couldn’t tell, they could still only see stars and an ever-shifting background. Their ears picked up on a further dizzying soundscape of moving, shifting, falling, corporate music, but the more they strained to focus on and determine a sound the more and more difficult it felt to tell any sound apart from another. It was a surrounding, pattering swarm of noise, and as their vision cleared and they tried to stumble up, they only fell back down onto the soft, squishy.. mahogany(?) surface they had been spat onto by the pipe.

Wearily, they picked their head back up and finally witnessed the shifting, unending world surrounding them. Cans floated through the air, worlds of their own, great candy spiders spun threads and webs of sugar on even more pipes that ripped out of the ground, checker patterns slid across surfaces, and everything seemed to pulse with an underlying life.

They were then aware, horrified, of the unavoidable fact that they were now utterly, hopelessly lost.

Amidst the cacophony of sights and patterning and a ground they couldn’t get a hold of, Greyscale thought they heard a familiar yet muffled jingle, far away in the distance yet echoed everywhere throughout these caverns.

“De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

Their heart sank.

“Oh no-”

[witched-the-watcher]

Geralt and Yennefer are living their well earned happily ever after and Jaskier is mortal. Jaskier is happy for Yen and Geralt after everything is said and done. Together with Ciri they brought peace to the land and finally made their relationship work after much hardships. It is a hard won decision, but Geralt, tired of all the fighting, decides agrees to take a break from being a witcher and just retire for a while with Yennefer by his side exploring and enjoying their new relationship.

The plan for their retirement doesn’t involve Jaskier and he doesn’t ask to accompany them. This is the ending of their story and he was never a protagonist. Side characters have no role in the happily ever after and he came to terms with a long time ago. All of them walk together side by side not quite ready yet to say their goodbyes. In his heart he knows it will be the last time they’re together like this, but he refuses to say the words out loud clinging to the hope that he will see them all again. The immortals by his side don’t notice the inner conflict, he hides with song and laughter.

First to go is Ciri, who has become like a daughter to him over the years even if the sentiment isn’t quite shared. To her, he ponders, he must be more like a fun uncle she can turn to when she needs a break from Geralt and Yen. He gladly gives her everything she needs and asks for and is so proud of the strong woman he helped raise. When she depards, eager to find her own place in the world, she leaves them alone in a clearing far enough from Kaer Morhen for Yen to use her portals.

Who would’ve thought the witch would grew on him so much over the years. A deep and chaotic friendship connects them now and knowing she finally found the love she’s been looking for all her life fills him with joy. The jealousy he used to feel towards her seems an eternity away. She deserves all the love she’s getting and gives so much back in return. Thanks to her hardly a day goes by without Geralt smiling and even with his smiles mostly directed at Ciri and Yen, Jaskier can’t find it in his heart to be discontent.

Geralt, grown so very soft compared to their beginning, initiates a hug and Jaskier allows himself to indulge in a fantasy of what could’ve been and never was. He imagines a life full of secret glances and stolen touches, whispered confessions over the campfire and a warm bed to return to. He imagines Geralt turning his embrace into a passionate kiss asking him to run away with him somewhere far away and then he lets go.

“See you around, Geralt.” He says with a smile as Yen leaves with him through a portal and he is left alone on the clearing.

Tears he held back for weeks flow freely down his cheeks now that there is no one is see and Jaskier takes his time to collect himself again before starting his journey again. It’s nearly dusk already and he should start putting it all into song. Audiences love a good happy end. 

His bones ache.

Time passes and the story of the witcher, the mage and the lioness becomes a legend, told and sung about far and wide. Jaskier has spend his last active years as a bard spinning them into an epic tale immortalising them for all generations to come. He can’t stand the thought of the world forgetting the trio and their deeds.

Yen and Geralt have all but disappeared from the face of the earth, but Ciri keeps up with him those first few year through letters and visits. She is a busy woman however and with time their contacts becomes few and far between until they cease completely around the time Jaskier decides to move to the coast to live out the last of his years.

He doesn’t blame her. She, like her parents, wasn’t made for a mortal life and why would you count the decades if you’ll live for centuries. By the time they will think of him again, he can only hope his songs will be enough for them to remember him by. 

Living by the sea is all that he thought it would be. He loves the unpredictable beauty of the ocean, the stormy winds and the salty air. The people are rough but merry and welcome the old rich professor from the big city with open arms, even though he’s grown completely useless over the years. His time as a bard is long since over and neither his hands nor his voice allow him to create the music he prides himself in anymore. All he has left are the stories of his youth, that he gladly shares with everyone in town.

One late spring day a big commotion is running through the little coastal town. A witcher has arrived and everyone is excited. They heard the heroic songs and stories about witchers and want to catch glimpse of the living legend. As the oldest in town and the only one who has any experiences with magic folk the townspeople steal him out of his cozy home and bring him out to talk and negotiate with the witcher.

He sees Geralt standing in the middle of the market square surrounded by curious and excited people of all ages, who dare not approach him just yet except for a couple of children held back by their parents. He is scowling. Of course he is scowling, Jaskier thinks as his heart begins to soar again. He tries telling himself that he is far too old for such silly romantic feelings, but he knows that him giving up on romance is just as likely as Geralt giving up on scowling.

The witcher has obviously been in a fight. His clothes are torn and there are bite and scratch marks all over his body. The people must’ve told Geralt to wait for him before talking to anyone because as he arrives inside the circle Geralt immediately faces him clearly annoyed at the whole procedure and asks

“You’re the elder here?”

Jaskier nods dumbfounded. For once in his life he does not quite know what to say as he tries to keep the tears from falling. Geralt clearly doesn’t recognize him as old and wrinkled as he is and Jaskier isn’t sure if he wants him to or not. Age has always been a bit of a sore spot considering the ageless company he liked to keep. In his youth he tried everything to look as young as possible but not even the best moisturizer in the world could help him now, he thinks slightly bitter as Geralt continues.

“Finished the job. I want my coin and place to stay for the night.”

The job? Jaskier is momentarily baffled. As far as he knows there were no monsters around except for the couple of teenage mermaid messing with the fishermen for the last couple of weeks but surely they couldn’t have banged up Geralt this badly.

“With the job you mean the mermaids?” He asks carefully trying to keep his voice steady.

“Hmm” Geralt grunts as eloquent as ever and Jaskier loses it and starts laughing. Decades later and Geralt still thinks “hmm” is a good enough answer to give. Decades later and Jaskier still understands him perfectly. He loves this beautiful idiot so much it hurts.

The way to the square and seeing Geralt again has tired Jaskier out and he needs to sit down. Thankfully someone in the crowd already brought a chair expecting him to need a rest after this encounter and guides him gently to sit down. Jaskier would’ve thanked the man if it weren’t for the fact that he’s still wheezing thinking about Geralt’s most recent heroic fight.

“You got beat up by a bunch of teenagers? How out of shape are you? You know you were just supposed to scare them a bit, right?” Jaskier manages to spit out in between his giggles.

“Now listen here, old man. You don’t-” Geralt starts through gritted teeth, unamused, only to be interrupted by Jaskier’s continuous laughter.

“Old man? Really, Geralt. We both know you’re much older than me in age and in spirit.”

Jaskier can see Geralt freeze up, confusion and dread slowly overtaking his expression but he continues talking unperturbed. Let Geralt figure it out for himself

“Seriously though you must’ve really let you go in your retirement. Yen’s magic made you lazy didn’t it? Please don’t tell me you’re hiding a potbelly unter all those armor. No, no Yen wouldn’t let you get one, I’m sure, but for you to lose your touch so completely. You must admit this is pretty hilarious.”

Tears have filled Jaskier’s eyes and he tries to wipe them away struggling to keep his laughter under control. Meanwhile, Geralt stumbles a bit, so out of place for the normally unfaced witcher. His eyes have grown wide in shock and his face pale. It’s proof enough for Jaskier that Geralt really didn’t realise how much time has passed between them and he feels lighter, relieved knowing Geralt hasn’t meant to forget about him for so many years. Who is he to judge Geralt for getting caught in the storm of love, when he’s standing here before him looking so vulnerable and scared all of a sudden. 

“J-Jaskier?” Geralt stutters in a fragile whisper and Jaskier’s heart clenches in his chest. Seeing him like this is hurting the witcher and there’s nothing he can do about except for making light of the situation and smiling through it just like in the good old days.

“Took you long enough, old friend. I was already scared you might’ve gotten forgetful in your old age.” He teases and notices the murmurs and stares of the bystanders all around them. In a dramatic motion he raises his hands and tries to shoo everyone away.

“All of you scram. Shoo! Let me catch up with Geralt in peace. Satisfy your curiosity tomorrow after the poor man had a proper bath. And you,” He faces Geralt again and waves him over. “Come here and help me up, will you. You can stay at my place for the night. Melitele knows I could use the company.”

Oh, he shouldn’t have said that, Jaskier notes grimly as Geralt winces slightly at his words. He promises to be better and make this visit count. It’s unlikely that he’ll have another chance to be with Geralt like this and tainting their last time together with thoughtless remarks and accusation just would not do. He wants his love to have some good memories when he thinks of this in the future.

Almost mechanically Geralt obeys and ,unnoticed by anyone but him, hesitates only for a second before helping him him up.

“My house is not far but this might take a while. I’m not as fast on my feet as I used to be. But then neither are you it seems.” He says with a laugh gesturing at Geralt’s torn clothes. The only retort he gets is a grumpy growl as he links his arm with the witcher’s using him as a crutch and leaning into him just a little bit more than absolutely necessary.

The people scatter around them some slightly disappointed but mostly cheerful. Jaskier knows the town will go and prepare a surprise feast for tomorrow with Geralt as the guest of honor. And Geralt will pretend to hate it as much as he will secretly enjoy all the positive attention he’ll be getting. They make their way towards his house and it’s once again up to Jaskier to fill the silence. He tells Geralt about the town and its people, acutely aware of the stares Geralt is giving him. It must be hard for the witcher to see him like this all frail and wrinkled. 

“I may not have your magical witcher senses but even I can feel your staring, Geralt. What’s the matter?” Jaskier asks knowing full well the reason behind his behaviour. 

