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feliix · 3 years

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Perfect Score ↠ Han Jisung

↠ Jisung x Reader (feat. Felix)

↠ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fake Dating!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 14.9k

↠ Summary: As you return home to work at your local coffee shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of love, but it’s Jisung’s mission to make you change your mind in just two weeks time.

↠ Warnings: idiots 2 lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, fingering, soft sex, language, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships

“That's disgusting.”

You grimace in the most subtle way as you watch the man across the shop press a gentle kiss on the cheek of the woman next to him. For some reason your shop is packed with couples this evening. Not that you’ve been counting, but they’re probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this just this shift alone.

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t too far from the truth. Every time you’ve been burned by someone in the past has only made your hope about love deteriorate. Relationships suck. Already been there, done that, and you don’t plan on doing it again.

You’ve always stuck by the same theory; relationships either lead to heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage may still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jisung laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he rounds the corner. He’s just in time to catch your snide remark, surely it won’t be the last one you’ll make tonight though. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy to say the least. The sun has already set, and it’s the afternoon rush when everyone comes in for their second daily dose of caffeine. And it’s definitely necessary – especially on a day as hot and exhausting as this one. It’s the third day that its been over 100º in a row and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Jisung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath. In your mind it absolutely isnt. Its a mystery why all these people need to publicly display their affection in a coffee shop anyway...

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss has always been kind of an asshole, just leaving 2 kids in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. There's always been an aching suspicion that he just goes to the bar across the street, since his car is still parked behind the shop but he’s always nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than him looming over your shoulder and criticizing your technique the whole shift.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Jisung shakes his head.

In stark contrast to yourself, Han Jisung is quite the hopeless romantic. So much so that he tends to search for love in all the wrong places. Maybe a better way to describe it is that Jisung has a series of flings. He’s not shy to test the waters of any girl he comes across – and there are many, many waters that he’s tested. Lucky you gets to hear all about each one, being his friend and all.

But to your good friend’s demise, his ‘relationships’ never end up working out for very long. Theres always some kind of fatal flaw that’s a means to an end. Whether it was Jisung’s fault or the girls, it’s always confused you why he could never hold onto something longer than a couple months. Jisung is a great guy, it didn’t make sense.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left. The night has been dragging on since you stepped foot in the door and heard the little jingle as it opened. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d only made it through half your shift thus far.

“Just under an hour. Want to start the closing checklist so we can get outta here?” Jisung offers, reaching for the rag and sanitation bucket at the end of the counter.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave no later than at 8 o’clock on the dot.

Luckily, closing tonight goes as smoothly as it possibly can. You and Jisung are ready to get out of there at 8 on the dot, thanks to your determination to mop like a mad woman and stock the front as fast as humanly possible.

The air outside feels crisper than usual. Maybe its because you’ve been locked up in a small room that smells like coffee beans for 10 hours, but you’ll never get enough of the night air.

“So what are we doing tonight?”Jisung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was planning on going home and getting some rest…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. Jisung always goes out after your weekend shifts and never lets up on convincing you to tag along. So you can’t look at him, his eyes are much too convincing make contact with, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Gah you’re so boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot to ruffle the hair on top of your head, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, smoothing down your hair as a pout forms on your lips. The suggestive smirk settling across Jisung’s face is telling; he knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to turn him down or fish for another excuse. So you tilt your head, subtly rolling your eyes as you wait for him to explain what his big plans for tonight are.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

Accepting defeat, you shoot him a thumbs up before turning to get into your car. Asking any more questions would take away any time you had to wash up – and smelling like coffee beans any longer is going to drive you up a wall since it hasn't already.

It doesn’t take much time for you to rush home and get ready, and before you know it Jisung is there to pick you up. Only a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course and right on time in Jisung terms.

The car ride to your destination feels like a blur with how exhausted you are. So when you end up at your favorite boba spot, you immediately perk up. Those tapioca pearls always manage to give you a second wind.

But when Jisung decides to take a seat at one of the round tables just outside the shop instead of getting back in the car you know somethings up. You were expecting to hop back in the passenger seat of his car, maybe listen to some music for a while and drive around to kill time.

Initially he doesn’t say much. His legs just bounce hyperactively while he fidgits with the straw of his drink. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up; his eyes staring down at the cup in front of him instead of sipping from it, lip caught between his teeth.

The energy is off. Not only did you expect to hang out and do something adventurous like Jisung normally would, but now you’re watching his cheeks grow red while avoiding conversation.

Awkward silence becoming too much to bear, you take matters into your own hands. “So how are things going with that girl?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “she didn’t really work out.”

Unsurprised by his response, you just nod along. Its always to expect since he’s the pickiest person you’ve ever met. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh, and then the one before that didn’t like cheesecake. There always seems to be a laundry list of deal-breakers tied along to each one of Jisung’s relationships, and that is something you’ll always expect.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, and you’ve never understood the point of to putting all your effort into something like that. There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyebrows furrowing in response, hands gripping his thighs in anticipation

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are kind of just a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway, Y/N?”

Now thats a response that you are not prepared for. The question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Jisung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and just answer his question, as uncomfortable as it is.

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your cup once again.

“Not every guy is a dead-beat.”

His words carry a harsh bite to them, almost as if he finds you’ve said offensive. It burns his ego a bit, assuming that you’re grouping him in with all the guys you’ve been with in the past. Which is strange, Jisung should know that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You aren’t able to talk to guys, or most people for that matter, in the same way that you talk to Jisung. He’s the one you rant about all the assholes to. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence his expression changes, Jisung’s eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you haven’t seen very often, and you can’t say that you’ll ever get used to it.

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Jisung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words fall from his tongue, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle slips past his lips. Instinctively your stomach tightens, the air around you now feeling a bit heaver each second time ticks on. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do? I think it could be fun.”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “if it works then I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Jisung. And Jisung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your boba from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“Wait, you're like dating dating the Han Jisung?” Felix’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on his face as you spill about your night with Jisung.

Felix is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Jisung of course. Not that he shares the hatred himself, he’s just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know just how you felt. He’s only heard about it every day for the past several summers.

Felix is your best friend, other than Jisung of course. He’s also the only person in this world that you could bear to work with on a Saturday morning.

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the containers on the counter. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday morning, only a handful of customers have come in so far and it's already 11 am.

That’s the thing about working at a coffee shop – and it sucks when it's busy, and it sucks even more when it's slow. At least it isn't a terrible job, you at least have Jisung and Felix to keep you company and that's always worthwhile.

“And for the record,” you turn to look at Felix, a grin still evident on his face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind about the love stuff.”

“You know how Jisung is,” his eyebrow lifts, “so you never know. Maybe something could happen.”

If anyone was surprised that you were dating someone, fake relationship or not, it would be Felix. On top of that, you’re dating Han Jisung. As in, the same Jisung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled too much like peaches’ and it was ‘too good to be true.’ And now that you’re the one stuck with him for the next 14 days, it is only a matter of time until he finds the deal-breaking trait that turns him away from you.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. If I know Jisung, he’ll be over it before the 2 weeks even ends.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of his voice is raised teasingly. You can tell he doesn’t believe this will be just a ‘two-week thing’ by the funny little look on his face. You hate that look, and you hate how Felix always seems to be right.

Subsequently Felix sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You’ve grown up with Jisung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Felix, on the other hand, has a different point of view.

He’s not in it like you are, so gets to see the way Jisung looks at you; the way he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth with a sparkle in his eye. He notices that Jisung longs to make you laugh. And he watches the toothy grin each that grows on your face each time a chuckle breaks through your lips. Felix notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is he to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in his mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the clean marble countertop beside you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Jisung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this.

The lack of customers and silence that's fallen among the shop is just making it easier for your mind to wander off. It was beginning to make you sick how much you were thinking about Jisung and nothing has even happened yet. It's not like you have any reason to be nervous, but keeping all these thoughts trapped in your thick skull is starting to give you a headache

“He’s picking me up after work.” You blurt it out without thinking much about it. No one is here, you might as well lay it all out there for Felix to know since there's nothing better to do.

“He’s picking you up? Like you’re going on a date?”

“Shut upppp,” your eyes roll at his teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy the thought of this ‘date’ is making him, and you for that matter. It’s just Jisung. And you are just hanging out like you do every other night. There's nothing different about tonight and you’ll be able to prove that to yourself and Felix by the next time you see him.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Felix. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Jisung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Jisung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8 pm. What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Jisung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Jisung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Jisung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a coherent sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his smile to light up the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the espresso stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth nervously.

Tonight he’s dressed a lot nicer than usual comfy attire; a nice shirt with a pair of dark jeans that hug his slim figure. His hair is a lot lighter too – a vast change from the midnight black strands that normally frame his face. He’s really going all out for this thing – and right now all that you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front.

When you look to your right, Felix is just as stunned as you are. Frozen in his spot as his jaw practically sweeps the floor, he looks at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised as a smug expression crosses his face. For a second you contemplate asking him if he’s all set to finish the closing checklist on his own, but before you’re able to speak up he’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, Jisung hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“So do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips, followed by a slight pull on your heart strings. Knowing he took the time to think about bringing you something else to wear so you didn’t have to sit in your coffee scented clothes all night made you feel warm in the strangest way. He’s thoughtful, and it's weirding you out – but in a good way.

“So, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

A vague yet interesting, and very on-brand response from Jisung. He’s always been a fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination drags on forever. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between your agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time. All you know is that you’ve been driving along the backroads of your area for at least 15 minutes, and there is nothing around you to indicate that your destination is near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing a very good job at their primary function. It's pretty hard to see what’s around you, no matter how hard you squint and press your forehead to the window to get a better look.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Jisung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jisung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Jisung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Jisung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Jisung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Jisung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

But it’s just Jisung. Jisung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Jisung and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Jisung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Jisung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Jisung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the coffee shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Felix teases, letting his chin fall into his palm as he leans on the counter before him, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Jisung chuckles at his nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told Felix all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Jisung felt like the odd man out when you’re all together.

“It was good.”

Jisung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to his imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell – or to not kiss and tell. Keeping his private life all to himself is something he takes pride in, things are just better that way.

“Just good?” Felix challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. His eyes narrow as he waits for his response. You haven’t told him anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end, which left Felix dying to know what actually happened on your ‘date that wasn't a real date.’

Jisung glances back at him, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans. It would be kind of nice to have someone else to confide in. Especially since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this may be the one secret that you don’t know of.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Felix. Not that Jisung would ever want to pry, there's just no indication of how you feel about last night, or about him. Before Jisung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Felix’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – he knows something.

“You like her don’t you,” he muses, rubbing his hands together smooths as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now – and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but it's clear as day to Felix – and that is more than enough to make Jisung worry.

“I don’t,” Jisung denies the other boy’s claim, his willpower too strong to give in.

“Oh yeah? So why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

The words catch Jisung off guard; his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny the claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Felix is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Jisung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you. None of the girls he’s ever met could ever match up to all that you are. In his mind, you held the perfect score, and no one else had ever come close.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know.”

There's no way he’s that obvious... Did his feelings show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Jisung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Felix will follow up with a ‘just kidding’ or change the subject. Only the silence that falls on the room is enough of a response for Jisung to get the clue.

“Just please don’t tell her,” he avoids eye contact with the other boy, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered tile. “I just wanted to see if I could change her mind – about the love stuff, you know?”

The second you find out about Jisung’s feelings all bets would be off. There’s no way you’d let your little arrangement continue, not if either of you could end up hurt. And he knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, it was a deal between two friends. The second feelings get involved, everything gets all mushy and confusing, and Jisung can’t lose you.

Felix bears his weight on the counter behind him, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “Believe me, I want her to be done with that ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” he sighs, looking around momentarily before he clears his throat. “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Jisung’s heart skips a beat once the words leave Felix’s mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers his thoughts. His stomach begins to twist as he considers it, almost confused about what Felix means, but not willing to accept it. You only agreed to fake-date him, you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Felix watching him as his lips roll between his teeth, deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in Jisungs head like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, all for the right reasons of course. So that you don’t have to be so miserable about it anymore.

But behind those selfless reasons are several smaller, selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too. It’d be crazy to ignore the feeling he has deep in his chest, and maybe it's a sign not to.

“Like you think…” Jisung gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Felix gives is ominous, but the raise of his eyebrows and toothy grin forming on his face needs no words to tell.

If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Jisung.

That night Jisung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you could remember it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Jisung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped a cup of iced coffee on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave it there without cleaning anything up or letting you know. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and there were coffee stains stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Jisung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Jisung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got.

It’s been 12 days since you became Jisung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night when two frappuccinos splattered all over the shop floor, whipped cream and all. Spending time with Jisung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Jisung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Jisung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Jisung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Jisung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Jisung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N,” Felix says waving a hand in your face.

You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Jisung?”

“What?” you immediately straighten your posture and brush yourself off before responding, “N-no…I’m just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from his lips, not sparing you any time to save yourself as he turns away, beginning to wipe off the tables in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Felix out of the loop during this whole “fake-boyfriend Jisung” thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Felix the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. And what if all these things that you’re feeling is just a part of the honeymoon-phase. If that even existed anyway… But if all these feelings for Jisung are due to him trying to woo you and change your mind, everything will just fade away as things return back to normal. And then you’ll be left loving him in silence while you watch him blow through relationships like a leaf blows through the wind.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Felix for him to know. Every time Jisung picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide he’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Felix’s eyes. He knows you too well to look over things like this, he just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Felix has decided to take matters into his own hands, asking you about it himself.

“Felix,” you start, waiting for his attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit. Quickly he does, a questioning but knowing look evident on his face as the stool squeaks under him. “You know how this thing between Jisung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

He nods in response, his hand quickly falling into his palm as he listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

His question is more for clarification, he wants to hear you say it yourself. Felix knows that you’re gonna tell him that you’ve already caught feelings. He sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at him. You can feel the grin on his face. You know he's smirking at you right now, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you over the ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face him.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Felix hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on his face can't grow any larger, but it does. He jumps up from his chair in victory, doing a funny dance with his arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Felix smiles, his happy dance subsiding as he positions himself back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.” Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring sounding off on each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the boy sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Felix is your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Jisung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be. Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face and falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles.

A sympathetic sigh leaves Felix’s lips as he tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face him – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank god it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Jisung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something.

It’s not until Felix is rising from his seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Jisung...” he starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Felix is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. He can’t speak for you; but he’s scared that saying nothing could just make this whole situation worse.

His mouth gapes as he searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing while he hums to himself.

The umbrella hanging from Jisung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Felix as he jumps at the sudden sound. But before he is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Jisung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Jisung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Felix. He’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an coffee shop.

After Jisung left, Felix came back and let you know; he almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let him in. He told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Jisung, it hurts enough just thinking about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Jisung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Jisung for god’s sake. He’s your personal diary, he’s the one who knows all the shit that nobody else does. And he’s the only one that listens to all the dumb shit you have to say that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Jisung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Jisung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Jisung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Jisung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Jisung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Felix standing there with an umbrella in his hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

Suddenly, he pushes past you and invites himself into to your living room. Plopping down on your couch, Felix makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to him, plopping down on the next cushion over.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as he hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Jisung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves his lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was he giving it to you, why is he here, and why did he have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” He says sternly, his eyes locked on you as he waits for you to look back at him. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Jisung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Jisung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his mouth gently, a sigh following it before he reaches for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Felix you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to Jisung. You most definitely want to – and if you could, you would. But you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” he sighs, this time more forceful, like he’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.” Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” he mumbles, his eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped. Eyes wide with confusion, you’re begging him to go on, but if he does then Jisung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. It's not up to Felix to tell you what he knows this time.

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” he stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Felix is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Jisung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces.

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Jisung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Jisung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind.

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Jisung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times.

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand.

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Jisung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way.

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story.

Jisung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Jisung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never prys.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him.

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen.

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely.

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate.

“Jisung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say.

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape.

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Jisung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop.

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price.

“Y/N I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Jisung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Jisung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration.

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Jisung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Jisung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten.

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, Jisung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh.

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts.

In a leisurely motion, Jisung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Jisung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his.

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Jisung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body. Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Jisung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him.

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologise,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen eachother naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Jisung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.”

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?”

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Jisung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Jisung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Lucily, Jisung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down.

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Jisung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more.

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks.

In one swift motion, Jisung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction.

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else.

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Jisung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Jisung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it.

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips.

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched.

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Jisung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out.

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Jisung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Jisung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Jisung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge.

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Jisung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full.

You’ve always felt close to Jisung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Jisung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry, I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still holding confidence; his tone never falters.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Jisung.”

Being in love is a dumb concept. All guys suck, relationships are stupid and love is a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Jisung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right infront of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

↠ A/N this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous BTS fic Crush Culture.

#stray kids smut #han jisung smut #kdiner #kwritersworldnet #stayracha #kafenetwork #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #han jisung #jisung x reader #jisung smut #jisung fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #han jisung x reader #skz jisung fanfic #jisung fanfic

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

In Name Only - Part 13

A/N: So...things are good for Oberyn and his Sunshine, right? They’re finally like a real married couple, and in love! Nothing to worry about now...Enjoy 💕 As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: None

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-«

It was the warmth of the light and the soft chirping of birds that stirred you from your slumber the next morning. Your eyes slowly opened as you stretched and rolled onto your side, expecting to find Oberyn next to you. Much to your chagrin, the bed was empty, and only a small strip of parchment met your hand.

Sighing lightly, you grabbed the parchment and read the elegantly scrawled note from your husband, finding it both endearing and apologetic; he’d been summoned for an early morning ride and had agreed to go more out of duty than anything else, but that he would make it up to you later.

Your face warmed at the mere thought of the promise as images of last night flooded your mind. Your first time with Oberyn had been worth the wait, despite the lingering soreness between your legs, and the marks you could and couldn’t see. You boasted them proudly.

You slipped out of the bed, still naked as the evening before, taking some of the water that had been left for you and heating it up on the small fire, deciding to take a quick bath before making an appearance. Once you were satisfied with the warmth, you slipped in some perfumed oils before getting in yourself. A small contented sound left your lips as you slipped under the water and let it envelope you completely, just as Oberyn had done the night before. Slowly washing your spent body, you couldn’t help the feeling that settled within you; you were happy - truly happy. It was a feeling you hoped that would never disappear.

Getting out of the water only once it ran cold, you dried yourself off before going to select a dress, wondering if you should opt for something that was more modest and covered, or if you should even bother with worrying. Deciding to settle in the middle, you pulled out a honeyed, golden gown, that was covered just enough to be appropriate, but still made you feel light and airy.

After you finished getting ready for the day, you left your temporary lodging quarters and made your way through the castle and to the dining hall to see if anyone was still there. People were bustling about their days, chattering excitedly, but making it a point to stop and greet you. It was nice, this ever present and welcoming atmosphere and you couldn’t help but wish this was how it had been throughout your childhood. If everyone was this good and kind, the world would have been a much better place.

When you entered the sunny, warm hall, you found Lady Dayne sitting there, a book perched in front of her as she leisurely broke her fast. A few people you had yet to meet were mucking about the hall offering you small smiles to which you responded with an even bigger smile. Walking over to Eleonora you sat down beside her, prompting her to close the book and give you her attention. She had a kind face, even if she appeared to be somewhat shy, you hadn’t received any odd feelings from her.

“Good morning, Lady Martell,” she said as she waved someone over to bring you some breakfast. You caught her eyes flicking to your neck for the briefest of moments before you cleared your throat and looked away. She giggled lightly before nudging your leg with hers, “there is no shame in pleasure - you mustn’t hide it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed with a wicked little smirk as you straightened up and relaxed slightly. A plate of fine looking foods was quickly placed in front of you, topped off with plenty of fresh fruit, much to your delight. As you reached for the pitcher of fresh juice, you were quickly stopped when a steaming cup of tea was placed next to you instead. You pulled your hand back and looked at it curiously, trying to identify what kind it was. You picked up the cup and smelled the liquid, finding it to be a mostly herbal concoction.

“Moon tea,” the young woman on your side quickly as you let the cup back down in haste. While you’d never had any, or even seen any in person before, you knew exactly what it was.

“I-I don’t understand,” you shook your head and gave her a confused look, “w-why?”

“Come on, silly girl. We both know what moon tea is for,” she stated as if it was obvious, pushing the cup closer to you, “you don’t want to end up with child, do you?”

A million thoughts raced through your mind at once, as you tried to figure out where to even start to unwrap this mystery. You looked back at her with wide eyes, opening and closing your mouth a few times, “what do you mean? I was with my husband...there’s no need.”

“Oh, you are a naive, sweet thing, aren’t you?” suddenly you realized that the girl you had met the evening before was far from an innocent, shy woman. She was quiet, but clever and cunning, “sure you were with your husband but do you really want a child by him? Do you trust him?”

“I-I don’t understand,” you frowned at the tea as a bit of fire sparked in your blood.

“Your husband is the male equivalent of a whore,” she proclaimed and you almost choked on the berries you were eating. It was a bold accusation, a bold statement coming from one for your husband’s allies, a bold accusation to make to his wife.

“You dare to-”

“Why are you acting like it is some sort of surprise?” she found it almost laughable, “everyone knows that the Prince sleeps with whoever he pleases. How do you think he ended up with eight bastard children? And if you didn’t know...then you must be more gullible than any could imagine.”

“That’s not...that’s not true,” you insisted meekly, trying to gather up that confidence and courage that your father had always instilled in you, but finding it difficult. Of course you knew the rumors, the whispers, and of course you knew they were true. Oberyn had told you the same, and had always been open and honest about it - but that had been before...before the two of you were married. The fact that she had brought his girls into it, the girls that you already loved and adored, made it sting even harder, “n-not anymore.”

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at you with an almost pitying smile on her face as she made a small hmm. She remained silent for a moment, drinking her own cup of tea that had been placed before her. Her eyes were on you the entire time as she downed it in one go, “what? Do you think I want children by a random man? Of course not. If I am to have a child it must be a true heir that no one can question. That will happen one day, but until then, I will have my fun.”

“That sounds like no marriage at all,” you said quietly, “to be sneaking around behind each other’s backs.”

“You are foolish,” she admitted, “that is exactly what a marriage is. It’s a game of give and take, not love. I was from the North once too - I thought you’d be smarter. That you’d understand what this is. My husband does not work to pleasure me, nor do I waste my time with him. We were married for convenience and to produce heirs. Do not mistake your duty for your desires. Love is not something that exists in this world. It’s a falsehood to keep you quelled when you are a child.”

“I did not...my marriage isn’t like yours,” you told her, but you were suddenly wondering...what if it was, but you weren’t privy to it? But...no. You shook your held to yourself and gave her a stern look, “I love my husband, and that entails all of him - his children, his family, him. And h-he loves me. I know he does...”

“Hmm,” she mused softly, the tension in the air was thick and palpable, “do you truly believe that? His left his whore of many years suddenly-”

“Her name is Ellaria, and she was never his whore,” you almost slammed your first on the table as you glared at her. You were liking her less and less with each passing second, “she was his equal, just like I am. And besides all of that, she was the one who ended things with him. Don’t you dare speak ill of her.”

“Whatever the story is,” she decided to pointedly ignore your little outburst, “they’re no longer together. And he found solace in you, you were a mere happenstance of perfect timing and need. How long will it be before he grows tired of you? The little Northern girl who knows nothing about anything? What then? He’ll toss you to the side, leave you with a babe you don’t want, while he goes on and does whatever he wants.”

“That won’t....he would never do such a thing,” you insisted firmly, feeling tears well up in your eyes at her accusations. They made you feel silly and dumb, like nothing more than a little girl, but you knew they couldn’t be true...they weren’t true. He loved you and you loved him, and that wasn’t going to change.

“I’m sure that’s what Ellaria Sand thought too,” she shrugged, pulling her back towards her. You felt a single tear run down your cheeks as you stared down at your plate, “all men are the same. They want one thing - once they get it, they will be satisfied for some time. And then? They go right back to how they were. It’s not your fault, not anyone’s fault, it’s just the nature of the beast, so do not take it personally. Once you are no longer shiny and new and young and pretty, you’ll be set to the side like so many others. It’s better to prepare yourself for that reality now.”

You remained silent, refusing to acknowledge her, your whole body feeling it was trembling with anger. She was bold in her words, and if you made enough of a deal out of it, you could easily have her in a world of trouble. Who dared to speak to the Prince’s wife in such a manner?

But before either of you could say another word, a handmaid came and called her. Eleonora stood up and brushed off her skirts, flouncing by you with a small squeeze of your shoulder. You wanted to hate her, to think her evil, but a part of you couldn’t. This was how she was raised, what was instilled in her from childhood. Perhaps you’d be the same if that had been how you were treated for years. But it wasn’t and your marriage wasn’t anything like hers. You remained there silently for a few moments, collecting yourself as you pushed away the plate still filed with food, having lost your appetite.

The small cup of tea was still staring back at you, almost if silently taunting you. Suddenly, in spite of your belief that you couldn't have a child, and that if you ever had a child it would be your husband’s, one that he would love, you grabbed the tea and quickly drank it all. It settled into your stomach, leaving you with an odd feeling as you sat there and tried not to cry.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Once you realized you were felt to your own devices, you decided to explore the grounds and gardens of Starfall, after they came highly recommended by some of the people who worked on them on a daily basis. You’d waited around for Oberyn for some time, but then he never made a return, and while a small part of you wondered if he was okay, you knew he’d be fine. But you couldn’t deny that the words from earlier were still floating around in your mind. You had no rational reason to believe she was right, but you also couldn’t help but wonder…

What if...what if you were just a shiny, pretty plaything for Oberyn until he got his fill of you and then left you by the wayside?

He’d never even given you an ounce of worry that would happen. He was the one that told you that you needn’t be his wife if you had no such desire. He told you he loved you...he had meant it. You knew he had meant it.

Groaning at yourself for getting so caught up in the folly of a woman who was no doubt disillusioned with life and bitter at her fate, you left the grounds and started heading for the waterfall you spotted upon your arrival the previous day.

It was peaceful here, more temperate than the rest of Dorne, with more green and cooler temperatures. You never thought you’d see this much green and plush foliage outside of the Reach. Taking the beaten path, you wandered in search of the waterfall, hoping you wouldn’t get too lost...surely if you did, someone would come looking for you...they had to. You hoped.

Pushing your silly worries to the back of your mind, you carried on, stepping over fallen leaves and branches, listening to the sound of all the wildlife around you. It was almost serene and a welcoming change from your morning. The sound of rushing water reaching your ears and you were pleased to find out that you had taken the correct way to get to the rushing water. You were almost here until you were stopped dead in your tracks by the sound of a branch snapping and your name being called out softly.

Your heart raced, immediately feeling like it was going to burst at the sudden intrusion. It was a voice you did not recognize, and you definitely would have noticed someone following you all the way from the castle. Swallowing thickly, you turned on your heel and looked around to find the source. Your eyes landed on a young woman, with wild, long black hair, and dark copper skin, wearing a blood red dress staring directly at you. You’d never seen her before but somehow she knew your name…

“Who are you?” you asked as you took a step closer to her, despite your mind telling you to stay away, “how do you know my name?”

“I know everything,” she said softly, her voice soft, but accented similarly to Oberyn, “I know your past, present, and future, Lady Beesbury...or perhaps you prefer Martell these days?”

“W-who are you?” you asked as she took a step closer to you and you could make out her beauty in the lowlight. She appeared almost ethereal as she watched you with interest, “are you following me?”

“It does not matter who I am,” she insisted sweetly, “I am not following you. You walked into the wood, this wood, where I happened to be. Just like you were meant to.”

“Meant to?” you stammered, getting more nervous with each passing second. She didn’t seem threatening, although neither had Eleonora earlier, and that turned out to be quite an ordeal, “I don’t understand.”

“I can sense that you have many questions,” she walked over to you and you didn’t stop. She took you in, her hand taking your chin gently as she studied your face. When you looked closer at her face, you saw that her eyes were milky, and almost completely clouded over. She leaned in close and inhaled your scent as you stood there, wondering what she was possibly going to do, “sweet, innocent, young Lady Martell, formerly of a great house that shamed her for everything she was, married into an even greater house that sees everything she can and will be. So full of hope and great expectations.”

“You’re blind,” you managed to stammer out as she released her hold on you, “h-how can you see me? How do you know? How could you possibly know all of this?”

“I cannot see,” she pointed at her eyes, “but I can see everything.”

“A soothsayer,” you concluded as a small grin tugged on her features.

“Of sorts. They’ve called me many things over the years, soothsayer being one of the kinder things,” she agreed, “you’re troubled by many questions you want answers to. Tell me, young one.”

She appeared to be barely older than you...then again, you wondered just how old she was. From the stories you’d been told over the years, you knew that people proclaiming such divine powers were often much older than they appeared. Maybe she was too...either way, it didn’t matter. You were already deep in her clutches, “how is the moon tea sitting in your belly?”

A flush of warmth immediately went to your cheeks as you hung your head, almost in shame. Letting out a long breath, you said quietly, “terrible. I shouldn’t have consumed it. I gave into such silly folly...but it matters not. I cannot have children...I do not know what possessed me.”

“It’s among many of the things that worry you.”

“Yes,” you gave into her, not even bothering to lie. You remained unsure if you fully believed in the idea of a soothsayer, fortune teller, oracle, whatever they wanted to call themselves, but you knew it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities. She had already stunned you by finding you and knowing your name...although those could have been easy guesses for her and yet…

“I can give you all the answers you want,” she said softly, “if you want to know them. Some people prefer the mystery of not knowing.”

“What’s the price?” you asked, knowing that something like this was likely not going to be free, “you’re giving me something, surely you want something in return?”

“I have no need for coin or other such worldly things,” she insisted as she brought an arm around your shoulders, leading you slowly over to the water. You stiffened slowly when she brought you near the edge, so you could barely hear anything over the rushing water. One wrong move and both of you would be tumbling into the roaring stream. How she trusted herself to be so careful you would never know, “sometimes knowing the truth is payment enough.”

“I suppose,” you mumbled as you tried to move back from the edge ever so slightly so you could breathe more easily, but she stood firm and resolute, not wanting to move. For someone with such a slight and waif like build she was rather immovable.

“Ask me,” she stated simply as you swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling nervous, “ask me about what’s plaguing your mind.”

“M-my husband,” you said quietly.

“Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell.”

“Yes,” you admitted, figuring that it wasn’t weird for her to know that. Almost everyone knew the prince, and they were likely to realize you were his wife, even if they hadn’t not see you before, “he loves me...I think he does...right? It feels so silly to question, but I just..”

“You’re only questioning it since you’ve spoken to Lady Dayne,” she concluded as you nodded slowly. You were so resolute and nonplussed by the opinions of others, but this had stuck with you, “it’s understandable. You are young, she is young, but she, however, is very unhappy in her marriage. But it does not mean you have to be.”

“Oh?”

“His love and devotion for you is true,” she promised and although you had no reason to trust her or believe her, you did. Your heart did a somersault in your chest before settling down and feeling easier than it had been. He loved you....he truly did. But you’d never really questioned that until it was brought into your mind over breakfast, “but that does not mean that it will always be easy. There will be times when you will argue, when you will want to scream at each other, but that does not mean your love is not real.’’

“I did not expect that it would always be easy,” you acknowledged; of course at someone point there had to be something here and there that you would disagree on. It was only natural, “but I love him and I’m always going to be willing to work things out. T-there is...one more thing…well several actually.”

“Ask to your heart’s delight, just know that you might not always like what you hear. Tread carefully…”

“Waylar,” you almost whispered his name as you stared at your feet, “I-I....I just want to know if he’s okay…”

“A young love lost quickly and tragically. He does not suffer anymore, and has not for some time. He does not walk the earthly realm any longer,” she stated immediately and you felt your chest constrict with pain as your breathing grew ragged and shallow. Your knees felt like they were going to give out at the simple answer, and you wished, you so desperately wished that she was wrong. That she was lying and a complete fraud, “he died shortly after arriving at the Night’s Watch. He died of exposure to the elements, and a broken heart.”

You knew she was being truthful. There was no way she could have known that Waylar had been sent to the Night’s Watch unless she was either some kind of stalker, or she really was what she proclaimed to be.

“No,” you said quietly, feeling warm, salty tears slide down your face. You couldn’t believe it, it had just seemed so wrong. You didn’t even bother to wipe away the tears, letting them flow freely, “he didn’t...he’s gone, and it’s all my fault. He’s dead because of me...the only thing he ever did was love me, and it cost him everything. I should have-”

“It does not do well to dwell on the past, on things we cannot change,” she insisted firmly. She was right...what was done was done. He was dead and there was no way to bring him back, not unless you resorted to some of the dark magic you had only rumors about from other lands, “he is gone and there is nothing to be done. Just realize that he did love you while he was alive. I told you that you might not hear what you want…”

“While we’re at it,” you threw your hands up meekly, ready for more pain and hurt. You only blamed yourself and your stubborn curiosity as you tried not to completely break down, “tell me...will I…will Oberyn and I ever have a child of our own?”

She studied you for a moment, her eyes flicked to your belly for just a moment before looking back at your face. There was an almost unreadable expression on her face as you met her milky eyes.

“No,” she said softly as you let the one word answer wash over you. You had been sure of that already, almost positive anyway, but it still stung to hear the answer. You would still make it a point to go to a Maester once you returned to Sunspear, but the little bit of possible hope you had clung onto was dissolving. But it would be fine - after all, you didn't need a child of your own and Oberyn had his girls. That was enough, more than enough, already so much more than you could ever have imagined. Then why didn’t it feel like enough? Why did it leave you with a deep longing in your heart?

“I-I didn’t think so,” you confessed quietly, “I was...admittedly not careful when I was with Waylar, so reckless and carefree. I knew there were times when I should have...I should have been with child. But it never happened so I had my doubts…”

“That does not mean you will never be a mother.”

“I am...a stepmother of sorts,” you shrugged, “my husband has daughters, and a few are very young still. I love them all very much.”

“Hmm,” she mused much in the same way as the vicious young woman from earlier.

“What?”

“There are many ways that one can be a mother,” she answered, “it’s not always just about carrying and birthing a child.”

You remained silent as you nodded at her, letting out a long breath as an influx of thoughts swarmed throughout your mind. There were so many questions that you still had, but the ones that had been loudest and most prominent were answered. Your main fear and worry was definitely quelled, with the reassurance that Oberyn did love you. Your other questions were answered...but still left you feeling unresolved.

“Having knowledge is not always easy.”

“These were things I would have found out one day anyway,” you shrugged your shoulders, “perhaps finding out the answers has lessened the blow.”

“Now you know,” the strange woman stated quietly. You had so many questions for her still, but you decided they could wait. Maybe you could see this strange woman again and ask her further questions, “but now you must atone.”

“I-I don’t understand-”

“Like you said yourself, nothing comes without a price,” your brows furrowed because you were sure that she had told you that there was nothing you had to do but live with your answers. You were about to say something else, but her hands quickly went to your shoulders and she pushed you back towards the edge of the waterfall to where you were just managing to hold onto your footing. Your whole body was shaking as you tried to push back and slip past her and to safety.

“P-please,” you begged as you grew worried that if you took a tumble into the water, that would be your downfall, “n-no.”

“You must atone,” she insisted and with that, she pushed you over the edge and you started to tumble into the water, letting out an ear shattering scream. You were flinging around wildly, groping around to try and grip onto something, but finding purchase on nothing.

You were going to die, you were sure of it. You felt nothing but sheer panic as you braced yourself for the hard crash into the water. When you did, it felt like you were breaking into a million tiny pieces as you finally stopped falling. Your eyes snapped open in the cold water, and you started to swim desperately to the surface to get some air back into your lungs.

The stance to the top felt like it was insurmountable as you swam towards the light, your lungs starting to feel like you were on fire. But you couldn’t just give up - no. So you kept swimming, kicking your legs as hard as possible as you felt the water getting warmer and warmer.

After what seemed like a small eternity, you broke through the water’s surface, taking in a large, long breath to try and get air back into your lungs. As you swam towards the edge, you were your name being called in a loud, worried voice. You wiped away the water from your eyes as you looked around and found Oberyn running to the edge, dropping to his knees as he held out his arms to help you.

“Oberyn,” you cried out his name meekly as you swam over to him, not bothering to stop him when he hooked his strong arms under yours and dragged to safety on the ground near the water’s edge. You were coughing up a storm, a hand clutching at your chest as you tried to slow and even your breathing. He sat in front of you, but kept a hand protectively on your waist. Warm tears had mixed in with the cold water on your face, making it hard to discern which was which. Once you steadied yourself, you took one look into his worried eyes before throwing your arms around him.

“What happened, my love?” he asked as he held you, his hand immediately going to rub soothing circles on your back as you nestled your face into his shoulder, “I returned and was informed that you had come out here by yourself. I’ve been looking for you for some time and I heard your scream. Please tell you’re alright…”

“Oberyn,” you pulled back and searched his face, holding it in your hands as if to make sure this wasn’t all some sort of dream. Luckily, he felt very real and lifelike in your touch, his warm breath fanning across your face. Before you could stop yourself, you crashed your lips onto his and kissed him an urgent hunger, trying to ground yourself and express just how much you loved him. He kissed you in return, but slowly, ever so slowly, pulled back and gave you a questioning look, “I love you, truly, Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he whispered back, trailing his thumb gently along your bottom lip, “what happened? How did you get so lost in here? And you fell? I was so worried - something horrible could have happened!”

“I just...I wanted to get some fresh air and came out for a walk,” you admitted, deciding to leave out the reason for your strong desire to get away. You weren’t in the mood to get into that whole situation right now, “and I was walking on the path further up towards the waterfall. I-I ran into a woman…”

“A woman?” he questioned, a confused look crossing his features as his brows narrowed, “what do you mean? There’s no one in this forest...the Daynes have people keeping an eye on it constantly....there’s nothing out here but animals.”

“I know what I saw,” you insisted, “I saw her, I spoke to her...she found me. She knew my name, she knew who you were…”

“A woman here in this forest knew exactly who were were and she found you?” he repeated as you nodded fervently, “you didn’t see her when you walked into the forest? She couldn’t have followed you in?”

“There was no one,” you promised, “I was alone, I swear it…”

“As much as I prefer to think only of positive things,” he sighed quietly, “we have enemies everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. I would never put it past someone to try and do something to us.”

“She didn’t...no,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “she wasn’t anything like that. I did not fear her...not until the end anyway. She was a soothsayer - she was blind, her eyes were milky and white.”

“A soothsayer,” he sounded skeptical but he didn’t sound like he was judging you for your belief in what the woman was, “I don’t think...I don’t think that’s what it was…it was probably just an old woman from the nearby town that wandered off and got lost in the wood.”

“Oberyn,” you wished he could have been there and see her with you, then he wouldn’t take so much convincing...although even you yourself could see that what you were saying sounded off the wall and ridiculous, “it wasn’t an old woman. She looked to be my age...she didn’t seem confused - she knew exactly who I was. She knew things about me that no one would know, no one besides myself or you.”

“What did she know?” he gently grabbed your face, cradling it in his large, warm hands and turned your face slightly, studying to make sure you had no wounds, no injuries on your head or neck area. He tutted lightly when he saw nothing, which relieved him greatly, but still didn’t completely alleviate all of his fears, “are you sure she wasn’t just saying things that seemed to answer questions?”

“She knew about us,” you said, “she knew about...about Waylar and the Night’s Watch...about…”

“Sweet sunshine,” he said softly, “I don’t want to alarm you or worry you in the slightest, but are you sure that you...actually saw someone?”

“W-what do you mean?” you asked pulling back and giving him a strange look, “of course I did. I know what I saw Oberyn, she...she pushed me into the waterfall!”

“She pushed you,” he was incredulous at your declaration as you nodded fervently.

“Yes,” you remained steadfast in your opinion, “she gave me answers to questions, and said I had to atone...and then she pushed me.”

“Honey,” the term of endearment was sweet…different from what he’d normally called you, but a welcome one. It brought a small smile to your face, “are you sure, I don’t want to make any assumptions as I was not there, but do you think it’s a possibility that you tripped over something and fell? Have you hit your head at all?”

“I didn’t...fall,” you said softly, although a cloud of confusion was now hanging over you. Maybe...maybe something had happened...and you had taken a tumble or.... Maybe there was something in the tea you had consumed earlier than had caused you to have some sort of wild, vivid hallucinations? With how cunning Eleonora had been at breakfast, you honestly wouldn’t put it past her to have done something of the sort.

The idea of imagining the whole encounter with the mysterious soothsayer was wild, but did the idea of her existence at all. If you were feeling the effects of something, who was to say that you couldn’t have made up the encounter in your mind and then trip and fell. When you really thought about it, none of it seemed out of the realm of possibilities.

Oberyn sighed softly as he touched your cheek before pressing his lips to your forehead, “whatever happened, I’m glad you are okay. I was so worried when I couldn’t find you at first and then I heard a scream. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”

“I’m okay,” you promised quietly, now wondering if you had actually met a mysterious woman or if it was real. You shook your head in a vain attempt to get her out of your mind, “I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t do much…”

“You did,” you promised, gently touching on his now damp tunic, “you helped, I promise.”

He just offered you a small smile as he held, kissing the crown of your head, “this woman...you said she answered questions you had...what did you ask of her?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted as you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, “it wasn’t anything important. Follies really…”

“If you’re sure,” he said softly as you offered him a gentle smile, “if anything...you know you can talk about anything to me.”

“I know,” you promised, “I know. You know...you know that when I say I love you, I mean it, right?”

“Of course,” he laughed lightly as he gave you a quick peck, “and I love you, something you never doubt, my sunshine.”

You simply nodded at him before burrowing into his chest. He loved you, you reminded yourself, he loved you. Just as you loved him.

“C-can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Can we return to Sunspear?” you asked, a small frown crawling onto your face as he seemed surprised at your sudden request, “we can take the long route home, but I think I’d like to be back home…”

“Did something happen?” he could tell that something did - otherwise you wouldn’t have made the request so suddenly. You thought about lying to him, about making some weird excuse, but you knew it was best to be upfront with him, especially in this situation.

“I don’t think everything here is as it seems,” you confessed, “things are not as serene as they appear. Lady Dayne made sure I was aware of that this morning.”

“What did she-”

“It’s no matter,” you promised him, “I’m just not sure how welcome we really are. Her words were not very kind this morning. I suspect that she does not think I would tell you any of it, but I don’t want...I don’t want anything like what she and her husband have. I like what we have. I like that I love you. And I like the man that you are, and what can be and will be. I like...us.”

“I like us as well,” he returned the sentiment, “we shall head back for Sunspear come the morrow. Does that sound okay? We shall be home within a fortnight. I’ll send a raven to let them know we are to return sooner than expected, and to prepare our room.”

“Our room?” you asked with a hint of a smile tugging on your features.

“Yes,” he gently, almost seeming shy, “I thought we might...share our chambers upon our return. Unless of course, you’d like to remain in separate quarters…”

“No,” there was nothing but excitement in your voice, “I’ll love that. Really - there is nothing I’d like more than sharing your bed every night, my moon and stars.”

“My sunshine,” he seemed relieved as he slowly up and helped you to do the same, “you make me happy like no other.”

“So do you, Oberyn,” you said quickly followed by a small oof as he swooped you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style. You kissed the tip of his nose before the two of you broke into a fit of giggles.

You still had a million questions floating around in your mind, but they could all wait for later.

Right now, nothing else but this moment mattered.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #in name only

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isuspectyouhavefantheories · 3 years

Text

The Crossroads to the Sun 🌞

Takemura/Female V

Rated: M for mature themes and explicit content NSFW 18s only

Trigger Warnings: Themes of death, suicide, gallows humour

Part 1 of ???? “The Sun Series”

Link to part two :

https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/641314624666468353/search-for-the-sun

Will eventually be posted on my AO3 account when I get this beta’d. 🤟

———

She had decided she wanted to be away from night city when she pulled the plug. If anything, she wanted it to end under the blanket of the starry skies, part of her hoping they would guide her into the next world safely. Driving through the neon jungle felt like a technicolor funeral procession. Or perhaps a walk to the gallows? She was thankful she still had most of her senses as she pulled herself from her morbid reverie just in time to avoid a badly placed bollard on a sharp turn straight down the road heading towards the city limits. She swore under her breath but continued. The pain was dull, but festering in her mind, less so than before, but enough to keep reminding her of the internal ticking clock that was getting louder with each passing hour as it neared to zero. She breathed deeply though her nose and steeled herself. But more doubts began to drift through her, like a slick fog encircling her mind she thought of all the people she would be leaving behind and hoped they wouldn’t hate her after tonight.

Goro’s name flashed up on her biomon and it took her a minute to register. She nearly rear ended a truck at a traffic light before finally answering.

“Yes?”