Sometimes Geralt needs to be forced to talk or else his quiet brooding will consume him and every attempt at conversation will be for naught. To Jaskier’s surprise however one question is enough to make him talk. Looks like he’s not the only one who changed a bit over the years.

“You look old.” Geralt blurts out, making Jaskier raise an eyebrow. “Yeees, that’s because I am old. Very old in fact. Still younger than you of course, but not everyone can be an ageless immortal like you.” He responds. Geralt has to do a little better than that.

“No, I mean you look older. You never looked older before. I didn’t realise how long it’s been. I forgot…" 

Regret oozes out of Geralt’s words and he doesn’t bother hiding it. It reminds Jaskier of his apology after the mountain disaster and he’d much rather not be reminded of that chapter of his life again, so he takes pity on Geralt and continues for him.

"You forgot that I’m just mortal. That I’m ageing like a normal human. I don’t blame you, my dear. Back then I was obsessed with looking young and terrified of growing older. Thought you wouldn’t want me around if I wasn’t uh pretty enough anymore." 

Geralt tries to interrupt him, likely for things he already knows or god forbid to apologize again for the mountain incident but Jaskier simply shushes him and keeps going.

"That was a load of horse dung of course. You should’ve seen me in my sixties, Geralt. I was the most sought after professor in Oxenfurt history. I broke so many hearts in those days.”

He sighs dramatically. “I gave the distinguished gentleman look a whole new meaning. Turns out graying hair and a couple of wrinkles just made me look more dashing. Even you wouldn’t have been able to resist my charms.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Geralt answers sounding amused and the thought of Geralt visiting him back in Oxenfurt makes him stumble. 

It had been a foolish fantasy of his. He used to imagine Geralt finding him in Oxenfurt during a lecture and suddenly becoming captivated by his new more mature side. After the lecture Geralt would be overcome with passion and drag him into a side corner, kiss him and apologize for how long it took to seek him out again. It would’ve been worth the wait.

Geralt holds him steady and helps him catch his footing. He is pretty winded after their short walk and needs a moment to catch his breath.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. There’s a painting of me in Oxenfurt somewhere on the campus. You should check it out next time you’re there.”

“I will. I promise.” Geralt says looking at Jaskier with an honest expression.

He feels heat rising in his cheeks and splutters. “Eh, um right well. Ah, here we are. My house. It’s not much but enough for an old man like me. Let’s go in.”

A bath was already waiting for them when they arrived. Marie, his housekeeper, had rushed home as soon as she heard Geralt would be staying with him and made the necessary preparation. He hired her some years back to help him around the house after he broke his leg in a stubborn attempt to do everything himself despite his age. His leg healed but Marie stayed. At least twice a day she comes around to cook him food, take care of the chores and keep him company for a bit. 

After Jaskier introduces her to Geralt and thanks her for her efforts she excuses herself to cook dinner leaving both men alone once again only a bath between them. He carefully sits down on the stool next to the bathtub and makes a silent note to give Marie a raise as Geralt undresses and gets in. Sexual pleasure might be beyond him now but her can still appreciate the form and Geralt even after decades of retirement is a sight to behold. He wonders briefly, while admiring the muscles before him, if witchers were even capable of losing their well toned bodies. Imagining Geralt skinny with no muscles or as big and soft man however does nothing to make him look any less appealing in Jaskier’s mind and he absentmindedly pours some of Geralt’s favourite bath oils into the water. 

An old routine is overtaking them and for a moment Jaskier forgets about his aching bones and brittle body. Feeling young again he prepares to help Geralt wash and hums a little melody. 

A silly little song he once came up with a couple of years into their friendship. Just the two of them under the night sky, a warm fire illuminating their camp as they had one too many drinks. He was teasing Geralt about something insignificant and Geralt retorted by singing a couple of lines back to him. The alcohol relaxing him enough to smile at Jaskier and with a sudden clarity the bard realised that he wasn’t feeling the simple fleeting infatuation he was used to, but something different entirely. Something true and lasting and all consuming. This was the love he sang about in his songs and had yet to fully grasp. This was the kind of love that could push him up to the greatest heights or leave him wanting forevermore. He listened to more of Geralt’s tone deaf singing and let himself fall, damn the consequences.

“I missed this” Geralt says relaxing into the bathtub.

You couldn’t have missed it that much or you would’ve come to see me sooner, Jaskier doesn’t say, instead he replies with a simple “Me too” and gently pushes Geralt’s head into the water.

“It’s a shame you cut your hair though.” He continues running his hands through the white hair. “Washing it was always my favourite part.”

“I forgot to take care of it and after a while it got all tangled up. Had to cut it in the end.” Geralt explains and Jaskier rolls his eyes exasperated.

“I spend so much time and money caring for your luscious white locks and you just forgot. I can’t believe it. My poor beautiful white hair. Where was Yen in all of this? I know she knows how to take care of long hair. How could she let this happen?”

Geralt lets out a chuckle that leaves him breathless as he glances at him with an oh so fond smile on his stupidly handsome face.

“She’s fine with me as long as I don’t smell too badly. You’re the only person invested enough in my personal hygiene to help me bathe.”

Jaskier, embarrassed, slaps a bunch of soap on Geralt’s head as a response and starts massaging it in. Geralt however moves away from his touch and takes Jaskier’s hands in his examining them carefully.

“You don’t have to do this.” Geralt frowns, worry in his eyes. “They must hurt.”

“They don’t. They’re just a bit stiff and hard to move. You won’t hear me play the lute anytime soon but this I can still do.” He reassures him. Today is one of the good days and meeting Geralt made him feel much more energized than usual. He can barely feel his aching joints and the moment.

“Now turn around like a good boy and let me have my fun.” He orders and Geralt obeys with a hmm.

After the the bath they treat the worst of Geralt’s few remaining wounds and make their way to the kitchen. Marie left their dinner neatly on the table before leaving for the day most likely to help the others out with the preparations for tomorrow.

They eat in comfortable as sun sets through the window illuminating the small room in orange hues. Jaskier doesn’t have much of an appetite and leaves his food for later in favour of watching Geralt eat. Neither him nor Yen knew how to cook anything more complicated than plain vegetable soup and from the way Geralt is devouring Marie’s cooking they haven’t bothered to learn it in his absence either. Idiots,the both of them.

“What are you smiling at?” Geralt asks him noticing him staring.

Jaskier ignores the question and proposes to go outside and watch the sunset instead. A couple of minutes later Geralt finishes eating and helps him around the house to the backyard and onto the bench facing the ocean. He had to be carried for most of the way there, his legs giving out under him at last. It’s been a long and he’s exhausted, only the thought of Geralt finally being at his side again keeping him awake.

Jaskier leans against the other man resting his head on his shoulder and watches the ocean waves move back and forth glistering under setting sun.

This is it, he thinks, this is what pleases me. He had been right all those years ago on the mountain when opened his heart to Geralt and asked him give him a chance to prove himself. A quiet life like this, just the two of them and the sea, would’ve been enough to calm his yearning heart.

“You’re quiet.” Geralt remarks, breaking the serene silence.

“Hmm.” He teases but Geralt’s mind is somewhere else. He seems uneasy, concerned.

“Have you ever been married? Are there any children?” The witcher blurts out blunt as ever-

The questions make him chuckle. “Of course not.”

“Why not?” Geralt pushes. “You said you had a lot of admirers back in Oxenfurt. There must’ve been opportunities.”

“Certainly.” He agrees lightheartedly and pats Geralt’s arm. “But how could I marry someone else when my heart already belonged to you. That wouldn’t have been fair.”

Geralt’s face crumbles. “Jaskier, I-”

“Oh don’t give me that look, Geralt.” He interrupts him. “We both know you’re much more observant than people give you credit for and I’ve never made loving you a secret.”

Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand in his and places a kiss on his knuckles.

“I never once regretted it. Any of it. So please no more apologies, my love.”

“Okay.” Geralt whispers and squeezes his hand tightly in response letting silence fall between them once again.

Okay, Jaskier repeats in his mind as he closes his eyes for the last time to the sound of the waves and the wind and Geralt’s slow and steady heartbeat. He is happy like this. It’s good enough.

[theblackbirdsgemimagines]

May I request for the Leona, Vil, Azul and our boy Jack getting stuck in their MC's world and their experience? (MC is with them)

Oh sweet Jesus akdhakdhsk FORGIVE ME OF MY RATHER CYNICAL OUTLOOK ON OUR LIL BLUE PLANET 😬 I think it’s understandable to be more cynical than ever in this Hell Year, lolll

Send these poor, sweet babies back home, they deserve better than to be stuck here of all places 😅 ESPECIALLY JACK AAAAAA SAVE THE BABY 💔

Ok, not even going to play with you... Vil would thrive, lol.

Just give him time enough to stop panicking over all his lost clothes, magic, etc., and find new things that works for him and his detailed self-care routine, and whatever he chooses to do, he will make Fat Stacks in.

He’s the male version of Belle Delphine, here ajdhakdhsj

He appears anywhere, on tv with some company to continue his performer career he had back home, or on youtube/instagram, and he is almost immediately just as famous here as he was in Wonderland.

Can we really blame anyone, tho? Look at him.

And there’s no Neige here!

Also, ‘my’ Vil is definitely the one that knows there are many different ways to be beautiful~. He may be a bit more blunt to his friends if he thinks they’re not quite hitting the usual mark their talents place them in. But that’s only because he cares about them, and wants everyone to see their best, as he does~. He’s an absolutely encouraging sweetheart to anyone else/a beginner at whatever their passion is, though~. And either way, he’s your best cheerleader~.

Of course he still just doesn’t feel himself without his magic, or ability to do potions. I don’t think he’d find the witchcraft in our world would suit him very well.

If he was really stuck for good, of course he’d make the best of it. But if he could go home, especially if you wanted to go back with him, he’d jump at the chance. And always be on the lookout for the chance.

But that being said, I think, aside from all the world’s problems, of course, he’d find it interesting just how similar, and vastly different, things are here.

He donates Ass Loads to so many charities, like honestly.

Rich boy knows his privilege, and lets others ride off his advantages as much as he can. 💜

He becomes friends with James Charles. You know he does.

You can’t be truly fully beautiful if you’re not also lovely on the inside, too, after all~!

Rip Rook wherver he is, he is lost without his Queen 😔

Gosh, in direct contrast to Vil, Leona probably suffers the most over here?? Jahdkshdj

I know they based his sleep habits off a irl lion, but that also sounds just a Tad Bit like possible depression to me (along with a lot of the other ways he’s behaved so far, lol).

Get this sweetheart to some therapy, maybe?? Help him get a lil energy boost at least to help him feel better 💛

He’s going to HATE the work pace people have to maintain just to eat here, 100%.

He enjoys the entertainment the most, though~. Video games, things you can watch online, all those sorts of things~. Might like a few of our sports, too~.

Poor bby struggles with having to work, though, please help him 💔

At least he doesn’t have to live under being Forever Prince, here, and doesn’t have to worry about turning anything he touches to sand. And the lions in the zoos are pretty cool to go see~!

He’d probably love it if he could go to Africa and see what our “Afterglow Savannah” looks like here~. Meet the lions that are in the wild~.

I imagine he and Jack would both lose the ears for human ones, and the tails, too. (😢💔) So he probably feels weird seeing himself like that, and might miss his tail. Especially if it helped him with balance. Give him some time to adjust to it~. There’s these neat new tails people made for cosplay, that can move around on their own, if he’d like one to help him not miss his old one so much~!

I had to really think about what the heck he’d even do for a job, cause he’s so grumpy to everyone, retail’s just OUT, lol. And I don’t think he’d be that great at something like youtube, either ajdhsjjd

It’s hard for him to not just lay around all lazy, rather than think of stuff to do for it/actually get up and go do it. Let alone all the meetings, and interacting with fans, and the like.

So maybe actually being one of the zookeepers would be a good fit for him~. He’d be obligated to actually go, and he’d get to be around lots of different animals~. Might help him feel more at home, too~. I think he’d be pretty good at it, and the animals would probably be drawn to him~ 💛

He’d also absolutely challenge the authority here (or anywhere else that has appalling governments, especially if they’re not run by women). The state of things, and the way women and minorities are treated by white men around the world, and men in general, would absolutely appall him. He so drunk on that respecc women juice, he just can’t wrap his head around what the hell the problem is with those rich assholes in power. Put him in power, and he’ll ruthlessly show them what-for! ALL the others behind him would be women! Good grief, humans!

All in all, he doesn’t mind it here, but would also prefer to be home, where he can sleep more, and Ruggie can run around for him most of the time, lol

Besides, that allowed him to spend more time with you~! 💛

(LOOKIT THAT HAPPY BOY SMILE!!! I’M DEAD 💞💞💞)

Oh, Jack. Sweet, sweet Jack.

He absolutely becomes a personal trainer as a job, here. 1000%. He lives that Exercise Junkie Lifestyle, there’s just no doubt about it.

He’s VERY encouraging to his students, though~! Build up that beef, guys, he has total faith in you~! 🤍🤍

He absolutely loooooooves going anywhere to see wolves. He’d probably really love the wooded mountains in Europe, if you ended up there, or in Oregon/Washington if you ended up here in America~. Definitely Canada, or Alaska, too~! Just give him huge trees, snowy winters, and nearby mountains, and he feels right at home~.

Idk if he’d miss his magic a whole heck of a lot, tbh?? But he WOULD miss his friends and family! It’s just not quite the same here, though he thinks it’s beautiful and interesting to see where you came from~. 🤍

He’s a good boy 😭

Also appalled with the state of so many rulers and governings both in your home, and around most of the world, lol.

He can’t stand seeing so many people suffer like that! How can they possibly live the life that’s the most healthy and happy for them to live, disabled, chronically ill, or not, if they’re suffering under an iron fist all the time?!

He CAN’T stand for it. You won’t stop him till he sees good change starting to finally happen. Especially if you live here! There’s no way he can just sit around and have you be subjected to that!

HE’S A GOOD BOY 😭

You gotta calm him down a lot and remind him there are others just as good and kind as he is, fighting to change things too 🤍

God help people if he gets here anytime within 2020-2021. He’s sucker punching nearly everyone he sees without a mask.

He’s also sucker punching every nazi he sees, too.

My goodness, please show him the movie Wolf Children! He’ll hide the fact he’s crying multiple times through it, but it’s one of his favorite movies here~.

If you do manage to go back to Wonderland, please try to bring a copy of it with you. It’s the one thing he’ll miss most, and keep asking to watch with you again, before remembering it doesn’t exist there. 😭

He also misses his tail and ears a lot. Losing all of that + his senses would be very a very awkward adjustment for him, and he wouldn’t really like it poor bby 💔 Give him lots of hugs to compensate U-U 🤍

His favorite thing to do with you would probably be to go hiking, and stay in a little cabin in the woods, for a week or two~. Somewhere in one of the previously mentioned places~.

(I couldn’t find a chibi gif of Azul to use, rip 😭)

Azul is just straight up becoming a mafia boss, probably wkdhakdjjs.

He’s the ‘good’ kind, though. He’s learned his lesson since his overblot, and he won’t outright kill people for not paying him back, or introduce drugs, or anything like that.

He’ll help people obtain what they want as legally as possible... But that doesn’t mean he still won’t be sly as hell about it, haha~.

He’ll protect loyal/good customers and the areas they live in, too~. In fact, he’d probably reDUCE crime from doing so.

He just learns all the dirty ins and outs of everything about how things run here. And as much as he’ll fight for change as the others would, because there’s no way any of that is an acceptable way for you to live, he’ll work dirty in order to take advantage of the system, to do so. What better way, right? Make the dominos fall from the inside out.

He’s a good business man, he knows doing so would also benefit him, too.

He’s like Bruce Wayne if Bruce Wayne was a rich mafia leader jeehskdje

Need health benefits to work for him? Covered. Need above-average pay to actually afford your bills and other stuff? Covered. Need education to do a job for him? They’ll train you.

He’s also practically a Gordon Ramsey, tbh. Lots of his bars will pop up across the world, if he stays here long enough, lol. But they’ll all help a good number of people, in doing so~.

He also donates as much as he can, too. If he’s gonna become even a fraction as rich as Jeff Bozos, he’s ending world hunger and homelessness every year.

And boy oh BOY will he swindle the rich akdhakdhwj

He will whip them so hard, they won’t know what the hell hit them.

He may have been under restrictions at the college, but he sure as hell isn’t here. Watch out as he spreads his tentacles wings.

And, of course, he adores being anywhere near the coast. Doesn’t matter what part of the world you’re in, he just needs to be by the sea.

All the polution absolutely breaks his sweet little heart, and that’s one of the first things on his list to fix. Dealing with trash back home was much easier... you could just zap it all away at big trash fields. But you don’t have that luxury here.

Being that he doesn’t really like his ocotpus form (bbyyyyyy 😢💔), he probably doesn’t mind the permanent legs. At least he doesn’t have to constantly take a potion to keep them, anymore.

But it’s still awkward to get used to. And he can’t stand that he can’t breathe underwater anymore, or go too far down without dying from the pressure.

He’ll dive as often as he can~. And loves to dive, or snorkle, or just swim~, with you, if you want to join him~.

He does miss his home, if only for the beauty and familiarity it had, despite a lot of bad memories around it. But there’s no doubt he’d thrive here, in a way only he could~.

He totally believes your own version of mermaids exists, and gets excited over anything that could prove it to be true 😅

Plus, he’s just obsessed with how marine life works here in general~. If he can juggle being a freakin maffia boss, and a marine biologist just out of the pure love for it, I have no doubt he’d do it~.

Humans most likely evolved from creatures in the water?? That’s amazing~! So the ocean feels like a distant memory of a second home~! He’d love to bond over that, the romantic~ 💜

[howdidyoufindthis]

A small, grey weasel of a dragon was in the dim and cool alley of a street. They were rummaging through a garbage can, making a little mess of clatters and clangs, but coming up with nothing edible. They paused to droop and lament over their misfortune. In the middle of the pause, and through the midst of discarded cans and empty bags, they caught a glimpse of yellow, clear as day. It must’ve been a banana! Or cheese! They gasped with some new vigor ignited and reached their scaly arm in to get it, but when they got hold of the thing and pulled it out it was just a plastic lemon. They grumbled and angrily threw it at the ground. It bounced away and stopped, resting near the alley’s wall opposite of them.

Their stomach growled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” Greyscale said, “I’m trying to find something! Can’t you have any pa-”

They looked up as they hollered and noticed some smoke in the sky, above the surrounding brick buildings.

“Oh, what now, a fire-?”

They had to admit, they’d be intrigued by the idea of a fire somewhere, and at least that’d take their mind off their stomach. What else could smoke mean, after all? They knew the saying: where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

They lept to a pipe that scaled the side of the alleyway and climbed it to the rooftop only to discover the smoke was coming from a particularly not-up-to-code shipping truck, but what wasn’t what caught their eye.

Behind it was a large building with the words “DELTAMART” displayed proudly over a set of clear doors, standing tall and sure in the light of day. A grocery store! That’s just what they needed!

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll have to wait for much longer,” Greyscale said.

They lept and bounded down from roof to windowsill to dumpster. Right as they hit the ground, they made a dash through the parking lot desert, behind the truck, and right right up to the doors, then abruptly stopped and clung to the wall in an attempt to stay out of the eyes of anyone from inside.

They did a double-take, looking for anyone nearby. No one was around. They poked their head around to peak through one of the glass doors of the building that towered over them, a looming mass of bricks and corporate design.

There were some people walking around inside, carrying overflowing cornucopia baskets and pushing carts full of different treats, tools, and other products, but that wasn’t what got them the most. The aisles they could see were filled to the brim with food, and a couple of visible setups of fruits and vegetables looked so delicious and tantalizing in their array of colors that they sparkled to the dragon like precious gemstones.

Greyscale drooled a little with wide eyes.

They anxiously waited until there were barely any people near the doors, and anyone that was there appeared too thoroughly occupied to notice anything sneaking in.

They whispered, “the coast is clear!”

The creature sprang from their hiding spot and scrambled ins-- wait, no, nevermind, they just bonked headfirst into the glass door.