“Where are you?” His voice was gruff, demanding and her eyebrow crinkled in irritation.

“What’s it to you?”

“Let me help you V. Just take the deal with Hanako, we make this right and you get back your life. If I were you, I would not waste the chance.”

“You mean you get back your life.” She spat, Takemura went quiet on the other end for a moment, his eyes flinching at her tone. “Don’t try and pretend this is concern for my well-being and as far as making this right goes... You really still think you and Arasaka can fix this? Goro I know when I’m beat. Nobody can fix this. I’m done for and it’s time I just fucking faced facts and made my peace. I’m done. I’m calling it.” She hadn’t realised how hard she was gripping the steering wheel until she felt the alloy begin to crunch lightly under her guerrilla cybernetics.

There was a long pause and she thought for a moment he had hung up until she heard the shuffling of erratic, hurried movement on the other end.

“Where are you V?” He demanded, his voice was direct, to the point, no room for nonsense, no room for anything but answers.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve left a data chip with Misty. It contains all the relevant evidence, via brain dance, you need to get the vindication you so desperately require.”

“V, tell me where you are right now. ” It was sharp this time.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. Goodbye, Goro. It was a pleasure to have known you.” She hung up and looked down at her phone, closing her eyes a moment only to be jolted by Takemura calling again. She took a deep breath before turning it off and throwing it in the passenger seat and popping into third gear as she trolled though the gates past the city limits to security. She was quickly flagged through with little bother from security. They seemed more interested in what was coming into the city that what was going out.

It took her an hour to get to where she needed to go. The edge of the badlands. The final touch stone before she headed further in, back to all she ever knew. Just another busted down prewar gas station covered in sand, nature already claiming back its land. She parked her car outside and managed to pry open the front door after digging some accumulated sand from the way.

—————

She woke to the whistling of the desert storm on the shutters, the dilapidated old outpost rocked shakily. She almost felt as if she was in the belly of a ship at sea being pulverised, to and fro, by an onslaught or roaring waves.

She sat up, listening to them a while, until eventually the weather died down to a gentle lulling breeze. She stepped outside for a moment and thanked whatever powers that were out there that the sky was clear enough to see the moon and a dim scattering of stars. She climbed from her make shift cot and stepped outside.

“Still think you made the right call? Those Saka assholes might have fixed you up all nice.” Johnny flashed back into her peripheral vision, sitting on a bench under a busted canopy with his guitar slung across his lap.

“I dunno. I guess we’ll see.”

“Val.”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“They were just going to extract you and dump me the moment it suited them. What, you think I was just gonna put my head in a hungry lions mouth and just hope everything would just sort itself out? For all I know they would have just cut me open the minute they got me up there. I’d rather die out here, on some dusty ass terra firma in the wastes than lose my mind up in some space prison.” She flipped out Evelyn’s cigarette case, only three left in place making her sigh before pulling out one and lighting it up.

Johnny groaned at the sensation of the nicotine flooding her system from her first drag. It had been a while since she’d allowed herself such little pleasures, but for the first time in months she wasn’t on deaths door, bringing death so someone else’s door or trying to kidnap an heiress, so exceptions can be made.

“Weather out here huh? Never notice it in the city but, fuck. Mother nature sure is a feisty broad.”

“You have no idea.” She chuckled.

“Pretty good we got here before the worst of of the storm hit earlier. I would not want to be the sorry sack of shit that had to drive through that.” Johnny chuckled.

—————————

It was about 5am, sun already shining and blistering the ground, she had scavenged a few things from the outpost to keep her and Johnny going long enough to get to the Aldecaldos

Or just long enough. The thought of kicking it just before saying goodbye to Panam and Saul and the others churned uncomfortably down into the pit of her stomach but she attempted to occupy her mind, busying herself with prep work and repairs on her gear. She was going to try at least.

Before she could think of the next task, Johnny materialised again, already on edge.

“Someone’s coming.”

“Raffen? Cops? Arasaka?”

“Can’t be sure. I’d get ready if I were you.” He was gone again, and all she could think to do was get back to the gas station and ready herself for the visitors.

A Herra Outlaw that looked as if the chemical desert had taken a shit on it, genuinely one of the most out of place thing she had ever seen in the badlands and that was saying something, pulled up with a soft screech as the brakes engaged and the engine shuttered off. The pop of the car door made her grip her baseball bat tighter as she edged closer to the door, so as to be on the hidden side when it opened.

The door flung open, nearly ramming her in the face had she not hugged the wall so closely, she held her breath as a darkened figure entered the room, but the rasping baritone that filled the air made her freeze.

“V?” Takemura’s voice cut through her and all she could do was stare in disbelief.

“What the fuck?”

He whipped around like lightening, his wild searching gaze landed on her and his eyebrows all but flew up into his hairline and his eyes widened in disbelief but seemed to relax after a moment, a wave of relief washing over his features as of up until this moment he had been in a panic.

It was all a blur, he pulled the rusted metal door closed, nearly wrenching the door off its screeching hinges before his arms suddenly reached for her. He pulled her forcefully into his chest into an embrace that should have shattered her spine with the implants this man had. The newly back online ones, she noted.

She scrunched her eyebrows incredulously at him when he pulled away, his fingers tracing down the length of her arms until they still rested on her shoulders as he continued to look at her as if he was afraid the moment he took his eyes off her she would disappear into thin air.

“What are you doing here?” She breathed, still struggling for air after the uncharacteristic ribsplitting hug.

He looked down now, almost sheepish in his manner but he did not waiver when he returned his gaze to her.

“Stopping you from making a foolish choice.”

She sighed deeply.

“And since when do you have any right to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“I do not. But I can try at least to make you see reason.” He wasn’t budging, she wasn’t budging.

“Goro...” she pinched the bridge of her nose and temple in an attempt to quell the newly forming tension migraine.

“You could have your life back. You would be good as new, Arasaka would ensure it if you testify at the board meeting. Arasaka always rewards loyalty.”

“I know that’s some rhetoric you’ve been spoonfed your whole life but unfortunately I have a very different opinion on the subject of ‘who Arasaka serves’ and it most certainly isn’t people who have a history of stealing from them.” She dead panned, making Goro groan.

“If you would just listen to me you would know that is not the case. Hanako-sama has extended this life like to you V do not waste it.”

“I’ve been listening. And watching. From the very start. I’ve seen them from an angle you have yet to even comprehend and part of me fears even then you wouldn’t see the truth.”

“They are-.”

“Only in this for themselves. I won’t argue with you about this, there is nothing you can say that will change my mind. I’m not selling my souls to the fucking devil, man, I’m sorry but that’s how this situation feels to me. I know there is nothing anyone can do for me, not you, not Arasaka, not Hellman, not even Alt fucking Cunningham’s AI ghost from beyond the Blackwall knows how to undo this so fuck this. I refuse to spend the last days of my life scrambling for answers only to whither away to nothin and die anyway. I’m leaving this hellhole on my own fucking terms. So just let it go. Just forget about me and go back to your cushty little life as Arasaka’s cheerleader or body guard or whatever the fuck it is you do.”

She couldn’t remember how, but during the course of their verbal spat, he had pushed her against the adjacent wall from the door and upon hearing her retorts he snarled in frustration and slammed his hand into the wall beside her head, denting the already disintegrating plaster, sending a cloud of dust in the air around them. The pluming cloud fluttered and caught the small rays of morning light seeping through the crags and cracks in the windows and walls of the abandoned gas station. She managed to push him off with a forceful shove only to have him lunge back to her. His martial arts clashed with her own brand of badlands fist fighting. She was flexible, contorting her body out of his reach before rounding on him with a left hook followed by a hasty jab aimed for his face. Unfortunately, he had reach, countering her wild strikes with a wave of his arm and tugging her to him. She lifted her knee between them to vault herself from his grasp but lost her footing at the end and it took only a single low sweeping kick to her other leg that sent her off kilter, but Goro followed her to the ground where he pinned again, this time on the floor with both her hands above her in each of his. She struggled against his vice grip, twisting and squirming beneath him to roll him off but he refused to be moved barely even flinching as she thrashed beneath him, awaiting her to finally stop. She roared in frustration but refused to give up. If she couldn’t knock him with her strength then she could knock him with her words.

“Hanako knew!” She spat at him, the intensity of her glare ripping though him.

“Knew what?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

“She knew it was Yorinobu who murdered her father. She knew you were telling the truth, that you were being framed and she still let you go down. Then guess what the kicker here is?” She laughed bitterly. “Saburo’s not even dead. He’s being kept as an engram, he’s been planning something with Hanako this whole time and they were going to let you go down regardless!! They were going to discard you, who served them faithfully your whole life, for their own fucking agenda. So tell me, why you think for one fucking second that they will actually help me?” Takemura was quiet, his hold on her waining enough for her to flip them, her hands balled into his shirt begging him to look at her but it was as if something had been shattered in him. They both were panting from their verbal and martial exchange, but they were far from done.

He suddenly reached up, his hand cupping her cheek gently, tracing the cybernetics of her face with the tips of his fingers before pulling her down to him without warning, his lips finally met hers in a heated kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, giving him the chance to shove his tongue in to explore her. He didn’t know when he would get the chance, if he ever would again after this. But she had yet to bite his face off so he took that as a good sign. In fact she had nearly gone limp from the shock of his sudden advance. He pulled away slowly, his face still inches from hers but his eyes bored into hers with a renewed intensity.

She pulled her hand from his now loosened grip and reached down gently and placed a delicate hand on his cheek, only for him to lean into it with closed eyes. He pressed his own hand over hers and took a deep calming breath.

“Goro, look at me.”

His eyes opened again, staring down at her with so much hope yet one word from her could shatter him into a thousand shards. And fate was a cruel mistress.

“I’m going home.” He looked down at that, his brow tugged in an unreadable expression but she chased after his gaze and held his chin so he had no choice but to stare wordlessly at her.

“I’m going home. To the people I love. To say goodbye. And maybe... maybe, for once in my life just try to do some good in this world, not for eddies or cred or some fucking illusion of grandeur, but just to do something worthwhile. I want have something real. Before I... before I can’t anymore.” She stroked his cheekbone with the back of her knuckle. “I don’t expect you to understand. But it isn’t up for debate.” Not what he had wanted to hear, but the finality in her words left him no room to argue. And so he was then left to stare down the inevitable horribleness of a world with no V.

He rested his face in the crook of her neck, her soft sun kissed skin, slick with sweat from the desert heat.

“Then let me have this at least.” He whispered against her, causing her to shiver under the weight of his words.

He returned his lips to hers, an even more energised passion driving his need and to his surprise she returned it, hands cupping his face gently. She then pushed him back down on his back and dove back to his lips. He began unbuttoning and loosening her clothes as fast as his hands could allow him. He pulled off her tank top and stopped a moment to admire her perky little breasts before pulling her back to him and lavishing her chest adoringly with bites and kisses that made her mewl against him.

“You have been taunting me since the day we met. Not wearing anything but that tight blue netrunner suit.” He growled against her chest, biting at the underside of her breast, his eyes primal and burning hers with an unspoken need to be closer.

“I’m a net runner you gonk, ah-!” He bit a little harsher around her nipple at the comment but lapped at it gently afterwards. “I-it was for practicality’s sake.” She shivered against him.

“It was to torture me.” He chuckled.

He lifted them suddenly, his hands under her thighs again as he deposited her on a near by countertop, her legs wrapping around his hips as he ground himself desperately into her while trailing his lips from her ear lobe to her jugular and back before biting then tugging sharply causing her to yelp softly.

“Maybe a little.” She gasped, casting him a delighted grin which elicited a growl from deep within his chest. He leisurely ran his hands along the hem of her jeans, tugging at them slightly before slipping his hand down underneath to grab a handful of her ass, squeezing it appreciatively before moaning at how soft and pliant her skin was under the extra sensitive touch of his cybernetic hands. He allowed himself to become lost in her for a moment. Mapping her every contour in his mind, committing each breathless sound that fell from her lips to memory, savouring her sweet breath on his tongue and wondering if he would ever again taste something so perfect as her. He felt her pull away lightly, a few centimetres from his face to gasp for a breath and still his lips chased hers. It was as if she could read his mind sometimes, she was looking at him with those confounding purple eyes, her smile faltering as if she could see how banefully torn he was.

“This won’t change anything.” She whispered sadly against his lips .

His brow creased under the weight of his anguish, another growl, not so carnal as before but instead a roar of frustration and he attacked her body with a new found, punishing fervour. He pulled her up effortlessly once again and threw her into the cot, her body’s weight caused the springs to groan and he had managed to discard his shirt fully, then turned to her. She was now only in her underwear, her golden skin glistened in the low orange morning haze. Her body was lithe yet athletic, her skin tantalisingly smooth to the touch yet disturbed by stray scars scattered about her person. Her years of fighting for her survival in this hellscape had shaped her and moulded her into this picturesque model of strength and beauty. He kneeled before her, nipping his way down her navel to the hem of her panties that he then quickly slid off in one fluid motion. He dove between her legs, basking in the sweet gasps she made as he drove her wild with his tongue. Her hands twisted and twined themselves into his ebony and silver locks, pulling his bun loose to let his hair cascade down his shoulders, grazing her nails over his scalp delicately. He introduced a single finger to her and pumped deeply inside her yet at a controlled pace, eliciting another quivering gasp that made him smile against her.

“Goro...” the way her breathless lips formed around his name drove something in him. She was able to bring out the strangest and most wonderful of feelings in him.

He was sure from her cries she was nearing her climax and before she could taste the sweet precipice of her release, he rose up to kiss her. Her taste on his lips had a lewd yet arousing effect on her, but her climax, once so tantalisingly close was now receding and the heat biting and curling in her abdomen made her squirm against him. She pulled away after a moment and gasped a quick breath.

“You ass.” He pressed his face into her neck again and she felt the rumble of his chuckling. He continued to kiss her neck and his hands pinched and rolled her nipples in a torturously teasing manner. She writhed under him, a mewling mess.

“Stop teasing me.” She pleaded, her own hands cupping either side of his face to pull him from his ministrations on her neck that she was almost certain would be bruised to absolute fuck in the morning.

He nudged her legs to open and she obliged eagarly.

He teased her entrance lightly running his tip up and down coating himself in her essence before sliding steadily inside of her. He had to stop half way and swallowed a guttural moan. She was so tight. Like a warm vice pulling him further inside her and dragging him impossibly closer to her. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, her thighs quivering around his girth. He took another moment to make some experimental, shallow thrusts and groaned once more at how deliciously slick she was.

“Oh... V...” his forehead pressed against hers and his grip around her hips tightened.

“Don’t.... stop...” she was barely above a whisper, which made Goro want nothing more than for her to be louder.

He took this as his moment to flip her onto her stomach against the cot.

His right hand held both her arms behind her back, folded and solidly trapped there. His left hand was holding her hip, dragging down to guide her over his girth once again. He rather enjoyed the view of her at this angle, he was so lost in the way she bounced against him, the feeling of her walls rubbing so exquisitely against his length, that he was sure he wouldn’t last long. The thought of having their tryst cut so short however did not appeal to him, the feeling of being fully encased by her was so unequivocally amazing he never wanted it to stop, so he forced himself to slow down to a languid yet laborious pace, favouring drawn out leisurely strokes.

“Jesus Christ...” she gasped, arching her back in a way that made him want to go back to pounding her within an inch of her life but he was controlled, no foolish young man driven by a cardinal need, but a mature and tentative lover who wanted to make his partner see the stars before this was over.

He reached around, dragging his hands from the underside of her bellybutton to glide along her ribs, up and over her breast, giving it an appreciative squeeze before cradling her throat gently and turning her head to look back at him as much as she could in the position which granted wasn’t much. He leaned forward, still thrusting inside her at a restrained pace, and ravaged her neck, suckling the flesh at the junction of her shoulder and neck before trailing his bites to the underside of her jaw, then to her ear where he nibbled her lobe gently.

“Tell me what you want.” He breathed against her, the lewd sound of their bodies meeting in their primal dance and the soft gushes of wind rattling the shutters were all she could hear above their own crescendo of panting and haggard moans.

“Don’t... be a dick...” she gasped, earning her a sharp smack on her ass cheek.

“Tell me.” He thrust inside her, harder but not hard enough to satisfy her fully, leaving her trembling for more.

“Ah... fuck! Please...” she breathed, trying to shove her own hips back into his for more friction but his hand migrated back to her hips, a solid anchor, preventing her from getting her way.

“That’s not what I asked you.” She could hear the underlying cockiness in his tone and it pissed her off almost immediately.

How could this man illicit such polarising reactions from her, she thought. One moment she wanted him to bend her over a desk, the next she wanted to snap him in two. But the sentiment remained, she wanted him.

“Please... Goro... fuck me... harder...” he hummed in satisfaction and released her arms from his vice grip.

“Then I suggest you hold onto something.” He had leaned forward his lips against her ear, the vibrations of his bassy timbre tickled her in an irresistibly tantalising way.

But her inward musings came to a hault when he began his unforgiving pace, she could feel him hitting her cervix with every thrust and she cried out, hands barely holding on to the edge of the cot as her body rocked against the force of his hips.

His hand came down to tease her slit, circling her sensitive nub in a maddeningly delicious way that caused more mewls to erupt from her lips.

Goro stared down at her, enraptured by every twist and twitch she made. Her arching back defining her musculature and he’d be lying if he was doing any better than her right now. He was holding on for dear life, dragging this out for as long as he possibly could. But eventually, the warmth and curling in his abdomen could not be ignored and he quickened his circling around her clit to drive her to her end. She screamed softly into her hand as her release rolled over her in wave after wave, his continuing thrusts helping her ride out her climax to its fullest. He followed her soon after, nearly collapsing on her, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades as he struggled to regain his breathing. She recovered before Goro and pulled him further onto the cot where they crumbled into it. He curled around her, his arms pulling her flush against him as he savoured the feeling of her skin on his. He pressed his nose and lips to the top of her head, inhaling her scent deeply, attempting to sear these details into his mind for a later date. He tried his best to keep his eyes open, but she began to stroke his chest in a soothing circle, and before he knew it he was out like a light.

——————

He woke with a jolt, the room now completely darkened by the night and a sudden anxiety disquieted his mind. He reached for where V had been but his hand grabbed nothing but empty space.

“V?” He called, sitting up and listening for anything, then scanning the area. He could see from his thermal scan she had been gone from his side for nearly two hours.

He pulled himself up, dressing quickly and wrenching the front door open to see that her Thorton was gone, whatever tracks that were left had been swallowed by the desert wind and he stood in silence.

“This isn’t going to change anything.” Her words echoed in his mind and he clenched his hands into fists, a slight shake evident from his barely controlled emotions on the cusp of breaking through to the surface.

“They were going to discard you, who served them faithfully your whole life, for their own fucking agenda.”

He tried to quell his anger, his hurt, his inescapable feeling of betrayal. He fought to keep his composure but the memory of her touch was seared into his mind and body yet it did nothing but only make him ache to have her back in his arms. He would never feel that again, never experience that intense, intrinsic connection to another human being. The thought did nothing to disquiet his mind. Eventually he broke and turned to punch his hand nearly completely though the wall of the garage as he breathed in ragged and strangled chokes. Unshed tears burned in his eyes and he wrenched his arm back to completely break through the wall altogether with the force of his strike. He didn’t stop. He pummelled the wall until his cybernetics were scuffed and cracked. Warning signs flashed in his peripheral vision but he ignored them, slumping to the ground he cradled his head in his hands and roared in futility. He stayed there a moment, still, quiet and thoughtful. He raised his head with a thud against the nearly dilapidated wall and he looked off into the distance. On one path, the further reaches of the badlands, down another was the fluorescent and blinding lights of Night City, beaconing him back with a curled finger.

And not just night city, but the ominous red looming glow of Arasaka Headquarters illuminating the night and further banishing the stars. The only life he had ever known was within Arasaka’s ranks. All he had ever been was a vassal, a loyal one at that. Traded his life and limbs for them. Let them carve him into an instrument of their empire from the moment they had deigned to elevate him from the slums, only after he had skinned his fingers to the near bone scrubbing his clothes in the chemical sickened canals. He had given Arasaka his life.

Yet Hanako knew he was innocent. Not only her but Saburo, his lord tono, his idol. He had known. It stung him to his nucleus, like nothing ever had. He was stilled, inaction gripping him to his core. He found his gaze always defecting back to the badlands. To her lands. He didn’t make a choice so much as follow an instinct.

He rose from his seated position and opened the door to his car, looking back at Night City one last time, not saying goodbye to the city, but farewell to all the possibilities it held. They were not meant for him. A defiant grin stretched over his lips before a determination set in his eyes, looking back to the badlands. He dove into the front seat and revved the engine before backing out to the edge of the main road and quickly pivoting into position then tearing out onto the dusty highway, sending a plume of dust in his wake as he made for the badlands, his spirit lightened and rejuvenated. He undid his top shirt buttons, ripping off the front Arasaka logo to his cybernetic neck plates and throwing it with a quick flick out the car window, then looking down at the Arasaka patch logo on his arm which he also tore from his jacket then sent it too flying out the window. With each metre he put between him and the city, the younger he felt.

“I’m coming V.” He whispered under his breath as he pressed harder on the gas.

#goro takemura #cyberpunk 2077 #takemura x v

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

#su #lapis lazuli #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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morgana-ren · 4 years

Text

Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.

You’re not the only one that thinks so.

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception.

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.

Humans are completely ridiculous.

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...

Well, you can't really say what.

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

"Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.

"Just... sitting here?"

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-"

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.

You can't help it.

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip

"Let go of me!"

"Get in, you little brat!"

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

A funny thing called Fate- Prologue

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word Count: 2.8K words

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warning: None really, just a little cursing

Author’s note: I had been listening to Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan and that is actually the primary spark which led me to come up with this series. Shout out to @mvalentine and @anotherbeingsworld fo letting me bounce my crazy ideas <3

AHHH so it is finally here!! This is my first time writing Bryce so I hope I can do justice to this beautiful man. This starts with Aisha’s (MC) POV and like I said, there will be a time jump. It would be first person when I’m writing in the past and then it will shift to third person when I’m writing the present. I think i should stop my rambling and let’s go!!

Terms you need to know-

-Bhaiya: Brother in hindi

-Beta: Technically it means ‘son’ but in most Indian families its used like a term of endearment too

- AIIMS, Delhi: Stands for All India Institute of Medical Sciences. This is one of the best medical schools in the country and Only 100 people out of 200,000(or more) get in. So it is very cut throat.

10 years ago- Aisha's PoV

(Age: 16)

I am done.