A first-time customer in a nearby checkout aisle got startled out of her waiting stupor and looked over to the sliding doors. Nothing was there.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“I hear everything,” said cashier #23,457, mid-scan of a bag of milk with one of his hands.

Understandably, that monotone answer concerned the customer, but she tried to brush it off. She just needed some milk for a recipe quick, and this was the closest store to her house.

“So-- Um,” she pressed on, “what about that thud from outside?”

“Ohh, haha, yeah I did,” he admitted, “Someone probably just walked into one of those doors again.” He handed the customer a grocery bag with her bagged milk inside and said, “Anyways, have a good day!”

Warily, she took the bag.

“You’re... not going to check on th-”

“H-H-Have a good day!” He said.

Now truly weirded out, she quickly said, “alllright thenIwill!” and walked out as fast-yet-also-not-running as she could.

It’s safe to say she’ll make the effort to not come back.

Seeing their chance, Greyscale scurried in under an exiting woman’s line of sight before the glass doors closed behind her.

At last, they made it into the glory of fluorescent lighting and vibrant food! In the midst of their wave of triumph, they continued to make the effort to stay hidden, taking cover behind some shopping carts.

The store was very nicely kept, they had to note. The white and navy blue checkered floors were spotless, and all the aisles and displays of different sorts were a combination of white, and/or blue, with some yellow, too. From where they were hidden, the whole place smelled cold and vaguely sterile, but they didn’t complain about it. They knew that was just how supermarkets were.

They took a great big breath in preparation and ran from the cover of the shopping carts, still with the effort of being undetected. As they perused in their own only slightly feral way, they dove behind grocery aisles, clambered up shelves, and hid in crates to stay out of workers’ and customers’ perceptions.

During this act of stealth and agility, they noticed an aisle with no people in it full of candy from atop a set of shelves.

“Aw, how sweet of fate!” they mused.

The creature made a B-line for it, jumping across gaps between short distance of aisles, and snagged a small bag of candy that had fallen to the checkered floor. They tore into it and began to eat a mouthful of the tart, brittle sweets inside.

Among the midst of the corporately pleasant music playing throughout the store, its jingle chimed in.

It sang, “De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

They noticed the jingle and stopped their snacking to chuckle.

“You’re right about that,” they said, “I wonder what other good stuff this place has!”

They focused back on their bag of Candy Spiders (Now With 70% More Spiders!), just in time to notice one of the confections moving amongst its kin with its bone-pick legs.

A shocking moment of registration passed. They yelped at the realization and threw the bag away from themself as far as they could.

They sputtered, “Did-- did that--? No-”

They paused and slunk back up to the bag, warily.

The bag was motionless.

Slowly, cautiously, they batted it with their paw. They reeled it back away from the bag, as if it might jump up and bite them. Still, nothing inside moved.

They blinked a couple times and began to doubt what they thought they saw.

“Huh, h-ha, maybe this candy’s expired..” they said.

Greyscale left the bag behind to wander about some more(and put some distance between them and the Candy Spiders, but they didn’t want to fully admit that), and checked the rest of the products out.

They trotted through the deli area, passing by a stiff employee who was still in the process of regaining energy from his charging deck, fixated on the selection of meats. They even tested grabbing a slice of ham, and he didn’t notice one bit!

Once they were done with that, they visited another place that no one was in at the time. It didn’t have anything meant to be edible, but it sure was beautiful. Countless flowers were displayed in rainbows of colors, and the air was chilly to keep them all preserved for longer. Greyscale stayed there, smelling the roses both figuratively and semi-literally, until they had enough of that. They walked out of the section and past a sign that read, ‘HYBRID FLOWERS’. One of the tulips opened its eye.

After that snack and slice of ham they had, Greyscale was undoubtedly more content with their level of hunger, but they wanted to try to make the most of this place. After all, when they’re amongst a bounty of food, it’s good to get as much as they can before they go. They put their two front paws up on the ledge of a refrigerated bin full of organized fruit and poked their snout in, looking to choose which might be tastiest. Should they have a pear, or maybe an apple? Oh, but the peaches looked good, too!

Out from under the side of a display pyramid of apples behind them, a glitching, writhing tentacle rose to inspect its produce.

Ah, yes, every apple was shiny and in order... It had the pigeon grease to thank for that. It was about to retreat back under the apples, but something caught its attention. What it noticed was grey, and.. It wasn’t shaped like a customer either. It was rummaging around in a nearby refrigerator bin full of fruit strictly for customers.

Greyscale felt a couple of taps on their back and jumped, then turned to face-

“aAh-!!”

Nope! Nope, nope nope! They scrambled into and out of the freezing bin of fruit and away from the shifting, glitching-- thing in front of them. It lunged, and they turned and ran only to skid to a halt before smacking into a glass display case of ears.

Oh nonono, they shook the shock from that off and sprinted left into an aisle, only to see one of the store workers pulling can after can out of his mouth to put on the shelves.

They quickly turned again to climb up a shelf from the opposite side of the aisle as fast as they could. They really, really, really shouldn’t be here-

They tried to escape, find a way out, but the more and more they ran and jumped and turned, shifting from running on the ground to balancing on top of aisles, the more the grocery store grew and stretched into a labyrinth.

“NononononoIcan’tbetrappedthere’sgottabeaneXIT-”

They stopped briefly, shuffling and turning in place and trying to catch their breath, looking for anything that could possibly function as a sign to point them out. They launched themself from where they stood again only to smack into a pair of legs they hadn’t noticed.

The owner of those legs, a tall, nicely dressed woman, looked down at whatever had bumped into her.

Greyscale screamed and ran as soon as they realized they got noticed yet again.

“Huh…” she said, “one of the fish they’re selling must’ve got out again.”

She shrugged and continued to read the label of some canned wood she grabbed from a shelf of assorted canned inedibles.

Still thoroughly spooked, Greyscale bolted through the open door of a storage room to hide, but it only led to an expansive area of ventilation pipe trees and tubes protruding out of the ground and sky and distant walls in a variety of angles, all painted in a mess of glowing neon patterns.

The little dragon darted about the dark and dizzying manufactured forest, too worried about getting caught by any foe to realize the nature of the location surrounding them until they finally looked back. They began to slow down to a trot when they didn’t see anyone.

“There’s…” they huffed, “no one.. there…?”

Upon that realization, they slowed down even more, but that wasn’t enough to keep them from losing their footing on a pipe nestled into the glittering ground.

“HuhuUuAH-!”

Before they had a chance to save themself, they were swallowed into further oblivion and shot down the pipework with a series of clunks and shouts, thumping, denting into each abrupt turn going deeper, deeper, faster, faster until they were finally spat out to the end.

Greyscale was flung from the mouth, still held at the whim of momentum, and tumbled to a stop, toppled over themself. The result of that disorienting ride was a dizzy, discombobulated dragon, complete with stars going around their head as it bobbed about, trying to get their bearings despite their eyes having trouble focusing on anything for the time being.

They knew it was bright, or-- maybe it was dark? They couldn’t tell, they could still only see stars and an ever-shifting background. Their ears picked up on a further dizzying soundscape of moving, shifting, falling, corporate music, but the more they strained to focus on and determine a sound the more and more difficult it felt to tell any sound apart from another. It was a surrounding, pattering swarm of noise, and as their vision cleared and they tried to stumble up, they only fell back down onto the soft, squishy.. mahogany(?) surface they had been spat onto by the pipe.

Wearily, they picked their head back up and finally witnessed the shifting, unending world surrounding them. Cans floated through the air, worlds of their own, great candy spiders spun threads and webs of sugar on even more pipes that ripped out of the ground, checker patterns slid across surfaces, and everything seemed to pulse with an underlying life.

They were then aware, horrified, of the unavoidable fact that they were now utterly, hopelessly lost.

Amidst the cacophony of sights and patterning and a ground they couldn’t get a hold of, Greyscale thought they heard a familiar yet muffled jingle, far away in the distance yet echoed everywhere throughout these caverns.

“De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

Their heart sank.

“Oh no-”

[graysistance]

for such a time as this: wwii

CHILD MIGRANT

early summer, 1940. london, england.

there’s a war going on, somewhere. past the vivid green hills outside of london, not much is clear except that things are not faring well for the world at large.

st. andrew of niima children’s home on the very outskirts of london is not what one would call upscale. there is not much money attached to the institution, but it cannot be accused of looking sloppy or slovenly. neat as a pin inside and out, st. andrew of niima’s houses nearly 60 children anywhere from mere weeks old to eighteen years. 

of the elder crowd is teenaged rey andor, a 16 (almost 17) year old girl who has called the orphanage her home and the other orphans her family since the age of six. she remembers nothing of her life before save for a faint imprint of looking straight up the front of her new home and marveling at its height. despite spending half her life wildly at full volume and the other nearly silent, she has taken on a caretaker role among the crowd of younger girls and boys. she pushes them to finish their chores and schoolwork to the best of their ability, encourages newcomers to get comfortable and make friends, and has taken to fixing up multiple small areas of the large house whenever she has a spare moment to get her hands dirty.

though rumblings of war have thundered on steadily in the distance, most of the children remain unaffected. only one boy, valin, the oldest of them all at 18, enlisted into the british royal army. aside from an already stretched larder becoming tighter, there is not much that changes in daily life. not enough to notice. it’s hard enough as it is.

until the threat of possible invasion of areas entirely too close to the united kingdom come crackling over the radios. britain is in danger and no one more so than its children. after the formation of the children’s overseas reception board (corb) in may, 1940, half of st. andrew’s children (chosen so early because of their small size) are sent by boat to new york state in the fourth wave of child migrants. the other half is sent to the english countryside, away from populated areas. this division splits up rey and her best friend jysella, and they part bitterly. even as she watches the approach of the east coast from the deck of her boat, rey feels like she’s drawn the short straw. she arrives the last week of august, 1940.

( less than three weeks later, the c.o.r.b. program ends. a ship carrying 90 british children and other refugees is sunk by a u-boat on its way to canada. the united states committee for the care of european children, formed a month after c.o.r.b., takes center stage to ensure the safety of children in the european theatre of the war, championed and initially organized by eleanor roosevelt. )

her temporary new life is odd from the moment she steps off the boat and can no longer keep hold on the hands of the friends, near siblings, she’s known her whole life thus far. while rey watches as other children, friends and strangers alike, are taken away by charming and seemingly normal families, she waits for one with the most peculiar and ironic of last names: solo. 

when a bright eyed and serious faced woman comes to pick up her child package, shipped from the united kingdom with a tag still attached like a bolt of cloth, americans hovering around rey begin whispering loud enough for her to listen. best she can tell, the woman she’s being sent home with who introduces herself as mrs. leia solo is a u.s. senator. 

well. her stay in america is about to get awfully exciting. 

yet as exciting as sheltering with a senator may seem, rey truly has no idea what is in store for her. when she arrives at the welcoming solo home, she discovers a bevy of older children curious and eager to adopt her into their fold without needing much convincing. the patriarch, han, who rey begins to affectionately call “yank”, declares without much hesitation that rey looks a dead ringer for a fifth solo child. no one in the family bothers to disagree, even after she and the eldest, ben, have a mysterious falling out on christmas night, 1940. thankfully their feud is resolved just as strangely two months later. this allows rey to spend the months leading up to her dear friends’ overseas departures holding on tight as they enjoy life as they know it for what could be the last time in years. 

by august of 1941, rey is the last youngster standing in the solo home, and she gives her utmost to fill the space the other four have left behind. not only that, she devotes herself to studies and absorbing the american political climate through the eyes of her classmates and host parents. 

she thought she’d left the scene of a boiling over war in england through escaping to the states. by december 7th, 1941, rey understood that she’d only entered a new phase of what promised to be a struggle the likes of which the world had never seen. the horrors, surprises, and joys to come are like unto nothing else rey has ever known. but it must get worse before it gets better.

the events of this verse take place over the course of her stay at st. andrew’s, her stay with the solo’s in america throughout upper school and university, and life in the states post-war. 

verse plotted in partnership with @alderheir​ / @yunharlaquin​ and @aniimvs​ and absolutely open to participation from others! however, the above portrayals will be exclusive in this verse.

additional wwii settings for rey can include: 

USO PERFORMER

rey drops out of college at age 19 to become a dancer for the USO. while she adored school, traveling to perform for the troops gives her a chance to see the world despite the circumstances. she finds herself meeting and befriending countless soldiers, writing whoever will agree to write her back, keeping her talent for machinery and technology up to par by being her group’s resident tire changer and bike fixer, and becoming adept in first aid. the world may be an unfriendly place, but she’ll keep her torch lit for herself, her dancing friends, and the soldiers she meets. it’s what she feels is the right thing to do.

AMBULANCE DRIVER

when rey aged out of st. andrew of niima children’s home and went on to train as a nurse, she did not expect to come out the other side of her education running straight into war. without hesitation she becomes an ambulance driver, ferrying fellow nurses, supplies, and wounded soldiers back and forth across the united kingdom. 

[sugar-petals]

; sublime (m) ║ reader ✕ merman!jjk

↳ summary: only you can save him.

8k words | smut, action, fantasy

⚠️ angst, themes of persecution & violence, unprotected sex, graphic.

a/n | Needed to reupload, it’s been in an ask format. Second chapter included. request: “Would u be willing to do a merman jk x reader smut?” (rosewell-love​)

There’s a dead body on your private beach.

Or so you think. You’ve spotted it going out for your early morning walk with a bottle of water and light trainers. Busan’s late summer has been merciful with the weather so far, so you wanted to tick your two-mile goal on the schedule again. 

From afar you already knew that whatever laid there in the silt was nothing of the regular. The colors that struck you against the mellow rising sun seemed blueish, strangely vivid. If it was a water corpse, sure it could be decaying like this. You dare to tread closer, crossing into muddier seafloor now. 

Normally, you preferred to stay where the sand was dry and solid to walk on. There is no foul smell as you approach, or scraps of cloth, anything like that. Just algae all around. A few feet away, you begin to understand: This is not a human body. 

You’ve heard about sightings of stranded mermen in the news. Authorities were quick to dismiss rumors of violent interventions. They assured that the police would take care of the situation professionally without citizen being able to watch. 

The senior locals thought of merpeople as threats or oddities of nature, too peculiar to interact with. There were stories about women who interacted closely getting abducted, bitten, or strangled to death by such creatures. It was treated like a myth while the tabloids and fisherman’s accounts said otherwise.

Mermen were usually described with distorted complexions, crooked bones, and blood-shot eyes. They stink abominably, one reporter said. The universal instruction by the mayor had been equally hideous: Kill, or run. The latter being less preferred because they had to be chased, exploited, and wiped out collectively when you read between the lines. 

Last year, there had been gossip about a group of men - designated hunters - sawing off a living merman’s tail and selling it on the black market. Any chopped off hair would bring half a million, too. A million with the scalp attached. The mayor propagated the extermination of these “slimy beasts” when an issue surfaced, all while keeping a trophy fin in his living room, that you were sure of.  

But the motionless boy right below you does not appear monstrous at all. His features are almost resemblant to what can be considered human despite that he came from the sea. The upper body, at least. Who knows what kind of world is out there. The contrived stories made you mad, they had been all lies. 

Even if your trainers are now completely sunk in, you close the distance entirely.

You look at him with concern. Why is he here, like this, so close to the coast? Your eyes roam up and down, up and down. The cerulean little scales splattered all over his large tail, the sapphire beads around his neck, next to coral lobster claws. 

His beauty erases everything in your mind. The teal and silver mane that falls in soft waves and purple braids. They are really, really long and gleaming with an enigma that you fail to grasp. How could anyone be cruel enough to maim him. Everything about this boy had to stay wherever it was. 

You inspect his body closer to look for injuries, but there are none. He plainly seems drained, but impossibly beautiful at the same time. His chest is still moving, but both eyes remained closed. You don’t know if mermen can get unconscious. 

Perhaps he is just asleep. So ethereal. It all proved the envious locals very dirty liars. They’re conspiring because they know very well how alluring they look like. Since only mermen have been spotted, all efforts to deter every woman in town from getting just one glimpse were rampant. 

No human male could quite compare. Except maybe your gay friend and neighbor Taehyung who might just drop dead if he were here. If your female friends saw this boy, the ones who were married would file for divorce. The truly despicable vermin were the conservative men of this town. 

Certainly, there are different rules of anatomy and physics that apply to mermen that nobody has ever talked about on shore. You only see that the gills at the sides of his torso flutter hectically. It takes some time until you put two and two together. The falling tide that’s now miles away, it must have left him here. Maybe he lost a sense of direction and got caught by surprise. What an odyssey. 

He needs water, desperately. Of course he looks drained, and that’s more urgent than you assumed. You have to hurry up and do something not to see him fade away in front of your eyes. But, where to get it. It would have been straightforward if you hadn’t forgotten carrying a water bottle all along. 

You’re hesitant to touch him, but eventually get yourself to rub the sides of his torso, pouring water bit by bit. His skin is so delicate that you don’t dare to apply pressure. His eyes flutter once, and you think he can see what you are doing. 

But you did not bring enough water to sustain this moment. At least you know there’s still a chance.

There’s no other option, then. You sprint back to your house, pulse working overtime until you find the long-ignored supply closet key. 

An old plastic cover splattered with color comes into sight. It has been formerly used by Taehyung who asked to depict the scenery at your beach. He’s a painter, but too much of a literal fine artist to leave anything sturdy at your house. You keep searching. 

At the back, there’s a soiled, but still functional sailcloth with rope running through its eyelets. Hauling that to the beach would not be possible if you weren’t pumped with adrenaline and sheer panic. It has been a huge risk having him left alone out there. This all takes too damn long.

The relief finding him untouched gives you more assurance. The sail sticks to the ground in no time spreading it out next to him. An attempt to roll him onto there using a shove of two hands fails. Only a rope tied around his waist gives everything a decent impetus. Once he’s in place, you pull the canvas tight with the rope and start dragging. But oh my, is he heavy. It’s the colossal tail that probably weighs the most, gravity has no mercy on your arms today. 

It takes a few painstaking feet until the cloth starts to run smoothly on the wet ground. Through the dewy lawn of your property, it works much better until your trainers go on a strike. Next time you’ll go to the beach with heavy boots. It’s better with bare feet then, though you encounter another problem. The grass isn’t particularly even, so you have to maneuver around a bump or two. The 10 x 20 feet swimming pool comes into sight quite tardily.

He slumps into the water with a dull splash. You made it by the skin of your teeth and everything hurts. It’s a miracle. The water is uncomfortably icy as you enter, grabbing hold of his shoulders. You have to remind yourself to be careful, washing away all remnants of sand and dirt. The filtration system will take care of it. Again you note how silky the texture of his skin and scales is, clearly not made for life ashore. Before the water starts to paralyze you more with its frostiness, you decide to submerge him completely at the bottom of the pool. Different laws of physics, you remind yourself. For a human, air would basically be like water for him. His own weight sustains him down there well as of now. Begrudgingly, you leave to change clothes.

It’s good that your backyard is surrounded by copious palisades. You do hope nobody observed anything, thinking you transported some carcass or worse, and check back just three minutes later. The garden gate is firmly locked already but doesn’t do much to pacify your feelings of imminent paranoia. So the balcony is a good place to stay where you can sit with your laptop to catch up with pressing work. Any concentration is still out the window though, and any noise snaps you out of typing in emails. 

The pool water rouses after the nearby church bell strikes 11 am. You return to the gazebo next to the pool to look if you’re not hallucinating, met with huge, dark eyes. They’re Prussian blue and almost doe-like. He’s leaning at the edge, two arms propped up.

“Thank you, madam. You didn’t have to do this,” he dabbles quite gently, stirring the water with his tail to cause ripples. His voice is very pleasant and friendly, youthful. Never did you think he would be able to speak your language. Everything comes unexpected today.

“Nevermind,” you respond, trying not to show both incredulousness and unease. There is no way in making this sound like a proper conversation, but you try. He called you madam, after all. 

”I came to pry for shells and lost my sense of time. It’s my bad.”

You squat down at the edge of the pool at some distance. This seems all too much at once. Yet you have to gather words to let him know.