Done with all the drama, done with all the lies, done with all the manipulations and done with all the heartache.

And most of all, I was done with him- the infamous Bryce Lahela.

The boy with the stupid long hair, the stupid signature smirk and the stupid charm. Those amber eyes which reminded you of the sand and sea and those lips on which an everlasting smile played used to be like a breath of fresh air. I always thought that he was so unique, but boy was I wrong.

All boys are the same.

I really thought that jocks like him would be different huh? Can someone just hand me my clown shoes?

But luckily, I don't have to see his face ever again because for once, instead of making a mockery of my existence, life decided to give me something that I really wanted badly.

A chance to leave all of this in my past. A chance to start over again.

My dad had a better business opportunity back in Mumbai. I am an Indian and we lived in Delhi since the time I was born but we shifted to Mauii when I was in the ninth grade because of how demanding dad's job was getting

Bhaiya chose to stay back in Delhi because his engineering college was there and he enjoyed the hostel life way too much. And he had finally managed to get out of our toxic household so I really could not blame him.

So yeah.. that is how I ended up in Maui in the first place.

It was okay in ninth grade. I kept to myself and blended in with the shadows (because hello social anxiety!). But... Tenth grade changed everything.

It was one of the best and worst year of my life and I often wonder if I could ever get over this.

I am definitely sounding like one of those over-dramatic Indian soap operas my mom watches every night.

"Aisha? Are you ready? The car is here beta."

"Yes, Mama. I am coming!! Just packing up some stuff."

Breaking out of my reverie, I stuffed in my phone and other essentials into my carry bag. As I was zipping up my luggage, I yanked open my closet door to see if I left anything behind my eyes landed on the shoebox I had stuffed in the back of my closet.

I gulped and I felt tears well up in my eyes again. A part of me wanted to take it for it had all the trinkets of the good things in my relationship with Bryce but, another part of me knew that if I took it with me, I would never be able to move on and that would completely defeat the purpose of this fresh start I have been looking forward to.

So with a heavy heart, I looked away and shut the door of the closet, picked up my luggage and left.

As the Uber pulled out of the curb I stared out of the window, to look at the beaches I had come to love and hate.

I liked Maui, I really did but all that it was reduced was a place where I was humiliated and belittled.

And it was all his fault.

PRESENT

(Age: 27)

"Oh my god. I'm gonna late!!" Aisha screeched as she saw the time on her phone. She shoved the duvet off her and jumped out of bed. She tried running to the bathroom in her small closet-sized apartment but it just ended up with her stubbing her toe against the coffee table.

"Ow ow ow." She cursed as she hobbled into the washroom and got on with her daily chores. Her hand-eye coordination was already awful and add that she was sleep deprived just made the entire thing worse. Stumbling, tripping, cursing she managed to brush her teeth and hop into the shower. The burst of cold water managed to wake her up as she furiously washed.

Why did I have to move into a room under a busy staircase?! This is why bhaiya says- Do your research. She angrily thought to herself as she wiped herself rigorously and zipped open her suitcase, searching for her semi-formal clothes.

Grabbing a granola bar and her trusty thermos of coffee, she was on her way to Edenbrook.

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

As she entered the atrium, she was in complete awe. It looked big and majestic on the outside, with a clever mix of brick walls and the glass facade, making it look welcoming. Sunshine poured through the atrium as the various doctors and nurses worked around her, not giving mind to the clueless intern gawking.

"Hi, I'm Dr Ines Delarosa, a senior resident!! You look lost. Let me guess... the first day of residency?" A short woman in a doctor's coat walked up to her breaking Aisha from her awe, her aura full of happiness, rainbows and unicorns which made Aisha a little vary.

Is it normal to be this happy and energetic?

Aisha nodded hesitantly and the resident smiled a hundred-watt smile. "Great. You are gonna need a photo ID. Follow me, I will get you all set up." Wordlessly Aisha followed Ines, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder, nervously playing with the strap.

It is going to be fine... Aisha breathed out as she entered a room with a white background and a camera before it. "Just step over here, in front of the camera and smile."

And waste my energy? No thanks.

She schooled her features to be as professional as she could and the flash of the camera went off. Aisha walked over the tangled wires and peeked at the screen. A serious face stared back at her, the lighting doing good to her brown skin. Her nose piercing caught light and her dark mahogany hair was tied up in a neat ponytail.

"Is it okay? Or do I need to retake the photo?"

"No, it is great! I like it. Thank you."

"Well I will just stick this on your ID.... and you are good to go!! I wish I looked that good in my ID." She said and cheerfully and once her eyes fell on the title a smile made its way on her face,

Dr Aisha Khurrana... It is real and it is true.

"My first day as a real doctor." she whistled lowly shaking her head as if she didn't believe it.

"I was in your shoes last year. Believe me, med school was nothing compared to this. Your three years of residency will be the toughest, most amazing year of your life!! But the first year as an intern will be the craziest of all."

As soon as the smile had graced her features, it slipped away and she nodded seriously. "I think I am ready for it. I have been dreaming and slogging my ass so that I could work in Edenbrook. Ever since I learnt that Ethan Ramsey worked here. His research basically pushed me to apply for med school."

Also, the fact that my parents can like shut up about me being worthless.

"That is great. I will just walk you to the locker room so that you can change into scrubs." Ines offered and Aisha gave her a small smile.

"So... Any advice?"

"Make friends..."

And I am out. She thought to herself. She always struggled with making friends and that is partly the reason why she would keep to herself all the time. Sure she did make a few gem of a friends in med school but if she had to choose between mingling with strangers and drowning, you know what she would choose.

"... with your interns, year senior residents, even your patients! Friends will get you through anything. And, uh, try to not annoy the Attendings! You do not want to get on your boss's bad side."

"Noted."

After changing she was just passing through the waiting room so that she could get to the orientation when she heard gasps from the seating area. A woman had collapsed on her seat and the people were crowding around her.

Her instincts kicked in and she ordered. "Give her space. Everybody step back! I'm a doctor."

She hurried over to the woman just as another doctor rushes in. He kneeled at her side and checked her pulse. "Pulse is weak. She's unresponsive." He looked up and his eyes landed on her.

"You Rookie. Get here."

"Right away doctor. Coming!" Aisha hurried over as the doctor lifted the fainted woman on to the nearby gurney.

"What was she coming in for? Did she fill out a form yet?"

"No, she'd just walked in."

The doctor's piercing blue eyes landed on her which made her straighten her back. "If we don't figure out what's wrong with her fast, she's going to die on this table. Rookie, check B.P."

Wrapping the blood pressure cuff around the unconscious woman's arm and she pumped the bulb, peering at the numbers.

"It's plummeting. She's hypotensive. We've gotta get fluids in her."

Aisha's eyes wandered over the woman's form, trying to search for more clues. Her eyes landed on the rapidly forming bruise on her elbow.

"Doctor... Look at this bruise. I think it's a sign that she is a haemophiliac."

The doctor replied in a gruff voice. "You think or you know?"

"I know."

"Good. Also can you see the way her fingertips are turning blue? It is a sign of low oxygen saturation in the blood. Take a closer listen to her lungs. Hurry."

She nodded assertively and slipped the resonator of the stethoscope over the ribs, straining to hear the diminishing whooshing of the lungs which made Aisha gulp in fear.

"Can't hear anything on the left side and the right side is struggling. She is going to suffocate at this rate." She spoke up , her voice struggling to stay calm but as she glanced at the older doctor, he seemed to be as cool as a cucumber.

"Nurse we have got a code blue." His authoritative voice boomed over as the nurses bustled around the gurney.

Taking the bag mask from the nurse, he secured it around the patient's mouth and gently pump air into her lungs.

"What do we do, Doctor? What's happening to her?" She asked as she noticed the reducing breath rate.

He looked up. "Consider all the clues. It's all there. You know this, Rookie."

Aisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, realigning her focus, delving deep into her mind, analyzing the clues.

Hemophilia... low blood oxygen... no lung expansion on one side...

Her brown eyes snapped open as it struck her. "It's a haemothorax!"

A twinkle of approval flickered in the ocean eyes, which vanished as soon as it came. "Precisely. A blood vessel ruptured and is filling her pleural cavity..."

"... Blocking her lungs from expanding! That's why she can't breathe." Aisha completed the sentence.

Fuck.

"But we can't repair the blood vessel over here."

The older doctor's jaw clenched. "Then we will have to do a emergency thoracotomy to drain the cavity instead. Nurse!"

The nurse hustles around handing her a scalpel and a chest tube, her eyes widening in shock.

She gulped, her nervousness spiking as she sees the doctor lift the shirt of the patient, exposing the side of her rib cage.

"We need a local anaesthetic-"

The doctor interrupted her. "We're out of time and she is already unconscious. Do it now, or the woman's life is on you!!"

She gritted her teeth with determination. I am not loosing a patient on my first day.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. It is just like anatomy class only... this isn't a cadaver but a real person.

But that statement, instead of calming her, it just caused the scalpel to shake in her hand.

The doctor reaches and encompasses her hand. "Hey... You can do this."

Aisha nods stabilizing herself and focusing solely on the older doctor's voice, before she looked down.

"There you go... Nice and easy."

Incision at the fifth intercostal space... anterior.. to the mid axillary line...

And when she was confident enough, she made the perfect incision, a trickle of red following the path of the scalpel.

"Now the tube."

She took and pushed it into the incision and with a spurt, blood started draining out of the chest cavity resulting in the patient to take a deep breath.

Holy shit I did that. I freaking did that.

In the daze of endorphins, she heard the doctor order her surgery, the nurses wheeling the gurney and the onlookers applauding.

She turned towards the attending, excitement pouring out of her in waves. "Doctor.. that was absolutely amazing!!"

It's was as if a switch flipped and the grumpier and sarcastic facade took place. "You're right. It is pretty amazing you didn't get her killed."

Aisha's jaw dropped.

"Wait, what?"

The doctor rambled off, pointing out her mistakes. "Your examination was slow and superficial. Your scalpel technique, amateur at best."

It took all her might to not scoff.

Excuse me I graduated from AIIMS Delhi, thank you very much.

Swallowing the dying need to go off she spoke in a professional tone. "Amateur? I'm sorry, doctor but it is my first day."

"Well, that is not an excuse you can use because if that patient would have died, the blood would have been on your hands..." He lifted the badge attached to her breast pocket scrutinizing on the surname.

"... Khurrana."

He tossed the id back to her, turned on his heels and walked away, leaving a steaming Aisha in her place.

"What a dick." She muttered under her breath.

"Yeah and I'm totally in love with him." A nurse appeared magically out of thin air near her, causing her to jump in surprise.

The kind eyed nurse just rolled his eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder which had Aisha bristling. "Don't worry about it, Dr Ramsey is like that to everybody."

Aisha's jaw dropped for the second time. "Wait... Dr. Ramsey as in Dr. Ethan Ramsey?!"

Shooting a knowing glance, he spoke up. "I take it, you're a fan?"

"He's only my medical hero and greatest inspiration. I've read all his research!" Aisha rushed off, horror and excitement rushing through her.

Oh my god I managed to piss of my one medical hero.. I'm such a dumbass.

Noticing the horror of her expression he gave a gentle smile. "On the bright side, you'll get plenty more chances to impress him."

She sighed and looked down to see that her scrubs were stained with blood.

First impression is last impression beta, always remember that. Her father's voice resonated in her mind.

"Dammit, I'm here for five minutes and I'm already a mess. I can't show up to orientation like this!"

"Don't sweat it. There are extras in the locker room. Come I will show you the way..."

She walked into the locker room, looking for her assigned locker. There was a crowd of half naked interns and after mumbling a couple of 'excuse me's', and rubbing shoulders (literally) she made it the end of the room.

As she turned she knocked into another woman in nothing but her undergarments.

"Uh...um.. okay then." Aisha stuttered as she felt the back of her neck heating up.

Thanks to my brown skin no one can see me getting flustered.

"What? See something you like?" She asked cheekily in an Indian accent which eased Aisha up a bit.

"Ha, you wish."

"Aren't you cute?" The woman snickered as she reached for her pants.

"That's what people say, so it must be true."

She reached for her full sleeve shirt before looking Aisha's way. "Desi?"

Aisha snorted. "Obviously. And I'm guessing you too."

"Of course. And I'm guessing that you are definitely not wearing those scrubs."

"What? Didn't you hear? Bloody clothes are like the new trend around here."

There was a moment of silence before both of them started laughing.

"It's good to meet someone from home." Aisha spoke as she pulled her scrub shirt off.

"Woah, woah, woah. Don't count on that yet. I need to see if you are gonna get in my way in this competition."

Aisha smirked as she shut her locker. "Can't say I'm surprised. Can't be desi if the sense of competition isn't ingrained in your DNA."

"Oh my god never thought that I would see Jackie's twin." A familiar manly voice wafted over to them.

Wait a second...

"Shut up scalpel jockey, this is our kind of bonding."

"Oh please, don't scare the newbie aw- oh."

Oh.

She was standing right in front of him. Face to face. The playful amber eyes, with flecks of brown hadn't changed. The long shoulder length hair had been cut and styled to be short and messy.

There was no trace of the surfer boy she met in Maui. He was a man through and through but still, the youth in his eyes poured out in waves, reminding her of the sandy beaches.

But right now those amber eyes were wide with shock.

It's not everyday that you meet your ex of ten years in the locker room of your new job.

"Aisha?"

".... Bryce?!"

HEHEHEH AWKWAARRDDD

Like, comment, reblog and let me know what you think

Bryce X MC: @lilyvalentine @sanchita012 @zeniamiii @lucy-268 @have-aheart @utterlyinevitable @anotherbeingsworld @this-person-is-busy @cryinginthebackseat @mayascherub @jaxsmutsuo @rookie-ramsey @aylamreads @caseyvalentineramsey @choicesalaska

Permanent Tag list: @trappedinfandoms @agent-breakdance @dailydoseofchoices @colossalpainintheass @siaramsey @raleigheffingcarrera @kaavyaethanramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @ac27dj @ramseysno1rookie @justanotherrookie @jamespotterthefirst @checkurwindow @chasingrobbie @junggoku @bellcat2010 @choicesstan1 @mvalentine @crazynutella @hatescapsicum @dr-ramseys-rookie @lilypills @vampireblissblog @decadentwinnerjudgedream @starrystarrytrouble @choicesficwriterscreations @nooruleman @anonymously-cool @sanvivrma

#anushka writes #oh bryce #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart bryce #open heart #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fandom #choices #choices oh #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #pixelberry #Aisha Khurrana #a funny thing called fate

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raevenlywrites · 3 years

Text

Dasi High, for really reals

Finally got a first chapter I actually like!

I walked an expanse of endless sand. The night desert air carried hints of spice and stone and worried at my exposed skin with cutting cold teeth. I shivered and rubbed my arms in annoyance. This part of the dream was getting old.

But I knew that just over that dune lay a fire, and around the fire, figures danced.

Their long shadows cast out like the tails of an inverse sun, snapping and cracking like dark twins to the flames they danced around. Music made of wind and whispers pulled at me, urged me to come down, come dance, become a shadow.

I’d never once made it down to the circle.

I didn’t dream this scene every night, but I’d dreamt it often enough to be annoyed with its tantalizing tease. If I didn't’ waste so much time on the stupid sands, I might finally get to see who danced in that circle. A figure always broke off, coming to meet me half way, and though I got a little closer every time--

“It’s the top of the hour, and you’re listening to WKSR!”

I smashed my hand against the alarm clock, wishing I could hurl it into the dreamscape’s flames.

Never make a song you love your alarm tone, unless you’re ready to hate that song forever. That goes double if its from show you used to really love, but now associate with rage and dreamus interruptus and can never watch again. I flopped forcefully back against my pillow, tempted as always to just go back to sleep. What was out here for me in this world of pop songs and overly enthusiastic radio announcers?

Plenty, was the answer, and after a while the ennui of waking left me, and I rolled out of bed to wash the sand of sleep from my eyes. - “Hey.”

I looked up to see Brass standing in front of my desk, something held to his chest. Since it was neither latte nor donut, it was hard to muster interest in it this early in the morning. When he set the crusty old book down on my desk like it was supposed to mean something, I just stared up at him.

“Since when do you read?” I teased. Picking on Brass was one of the constants in my world. Sky was blue, grass was green, Brass and I bickered and teased.

He gave me a half-hearted smirk, but I could tell he was distracted. I leaned back in my chair, cocking my head in what I hoped was a sympathetic manner. This was why we hadn’t worked as a couple. Teasing I got. Real emotions? They seemed weird between me and Brass. And it was way too early for it. Best to just let him get it off his chest and get it over with.

He drew a deep breath in through his nose, reminding me way to much of all the times he’d started “a talk”. It was hard not to get automatically defensive.

“So you know how my mom runs that homeopahtic shop or whatever?”

I nodded, biting my tongue to keep from interrupting him. We’d been friends since diapers. I knew his mom as well as I knew my own. Maybe better. “Aunt” Cynthia was way cooler than my stick in the mud mom. And her shop carried some of the coolest stuff. Suddenly this rusty crusty Giles-like book got a lot more interesting.

“What’s with the Necronomicon?”

“It’s not a--“

He cut off, his mouth twisting in that sideway grimace that made his nose scrunch. I hated that I still thought it was cute. I distracted myself from it by flipping open the tome. “Tome” had a lot better ring to it. Yeah, I was liking this tome more and more.

“Apparently it’s a grimoire. Mom likes to collect them for old recipes and stuff, but this one...”

His fidgeting was enough to ruin the mystical communion I was trying to have with my cool new book. I propped my face on a fist, giving him a sort of “spill it” gesture with my eyebrows. I did a lot of talking with my eyebrows. I had expressive eyebrows, worked hard to get ‘em that way. They were kind of my signature thing now. I hoped. Too cool to speak. Talk to the brows. Yeah.

Brass wilted under my killer gaze, reaching down to flip a page in the book. I felt weirdly protective of it, annoyed that he’d dared touch it--even though it was his book. Just because he’d put it on my desk didn’t mean he was giving it to me.

“I thought you should have it,” he said, seeming to echo my thoughts. I felt immediately embarrassed and empowered at the idea. Heck yeah, bow before my cool mind powers--but ick, stay out of my thoughts. Especially since I still kind of like you. Double ick.

“Brass, what about this crusty old book makes you think I should have it?”

When in doubt, pretend you don’t want it. Lessons learned from Sassy the Cat of Homeward Bound fame.

“Cause you’re crusty old news!”

Izzy wrapped her hands around Brass’s arm, giving me her “trying too hard to be cute” nose-wrinkled grin. Brass’s nose wrinkle was better. But hers was cute, I could admit. Much easier to admit since I knew her passes at Brass didn’t mean anything. Izzy didn’t want to date him any more than I had. She’d just been smart enough to say no when he’d asked. Which made him more fun to flirt with now, I guess. I dunno. The mind of an Izzy is a mystery.

“No,” Brass said tightly, trying on the new tactic of “ignore the PDA”. Good for him. The blushing had been cute, but it made him look easy to rile. More fun to tease. Stoic man, that was the way.

“I thought she should have it because--“

“The vibes!” Dani invited themself in our conversation and I tried not to sigh. I loved my friends, I really did. We were tight, tighter than family. But now they were going to chat all through homeroom and there would be no coffee, no book, no ten minute nap. My desk had become socializing central.

“It’s the vibes, right?” Dani insisted, helping themself to my book. I let out a protest as they picked it up, but too little too late. They turned the book over and over, as if looking for a review or pricetag or something. “This thing totally has spooky vibes, just like our Ki.”

“It’s because she’s a Scorpio.” Oh great. Landon had invited himself over too. Party and Kiesha’s desk. “Scorpio’s exude a mysterious energy. But they’re secretly big cry babies.”

I stuck my tongue out at Landon-the-know-it-all, but he ignored me.

“No,” Brass insisted, taking his book back once again. He spread it out over my desk again, opening it back to that same page. It looked like a family tree. He ran a finger over the lines, indicating a very familiar name.

“It’s because it’s literally got her name on it.”

Everyone leaned in, casting an actual shadow on the page they crowded so close. It made the age-faded ink even harder to parse, but the “Kiesha” Brass had indicated was plain enough.

My book.

The urge to close it up and clutch it to my chest nearly overwhelmed me. Instead I leaned away, ostensibly to let everyone else get a better look. In truth, I hated ever looking too interested in anything. I had always been so obnoxious with my interests as a child. I never let anyone see anymore when I was really into something. Always play it cool.

But the book called to me, and the more I held myself back from it, the more I wanted to pour through its pages, discover its secrets. It was my book. It had my name on it. Fate had sent it to me.

My friend’s chattered turned to white noise in my ear. Distantly, I caught snatches of “where did you get it?” and “that’s so cool!” but all I could really hear was the pounding of my own heart in my ears. It felt like drums, dusky and ancient, and more important than anything else that might happen that day. Damn you, Brass, for giving me something so cool at the start of the school day. This was going to taunt me all day, just like that stupid fire circle.

I swooned as the beat of my heart joined the whispers of smoke and song. A hand on my shoulder made me jump. I blinked up into Brass’s concerned face.

“Ki? You okay?”

I nodded, shaky and shaken. I needed some air.

“Skipped breakfast. Could one of you snag me something from the vending machines?”

Izzy nodded and hopped off, knowing Brass would be completely distracted by concern for my well-being now. He still hovered like a protective mother hen, even though we’d broken up months ago. Talk about your brooding hero. Dani pulled Landon away and I sent a silent thank you to them for wrangling their snotty boyfriend. Landon was a great study buddy, but he had the personality of Metamusil. Good for you, probably, when you were ancient. We were too young and cool for his old man routine.

Brass crouched down by my desk so I didn’t have to crane up at him.

“Are you really good?”

I nodded, letting myself rest my head on his shoulder. Brass was a constant, weird ex or not. He’d been childhood friend longer than he’d been my... whatever we’d been, and enough time had passed that I could let myself take comfort from him again.

“Sorry about the book thing. I can--“

“It’s great.”

I cut him off before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say. I wasn’t about to let my “be cool” rule part me from my book. I pulled back to better look at him.

“I do really like it, weirdness or not. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Of course.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, then stood and beat a retreat to his side of the classroom. Izzy came back with a Coke and some donut sticks, and I slid the book into my bag before any sticky accidents could befall it.