“Don’t, don’t say that. I can’t let you die out there. To see you become food in a tin can if a hunter or the police come along.”

It strikes a chord with him, and you instantly regret saying it.

“I know who they are. Their prejudice has killed one of my brothers not long ago.” He’s downcast now, impossibly sad. You know who this brother was. A little glistening tear makes its way down his cheek, he picks it up with thumb and index finger. It has turned into a small pearl. “You’re not like them. I can be glad you picked me up without fear or reporting it.” 

You enclose the shiny gift with two palms as he passes over the bead. When you tuck it away, it rests in the breast pocket of your blouse. The merman looks very relieved to see you accept it.

“It’s not over yet. But I guess I did the right things so far. You’re alive. I hope I can drag you back at high tide. Or do you need more time?”

“My body regenerated. But my mind, I feel very strange and dizzy, still. Tomorrow.”

“Shit… it’s the chlorine in the water. I don’t think that’s good for you.”

“Chlorine?”

You wonder why he speaks your language perfectly but doesn’t know this.

“To disinfect bacteria dangerous to humans. For you, it might just be nauseating. Maybe because you’re not used to it, or sensitive. Wait, I’ll use the pool filter. I have one.” 

While you take care of the pump and also clean away some debris, the curious merman lingers closely. 

“Did I tell you my name yet? I’m Jungkook. I have a question, actually. It might sound weird.”

You look up from your task. Jungkook. It’s fitting.

“Just go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“Why do you have a pool next to the sea?”

He’s a bright guy. You understand where the query is coming from, too.

“I do love the sea like you. But the waves are too high. It’s dangerous to bathe there without a vigilant eye. You’ve seen what happened. I prefer to swim here, especially when it’s warmer.”

“Oh, I forgot,” he marvels at you, “humans can’t swim that well in the cold.”

“It’s true. We have trouble moving around mermen as well,” you chuckle, glad your work at the pump is completed. You stand up to return to Jungkook. His presence is soothing, almost familiar. 

In that very moment, hasty knocks and rattles resound from the garden gate.

Jungkook immerses himself in water within a split second. He’s diving down faster than you can say anything, in fact. The pool’s surrounding bushes have saved you from being seen with him, thankfully, but your feeling tells you to hurry to the gate as soon as you can. But you have to stop yourself from being in a rush not to be suspicious. It’s painfully obvious who it is from a distance already. You’re in trouble. 

It’s Taehyung.

“Oh hey, hey! I rang the doorbell — nobody responded. Figured you’re here! How ya doin’?”

A hurricane as usual. You keep the gate locked. He’s looking at you through the metal bars with inquisitive eyes.

“What do you want, Kim… I’m busy.”

“Sorry, just looking for my painting cover. Do you still have it? Am gone in a minute.”

“Sure.” 

You spin around and race inside without further ado. Taehyung must think you have gone completely mad now, but knowing Jungkook is likely having a heart attack down there you would waste no second. You return breathless, red blotches all over the face. He rolls his eyes.

“Slow down, slow down, Noona. It’s Sunday. God, heterosexual people. Always caught in such a fuss.”

“They are. Now, here. Take it. Just, buzz off now, Kim. Got things to do.” 

And again, you spin around on your heel and hear him trot away sulking, but clenching his long-lost cover tight. He said he’s gone in a minute, then he has to deal with it. You’ll have to come up with something very intricate to appease him next time when he mocks you for it. And you are sure he will, because Taehyung notices when something’s off. Telling him the truth would be like being Taylor Swift’s boyfriend, he would just broadcast everything.

You dash back and lean over the pool for Jungkook to recognize you. But nothing moves. He’s right about staying where he is. If the police coerced you to be their decoy, luring him out, he’d be dead. Jungkook, that is indisputable to you, continues to prove being very sharp save being aware of tides. The media never talked about merpeople being this people-conscious and easily intimidated. They’re just drawing them as evil to get hunting permission. Vicious pigs. 

You want to make them fall. 

There’s something else that strikes you, watching for activity in the pool. There must be a way that merpeople gather excessive knowledge about humans. Or it might be a contact person. But you don’t want to know, it might be a way to trace them back. Such a secret must never be revealed, you know you’ll take all this to your grave to protect him. It would be good to tell your story to everyone so they would change their mind. But the police was hawk-eyed and knew how to press for information. 

They’d be hellbent and relentless to slit his throat as soon as they could. Officials and hunters had methods to find him if it was not too far out in the ocean. Or they would just wait until he came back to you sooner or later. You are sure that he will. He’s feeling indebted. And attached. You’re too. You dread the day, and tomorrow’s goodbye if it actually comes. 

You have to admit it: This propelled you into a gigantic mess. You already felt your heart burst when Taehyung knocked. You have to guard Jungkook from a greater fuck-up, come what may. 

With the entire government of Busan or even Seoul against you when your secret ever goes public. Because they want to keep it on the low, too, and would stop at nothing. You did not go against the law but social customs and conservative morale, and those are by far more powerful. 

You rip off your blouse and pants and toss them on the balcony. Your tank top is hardly suitable for the temperature, but the pool water is slightly warmer as you get in slowly. The chlorine has faded. The first good news for today.

Diving down, Jungkook appears curled up in the deepest, darkest corner, holding his hair together so it won’t float up and betray him. Most of the fright on his face dissolves when you give an intent thumbs up. These mermen understand so much about your culture. You cannot let go of this thought. How could he know?

Swimming closer, you seize him by the hands, nodding your head toward the surface. He pulls you up with ease, fast and agile. Emerging, you have to draw several breaths. He looks around frantically. You hope this didn’t traumatize him.  

“It was my neighbour friend asking for art supplies. He left and didn’t see anything. Nobody else around. We’re good. Jungkook, it’s alright. It was just a friend.”

It’s Sunday, thankfully.

“I was so afraid… There was a vision, I was bleeding!”

“It’s okay now. There’s no blood. I protect you, nothing will happen.”

It’s of no use. He can’t stop looking around. Jungkook needs something to ground him. 

A little kiss on the forehead. 

It makes his cheeks turn cobalt blue. You feel how his tail sways back and forth a bit quicker. You part your legs wider so they won’t crush his fin in between. 

“I will handle it. If I can pull you out of the mud, then I can subdue them when they ever show up. You just have to hide. Jungkook.”

It’s self-persuasion and hoping for a self-fulfilling prophecy. But you’re beaming at him, and his smile grows just as large.

“Y/N, you’re very strong. I wouldn’t know where I’d be without your help. You hardly knew me, just my kin.” 

“So did you. But you didn’t freak out when you were awake.”

He nods emphatically.

“I felt your hands on my gills. It was very nice. Like waves. I knew you were benevolent, you resemble the sea when you move. No bad person does this. Can you… again? Only if you want, I—”

What he said stuns you for seconds. Your hands move to his upper body on autopilot. 

“Like, like this?”

Jungkook sighs a mellowed yes when you start to stimulate his sides. His gills are much more relaxed than at the beach. After some strokes, you’re leaning in so much that his arms virtually just have to close an inch around you for an embrace. 

He clings to you in a tight hug, your lips coming up to meet his. Whatever magic or trick he is using, they feel curiously sparkling and slightly saline after a while. It’s magnificent. Meanwhile, your breasts are squeezed flat against his chest, feeling how Jungkook’s heartbeat accelerates. Much like his fin that’s bringing more of his tail between your legs. You pull them upwards a bit, but inevitably he brushes against your pubes. You thought it would be awkward. But something about his body infatuates your skin like an ancient charm. 

“Apologies Y/N, I didn’t mean to!”

“Don’t be sorry. Just, fuck… do it again. Feels awesome. You can be yourself with me.”

He understands, bringing his tail stark forward this time. Shit. Your clit says yes to that. So does your face judging by how he reacts, a lot keener than before.  

“Jungkook, I have a weird question, too,” you brush back against him, “Is it possible, I mean. Can you penetrate me somehow, or…?”

He’s blushing a second time.

“I can peel the scales apart at the front.”

And he does it. 

Oh wow.

He has the most gorgeous shaft you’ve ever seen. Clad in lustrous, thin scales sprouts forth a splendid length tinted in jade. It sojourns hard and upright, poking heavy at your clit and entrance only separated by your underwear. 

“You can’t impregnate me, right?”

“I can’t. Human egg cells are too small and not receptive.”

That has you wondering, and quite amused how he said that. It means something big is coming. Sounds like fun.

“Can I ride you then?”

“You can do anything, really.”

It can’t get any hotter. Thankfully, you’re half undressed already. The panties you had left on soon float elsewhere just below the surface, and you’re shoving up the hem of your tank top. His chest feels ten times as invigorating when you’re naked against it. There’s hesitation when you reach for his cock. You don’t want to do anything wrong to hurt him. But Jungkook is encouraging the initiative. And the way he’s dipping at you flicks a plethora of switches. So it’s easy. You slip him in and start to move your hips. Soon you realize it’s a bit difficult to go down further.

“Can I use a spell? It helps.” he exhales. You knew it, he has those abilities.

“Mh, love to see it.”

There he goes. You catch Jungkook whispering a convoluted spell to himself before your walls pop open without further trial. He’s dipping in first, then going half the way already. That’s not normal at all. He knows what he’s doing, though. It’s so, so damn good. 

Jungkook is completely ecstatic. 

Your experience so far has been that sex in water generally… doesn’t go well. No lubrication, no fucking. But no, this has to be the best exception. The practically seamless scales, they’re really doing the trick. The plunge is slick and exciting, going in clean with every bounce. And there’s a quite a stunning lot to slide up and down on, that you get to welcome soon. He’s getting confident to echo the thrust with eyes fixated on yours. 

“Give me more of that,” you insist, leaving both legs wrapped around his wavering tail. It’s almost too slippery to hold on to. But good to sink down smoothly while squeezing deeper inside. You’re pushed upwards the more he fucks into you. His tip is broad enough to anchor you, not letting you glide off easily. But you’re dangerous close to it. So you’re letting yourself drop down on him with more momentum which he has to cushion first, causing your belly to bulge out considerably. You’re obsessed. 

“Lift my legs more, Jungkook!”