#raev does fic #the kiesha'ra fic #kiesha'ra fanfic #the kiesha'ra #dasi high #kiesha'ra #my writing #fanfic

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jiaraendgame · 4 years

Text

Manipulation — Part One

Summary: Why Rafe Cameron took an interest in a Pogue is unknown, but a year later a bad decision has a good outcome when a golden boy from the Cut makes an unwavering impression on this lost girl.

Warnings: Angst, sad, drug use/abuse, swearing, underage drinking, peer pressure. (I think that’s it?? If I missed anything for the warnings let me know)

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: This is a song fic based on Manipulation by Beartooth.

***Part one is all Rafe x Reader flashback. Part two is where JJ comes in. Oh and there is like a 2.2 second scene with Platonic!JB x Reader in this part.***

This is my first time writing for OBX and in general posting fanfiction for the world to see. So apologies cause it’s definitely trash. I just want to say a BIG thank you for the few people here who encouraged me to write and have fun. Also a BIG thanks to my best friend and beta reader @john-benderr for hyping me up and always supporting me and my silly antics. Hope you guys don’t hate it, I tried my best. Let me know what you think???

Gif credit: @toesure

I hesitated, got lost again

You saw me as wounded prey

I was a wreck, I was a bloody mess

And you couldn't look away

The Boneyard designated party destination here in the Outer Banks. The ultimate summer hang-out spot for some guaranteed wild moments. Even if you could point out every Kook, Touron, or us Pogues from the Cut, it was usually a good time. You never know what’s gonna happen on any given night, but you are sure to find people from all walks of life on this island congregating and partying. This is where you found yourself tonight, at a kegger ready to forget the responsibilities you held at least just for the night. The air was warm, and the party's noise swam through your ears, drowning out any reservation you usually have for yourself. You wanted to drown in this wave of overwhelming senses. The crackles from the fire, the music you swayed to, the sounds of people mingling and cheering, it swallowed you whole as you finished off another cup of bitter liquid. Was this your third or fourth cup from the keg? You don’t really remember anymore, but nor do you care. All that mattered is you were loosening the jaw you had tightened all day and was forgetting about the pressures you were facing at home. Nothing here mattered more than being free.

At this point, you had more than a buzz going on, but nothing was stopping your fun just yet. You clumsily weaved in and out of people working your way back to the keg ready for another round. You usually never drank alone, but tonight you weren’t in the mood for friends. At least that’s what you told yourself. In actuality, everyone you hit up to come tonight ghosted you or had some lame excuse as to why they couldn’t come. So you bravely chose to go as a one-woman show ready to conquer the party on your own. Never thinking that this night would lead you down a rabbit hole, you would never be prepared for. Stumbling forward lost in your thoughts, you slur your words to the tall and tan brown-haired boy with his button down shirt half-open handing out drinks from the keg.

“Hey man, hand me a refill, yeah?” Your sloppy words spill out of your mouth, letters all jumbled together barely coherent to the untrained ear.

The brown-haired boy looked at you a tinge of concern in his eyes as you were visibly wasted and clearly on your own tonight. You don’t know why it mattered. It’s not like everyone else wasn’t just as sloshed as you were.

“Uh, you sure you can handle another one, you look… well, you look pretty faded.”

The boy’s sentiment meant well, but it did nothing but annoy you. Why did everyone think they had to take care of you? Don’t they know you are beyond capable of doing so yourself? You work your ass off to keep everything in line, you can cut loose every once and awhile. Your inner voice of reason started to rear its ugly head, briefly reminding you how utterly irresponsible you were being. Listen to the boy, go home. You don’t need this. Stop acting so tough you aren’t that strong. It’s okay to feel the way you do. Quit while you’re ahead.

Quickly shoving the paranoia that began to rise in your chest, you knew if you could still feel the panic, then you weren’t drunk enough. Looking back at the boy, he was still eyeing you hesitantly when you finally sharpened your tongue and spoke again.

“Please, I know how to handle myself, pretty boy. I’m just living a little is all.” The attitude in your voice is far from pleasant.

Why were you so rude to the kind boy who clearly was watching out for your well-being? You should have listened to him. You shouldn’t have drunk this next cup. Maybe it was just the catalyst for the events that proceeded to perspire.

“Listen just… just gimme a refill, and I’ll be on my way. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. I can handle myself, I swear.” While you wanted to sound sure of yourself and maybe even a bit assertive, you could tell he didn’t take you seriously at all.

Your amplified brash persona needed work clearly as it fooled no one while you were blurring the lines of reality and fantasy with each drink you took. The boy looks at you, and the small line starting to form behind you. He sighs to the side as he fills a cup with the amber liquid, finally obliging to your commands to avoid further conflict. While handing you the cup, he speaks once more before you swivel on your heels.

“ Hey, listen... if you need someone to bring you home later or whatever, just come find me. The names John B.”

You stood there bewildered for a moment, unsure why someone would have concern over you. You were just a drunk partygoer at the beach for some fun, why did it seem like you were so different than the others around you? You could take care of yourself you always have, but regardless it was a kind gesture. You felt a pit in your gut for being rude to him moments ago. You couldn’t answer him, you just looked in his eyes and shook your head with a softened smile. Hoping he would understand, you appreciated his offer.

New drink in hand, you stumbled to a clear spot on the beach and plopped yourself down into the ground. Removing your sandals, you buried your toes in the soft sand closing your eyes, taking a swig of your drink. You felt the air on your skin as you leaned your head back. A new sense of calm washed over your body as you faded into the scenery. Sip by sip, you felt all your grievances escape your mind. Nothing would stop you from releasing your mind tonight even if it tried to crawl it’s way back up the hole you shoved it down. If each sip of liquid kept the beasts at bay for just a moment, the tranquility you felt was worth every bit of hell you’d wake up to tomorrow.

You broke me down

So you could take me out

Lost in thought, you lay your body back into the sand, staring up at the stars in a dazed state. Not noticing the pair of eyes that have been watching you for quite some time. From a distance, a seemingly put-together boy traced his eyes along your body. Staring at every curve, every feature, watching every action you took, he knew he had to talk to you. What better time to make a move when you were finally alone, away from the hustle and bustle of the kegger and laying out on the beach staring up at the sky.

He’s been keeping an eye on you all night, watching you get more faded with each sip of every drink you took. Alone at a party, you don’t see that often around here. Everyone always pairs up fast, even if you did arrive alone. You well, you were different. Something about you drew this clean-cut boy to you, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Something about your solitude reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. Or maybe it was how he watched you spiral, falling with no safety net beneath you. He decided tonight he would be the safety net, he would catch you, even if you didn’t ask.

“Hello, beautiful…” A voice speaks out, startling you as your eyes crash open. A light chuckle passes the boy’s lips at your shock.

“Sorry, darling, didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiles, flashing his gorgeous white teeth at you. “I saw you over here alone and thought you could use some company.”

You blink a few times, trying to focus your blurred vision. A boy whose outline was hazy hovers over you, still smiling that bright smile. However, something felt underlying off about his sheer confidence. It wasn’t much longer until you put two and two together. The boy in the salmon-colored polo shirt and the khaki shorts that stared into your eyes was the infamous Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

Any other day of the week, you’d loathe the boy in front of you, he always caused trouble for anyone who came from the Cut. He bathed in his arrogance and condescending words. So why has the prince of Kooks wandered his way over to you was the million-dollar question. One that you’re not sure you’ll ever get the answer to.

You lifted yourself into a sitting position and still have yet to speak a word to the polished boy in front of you. He speaks once more, trying to pry words from your mouth with every smooth sentence he spoke.

“Aw come now, a gorgeous face like that shouldn’t be scowling by her lonesome. Let me join you, they always say misery loves company.” The tip of the boy’s tongue brushes his top lip as a sly smirk pricks the side of his mouth.

You cock your eyebrow up, but still, motion for the boy to sit next to you. You didn’t think you were scowling, but the more you focused your mind, it became clear you weren’t suppressing any of the facial expressions you thought you were. The alcohol tore down your mask a little more than you would have liked.

You finally spoke to the boy poised next to you, studying the side of your face. “Who says I’m miserable, what if I just want the company?”

A chuckle passes his lips, he knew he had his hooks in you now. You turn and face Rafe, knowing full well that engaging with him is a terrible idea, but sometimes you craved a little danger in your life. Danger, like getting involved with a Kook named Rafe Cameron, would entail. If it distracted you even just for the night then why not go all out, he was looking rather charming tonight.

“Ah, well, aren’t we all a little miserable? I mean, no one’s perfect, right?” His breathy words cause the curiosity inside you to rise.

Was the always well kept and confident Rafe Cameron telling you he and his Kook lifestyle wasn’t perfect?

It had to be the alcohol talking. It’s burning through your veins, making you actually consider speaking to someone so deviously pristine. Part of you believed it was to forget your troubles, the other part wondered what lies beneath the surface of the self-proclaimed prince. The more you gazed at him, the more sweetness you saw, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else about Rafe that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

“Please, Rafe, don’t give me your pity party parade. People like you don’t know real misery.”

“On the contrary little dove, he who you see before you has many layers, my rips, and tears, however, are patched up and easily hidden. Yours, however… well, yours are prominent and hanging by threads.”

Ouch. There is the haughty personality that you knew would peek out eventually. The sting of his words appeared on your face as he tries to console the wounds he inflicted.

“Everyone is tattered and worn little dove; it’s how you patch those tears that matter.”

“What are you getting at here, Rafe? Cause it seems to me, despite how sweet you think your sentiment is, you just don’t know how to truly console someone you see as lesser than you.” You want to keep your annoyance you have with Rafe, but with each comment and... and that nickname, he cracks your shell a little bit more.

“I don’t believe you are less than me beautiful, I just…” He sighs. “You’re right, I’m not good at consoling others.” He pauses briefly before he continues, knowing he has to bring himself down a level or he won’t get anywhere with you.

“How’s this then… how about instead of talking we just keep each other company? You don’t even have to speak to me if you don’t want to, though I’d prefer it if you did.” A small wink is shot your way.

“We aren’t just gonna sit here in silence Rafe, I don’t want that kind of company.”

“Well… then how about we ditch the sand and trade it in for something a little more… luxurious?”

There it was, the danger you felt. An offer from Rafe Cameron to go, god, knows where to do god knows what. It excited you, the unknown world of Rafe. You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to fully plunge yourself into forbidden territory, but there it was again. The panic rising in your chest, the thoughts and stress you wanted to escape creeping up again, threatening to attack if you let them linger too long. With that, you took your red cup and downed the remainder of its contents, pushing back your burdens once more.

Looking into Rafe’s eyes, there was a sparkle of chaos hidden deep within his soft gaze. It made you weak, it made you yearn for something more than this party at the Boneyard. With that, your decision was made. You gave him a smile and shook your head, trying to contain the eagerness you suddenly felt.

This is isolation

Kept in the dark and waiting

You're wearing the crown of kingdoms I created

Now I can't escape it

All of the light is fading

Rafe was up in seconds, extending his hand down to you; an almost menacing smirk overtook his face. As you clasp your hand into his and you’re brought to your feet, you stumble into his side, gripping tighter to keep your balance. Rafe was quick to slide his free arm around your waist, steadying you.

“I got you little dove, lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

His sweet like honey words swallowed you now. A flush of red kisses your cheeks. Was it his promise to not let you fall or was it the nickname he spoke to you that made your head swirl more than the alcohol ever could, you weren’t sure, but you wished the feeling wouldn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before you were in Rafe’s car and driving who knows where, but what you did know was the excitement you felt was overwhelming your fear.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to show you what a real party is like, beautiful.”

The compliments he kept spewing towards you, a simple Pogue girl, was astonishing. You never believed a Kook like Rafe would see you as anything but a “dirty Pogue.”

“Can I ask a question?” You turn your head towards the boy.

“Of course, little dove. Anything.” He places his free hand on your bare thigh and a light squeeze follows it.

The shiver sent down your spine, tantalized your thoughts. You no longer could think straight. He glances over to you, a smirk once more gracing his lips.

“Why little dove? I- I mean, why are you calling me that?”

“Well, I thought that was obvious, darling? You know my name, but I still have yet to learn yours.”

Your face drops at the realization that you never indeed introduced yourself to Rafe. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew who he was, but you? You were no one. Of course, he didn’t know your name.

“O-oh my god, I’m sorry I didn’t even realize I didn’t... uhh,” you chuckle nervously at your idiocy. “The names (Y/N).” You spit out between nervous breaths and awkward giggles. The alcohol was still strong in your system.

A light, almost innocent laugh passes his lips, looking over to you. “It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t mind giving a beautiful girl a nickname that suits her.” He winks. “In fact, I think you’re stuck with little dove from now on… if you don’t mind, of course.”

You hadn’t realized the car had come to a stop in front of a vast mansion. The architecture was beautiful and symmetric with white pillars on the outside. Perfectly kept flowered hedges and trimmed grass graces the front yard. It was like a picture, pristine and undamaged.

“I-I don’t mind no… not at all.” You smile sheepishly towards the boy as he turns the key and shuts the ignition off.

“Well, here we are… are you ready for a real party?” He asks, stepping out and quickly meeting you at the passenger side. Opening the door, he offers you his hand once more.

Taking his hand, you lean once more on his side, steadying your balance. Unsure where the night is about to guide you. Despite the pristine image outside the house once in the door, the whole feeling has changed. There were Kooks everywhere, and to say you felt a little out of place was an understatement. Loud music blared through the open rooms filled with people drinking, smoking, laughing, and smiling. Much like at the Boneyard, but the atmosphere was entirely different.

Rafe sensed your new-found hesitation, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away. Not when he finally had you where he wanted. Pulling you closer to his side, he whispers into your ear—his warm breath causing you to gasp slightly at his now lower smooth tone.

“Relax… you can trust me.”

All you could do was shake your head. You weren't quite sure how this boy made you so weak at the knees, but you wanted to believe him, so you did.

He paraded you through the party, introducing you to the skeptical Kooks whose eyeballs felt like daggers in your chest. Their disdain and judgment of you unspoken with you wrapped around Rafe’s side.

Finally, on the last stop of the tour de la Cameron, he brought you through a room that outlooked towards the pool area. He brings you up towards a smaller group of people. Two of which you recognized as Rafe’s loyal posse. Topper and Kelce.

“Hey what’s up my man, where have you been all night?”

They exchange greetings and eyeball his new hip attachment IE you. They look over to Rafe with enigmatic smiles spread across their face, but before they could say anything to you, the boy spoke.

“Boys this is (Y/N), she came to experience what real luxury is like. So I expect her to be treated like the best guest of honor she is.”

Topper and Kelce share a glance and shrug off the ideas of Rafe, bringing a Pogue to their side of the island. They figured he had other intentions behind his new side piece.

“Right well welcome (Y/N) I hope you’re ready for some real fun.” The boys gleamed their fakest grins towards you.

Rafe pulls you over and sits you down next to him, a clear glass table in front of you. The other two boys sit across from you. After a seemingly relaxed conversation, he claps his hands together and lets out an excited laugh.

“Alright, boys, the real fun begins.” Looking over to you, he releases your hand that you’ve been holding and pulls out a small plastic baggy with a white substance inside. He makes quick work of the substance cutting out four clean and tight lines onto the table. Rolling a dollar bill into a cylinder, he passes it over to Kelce.

The muscular boy leans towards the table cylinder in hand against one nostril while he plugs the other. In one swift movement, the white powder was gone, and he passed the bill over to Topper. He quickly follows suit. Both the boys cheer out a sudden burst of euphoria that rattles their bodies. Looking on to Rafe as he was up next.

You pulled at his arm in shock at the site you’re seeing unravel in front of your eyes. He could see the worry written all over you.

“Don’t worry darling, a little blow never hurt anyone.” He pats your head, running his hand down your hair, and leans over and plants a kiss onto your cheek.

The sudden physical affection made you swoon as you bite your lower lip, still looking at him with concern in your eyes.

“I-I don’t know about this, Rafe.”

“Shhh, just watch it’ll be fine.”

He lowers his abdomen down with haste cleaner and faster than the previous boys; the powder is gone. Almost as if he’s done this regularly. Maybe Rafe Cameron wasn’t lying to you earlier. Perhaps he really was hiding an unseen misery. Your heart suddenly ached for the boy as he leaned up and pinched his nostrils a few times, sniffing back the remnants of the content he just consumed.

“It’s your turn beautiful. This will clear out all that misery from earlier, I promise.” He extends the rolled-up bill to you, his eyes darting down your body, trying to read your response.

You don’t speak. You just stare at him, and the boys across from you obnoxiously chuckle.

“Come on (Y/N) you’re a Pogue you should be used to this shit on the Cut.”

“Where’s your courage, girl?”

The boys tease as Rafe shoots them a glare, silencing them immediately. You reach out your hand shakily towards the rolled-up bill. Questioning why you’re even considering this. His words from earlier echo in your head, ‘you can trust me.’

“It’s easy, I promise I’ll even help you. Trust me, you’ll feel like you’re on top of the world. Once you’re there, the real party begins.”

“I-I’m scared.” You whisper to Rafe as he pulls you closer.

“No reason to be scared sweetheart, I got you. Remember, I won’t let you fall.” His hand cups the side of your face. His eyes looking deep into yours so soft and sweet as he's gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself you wanted to live a little. You wanted this freedom, this danger. So it was now or never. You leaned down as Rafe bends to help you. The boy pressed one of your nostrils closed and instructed you to snort in fast and move down the line. You shake your head, confirming to him you were ready.

“Come on, little dove… let’s fly.” These were the last words you remember hearing as you snorted your first line of blow. Rafe cooing to you as you faded out.

This isn't trust

This is manipulation

Taglist: @pit-zuh

(Tbh I wanted to tag a few other mututals but I’m nervous so sorry!)

Part Two coming soon-ish?

148 notes · View notes

98prilla · 4 years

Text

To Catch a Selkie

What a fool, he was.

He liked to think himself smart, he liked to think himself clever, but he was anything but, currently.

Curiosity had always been his downfall, his failing, his one deadly fault. He would pursue answers to the ends of the earth, fascinated by a world that wasn’t his, that he had been warned time and time again was dangerous, but he hadn’t listened, had he?

And now, well, now his life may as well be over.

It was already fading, the memories of the sea, of ocean water, of slipping between the waves smoothly and sleekly, his pod around him. The pups playing, splashing, sidling up to the dolphins, the braver ones to the whales.

He had thought himself brave, once. But now he knew better. Reckless, that’s what he was, stupidly reckless.

He was cold. Cold was an unusual feeling for him. He’d never known real cold before. His coat always kept him warm.

But his coat was gone, now. Stolen. Just like every story he’d ever been told by his kin, every folktale warning of humans and their greed, he had succumbed to his own hubris.

He wouldn’t leave this beach. This was as close to home as he could get, just far enough away that the water wouldn’t touch him, the spray couldn’t reach him.

It was agony. It was torture. Watching the tide roll in, the gentle lapping of the waves, the spray of the salt, the clouded, windy sky, stretching out across that blue oasis.

He shivered, arms tightening around his middle, curling against himself, salty tears spilling down his face.

It hurt, stars above, it hurt. He could feel them calling to him, begging him to come home, to answer their calls, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t if he wasn’t touching the sea, and he could never touch the sea again.

“Hey! Are you ok? What are you doing out here?” He looked up at the worried voice, meeting green eyes and black hair, with white streaked bangs.

“What do you want?” His voice was flat, empty, exhausted. The stranger furrowed his brow, confused.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re barely wearing any clothes, sitting on the beach when a thunderstorm is rolling in, in the middle of autumn. Do you have a death wish, or something?”

“maybe. I haven’t quite decided yet, if it is better to die now or slowly waste away pining for the sea. Or perhaps my owner,” he spat the word, bitter on his tongue, “will find me and the last of my memories will fade until I have nothing left but an empty, yearning, desperate desire for something I can no longer name.” The stranger stared at him for a long moment, taking him in.

He was wearing ragged shorts, no shirt or shoes or anything else. His hair was smooth and silky, despite his constant exposure to salt water. His face was sharp and angular, what he supposed humans considered breathtakingly handsome, with his large, dark brown eyes and perfectly tanned skin. He supposed that’s what had got him into this mess in the first place.

He doubled over, clutching his head as a resounding, echoing cry keened through his mind, and he shot to his feet, barely restraining himself from rushing into the water, eyes wide and breaths heaving.

“no. No! I’m here! I’m right here, I’m not lost! PLEASE!” He screamed at the waves, knowing they couldn’t hear him, knowing they wouldn’t hear him, ever again.

Leaving him. They were leaving him. They were giving him up, they were migrating to new waters, they were marking him as lost, and the worst part was, as much as he hated it, as much as it tore him to pieces, they were right.

It was only logical. He had come ashore and not come back within 24 hours. It was too dangerous for anyone else to come ashore and search, not when they didn’t know what had happened, not when he might have been discovered, not when there could be others waiting.

Selkie coats sold for quite a fortune, after all.

So did the selkies they were attatched to.

He let out a harsh sob, would have collapsed to the ground if the stranger hadn’t caught him, lowered him gently to the sand.

He was doomed. His connection to the sea would grow weaker, his connection to his coat stronger, until he was forced, compelled, to go to it, to go to his master, to obey his orders.

And everyone knew what happened to selkies whose coats were stolen. Everyone knew what humans wanted with the alluring, beautiful, mysterioius sea folk.

Yet another loss, to shatter him, break him, soon his body, and worse, his mind, would no longer be his own. He was owned. Like a thing, like a toy, like a doll. Just the thought made him ill, truly, throwing himself into the sea and dissolving into the foam was the best possible option.

He was freezing. Or he thought he was. He was so cold he didn’t even feel cold anymore, a pleasant, fuzzy warmth filling him, as cold droplets began to fall from the sky. Each one left him feeling slick and slimy, like swimming through oil. It left him feeling dirtier than before, and he shuddered at the feel of it, bile rising in his throat.

The stranger was saying something, he thought. He couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears, the cotton filling his head with fear/panic/pain/despair/longing. It was too much, it was too cold, it was too futile, and his brain shut down before he could drive himself further to madness.

…

Swimming. The water parts around him, as he swims. There’s a voice, calling him onwards, pulling him towards it. It sings with power, it glows with warmth, with the promise of all the answers he’s ever searched for, all the knowledge he could ever wish for, and he drives his tail faster through the water, towards the light.

Then it turns cold. Ice wraps around him, the water freezing, he can’t reach the surface, he can’t breathe, he’s running out of air. He thrashes, trying to escape the chains he can feel, dragging him down, words echoing through the water.

“Come to me.” Burns, it burns, he won’t, he can’t, he-

His eyes flew open and he let out a strangled cry of pain, squeezing his eyes closed and counting his breathes, shoving and fighting that voice until it abated, faded away into nothing, and he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tight, still shaking from the call.

It was so strong, already. So hard to resist, though he had been asleep, which made it more difficult to fight, but still. How long until it was completely enthralling? How long until he lost himself forever?

With another jolt of panic, he realized he wasn’t on the beach anymore. There had been a blanket draped around him, he was on a couch, in a house, and he felt his pulse speed. Had he already been caught? Were they just keeping him captive until his owner arrived? He had to fight, he had to think, he had to do something!

He looked around the room, a coffee table sat in front of him, a bookshelf against the wall, photos sitting on a shelf, an entertainment set with a television, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he could use.

He froze as he heard footsteps, eyes dilating, and he bared his slightly too sharp teeth, hissing a warning as the human came into view. His hands were held in the air, and he took a step back, eyes lowered to the ground. Everything about his body language screamed I am not a threat, I don’t want to hurt you, and despite himself, he let his guard down. It was the stranger from the beach.

“You stopped hissing. Does that mean you’re not gonna bite me?” That got a small laugh out of him, the innocence and pure curiosity in the human’s tone.

“I am not. Why am I here?” He asked, uneasiness churning in his gut.

“Well, you passed out on the beach, and it looked like you had hypothermia, your lips were turning blue, seriously freaked me out, so I had to get you indoors and warmed up. We’re at my apartment, right now. My friend is also here, but, um, we decided it was best I come talk to you, since you already kinda knew me.” Well meaning, then. “I would have called someone, for you, but you didn’t have an id or anything, so, we were just waiting for you to wake up.” And considerate. Not intent on keeping him hostage then, that was a relief. Not that it mattered much.

“So… you’re a selkie, yeah?” He shot to his feet at that question, teeth bared again, fists clenched, eyes flashing as he backed up against the wall, so no one could get the drop on him. How did he know that? Had he gotten him wrong? Was he just holding him here until his owner arrived? How else would he know?

“Remus! What did you do?!” He whipped his head as a new person appeared in the doorway, growl dying on his throat as he saw the new stranger. Dark violet eyes, pitch black hair, dark shadows around his eyes, pale and lanky.

A Night Sylph. A spirit of air, tied to darkness, helping to bring the night and protecting the creatures of it. He himself may not be a creature of air, but a Sylph wouldn’t allow anything to harm a mythical, not if they hadn’t acted against his creatures first.

“I apologize. I did not realize your friend was a Sylph. Not many humans could identify a Selkie, much less one without their coat. I was afraid…” He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the words aloud, his shoulders slumping and hands relaxing, as he felt the Sylph’s concerned eyes on him, gaze softening.

“it was stolen.” The sylph said softly, not a question, but he nodded anyways, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, eyes watering again. “how long?” He took a shaking breath.

“36 hours and counting. My pod is already moving on. I give myself another 12 to 18 hours, before I have no choice but to go to Him.” He whispered, the sorrow washing through him nearly drowning him.

“That is not going to happen. We are not going to let that happen.” His eyes shot up, the Sylph’s voice fiery, his eyes glowing with his determination and fierceness. The human nodded, hand slipping into the Sylph’s, eyes just as hard and cold.

“We’re gonna find that coat. We’re gonna find that little bitch, and I’m gonna beat the shit out of him, for even daring to lay a hand on it.” His mouth was agape, looking between the two, confused, but feeling a small bubble of hope start to build in his chest.

“why?” his voice is so small, but he doesn’t have it in him to be any louder.

“Because it’s wrong! It’s slavery, and it’s hurting you, and it’s cruel.” The human replies, and the Sylph smiled at him softly.

“I’m Virgil. This idiot is Remus.” Virgil said, bumping Remus’s shoulder lightly, Remus rolling his eyes.

“Logan. You can call me Logan.” Virgil nodded, carefully coming just a bit closer as he looked over Logan.

“Why don’t we sit down, and you can tell us what you remember. That’ll give us somewhere to start.” He nodded, sinking into an armchair, knees once again pulled to his chest.

“Do you want anything to drink? Or eat?” Remus asked. He shook his head, and Remus sat on the edge of the couch, Virgil perching on the arm of it. Eating anything now would just make him sick, his stomach was so tied in knots he could barely breathe properly.

“I… it’s blurry. I was in town. I was in… in a park. I like to look at the plants, at the trees. I had my coat with me, obviously, I can’t go anywhere without it. It was wrapped around my shoulders, like a shawl. Then… then suddenly it wasn’t. Someone grabbed it, from behind me. I was stunned, I tried to chase, I only got a look from behind. Light hair… tall, I… he looked at me. Eyes, mismatched eyes. He didn’t try and take me, he knew he didn’t need to. Knew I would be forced to come to him, now that I’m stuck on land.” He shivered, remembering the glint in the man’s eyes, the smug smile on his face.

“What happens? If you go back to the water without your coat?”

“Remus!” Virgil hissed, but a wry smile crossed his face.

“I… die. I dissolve, into the ocean, into the waves, into nothing. As if I never existed. Not… not the worst option, truly. At least then I’d be home.”

“no. Logan, that is not going to happen. You won’t have to make that decision.” He flinched at the hand on his shoulder, looking up at Remus’s soft, kind eyes.

“We’re gonna find him, Lo. I promise.” He simply nodded. He knew the probability of them retrieving his coat in time was low, but he was willing to let them try. He didn’t have any other choice.

“I can tell it hasn’t left town. That’s all I know.” Virgil hummed in thought.

“Well, you got a fair description of him, not that many people have heterochromia. And we know he knew what you were, so it’s someone with knowledge of mythicals. Probably a collector, or someone who works for them. That narrows it down quite a bit. I’ll go scope things out, find a likely area. You’ll be able to feel it, if it’s close, yeah?” Virgil asked, and he nodded once more. “cool. Remus, stay with him. I’ll be back soon.”

“What should I do?” Logan asked, and Virgil softened further.

“Try and get some more rest. You’re still exhausted, and it’s only going to get worse the longer you’re away from the water. Build up strength now, while you can.” He didn’t think he’d be getting much rest, not with the fear and anxiety filling his every pore, but he acquiesced anyway.

“Are you cold?” Remus murmured, feeling his forehead. He let out a harsh laugh.

“I’m always cold, without my coat. Nothing else feels… right, or warm, everything else itches or scratches or…” He trailed off in frustration, raking his hand through his hair, surprised as Remus slid into the chair next to him, before pulling him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

He was warm, stars above, Remus was warm, and he couldn’t help himself, as he melted into the touch, warmth surrounding him for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He didn’t understand, why it was so easy to surrender himself to this human, didn’t know why he felt safe, why it warmed him so deeply from the inside out, when so recently he had been irrevocably wounded by a human. He didn’t have the energy to care, though an answer niggled in the back of his brain.

Something about Remus being so passionate, barely knowing him, yet reading him as easily as a favorite book, the way he was so willing to fight for him, the way he didn’t for a moment seem to hesitate, in anything that he did.

He didn’t know him. Barely knew him for more than five minutes. But he’d somehow never felt more right.

“This better?” Remus whispered in his ear, and he let out a small hum of agreement, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth brought out the overwhelming ache for sleep in his bones.

Remus looked up in time to catch the small smile on Virgil’s face. Virgil saw him looking and shot him a thumbs up, before quietly vanishing out the door, a wisp of soft fog against the air as he shifted into his ethereal form.

…

The beach. Water lapping on the shore, sun shining warm and bright. He can hear his pod, off in the distance, can see the pups’ heads popping up through the water, splashing and playing. He calls out to them, wading into the water.

He swims towards them, but the faster and harder he swims, the thicker the water seems to get, the darker the sea becomes around him, his family vanishing into the distance. He tries to call out, but his voice is locked in his throat.

He can’t breathe. He is choking on the water, it is filling his lungs, it is dragging him down, blackness surrounding him as he sinks into the depths. He claws at the water around him, he screams, bubbles leaking from his mouth as his mind goes fuzzy.

“Come now, little pup. Stop resisting. You’ll feel so much better, once you just give in.” The voice is smooth and silky, sweet and warm as honey. He shouldn’t listen, he knows he shouldn’t listen, but he can’t quite remember why.

“That’s right, lovely. Come home-“

“Logan!”

He jolted awake, heart racing, unsure where he was, what was happening. He was pinned to the floor, wrists held down, and for a moment he thrashed, panic blinding him, before the soft tone cut through his haze, and he relaxed, head thumping back against the floor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Logan?” Virgil, from the doorway, he heard the door close. He must’ve just gotten back. Remus’s face came into view above him.

“You back with us?” He nodded, and Remus carefully released his hold on his wrists, supporting him as he helped him sit up. Instantly, Logan took stock of the scratches on Remus’s arms, the four bleeding cuts across his cheek, and he buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t…” He broke off, sighing raggedly.

“He was calling you. You couldn’t help it, Lo.” Virgil said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, feeling Remus wrap his arms around him.

“It’s not your fault. You scared me, more than anything. I could tell you weren’t… you. You were trying to leave, I had to grab you, and you just started clawing at me. Caught me off guard, but I’ve had worse than this, trust me.” He half laughed at that, the panic starting to settle into something a bit more tolerable.

“Did you find anything?” He asked, wiping at his eyes, looking up at Virgil, who pursed his lips.

“I think so. Rumors, an old warehouse, downtown. Strange noises, strange lights, nothing confirmed, but I did a quick flyby, I didn’t go close, Remus,” Virgil commented at Remus’s stern glance, “Just enough to get a sense, and there was a faint spell around it, to divert attention. Just enough to make it uninteresting to any humans, who don’t already know what to look for, anyway.” Logan got to his feet, a bit wobbly. The overwhelming need for the ocean was pounding in his pulse, pain in his chest, and it took a moment to steady himself against it.

“Let’s go, then. What are we waiting for?” He asked.

“Logan, pal, you’re in no shape for a raid.” He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Any longer and I will not be able to resist the next call. That one was so strong, I have a few hours, at most, before I will be completely incapacitated. And you can bet you won’t be able to find it without me, he will have hidden it, somewhere, hidden it well, if he’s smart. It is now or never, as I believe your saying goes.” He sounded more sure than he felt. A slight ache was pounding at his head, and he felt slightly dizzy, a bit off kilter, but he couldn’t let that stop him. This was their best chance, their only chance.

Virgil and Remus exchanged a glance, a silent conversation held in their eyes, but after a few moments, Remus nodded and Virgil sighed. Logan was right, and they both knew it.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

…

His pulse raced as he stared at the unassuming building. He could feel it, feel it, feel it. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted, eyes trained on the doors.

“Here?” Virgil asked lowly. He nodded, hands shaking with anticipation. It was close, it was so, so close.

Carefully, they snuck around the side of the building, managing to find an unlocked window. It was a tight fit for Remus, but Logan was slender enough he slid through easily, and Virgil simply flowed inside in his noncorporeal form.

They landed with soft thumps inside the darkened warehouse, and instantly, they froze at a soft, bell like sound.

“Kiddos, what are you doing here? Run!” A small, musical voice hissed at them. They turned their heads, surprised to see a small birdcage sitting by the window, a tiny, winged figure clutching at the bars, giving off a soft blue glow. Virgil’s eyes widened, and he was instantly examining the cage, biting his lip as he assessed the lock.

“Don’t worry, Spriggan. I’ll have you out in a jiffy.” Virgil murmured, eyes deepening in their violet glow, as air swirled around the lock. His gaze intensified, the air around him almost buzzing. Then the lock popped open.

The sprite gasped softly as Virgil opened the cage door, fluttering to the edge, almost hesitant to step outside.

“It’s ok. I promise.” Virgil whispered, and the sprite fluttered out, a quiet, disbelieving laugh ringing out as he flew a few laps around Virgil’s head, before settling on his nose and hugging his forehead as far as his tiny arms could reach.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sylva. But you have to go! You have to leave, now, before he-“

“Finds you? Please, Patton, I knew they were here from the moment they stepped inside.” Instantly, the sprite was gone, buzzing out the window as fast as his wings would carry him, leaving the three to spin around and face the darkness alone.

Logan gasped, icy fear plunging into his heart as he met those gold and brown eyes, that arrogant smirk.

“Give it back. Now.” Virgil growled, and the figure laughed, a dangerously soft sound.

“As if you are in any position to bargain. You did just cost me my Sprite. Though I suppose a Sylph is a fair trade, an upgrade, even.” He mused. Virgil hissed, eyes flashing as he shifted incorporeal, a dark splash of smoke as he swirled up and away.

“As if you could catch me.” The stranger’s smile widened.

“Oh, you do amuse me. I think you will be a new favorite of mine. I will enjoy watching you struggle.” He snapped, and golden light flared to life around him, golden strings unspooling from his fingers, twisting and turning through the air. Virgil dodged and weaved, avoiding the threads that were spiderwebbing through the rafters, slowly closing in on him.

Remus growled, and charged at the man, who lithely stepped out of the way, as he stumbled past him. He felt something coil around him, sending him falling, and he looked up to see a huge, hissing golden serpent wrapping tight around his body. He jolted as Virgil cried out, and he saw him falling through air, landing hard on his back on the ground, gold thread squeezing around him. Then the snake bit into his neck, and the world blurred.

“Remus!” Logan lunged towards him, halting mid step at the soft glimmer he caught in the corner of his eye, slowly turning to face the sorcerer, eyes locked on the soft fur coat held in his hands.

It shimmered, gray and black, smooth and silky, and for a moment, Logan could feel the ocean around him, could see the endless waves, could taste the salt, could feel the cool relief of water.

“There now, little pup. Isn’t that better?” He purred. Logan couldn’t breathe. His heart was frozen in his chest, he couldn’t even bring himself to blink, the want, the overwhelming need filling his soul, his very being. Slowly, despite himself, he nodded.

“Logan… no…” a voice begged weakly. Distantly, he thought he knew that voice, but his coat was all he could see, the gold and brown imprinting into his soul, and his whole being relaxed, putty in his veins.

“Now, lovely, why don’t you come with me?” Emptily, he nodded, following the sorcerer’s directions, his hand on the small of his back guiding him into a small, dark, room, and he passively sat. His mind was fuzzy, soft, barely aware. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but the feeling flowed over his head, lost in the heady buzz filling his chest.

Dimly, he felt something cold clamping around his ankles, felt something hard clamp around his wrists. He whimpered, trying to move, but a voice shushed him.

“None of that, now, darling.” A hand caressed his cheek, tilting his chin up to meet gold and brown. They stopped his breath, they sucked him in, and he was drowning in those hypnotizing pools, slumping weakly back against the wall. “Wonderful. Oh, you are a pretty one, aren’t you?” He felt those hands turning his chin, examining him, before stepping away with a dark chuckle. Logan’s head fell back against the wall, eyes blurred and unseeing, mind empty and buzzing with soft, hazy warmth. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing, lovely. Jussst sssleeep.” His eyes fluttered shut, the man's voice echoing softly through his mind, recognizing dimly the feel of a spell weaving into him, taking him into a dark, empty oblivion. He didn’t hear the door shut, the lock turn, didn’t notice the pure black darkness of the room. He didn’t notice or feel or think anything. Not anymore.

…

Virgil was dying. Or he thought he was. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t… there wasn’t any air, he couldn’t live without air, he was air, it was his being, he needed it. He gasped in a choking breath, managing to raise his head just enough to see. He was in a large, glass cylinder. He could see a grate at the top, could feel it, it was a vacuum, he was trapped in a vacuum, he was helpless, he was defenseless, he was trapped.

Roman. He could see Roman, through the glass. He was tied to a chair, he could see the sorcerer circling him, taunting him, if he had to guess, and he tried to do anything, tried to get to his feet, but he only succeeded in falling to his hands and knees, dizzy and gasping and consciousness fading, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave Remus to this mess all on his own.

But it felt like a thousand pounds of rocks sitting on his chest, it felt like the weight of a mountain pressing down on him, and he weakly clawed at his throat, desperate for air, any air, as his vision flickered, dimming.

Then, suddenly, shattering glass. He wheezed in a desperate breath, kneeling on broken glass, barely getting his bearings as another lungful of air filled him with power.

He didn’t have time to wait. He shot to his feet, eyes flashing electric violet, form dissolving and coalescing into a menacing, flashing cloud of angry black, shadows growing throughout the room, darkening everything. A low growl rumbled, like thunder, and then the room was filled with crackling, sizzling lightning.

…

Roman woke tied to a chair. He groaned, a bit surprised to be waking at all. He had thought for sure that snake was going to kill him.

“Hello there, dearie. Pleasure to meet you properly.” He hissed, struggling against the rope, glaring as those eyes came into view, the man leaning casually on the arms of the chair, too close in his space.

“What do you want?” He spat, not ceasing his struggle, even as the stranger tutted, tilting the chair back on its back legs as he circled it.

“You see, I was going to kill you. Just a human, just in my way, too much care and desperation to stop chasing me, not when I have your little pets.”

“They aren’t my pets. They’re my friends.” The man just chuckled, slamming the chair back down on all four legs, causing him to bite his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

“But then I realized something. You are not the simple human you appear to be, are you?” He froze, breathe catching, before his defiant mask slid back into place.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man tutted again, grabbing his chin and forcing himself to stare into those eyes.

“Liar, liar, little changeling. Why didn’t they want you, I wonder? Stunted growth? Crippled limb? Ah,” He snapped, “Crippled magic.” Remus winced, jerking his chin out of his hold, glaring at the ground. “Bit touchy, are we?”

“Fuck off.” He looked up, and spat directly into that smug face, enjoying immensely the expression of pure shock and outrage that twisted his lips as he wiped away the bloody spit.

“Oh, you will pay for that.” Then the room exploded in lightning.

“-us! Remus!” He groaned, slowly blinking his eyes open, blinking again as a soft glow of blue buzzed across his vision.

“Virg? What… what happened?” Virgil rubbed the back of his head, shooting him a sheepish grin as he helped him sit up.

“Got a little heated. Lightning went a bit haywire. Gave you a good shock, on accident.”

“How did you get out? And I thought you left us!” Remus accused, getting dizzy as he tried to track the sprite’s nervous fluttering.

“He left to go get help. Something you should have done before charging into a trap!” Remus groaned, looking up as someone reached out their hand, helping pull him to his feet.

“Really, Patton? You had to go get him?”

“You’re lucky he did! What were you thinking, Ree?” He shrugged, meeting the identical face of Roman, his changeling counterpart, the human that had been taken in his place and grown up with everything he should have had, should have been. Which, turns out, wasn’t actually all that great, so he supposed he actually kinda owed Roman.

Still, by the time they’d met, they’d both spent more time in each other’s realms than their own. Roman was more fae than human, and Remus was more human than fae, so they decided to keep their roles, their homes they’d made for themselves. They hadn’t even known what they were, until their early teens.

“we couldn’t wait for you. He’s a Selkie, Ro, we didn’t have time.” Roman softened a bit at the distress of Remus, sighing.

“you panicked. I get that, Remus, I do. It just… scared me. Seeing Virgil like that, seeing you…” Roman trailed off, shaking his head, wry smile on his lips. Remus’s eyes widened, gaze flying through the room, skating over the sorcerer, who was now bound to an upright support beam with shimmering, nearly invisible thread. Faery thread. There were very few things that could break it, certainly nothing the sorcerer had on hand. He didn’t care.

“Logan. Where…” His eyes locked on a door, and he sprinted over to it, growling as he tried the handle, finding it locked. He didn’t wait for Virgil to pop it, instead he kicked it with all his might, sending the door slamming open.

“Remus!” Virgil hissed, appearing at his side, but he barely noticed, instead falling to his knees, Logan filling his entire vision, fury clouding his mind at the chains shackling his wrists and ankles to the floor.

“Get them off.” He hissed, unsure who he was even talking to.

“Virgil, you’ll have to do it. They’re enchanted against magical meddling.” It took Virgil longer than normal to pop the locks, the enchantment making them a bit trickier to handle, but finally, they were all removed, and Remus carefully pulled Logan onto his lap.

“Logan… wake up, please.” He gently shook Logan’s shoulder, but the Selkie remained limp and still as a corpse. His face was too pale, his breathing deep and slow. He brushed back Logan’s hair, frowning at the warmth of his forehead, realizing too his skin was dry, flaking.

“he won’t wake up. He’s sick.” He looked helplessly up at Roman and Patton, who was sitting on Roman’s shoulder, wings fluttering nervously.

“We need to find his coat. Now.” Virgil muttered. Remus stood, still cradling Logan, snarling as he entered the main room, eyes aflame as he glared at the sorcerer, who was now awake, eyes glinting with almost amusement.

“What did you do to him?” He snarled, spitting, mere inches away. The sorcerer simply smirked.

“Whatever do you mean, little changeling?” Remus growled, would have punched him, if he wasn’t holding Logan in his arms, then Virgil was at his side, carefully moving him back, getting in his line of sight.

“Logan-“ Virgil shook his head.

“I know. But we will handle it. You and Patton go take care of him.” Remus hesitated, but his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

“alright. Just kill him for me, won’t you?” a ghost of a smile flitted across Virgil’s face.

“Oh, we’ll do one better. We’ll make him wish he were dead.”

…

Roman turned to face the sorcerer, hands clasped behind him, Virgil leaning against the wall in the shadows, still shaky.

“I believe I’ve heard of you. You’re a freelancer for ‘collectors’.” He spat the word, ash in his mouth. “Deceit, I believe you go by.” The sorcerer’s smirk didn’t drop, but something wary shifted in his eyes. “Usually you’re more careful than this, to my knowledge you’ve never been caught in the act, before tonight.” That seemed to hit a nerve, Deceit’s eyes narrowed.

“How many creatures have you ‘caught’? Torn away from their homes and condemned to torture and captivity and slavery? They have homes, they have families, they’re people!” Virgil spoke up, eyes electric, each word crackling.

“It you protected them better I wouldn’t be able to catch them.” Virgil recoiled, then surged forwards, flying around Deceit’s head so fast all the oxygen was sucked out of the air.

He finally pulled back, coalescing next to Roman, satisfaction rushing through him as the sorcerer coughed, wheezing in breaths.

“Where is his coat?” Virgil demanded, meeting Deceit’s glare with his own.

“Why don’t you ask your little selkie, hmm? Poor thing can’t find it? Oh, that’s right,” he snapped, “you can’t. And nothing you do will change that.” Roman’s eyes flashed, and the string tightened, causing Deceit to hiss in pain as the sharp strands cut through his skin. “You don’t even know what you have, do you? For all your self importance, you really are an idiot. Nothing in the world will make me give up that coat.” The strings dug in deeper, beads of red leaking through the torn fabric of his clothes, slicing through flesh like butter.