Like that, the insides of your thighs graze at his gills, abrasive and brisk. To your surprise, it eventuates in sharper thrusts going for your sweetest spots. The depth that he pursues now starts to stretch you hard and wide on the glossy scales. Jungkook keeps murmuring spells. If this goes on for any longer, that’s a cock riding that would send not only you but Taehyung and the entire neighborhood to the gates of heaven and higher. 

You keep shoving him straight up to dent out your abdomen, and he’s making it so salacious with his little moans. When you’re grabbing for hold at his shoulders, Jungkook warns you about his precum. Indeed it’s not to underestimate when you feel it, making everything two times as sleek. You slump down completely now, surprised not to feel any trace of balls against your ass. 

Different anatomy. 

Normal men need cooling for their sperm outside of their body, otherwise they would not survive. Jungkook? He’s got something else going on. Busan’s sea is not notoriously warm.

“Intertwine your fingers in my hair, Y/N—”

“What? Can I really do that?”

It sounds like heresy to your ears. 

“It’ll stimulate you, do it quickly,” he persists, and your fingers seek a place in his silky mane. And Christ, he’s right. There’s a rapid sedation of the anxious thoughts at the back of your mind. Instead, you’re feeling an immense euphoria descend from your spine down to your loins. Jungkook whimpers while you’re drilling him deeper with all your power. Slowly but surely, you lose yourself in his dazzling ocean hair. You’re so happy now. Nothing matters. Just you together within the blur of everything else. 

Fuck society. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. 

Jungkook’s moans have grown incomprehensible. Both of your hands soak up more of the sky blue energy. And once you grab the strands tighter, an overwhelming current verberates in your back until you’re ready and cumming. The world is so elated, nothing can bring your hands away from his hair. It’s pushing you to the limit incessantly. Better than any drug trip, better than the feeling after you ran your second marathon. You’re climaxing so vigorously on him that twenty seconds in, something effervescent and tingly begins to pour into your womb like a bursting well. His unearthly groaning gives you an idea of how much it shatters and empties him. You get filled to the brim and it won’t stop. Of course, he’s significantly larger than the average human — much semen to store then, by your logic at least. You do get a glimpse of the proportions as Jungkook keeps cramming loads and loads past your cervix while your orgasm keeps electrifying even the last corner of your body.  

The well won’t cease. He keeps moving until you’re entirely pumped full with an all creamy, tickling substance. You try to keep everything in not to leak it into the water. But it’s too much. With each of his last thrusts, the bulk of it just comes spilling out. A shimmering, dark cyan liquid rises to the surface in gradient plumes, mixed with streaks of your cum. It looks like fluid shapes of orchids showing as a supple iridescent foam. 

And it turns golden.

The scent gives you a feeling of the hours after rain in spring. Jungkook picks up a decent bit of the foam with two fingers, slipping them into his mouth. He leans in to kiss you again as you reach the aftermath of your peak that threatens to leave you bland. But what happens now makes you tighten around his dick once again, seizing out more to splutter inside.   

On your tongue unfold an explosion of jasmine blended with peppermint, thyme, fresh raspberries, wild honey, and even something like caramel. There was no way you would have been prepared for this. You had expected something like a sea breeze, but this beats all that you could imagine. Because beyond approximation, you can’t really describe what it is like. 

You swallow fast and retreat one hand from his hair to pick up something yourself. This is the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It can’t be called an actual thing, in fact, it’s more than that. It has to be an artifact. A magic potion that you want to bottle up and drink all day, sweet and glowing. 

It’s like alchemy. 

And you’re so deliciously stuffed with that now.  

Before you pull him out, all the negative pressure culminates. Then, the rest of his seed bubbles up placidly. The gaping feels like you just jammed a baseball bat inside of yourself, reckless abandon with a Himalaya of premium coke up your nose. Complete inebriation. 

Water streams in and flushes out the final strands of cyan when his following spells seal you tight. Jungkook holds you firm until you detangle his hair with your remaining hand, then place it on his cheek. If there were mermaids out there, they’d be the luckiest women on the entire planet. 

“Kook”, you whisper with an unwinding tremble, “you’re amazing.”

Anchoring an old khaki tent next to the pool takes some time, but you remember something about the manual. This goes here, that goes there, and this is how you zip up a sleeping bag. Jungkook giggles along. You can’t afford to sleep inside tonight. You only move your blouse to the safety of your wardrobe and get a snack, switch on the lights of the balcony to illuminate the garden for the rest of the evening. He’s singing for you.

The next day is grueling because you have to go to work. But before leaving, you relocate Jungkook to the bathtub as fast as possible, leaving him your phone with a short explanation so he can call you and vice versa. The anxiety comes back.  

He gets lighthearted leisure magazines and books to spend the time, and devours them. History, art, fashion, beauty, celebrities, health, sports, food, philosophy, fantasy, comedy. He also asks for a globe and celestial map, saying his uncle vaguely told him about it. Maybe it’s good that he knows a bit more about the mainland when he returns. You don’t want to let him go with the same ideas he had before, give him a bit of faith in the good things you had here. The other side of the coin, even if it was just a glimpse of hope. 

Though you didn’t expect him to return to your mansion in any way. Humanity is already terrifying enough. Especially after his loss. This should not happen again. You decide to leave him your trusted chef knife and a word of caution. He doesn’t know how to use it so you teach him the technique. He says he wouldn’t be any better than his attackers if there were some. You try to clarify that it’s the way humans act sometimes. Tit for tat. And he has all the right and responsibility to defend himself under threat, otherwise, he would never be able to see the stars again. 

At 10 am you give him a short call. He’s fine, quite mesmerized how the phone works, and just a bit hungry. You decide not to spend lunchtime in the city, but speed your car to a local supermarket and deli, looking for seaweed. Returning home Jungkook is still in his place, having managed to drop Terry Pratchett and J. K. Rowling into the water. But all else is as before. In the afternoon, you call him twice. He talks about the invention of the lightbulb, pasta salad, Kant, and how nicely Tolkien writes about Hobbits. Work passes torturously slow, the keyboard in front of you blurs each time your mind drifts away. You go home early, leaving your subordinates Jimin and Seokjin a bit puzzled at a shallow excuse. If only they knew.

It’s way after dawn when you move him out of the bathroom. Jungkook gets the idea that you could just use a wheelbarrow this time, knowing you own one after having had enough hours to glance around your garden already. You fill a bit of water into it and pick boots with a sturdy profile. And it works, the leverage is much better on the arms. You arrive at the beach laughing and joking together how silly of a duo you must look like. Jungkook has already given his word to come back in two days around the same time. 

The tide is close enough for you to take him to the water. He parts reluctantly with five, six, seven sublime kisses. You hope he wasn’t missed by his family. Busan’s nocturnal skyline radiates from afar when you watch him swim east ever so elegantly.  

It’s hard to find any sleep later. Your arms still ache like hell from dragging him. And so many things are going through your head. You end up outside in the tent after taking a quick shower, pretending he’s still there. Jungkook has last started a chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia, and you put yourself in a tired daze finishing it. Work tomorrow is going to be so hard.

Jimin asks if you’re okay while he organizes some files, but doesn’t comment anything further. You resume typing with the feeling that you are now leading a double life. Taehyung’s words come back: Slow down, slow down. And you do. Wednesday you will see him at the bay, everything is alright. Who knows what you will do afterwards, how often you will meet. Maybe it’s good not to make him cross into dangerous territory regularly, or at least you should look for more hidden places. You’ll make it.

Two days after, you receive an early mail. You’re drowsy but startled, Taehyung and Jin haven’t sent anything for months. It has to be one of them.

It’s only a red envelope and some strangely filled paper bag. You peel open the red letter first.

It was made with a typewriter. 

“A million and you get the fish back whole. He has a nice buzzcut already. Friday 1 pm, quay. Pull up with the money or you’ll see him on the news. Tell anybody and we will do the same to you.”

Below, the paper is embossed with a saw and hook symbol. 

You drop the bag as soon as you open it. 

There are hundreds of tiny pearls on the floor. 

chapter two ║ i’m no angel (m)

↳ summary | who do you have to become to get him back?

⚠️ graphic violence, threat of drowning, car accident, aftermath of torture.

There’s an old cage.

Bars bent and crooked.

Not abandoned, just empty since this very day. You know he must have been inside, nothing else makes sense. The lingering smell around here, it belongs to him. The air is spiked with thyme, the scent of grass after it rained. It’s familiar. It’s so painful. You go on searching every corner of the hangar in a fever. It looks like a warehouse from the inside, stuffed with tools and other miscellaneous equipment.

Some wood, nails. Discarded tires. You’ve seen some of them on the SUV you followed to Busan city limits. You try to memorize the letters and numbers on them. AZ1-5986. Whatever that means. It could be of help later since you don’t know the SUV’s license plate.

As you remember that it’d be straightforward to just photograph the tires with your phone, a faint knocking sets your world on fire. It keeps repeating, they are fast and erratic knocks. Not mechanical ones. Not calm ones.

You hurry into the direction where you suspect they are coming from. There’s no doubt in your mind that you should not go. It’s the only sign of life, or whatever it is in this building. Somewhere, somewhere at the back behind two parked up seaplanes, timeworn and half deconstructed, there you locate it. A moss-covered fish tank is jammed between a humongous workbench and a freezer. A tail rests and winds grazing tight against the glass inside. Oh my god.

Yes, it’s him. You unbolt the lid, bring it down crashing on the freezer. Jungkook spins around inside the tank until his face comes to the surface. Pale grey eyes. Charcoal hair, cropped short. Pursed lips and a tapered chin. An Ingenue look. He’s agitated.

“I’ve heard you calling for him, you’re the one Jungkook’s talked about!”

No. It’s not Jungkook. Not his voice, not his face. Too lean, not sturdy at all. It’s definitely not him. His scent is much different, too. Sweet chestnuts, basil. It’s not familiar.

“Who are you, where is he?”

“Yoongi,” the merman blinks, “I’m his friend. They got us both at once at the beach.”

That’s what you feared. Jungkook’s friends and family getting dragged into this. You wish you had just sent him out as far away as possible where the hunters wouldn’t get him.