“Explain.” Virgil hissed. Deceit rolled his eyes, not saying a word.

“Fine. Hard way then. Virgil, tear this place apart. I’ll tear his mind apart. If there’s one good thing about being raised by seers, it’s this.” Before Deceit could move, Roman had pressed his hands to each of Deceit’s temples, mind foccused on one thought only. “See.”

…

“Well?” Remus asked, looking down at Patton, who was kneeling on Logan’s forehead, hands glowing softly. The sprite slumped back on his knees, exhausted.

“I can tell it’s a spell, some kind of sleep spell. It’s strong, too, nothing I can crack, but nothing that explains why he’s sick like this. Selkies don’t get sick like this, no matter how far from the water they are. I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Carefully, he scooped Patton up in his hand, setting him down on his shoulder.

They were sitting in the back of the van, Logan laid out across the backseat, his head resting in Remus’s lap as he nervously ran his hands through Logan’s hair. He didn’t understand, Logan had been relatively fine just a few hours ago, now he was burning up under his hands.

His eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, gaze flickering between Roman’s sympathetic brown eyes and Virgil’s thin lipped stare.

“did you get it? Please, please, tell me you got it.” Roman wordlessly handed him a soft, silky seal pelt. Remus nearly sobbed in relief, wrapping it around Logan like a blanket, stroking his cheek.

“wake up, wake up, wake up.” He whispered, almost a prayer, searching Logan’s face for any sign of movement.

“remus. He’s a direct descendant of Sedna. That’s why he’s ill. He literally cannot survive on land. He’s… he’s dying.”

“Then let’s go! What are we waiting for?” He demanded. Roman and Virgil exchanged a look, one that he didn’t miss, sadness and something soft in their eyes.

“We’re too far from the ocean. We won’t get there in time.” A sob clawed its way out of Remus’s throat, and he shook his head.

“NO! No, we promised him we’d get him home, we promised him! So get in the car and FUCKING DRIVE!” He screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Remus-“

“Just do it. Please. We still have a chance, there’s still a chance.” He pleaded.

“Even if we get him back, we have no way to break the spell. He won’t survive.” Remus glared up at Virgil through watery eyes.

“We’re not going to just do nothing! Now get in and drive or I’ll do it myself.” Remus hissed. Virgil and Roman exchanged another glance, and Patton patted his neck in sympathy, but they complied without another word.

…

Logan was shaking. Chills wracked his body, and he was heaving in raspy, unsteady breaths. Sweat covered his hair, sticking to his forehead, and his face was paling even further, as the life drained out of him one breath at a time.

“Come on, Lo. Just hold on, just hold on for me.” He murmured, trying to keep his own voice steady and reassuring, trying to keep his own panic from swallowing him whole.

“We’re here.” Virgil breathed out, the car jolting to a stop, Roman not having bothered with the parking lot, pulling directly onto the sand, as far as he could. Instantly, Remus bolted to his feet, oh so gently lifting Logan into his arms, bolting for the water, tucking his coat tightly around him.

His shaking had stopped. As Remus ran, he realized Logan’s shaking had stopped, he couldn’t feel him breathing anymore, he couldn’t feel his heartbeat. They were nearly there, nearly to the water, he couldn’t die now, they were so close, surely he was still holding on.

He gasped at the shock of cold water, not stopping until he was up to his knees, Logan floating in the water before him, his arms holding him so his head was above the surface.

“Logan… come on, please, Logan, please, wake up, wake up, you stupid seal!” He shouted, tears streaming down his face at Logan’s lifeless form, limp and still, head lolling with the waves.

“Remus… he’s gone…” Patton, he had darted out to Remus had settled on his shoulder once more, looking back to Virgil and Roman, who were waiting on the shore. Another sob tore from his throat, and he shook his head, pulling Logan close, burying his face in the selkie’s soft hair.

“no. nononono we got him home! He can’t… he can’t… he can’t just steal my heart and then die before I can tell him, he can’t just leave, he can’t!” Remus sobbed, shoulders shaking, wishing for all the world Logan would open his eyes. He would give anything, for Logan to open his eyes.

“would you, child of fae, human in nature? Your kind are cruel, cold. What would you truly give, to bring him back?” He didn’t look up at the softly accented woman’s voice. He knew, some part of him knew.

Sedna. Goddess of the sea, mother of all of its creatures, guardian and vengeful spirit of the ocean and all of its depths. Logan’s biological mother.

“anything. I would give anything.” He whispered, meeting her deep, infinite dark eyes, that sparkled with all the mystery of the darkest deepest depths. He saw his own sorrow reflected ten fold there, though her gaze hardened as he met her unfathamoble eyes.

“Choose your words carefully, mortal fae.” His breath caught. He’d spent enough time around Roman, around other mythicals, to know that tone, that careful wording.

“What do I have to do? What do you need from me?” He asked, and the goddess actually hesitated, almost taken aback by his intensity. She held out her arms, and relunctantly, he let her take him.

“oh, my heart, my soul, my babe. What have they done to you?” She murmured softly, kissing Logan’s forehead. “but even still…” she gathered herself, looking up at Remus, something softer in her eyes now, a desperate sort of hope. “A life. Willingly given, willingly gifted. Only then can you hope to find him.” Remus let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any mirth.

“You had me worried there. For a second I thought it might be hard.” He met her eyes, once more, drowning in them, a soft smile tinging his lips. “My life, huh? It’s not much of one, I’m afraid, but you can have it. Willingly and no regrets. Not… not if it gives us a chance.” Sedna nodded once. He didn’t have time to even hold his breath, before he was pulled beneath the waves.

“NO!” Virgil screamed, as Remus was pulled under, in an instant swirling out to Sedna, his form blurred as he hovered above the waves.

“This is not of your business, Sylph.” She stated, not looking away from Logan, and Virgil hissed.

“Like hell, it isn’t.” She looked up at that, eyes sharp but sympathetic.

“It was his choice to make. If his love is pure, they will both come back to us. Have some faith.”

“If it isn’t two innocent lives were lost today.” He growled,

“Innocent lives are lost every second, Sylph. At least this has the chance of righting a wrong.”

…

He is sinking. He can just barely see a faint halo of light, but it is far, far, far above, and fading fast.

Where is he?

He tries to remember, tries to wrack his brain, for what this dark, endlessly sinking abyss could be, but the farther from the light, the blurrier it all gets.

There’s something important, he should be doing. Yes, there was something urgent, something he was looking for, but it is hazy now, and he doesn’t know what it is or was.

He doesn’t know who he is.

That should be worrying, but it isn’t. Not here. Here, it feels inconsequential. Everything seems small and meaningless, and he thinks he would be perfectly content to drift down and down and down in this darkness for eternity, thinking of everything and nothing, letting the darkness swallow him until what’s left of his awareness fades.

But something pulls at him. Something forces him to open his eyes, to take a deep breath, something he’s surprised to find he can do underwater. Or, he thinks he’s underwater. For the first time, he looks around.

He’s surprised to see shapes, in the darkness. Some have outlines of color, just faintly flickering, some are gray, and fade in front of his eyes, but all are drifting listlessly, down and down, and somehow he knows that the deeper they go, the more they fade, until nothing is left.

That sends a jolt of panic through him.

Logan. He has to find Logan.

He doesn’t know quite who that is, but the name lights something inside him, and though it takes all the will in his body, he forces his limbs to move. He forces himself to swim downwards, searching, searching, searching-

There! A faint flicker, a faint something, that tugs him closer. It was so dark, he could barely see where he was going, but he didn’t let up for a moment, not when his lungs began to burn, not when he felt his limbs start to go numb, not when he could see the outline of himself flickering in and out, his mind going hazy.

He pushed forwards, and suddenly he was there, grabbing onto the ethereal form of Logan, pulling him close, and without thinking, he pressed their lips together, exhaling all of his air into Logan’s lungs, breathing all of his own life into Logan, his eyes slipping closed as Logan’s dark ones flew open, his surprised gasp inhaling the last of Remus’s air, and the world blurred, his outline fading quickly to gray, and his last thought was the hope that Logan would live enough life for the both of them.

…

Remus gasped, coughing, heaving in huge breath after huge breath, vision blurred from tears, every part of him sore and aching as he choked on the air.

“Remus.” His eyes jerked up, and he met deep browns, that perfect, beautiful face, and Logan reached out, cupping his cheek, wiping away the tears slipping down his face, as he let out a small, desperately happy laugh. Then he leaned forwards, crushing their lips together, feeling Logan melt into his touch, hands tangling in his hair, and even after their lips parted, Remus didn’t let go, nuzzling against Logan’s hair, silent tears still falling.

“how… what…” he whispered, unable to form the words he was looking for. How was he alive, how was he here, how was Logan here, how had he lived, when he’d given his entire soul to breathe life back into Logan.

“You love me.” Was the somewhat awed, somewhat small answer from Logan, and he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, a smile dancing across his lips.

“yes. I love you, Logan.” He replied, somehow melting even more at the soft, adoring gaze Logan was bestowing upon him, his lips quirked at the corners in a small smile.

“You were willing to give your life for mine. Even if you couldn’t live to live with me, even though I would gain everything and you would lose all, you would still have given it freely. That intent, was enough. It was a test, of sorts. And you passed, Remus.” Logan intertwined their fingers, and Remus couldn’t help it anymore as a desperate, relieved sob shook his frame as he fell into Logan’s arms, crying into his shoulder.

“you still have to go. You still have to leave, go back to the water. I’m still losing you.” He choked out, feeling Logan brushing his thumb over his knuckles. He heard Logan chuckle softly.

“Not quite. You still gave me part of yourself, part of your soul. And you now hold some of mine. We’re tied together now, Remus. Anywhere you step I can also. Anywhere I pass through so will you be able.”

“but… you won’t get sick? You won’t… I won’t keep you, I won’t make you stay, you don’t have to stay.” Just the thought of forcing Logan to stay made him ill.

“I know, Remus. I know you wouldn’t. I know you would never take my coat, I know you would never force me to do anything, I trust you. It won’t make me sick. We can spend time, between land and sea, there’s so much I can show you, Remus, worlds you wouldn’t even be able to imagine.”

They both looked up at the sound of hesitant footsteps. Roman was approaching, having kept his distance and given them space on the shore, where Logan had pulled Remus, just out of the surf. Virgil was still speaking to Sedna, form flickering with displeasure and anger, while she was nothing but calm and placid, the soft glow of Patton clear on his shoulder.

“Remus. If you ever do something like that again I will strangle you with my bare hands.” Roman muttered furiously, eliciting a high laugh, Remus soft as he met Roman’s eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them without a word needing to be spoken. “And Logan… take care of him. He’s a lot softer than he’d like you to believe.” Remus huffed in indignation, melting with a happy hum as Logan pressed a kiss to his cheek, causing the selkie to shake his head in amusement.

“I will. I promise.” With that Roman nodded, walking several yards down the beach before simply vanishing.

“He’s such a drama queen.” Logan chuckled.

“Nothing at all like you, I’m sure.” Remus snorted, tilting his head back, to look up at Logan, his Logan, His.

“We should get you indoors. You’re sopping wet, and it’s cold.” Remus nuzzled closer to Logan, gently butting his chin with his head.

“Good thing I’ve got you, then, keeping me warm.” And before Logan could argue, he had captured the selkie’s lips once more, lost in a different, amazingly beautiful kind of warmth.

#sanders sides #sympathetic remus #remus sanders #human remus #logan sanders #selkie logan #logan angst #remus angst #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #unsympathetic deceit #temporary character death #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #logan x remus

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kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 15: A Home

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold puts herself to bed

Read on AO3

Mrs. Gold rested her forehead against the passenger window of the squad car. The cold glass gave her something to focus on. Something real and solid in this swirling haze of booze and impossible facts.

Sheriff Swan was driving her home. Graham had done this, more times than she could remember. Whenever she was out making too much trouble to ignore, Graham would take her back to Mr. Gold.

Emma Swan was taking her away from him.

Graham had always been quiet, but Emma kept trying to talk. Mrs. Gold kept her face to the window and let the words wash over her.

“I know it’s hard to get out of a bad relationship. I can’t imagine what it’s like to get out of a bad marriage. But it’s really important that you learn to put yourself first. Put your own safety first. And if that means walking away--then you just gotta do the brave thing.”

Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

The words felt weird in her head, foreign and familiar at the same time. Like something she had known once, but forgotten. What was she remembering it from? A movie? Some hokey book she’d read as a kid?

Mrs. Gold had never cared much about being brave. It didn’t take courage to do what Mr. Gold ordered her to. If she was being honest with herself, she did tend to obey him out of fear--fear of disappointing him, fear of his disdain. Fear of losing everything he gave her, especially those scant, precious fragments of himself.

“And I will help you! I just need you to tell me you need help.” Emma Swan was still talking. “Just give me a reason. I’m not afraid to use excessive force.”

She looked up. “On Mr. Gold?”

Emma pulled into the driveway of Mr. Gold’s house and parked the car. “Why not give a wife beater a taste of his own medicine?”

“He’s is not--”

“Yeah, but he’s not a responsible dominant either,” Emma cut her off. “The kinky stuff is based around trust, so you gotta find someone who’s trustworthy. Good for you if you like pain play, but for the love of God, don’t give that kind of power to someone who isn’t going to care about you.”

“I told you in the station, the problem isn’t how Mr. Gold uses me. The problem is that he hasn’t done anything with me in months!” Fighting off tears, Mrs. Gold unbuckled her seat belt and tried to bolt out of the car.

She got two steps toward the house before everything got all spinny again and she had to slow down. Before she knew it, Sheriff Swan was beside her, holding her up by the elbow.

“Okay, lightweight, whatever you say.”

Mrs. Gold jerked her arm away. “I’m alright on my own.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She was still walking beside her. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tuck you into bed. Unless you invite me in or I have reason to believe a crime in progress, my jurisdiction ends at the front door.”

“Whatever,” Mrs. Gold muttered. She had Mr. Gold’s keys in her coat pocket. The weight of them was like ballast on a sailboat. They steadied her.

Emma followed behind her as she went up the porch steps. She waited by the door while Mrs. Gold fumbled with the keys. There were so many of them. Months ago, Mr. Gold had sent her out to have copies of the house and shop keys made for herself. That was one of the first strange things he’d done. Those keys were in her purse in the front hall. She still wasn’t used to letting herself come and go. Mr. Gold’s key was original to the house, a brass skeleton key from the 1890s. It wasn’t any trouble to open the door and walk in.

“You gonna get the lights?” Emma asked.

“No,” Mrs. Gold held her head high. “I like the dark.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Guess that’s your choice. But before I go, I gotta say it again: Call me, if you need help. Or if you have questions about how other people do BDSM. Or if you just wanna talk. Okay?”

Safe in the darkness, Mrs. Gold gave a condescending smile and a nod. “Sounds great.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“Sure,” she said. And shut the door.

****

She didn’t turn the lights on as she made her way to the kitchen. Mr. Gold’s house was big enough and clean enough that she never worried about bumping into things or stumbling over a pile of clutter. Nothing like the place where she’d grown up--cramped and filthy, piled high with junk. They never wanted to throw anything away. You never knew when you might need something that you hadn’t used in ten years, but you knew it was wrong to waste money on getting a new one when there was a perfectly good one around here somewhere.

Mr. Gold’s house was a better home than her father’s house had ever been.

She didn’t stop moving until she got the refrigerator. Wincing against the blinding light, she searched for a bottle of sparkling water. She put the cool glass against her swollen eyes and sighed. She kicked away her heels and leaned against the refrigerator door. When she drank, the bubbles popped sharply against the inside of her mouth. It was a needle-sharp pain, soothing in its way.

She’d never drunk sparkling water before she met Mr. Gold. They always used the tap, and if it tasted like dirt or sand, well that was just extra minerals. Not like they could do anything about it. If it tasted like chlorine or carcinogenic runoff from some factory upstream, they couldn’t do anything about that either. People like them just had to keep drinking what life gave them because they couldn’t afford anything better.

She’d have to go back to that--if anything happened between her and Mr. Gold. If he decided he didn’t want to be married to her anymore. Their pre-nuptial contract was very clear: If the marriage ended for any reason, Mr. Gold kept everything. Even her clothes and jewelry. Even her wedding ring.

And her father would have to start paying rent again. She’d never hear the end of that. Of course, she never heard the end of it when Mr. Gold told him he didn’t have to pay rent anymore. Or, more specifically, that whether or not he had to pay rent was entirely up to Mrs. Gold.

The idiot florist had hated hearing that. Mr. Gold had given his daughter financial control of his shop and his house. She could waive the rent or charge him double or kick him on the curb and burn the buildings to the ground as she saw fit. Her father had sputtered and raged and sworn a blue streak when he’d found out. But marrying Mr. Gold meant she didn’t have to listen to his tantrums anymore.

Would he take her back? If Mr. Gold kicked her out, would she even have the option of living with her father again?

He’d told her she could, on the day that she left. Her father had said that she could always come back. But she knew that he meant she could leave Mr. Gold and apologize for the unforgivable crime of liking sex. She could live with her father if she was willing to put herself on his idea of good behavior. If she never told him what she really thought about anything. If she was willing to cook and clean and slave away in the flower shop just so the two of them could have enough money to scrape by. Like she was a fucking teenager again.

Shitty as it would be to be back in that house, it was probably better than being homeless.

She finished the bottle and threw it in the trash. She still hadn’t turned on any of the lights. She could walk around Mr. Gold’s house blindfolded. In fact she had, many times. And on her hands and knees. And on a leash. And with a ten-inch dildo in every hole she had. That was how Mrs. Gold paid rent.

Do you have somebody you can stay with tonight?

Emma Swan’s words had been ringing through her head since she’d first heard them outside of Granny’s. She’d told the Sheriff that she didn’t have anyone. That was probably true. No one who would pick her up at the police station, at least. No one who would want to deal with her while she was drunk and emotional. No one wanted Mrs. Gold when she was at her worst.

Not even Mr. Gold.

****

The door to the bedroom was open. The bedroom, where all this trouble had begun. She’d had a dream that her husband loved her, and when she’d woken up, she’d tried to make it real.

But he had been dreaming about Belle.

Belle.

The name had a weird echo in her mind. The other woman. Her husband’s lover. The only other person she could blame for her unhappiness. Was Mr. Gold thinking about Belle now? Would he tell Belle that he had spent a night in jail?

Would he tell her he had done it so Mrs. Gold wouldn’t have to?

In the bathroom, she ran a washcloth under hot water and pressed it against her face. Most of her makeup had been cried off earlier, so the wash was more for warmth. When Mrs. Gold looked at herself in the mirror, all she saw was her own exhaustion. Red eyes, flushed cheeks, quivering lips. Even cleaned up, she was still a mess.

But Mr. Gold had put himself in jail for her.

She looked closer at her reflection, so close that she pressed her forehead to the glass. So close that she couldn’t see the whole of her face. She was just an abstraction, broken apart into pieces. What about her was worth that kind of sacrifice? What about her was worth anything? In the mirror, she was nothing but pink skin, dark lashes, sky blue eyes.

Mama’s eyes.

Mrs. Gold jerked away from the mirror like it had electrocuted her. Maybe it had. Something had to happen to make her hear a voice in her head.

It was her own voice. Only sadder, more gentle. That was how her thoughts had been in the squad car too. And she’d heard it before then. Off and on, in little flashes just like this. She’d been hearing it for weeks.

If there was anything creepier than hearing a voice in your head, it had to be agreeing with that voice. It was right, she did have Mom’s eyes. Sky-blue, just like Uncle Peter and Andrew used to have. Just like Janine and Chloe still did.

But she had never thought of her mother as mama. That sounded like something from some historical drama where everyone wore ball gowns and corsets. Maybe she was being possessed by the spirit of a Regency aristocrat. Maybe one of her past lives was trying to communicate with her from beyond the grave.

Or maybe she was very, very drunk.

She turned the light off in the bathroom and peeled off her dress, then looked around her armoire for something she could sleep in. Mr. Gold had never bought her any comfortable pajamas, only negligees and skimpy short sets. In the past--which Mrs. Gold was about two weeks away from thinking of as “the good old days”--she’d rarely worn anything to bed. Once they got home, the only reason she wore clothes was so Mr. Gold could take them off. Especially her lingerie. Mr. Gold liked nothing more than to rip her underwear off her body and leave her in tattered rags before he fucked her

Mara Trudine probably couldn’t have kept Sugar ‘n’ Spice in business if Mrs. Gold hadn’t needed to restock on panties every week. Well, that was one way to help out an old friend.

There was one long sleeved tee-shirt in her wardrobe. It was mostly see-through, with a pattern of red velvet roses dotting the thin red mesh. In the magazine, the model had worn this shirt with a camisole underneath. Mrs. Gold was lucky if Mr. Gold let her wear a bra when she went out in this shirt.

But it was the closest thing to comfortable that she had. A pair of leggings would keep her legs warm. Mrs. Gold didn’t own any sweatpants or yoga pants--or any pants at all for that matter. Mr. Gold had always treasured the ability to grab her whenever he wanted her. Skirts and dresses provided the best access, so that was all he let her buy.

She sighed. Of course, that was in the past. The way Mr. Gold was acting now, he might as well have bought her a space suit to wear around town, helmet and all.

This was the first night she’d ever spent alone in this house. This was the first time she’d ever gotten into this bed and not expected Mr. Gold to join her. As she pulled back the quilt, Mrs. Gold was struck with a memory from last night: Her husband, trembling with rage, throwing this same blanket over her body before he left. She had tried to make love to him. She had tried to pretend to be Belle, just to get him to touch her. And he had seen it as a betrayal, a violation.

He was right.

Mrs. Gold knew that she had done wrong. Her actions were not just immoral, but incorrect. In trying to force her husband to be near her, she had only made him want to be further away. He had run away from her to the guest bedroom. Run and hid, like she was a monster.

Emma Swan kept trying to protect Mrs. Gold, but she didn’t understand. Mrs. Gold hadn’t just done wrong, she was wrong. She was the wrong person. It felt like she always had been. Wrong as a daughter, wrong as a friend, wrong as a student, wrong as a girlfriend.

Wrong as a wife.

For as long as she’d been married, she had told herself that the feeling of wrongness didn’t matter. No one’s opinion of her mattered except for Mr. Gold’s. She didn’t have to be good at anything else, as long as she was the slutwife he wanted. But over the past several months, he had made it clear how little he wanted anything to do with her. Maybe he hated her as much as everyone else in Storybrooke did.