“I’m his—”

You don’t know what you are to him. A girlfriend? Hardly. An affair? More than that. It sounds weird anyway. Affairs are not that serious.

“He loves you.”

There it is. Jungkook told him. Lovers might be what describes you best.

“Where is he?”

“They’ve taken him to another place from here this morning. This is just the decoy. They told you to follow the car and fetch him here after paying.”

“They did. And now?”

“These are not the headquarters,” Yoongi props himself up at the edge of the tank. “The shipyard is. You have to go there!”

Of course. This hangar is as good as useless for a permanent stay. It’s just for the dirty work.

“And what happens with you? I won’t leave you here like that. But I can’t transport you in my car, there’s nothing like this tank.”

“It takes half an hour until I can’t go without any water. If you drop me at the sea it’s fine.”

“So I can take you with me?”

“I’ll be grateful forever. Jungkook didn’t lie about how you treat us.”

You steer your car into the hangar backwards, get out again with the engine on, rip the trunk open. The size has to be enough.

The high walls of the fish tank don’t permit you to lift Yoongi out of it. He tries to push himself up with the help of his fin several times, but he’s too large, the glass to slippery, and the tank too narrow. As a last resort, you grab a sledgehammer from the workbench to impact and shatter the glass. The handle is long, maybe 17 or 18 inches, allowing you to step back and lunge quite far. The glass doesn’t break right away. You are not used to wielding something like this. It takes three more strikes until you demolish the front wall. You have to be careful not to hit where Yoongi’s tail squeezes against the glass.

The gush of water Yoongi pushes you back, everything goes into splinters with fragments of glass bursting to the sides, then floating everywhere on the ground. Yoongi cuts himself several times at the arms and lower back before you can pick him up. His chest is flat and cold against yours, his body heavy and close to glide far from your grasp. Less so than Jungkook, but still it feels like the weight is tearing off your arms. His skin is like you’re touching soap.

There’s no sailing cloth or Taehyung’s art supplies this time. You try to heave him up as much as possible so his fin won’t touch the ground, glass cracking under your boots until you reach the car. Yoongi howls with pain when you try to tuck him in. His wounds scratch hard at the trunk’s plastic inlet. You show him how to open and close the tailgate from the inside, then shut it and set off.

It takes ten minutes to the bay.

The boatyard towers over the cranes and docks of the harbor. You speed in order to drive around. And there it is. AZ1-5986. They didn’t park the car inside, no. It stands blazen at the rear entrance. And they met you at 1 PM in the middle of the day. You’ve been tricked by absolute amateurs.

Or not.

There’s a scream coming from the inside. Sharp, heartbreaking.

No time to bring Yoongi to the sea.

You seize the sledgehammer from the passenger seat. And go.

You recognize them at one glance. It’s the small man and red-head woman you saw driving the SUV, the woman being the one you gave the ransom to. She gave cold instructions. The man is currently wearing large gloves, dripping with water. To your surprise, they seem to be alone. The vast silence of the dockyard seems too large to house them here. The woman sneers at you, patting the front of her black leather jacket.

“Your envelope’s still right here, Miss.”

“It will be here soon,” you point towards your own jeans pocket at the front.

She only tugs at her necklace in return. It’s made of colorful hair. Gold, turquoise. Teal and silver. You realized something. Only one thing drives them: cash. And since the government still wants the monopoly in the equation, that will be their eternal aim. Hunters are only tolerated for doing the messy jobs. The profiteer is elsewhere. And with the sums that they trade the mermen, your ransom money is only a temporary achievement, gone tomorrow. It’s not what Jungkook is worth to you anyways. Money can’t measure Jungkook. If only you could hold him.

What your instinct tells you at the sight of the hair is: Killing. No matter if it would alert authorities sooner or later, or bring a gang to your garden. But Jungkook’s words are still at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’d be ready to be just as bad as they are. Maybe you’re no angel in all of this. You’ve infringed on the circle of life the minute you decided to pour water on Jungkook’s body at the beach. But there’s no way back. You have to be as bad, even worse. For him.

Because there he lies, in a giant tank with another merman with orange tail and skin. It’s close enough to see what’s inside. Pearls are piling up at the ground, and well from his eyes when they lock on you. His hair looks auburn, the long vivid strands are gone. They picked a lot of scales off his tail, too, leaving bloody spots. All the jewelry is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a heavy chain is wound secure around him several times, weighing his body to the ground. The other merman doesn’t have a chain. His scales and hair are removed entirely. They sawed one of his arms off, too. If you can judge by his face, the decaying process has already started. He’s been here for longer.

Your anger is boiling up. The woman’s shallow smile pushes you over the edge at last. She pulls out a soiled drop point knife. You hate her so much. This place has to be wiped out. Erased, cauterized. The entire gang if you have to. You charge gripping the hammer at the top with the right hand, at the bottom with your heft. Before you reach her, the man is wrapping his hands around your neck from behind, pulling you back from her.

One foot, two feet, three. You can’t breathe, panic. The feeling of his gloves is terrifying on your skin, in your mind. But the thought of Jungkook burns inside. Again you focus all energy in your arms. Finally. He takes your elbow to the stomach, cries out, and topples down. Before the man catches himself, you follow your impulse. It’s good that he dragged you away. This is the only chance. You withdraw your right hand from the handle and take a long swing back with all the might in your left arm. You hurl the hammer forward and send it flying towards her legs. The spin knocks her over right away. This tree got cut down. If you could, you’d make wood briquettes. But not now.

He’s coming at you again. Now that she’s unconscious, your job is easy even if your hammer is gone. Men have more frontal weak spots to hit.

He has his gloved fists up. Going towards you slowly. First he tries to suffocate you, now he’s playing fair, doesn’t he. You’ll floor him faster than her. Suits him, he’s the minion. The prick probably sawed apart Jungkook’s brother.

You wait until he comes close enough, put your fists up in return. Shit, shit, shit. Your arms hurt so much. You play the game despite the ache, dancing from foot to foot as he comes in. Then boot nasty fucker in the groin aimed from below, explosive and direct. He stumbles backward with a yell, falling agonized and twitching. You dive after him, leg extended to land a second kick under his chin. His head snaps back. That beats him senseless for once.

But you worry about Yoongi. The trunk. He’s still in there. Since twenty minutes or more. And even if he knows how to get out of there, it’s of no use. He can’t go anywhere. This has to be fast. At the other end of the scene, you pull the envelope from the woman’s jacket, along with a metal key and her necklace. She doesn’t deserve it.

You hurry to Jungkook, hammer all too heavy in your hands again. At one point, your arms are going to fall off your torso. But now you know better. You dash the tank to pieces in one final hurl towards the right spot, entirely graceless but effective. The water swipes you off your feet in a large outpour. Exhaustion is coming.

The splinters are much larger this time and the float glass appears to almost detonate under the pressure released. Jungkook is too heavy to get carried off by the surge. He lands just feet away next to you crying, repeating your name until you manage to stand up leaving the hammer behind.

“I missed you, Jungkook, what—”

“You, you came,” he winces, “are you fine?”

“Don’t ask about me,” you fumble at the lock of his chain, “we’ll get this off, talk is for later.”

“It hurts.”

He’s looking at you from dulled eyes. They might have put him into water, but the life is still drained out of him. You don’t want to imagine what happened. They bound the chain around him so tight that it left purple traces. After it’s off, you already know what to do with it. Jungkook picks an orange scale from his dead friend in the debris, whispering a last goodbye.

The thirty minutes are long over. The trunk is closed when you come out of the backdoor with Jungkook.

You open to a smiling Yoongi the second he sees you and Jungkook in your arms.

“Yoongi, you okay? Left you waiting.”

“Sure, but you?” he ruffles his hair a bit. You blink twice, seeing that it has grown a bit longer and darker since you saw it in the hangar. You noticed that with Jungkook as well, but didn’t put two and two together, or actually believed your own eyes. It must be magic at work. Or different physics.

At a second glance, there’s a decent layer of water in the trunk.

“Yes, they’re in chains. Where does the water come from?”

“You had several bottles of sparkling water in the corner. I like how it tingles, we don’t have that out there. My wounds... it seems they regenerate.”

Of course! The water. You bought it when getting groceries for Jungkook.

“And what do we do with the two?”

“We could take them out with us. But they’re affiliates, they all know about each other.”

“I’ll decide later by myself,” you guide Jungkook onto the rear bench seat. “We need to go...”

You kickstart the car, turn to head for the one-way lane to the docks. As close as your car permits, you maneuver toward the edge where water towers high. The tide is in favor. But there’s commotion at the end of the street where you came from. It’s a truck.

“Hurry!” Jungkook cries, “That’s the rest of them!”

You can’t drive away with them now. If you’re able to drop both off, then you’re already lucky. You drive closer to the water, preparing to unlock the car with your electric key so Yoongi gets the sign to open the trunk. But you soon feel that the car gets out of balance. You look into the rear-view mirror, estimating how much you could still drive backward, or forward. But it’s futile.

The weight in the back drags the car over the edge. You’re screaming. Jungkook tries to counterbalance. The car tips over anyways. It enters the water.

The door won’t open. Water keeps rising. The signal of the keys won’t unlock the car no matter how many times you press the button. Jungkook can’t manage to open the doors either, his strength has faded. The water level has almost reached the ceiling when he stops trying. You’re so far down and out of air, even if you managed to escape now diving upward would make you run out of air already. Maybe a few seconds left and you can say goodbye to this life. You can’t tell Jungkook how much you love him. It’s all too late. Everything, absolutely everything went wrong. Only failure remains. Fucked up from start to finish. Four lives ruined, two dead. You feel a thumping at the back of your head.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with your hair from behind, whispering something between bubbles before you can’t hear anymore. An immense heat glues your legs together in an instant, melting the fabric of your jeans. A rousing bolt darts through your scalp, your feet stop moving. It feels like your body is bloating everywhere, soaking up water. Webbing springs forth between your fingers, fiery scales around your hips. Your hair starts growing out scarlet and thick, curling large before your eyes. The sides of your upper body start to open up wide, then close again. A burst of air expands in your lungs.

Now you know why Jungkook knew so much about civilized life.

Merpeople used to be human.

⁕ sequel: dauntless (m) | m.list in bio

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