She couldn’t sleep in this bed. This was their marriage bed. If their marriage was broken she’d be better off sleeping on the floor. At the very least, she would follow in Mr. Gold’s footsteps and run away to the guest room. There, she knew, she wouldn’t have the memory of Mr. Gold hating her. If he thought of Belle while he had waited for sleep last night, she didn’t know it for certain. She wouldn’t have to think about it.

With the lights still out, Mrs. Gold went across the hall to the other bedroom. Mr. Gold’s dressing gown hung from a hook behind the door. She buried her face in the silk and breathed in his scent. Before she could think about what she was doing, Mrs. Gold had wrapped the dressing gown around her body. She pulled it tightly over her shoulders, hugging herself, pretending Mr. Gold was holding her. Pretending that Mr. Gold would ever hold her again.

This bed was smaller than the one in their room. It felt less empty with only one person in it. The pillow smelled like Mr. Gold’s hair.

I love you.

The voice in her head again, saying what she wanted to say. She had never told Mr. Gold that she loved him. Until recently, she didn’t know that she had. Now the knowledge was a burden. It was an ache in her heart, a hole that would never be filled.

Everything was over.

****

He leaves her in a swirl of wine-red smoke, at exactly the stroke of midnight. He goes, to walk into a trap the two of them have all but set themselves. He goes, to keep her safe from his enemies. He goes, to lay down the final pieces of the plan that will--someday--lead to their complete happiness.

As he leaves, he keeps his face turned away from her. She understands. When he gets to where he is going, he will have to wear the mask of a devious trickster. Tears would spoil the effect.

Her eyes are moist as she watches him disappear.

Candlelight reflects the golden sparkles in the skin of his hands, the glinting crinkles of his hair. His leather-clad back has a dark gleam to it. He keeps his shoulders straight, his arms poised--ready to put on a show.

She cannot look away from him. She would say that she is memorizing him, but she already knows him by heart.

They will be together again.

She must believe that, even when he is gone from their home. She trusts her husband. She trusts the plan they have made together. She trusts herself. She will ensure that they are together again. She can do the brave thing and know that bravery will follow. Though the power she has is small and meager, there is enough determination in her to move the world if she needs to.

If Rumple needs her to.

She cannot stay staring at the place where he was. There is work to be done. Her husband is doing his part of the plan, now she must do hers.

Since she is already in the dining room of their castle, her first task is to fetch the chipped cup. It sits in a place of honor on top of the magical cupboard that creates their meals.

The sight of this cup never fails to make her smile. She had dropped it, on the first of many times one of her master’s orders had shocked her. For a time, it was a shameful thing for her, a sign of failure. Over time, she had decided that she liked his orders, and that she wanted him to give her more. She had offered him the imperfect cup, and he had understood what she had wanted--and he had given it to her.

When she had left, her lover had destroyed this room. He had smashed all the plates and cups, except for this. Later, he told her that he had wanted to throw it against the wall, but instead he had broken down in tears. He had it clutched to his chest when she found him in the dungeons.

Since the wedding, the meaning of the cup changed again. Now they serve each other, whenever they wish to play. The cup is imperfect, but it is beautiful because of what it means to them. It was the first object they shared together, even before their wedding rings.

She holds it delicately, as she walks to the next room. The night is dark, but torches light at her approach. Even if they didn’t, she knows the way. The castle is her home, and she walks without fear through every hallway.

The small room at the end of the corridor holds everything Rumple has of his son. There are clothes and toys and even a few battered schoolbooks. This is the boy that he lost a lifetime ago. This is the boy that he will destroy the world to get back. She has never met Baelfire, but she loves him. She will do anything she can to reunite her husband with his son.

If she could, she would take everything in this room. The memories are so precious. She would give them to the boy, once they find him. But her husband has given her specific instructions, and she trusts him enough to follow them. Magic can be fickle, especially when there are too many variables. If they ask it for too much, there is a greater chance that something might go wrong, and an even higher price to pay. They will only need one object of Bae’s to be able to find him in the new world. She can only take the shawl.

It is yellow wool, a little ragged and dirty from belonging to a young boy. Her husband knitted it himself. She feels the love that was woven into every fiber of it.

She cushions the chipped cup against the shawl and holds both objects in one hand. With her other hand, she draws out a single glove from the pocket of her gown. It is a magic glove, made of black velvet and her husband’s golden thread. As soon as it is on her hand, she is transported to the next room.

This is a room with no door. It can only be entered by using her husband’s magic. This is where he keeps things safe, including his secrets. This is where he stores the remains of his life before he had magic.

There is a wide bed, stuffed with straw. A rough-hewn farm table with a bench and pair of stools at either end. A spinning wheel wound with simple yarn instead of the gold her husband is famous for spinning. She looks over these furnishings with familiarity and with fondness. She has been in this room many times before.

Often enough to know where to find what she seeks.

A small table serves the function of a desk. It is piled high with papers, mostly drawings. Rumple’s first wife drew pictures of their son when he was a baby. And when the boy had grown older, he had developed the same talent.

Her mental image of Baelfire comes from a sketch he made of himself: Wavy dark hair and steady dark eyes, a boy who has already suffered and struggled more than he ought to have, a boy who smiles rarely, but is rarely afraid. She would rather take that drawing than handle what lies on top of it.

The dagger that controls her husband is an evil thing, but he has made her the mistress of it. When he proposed, he gave her the dagger, and submitted to her all the power of the Dark One. Together, they have studied its magic, tested its limits. While she does enjoy having some authority over her beloved, the thought of anyone else using the dagger on him--or hurting him with it--is enough to make her blood boil.

She cannot allow that to happen. She cannot allow the dagger to fall into any hands but her own or Rumple’s. This is the only weapon that can hurt him. She will never allow him to be hurt. She holds the dagger to her chest, just like the shawl and the cup.

She takes off the magic glove and finds herself in the tower room where her husband does most of his work. He knew that he was leaving, so he has put away most of his potions and equipment.

He may never see these things again.

Tears burn in her eyes. Stumbling to his work table, she lets their things slip from her arms. Her satchel is up here, Rumple must have placed it in this room. He gave her this satchel, the last time they were separated. The last time she had to leave her home. It is brown leather, with a design of a red rose blooming among the thorns.

She sets the cup and the shawl inside the satchel. Then she takes the dagger and slashes the glove to shreds. Golden sparks and wine-red smoke emanate from the glove as magic destroys magic. Now she will never be able to enter the safest room again. But neither will anyone else.

Everything she needs to carry fits inside the satchel. She could probably fit the entire potions cabinet and her husband’s spinning wheel inside and never feel the weight of it on her shoulders.

Her mission is done, but she has no will to rest. Their bedroom is at the bottom of the stairs below this tower, but she cannot bring herself to go there now. She has never slept a full night in this castle without her husband, without at least expecting him to join her. Their marriage bed is large and luxurious. It will feel so empty without him. She cannot sleep there.

She wanders over to the window. A waning moon and hundreds of stars cast a soft glow over her husband’s spinning wheel. When he needs to think, he will spin straw into gold, working continuously from dawn until darkness. A day’s work fills up a bobbin of thread, and he has more bobbins than she could ever count. They mark centuries of pensive isolation. He starts every spinning day with one empty, and the work isn’t over until it’s full.

But when she looks at the flyer, a bobbin is already waiting there, half-filled up with gold thread.

For a moment, she is perplexed. It is unlike Rumple to leave a loose end. But then she smiles. She understands. Her husband has left her with a message. An unfilled bobbin means the day is not done. There is still more work to do.

They are not finished yet.

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic

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occasionalrpmemes · 4 years

Text

Will Wood: the Normal Album Sentence Starters

lines taken from the 2020 album. edit as desired. tw: violence, disordered eating, gender dysphoria, mental illness, substance abuse, suicidal ideation, death

01. Suburbia Overture: Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally

“Trick or treat. Merry Christmas.”

“Howdy neighbor!”

“Thank you Jesus!”

“It don’t look like survival, but buy now or die.”

“You’re not alone.”

“The lights are on, but no one’s home.”

“Takes a village to fake a whole culture.”

“Home is where the heart is- You ain’t homeless, but you’re heartless.”

“It’s the safest on the market.”

“You still gotta watch where you park it.”

“Give me your half-life crisis.”

“I can tell that you know where paradise is.”

“Parasites don’t care what your blood type is.”

“A snowflake only matters in a blizzard.”

“Everyone knows that nobody knows that.”

“Well, word gets around on hit number stations.”

“Smile and wave, boys, kiss the cook, live laugh and love, please pass the pills.”

“It’s only culture. It’s only culture. It’s only culture.”

“Didn’t they want your blood?”

“Why apologize when you turn blue and cold?

“Hey, fuck your culture.”

“Do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash-and-burn?”

“Hey, you’re only mortal.”

02. 2econd 2ight 2eer (well, that was fun, goodbye)

“The devil made me do it, but I also kinda wanted to.”

“Forget bored stiff, I got rigor mortis.”

“My third eye’s open and I like what I see.”

“If you knew what I knew, if you saw what I see- ”

“But I got facts and I’m not afraid to use ‘em.”

“I’m getting better one forever at a time.”

“If sick is defined by what’s different, well then pull the plug out and let me die.”

”Who I am, I choose through all the things I do.”

“If it rhymes, it’s true, but I hate poetry.”

“Well that was fun, goodbye.”

03. Laplace’s Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!)

“Have you ever died in a nightmare? Woke up surprised you hadn’t earned your fate?”

“Have you ever felt like Atlas, threw your back out on the axis, and collapsed and threw the planet away?”

“Nobody dies agnostic.”

“Nobody dies agnostic, but we still dial 9-1-1.”

“Am I really that bad?”

“Whatever you think of me, if you were in my shoes, you’d walk the same damn miles I do.”

“With my head up in the clouds, I can see so much ground.”

“From up here, you look like ants in a row.”

“It doesn’t take a killer to murder. It only takes the reason to kill.”

“The difference twixt fate and free will is whether you’re singing.”

“You wash your hands of where you’ve been until you flood the second floor. Neatly fold your skeletons, but still can’t shut the closet door.”

“The only ones in need of love are those who don’t receive enough.”

“You could break an angel’s fall, and ignore the Devil’s call.”

“It’s a small hell after all.”

“Man, no more than animal, is made of moral chemicals.”

“If you were in my shoes, you’d see I wear the same size as you.”

04. I / Me / Myself

“I’ve been feeling lightheaded since I lost enough weight to fit back in my skin.”

“Am I pretty now?”

“For some reason, I find myself lost in what you think of me.”

“I wish I could be a girl, and that way you’d wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend.”

“Am I pretty enough to lie to?”

“Just little old me in a big, big world.”

“I’ve been feeling lighthearted since I gained enough weight back to cover my bones.”

“You’ll be walking out early, but the show must go on.”

“No, I know that I’m wrong. But I love how you’re on my side when I cross that line.”

“It’s been a point of contention between myself and this body that they stuck me in.”

“The privilege of being born to be a man.”

”I am quantum physics; my witness brings me into existence.”

”Am I pretty enough to love back?”

“Am I pretty enough to fucking die?”

“I wish-”

“Don’t you think that there’s a chance that you could live without it?”

05. ...well, better than the alternative

“My daughter’s growing up. She’s gonna be a lot like me, but I don’t wanna be at all like me.”

“I don’t wanna be at all like me.”

“You’re telling me I’m holding up eleven fingers.”

“Stranger things than death can happen.”

“Everybody knows that nobody knows that.”

“Everybody’s in on everybody’s business.”

“This isn’t my first Christmas, I know mistletoe when I see it.”

“Baby, could you play along with me?”

“Baby, would that be alright with you?”

“When we find out what’s wrong with me, could you tell me how I’m right for you?”

“Could you tell me how I’m right for you?”

“Could you tell me if I’m still pretty?”

“If they could see the future back when times were simple...”

“If everyone’s sick, well then, nobody can catch it.”

“Everybody’s all up in my god damn business.”

“This isn’t my first kiss.”

“It’s better to be lost than loved, now, isn’t it?”

“Everybody’s all up in my motherfucking business!”

“This isn’t my first anything.”

“After all of that’s been done to me, could you tell me how, could you tell me how, could you tell me—”

“What’s so wrong about what’s wrong with me?”

“I’m just trying to do what’s right by you!”

06. Outliars and Hyppocrates: a fun fact about apples

“Did you know that the hole in the apple didn’t come from the outside in? It was eaten from the core and out to the skin, and that’s why you’ll never find the worm in it.”

“The disease is defined by its treatment.”

“You people make me sick.”

“Who’d want to be human anyway?”

“Why’d you come into this world or come out that way?”

“Isn’t it funny? Well, not "ha-ha" funny, but y’know, funny.”

“I doubt that you would even if you could change.”

“You think it makes you special, but it makes you strange.”

“The things that make you special are the things that make you strange.”

“I am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you the red-hot sky.”

“And if you’re believers, then why would you grieve for the dead, instead of a devil that you never prayed for?”

“Too weird to love, too scared to die. Too alien to take you home.”

“Who’d want to belong to anyone?”

“I mean, what do people even do?”

“If you love me, let me let you go.”

“Five more minutes, please? You wouldn’t believe the dream I just had.”

07. Black Box Warrior - OKULTRA

“Bless the torpedoes!”

“For what? For what??”

“For what it’s worth, if it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now.”

“There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down.”

“Wonder if Christ-Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee.”

“Auf wiedersehn! Au revoir!”

“Hello, welcome. Why don’t you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to.”

“Now, what’s bothering you?”

“Well, why don’t we start at the beginning?”

“Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?”

“Did you die before your day?”

“You got a better idea? It’s about the best we could come up with.”

“What, you think ideas spread because they’re good? No, they spread because people like them.”

“So here we are once again. Holding, as it were, a mirror up to your mirror.”

“I guess it’s just something people do!”

“You learn to be an animal instead.”

“I never did think you better than this.”

“It’s you who are the problem. Not the things you do, but something sick inside.”

“Boy, you really is defective.”

“Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects.”

“You’ve lost your mind and almost lost your life before, so you’ll be fine!”

“Why would you want to look back? I mean, it’s no good looking back. So try to look forward now.”

“For what it’s worth, if they were gonna get you boy, they would have by now.”

08. Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave.

“They could prescribe you any illness you’d like if you define the terms of your ailments.”

“A crow don’t know the smell of carbon monoxide.”

“How many years have you been on that couch?”

“Your draw a line in the sand where it ends and you begin, but the tide rolls in, so who knows?”

“A little identity never hurt nobody, but lately you’ve been focusing too much on yourself.”

“How many milligrams of you are still left in there?”

“Back in my day, we didn’t need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists. We just drank ourselves to death. And god damn it, we liked it!”

“What’s a symptom, what’s a flaw, can it be both?”

“Well, I suppose that’s an answer.”

“Would you give up your humanity for just a touch of sanity?”

“They’ve discovered a cure for the symptoms of being alive. It’s a painless procedure with a low rate of failure, but very few patients survive.”

“And a little conformity never hurt nobody, but lately I’ve been worried that you’re losing yourself.”

“What’s my prognosis?”

“Disease is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Tell me ‘so it goes.’”

“Better safe than sorry, and we both know the danger.”

“So doctor, could you run another test?”

“If our harmonies don’t sync, we can change our voices.”

“Don’t heed no evil wills of moral nihilists.”

“Don’t you make me waste my breath.”

“GOD DAMN IT!”

“Does aspirin kill you with the pain?“

“You’re not your thoughts, you’re not your brain, you’re just the character you’ve made.”

“What seem like separate body parts come together to believe they’re you, and not just chemistry.”

“It’s not the way that you were raised, or what the advertisements say.”

“It’s not what you pay for, what you pray for, what you want, or what you say.”

“Something tells me that you need, forgive me now if I misspeak--”

“Something tells me you prefer to be sitting there flipping through those old issues of People.”

“Well, that’s our time. See you next week.”

09. Love, Me Normally

“In lipstick on the mirror are the lyrics to my obituary.”

“Crossing my eyes, dot my T’s.”

“I was delivered holding scissors.”

“I live deliberately, I’m a quitter.”

“I never agreed to participate in this game.”

“Won’t follow my dreams, cause they all got me waking up screaming.”

“I’d rather be normal. Yes, so normal.”

“I suggest that we keep this informal.”

“A normal human being wouldn’t need to pretend to be normal.”

“Well, I guess that’s the least that I owe ya.”

“C’mon, c’mon, and love me normally.”

“If I could live in third person, well, I don’t think life would be much worse than it is.”

“Is it courageous or escapist to leave the quarantine when you’re contagious?”

“It may just be a cold. And besides, I don’t wanna get old.”

“I drank myself to death to be the afterlife of the party.”

“When the afterparty came, I was rolling in my grave.”

“Now, this is the part of the song where I talk to my audience.”

“There’s something I want from you hepcats tonight.”

“I want you to look to your left. Look to your right. Your twelve o’clock, three o’clock, six o’clock, nine o’clock, rock around the clock tonight–”

“I want you to find those points of no return, those singularities, those burning rings of fire in the beautiful pupils and the beautiful eyes of the beautiful boy, girl, neither, both, or in-between that you brought with you tonight. And I want you to tell ’em how you really feel!”

“Jam that square peg in the round hole in their hearts!”

“You love them exactly the way that everybody else is.”

“I was nothing before, so I couldn’t have asked to be born. I’ll be nothing again, so what am I between now and then?”

“Is there nothing to fear? Cause shit’s getting weird.”

“So to God who made this man: you better have one hell of a plan.”

10. Memento Mori: the most important thing

“If you’re lucky you’ll be surrounded by the ones that you love, when the lights in your eyes fade and life flashes by.

“One day you’re going to die.”

“Heaven, hell, nirvana, nothing, no one knows how it ends.”

“Rest in peace— or pieces.”

“Read your horoscopes, your palms and tarot cards. But either way your destination ain’t very far.”

“You could drown, or choke, or burn, or be hit by a car.”

“What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but something will eventually.”

“One day you’ll look back at the life that you lead. No more future left to fear that you’ll have the past to regret.”

“But your worries will be over if you truly realize— one day you’re going to die!”

“Take it away, hands!”

“In the fabric of time and in the vastness of space, a billion amounts to nothing in infinity’s face.”

“Your life never mattered, so who cares if it's a waste?”

“Well, one day you’ll be not even a faint memory.”

“You’ll never know what it all means.”

“Just keep this in mind: that everything and everyone goes with the passage of time.”

“No need to fear, ’cause when it’s here, you won’t be alive.”

“Try not to think about it!”

“So if you only have one chance, you oughta try your best to live as you like.”

#rp memes #sentence starters #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #wwattw

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barnesandco · 4 years

Text

Carnations

A love story told through the four seasons of the year.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Descriptions of violence and injury, especially in the first few paragraphs.

A/N: Look at me, ignoring my two on-hiatus series while I indulge in thematic one-shots! I had this idea that I couldn’t let go of until it was out her so I hope you like it!

He's brought to you in the dead heat of hellish midsummer, on a stretcher carried by barking Hydra guards, orders being delivered like slaps to the face. You're a trembling leaf on weak knees, so used to only the walls for company when you're bombarded by this explosion of noise, as they demand that you fix him. He - the Soldat - has been struck by a RPG, thigh torn to shreds, white bone glinting between the mauled flesh and you almost vomit. The only thing holding your stomach down is the knowledge that your food is as valuable as gold, not to be wasted with how little you receive.

They're pushing you towards him, cruel hands and crueller words against the tattered fabric covering your skin, and you step closer. Let your own hands - frail and itchy with what they hold within - hover above the mauled flesh of his thigh. You have never healed an injury of this extent, and you wonder if you are capable of it, until actions silence your doubt. The bloody muscle lifts, like magic, to return to its original place, skin drawing itself taut over him like a band-aid. All that is left is a thin gash, as if from a shallow knife wound, blood pippling out. The guards look at you sceptically, before calling for medical supplies and instructing you to dress the wound.

He wakes up mere moments after the minions have left, eyes blank and lifeless like everything else around you. Does not pay any mind to how your hands have frozen where they were pressing the gauze over the wound, and how you now stare at him, a deer in headlights.

"You're the American, right?" You have no idea what possesses you to say this, fractured Russian slipping from your tongue. Sand between fingers.

"I don't know," He answers, voice softer than carnation petals. Perfect English, broken mind. Nobody who walks through these halls is a stranger to heartbreak, but few of them are sympathetic to it. Surprisingly, you don't flinch when he moves to sit up, because the movement is mechanical and self-aware instead of malicious, as you are accustomed to.

"Does it hurt?" You ask in his native tongue this time, and only then does he notice the wound you are dressing. Shakes his head and you nod yours, securing the dressing. Eyes meet icy blue that unthaws slowly under the heat of your gaze.

---

Autumn is settling, a deep, weary ache in your body as you prepare for the pain that winter pushes like needles into your bones. The only way you know this is by the humid, earthy scent of petrichor, for there are no falling leaves here with which to estimate the time of year. Your hands shake, fingers running across your forearms as you wait.

The Soldat is expected to return from a gruelling mission - the kind nobody escapes whole from - in a matter of minutes. The doctors determined, after your prior success, that your healing was beneficial to the body, strengthened their weapons - their soldiers - further, and so he is your patient. Sometimes, weeks will pass before you seek him, and sometimes months, but one thing remains constant.

The electricity in your veins sparking like a live wire at the touch of your skin on his, not from these powers, but from something greater. Whatever elicits that spark, makes your heart beat staccato, it gives him a color in his cheeks you have only heard of, only dreamt of. Vague memories of pink carnations planted in the boundaries of the neighborhood park come to mind when you recall his blush. Young and pink but having endured vicious pests and survived more years than you would think, blossoming season after season.

There will be no carnations, now, however, in the dawn of autumn. Falling leaves and petrichor sunshine intermingling with rainbows framed by grey clouds wade through your memory like a sepia-tinted haze. You were eleven when Hydra found you, took you for their own and made you more powerful than you were, yet somehow smaller. The girl who growled back at stray dogs can only whimper at guards years later.

Those guards break your silence, your reverie, as they guide in the Soldier - James, you've managed to learn - and dump him on the pile of straw they call a bed, along with the first aid kit. You won't need it tonight, so you push it aside and trail a smoldering fingertip along the gash on his cheek, desperately ignoring the softening of his concrete stare.

Every time, the first word spoken from your chapped lips lets the spell fall away like silk down glass - smooth and quick - but you need to ensure that he is stable. The usual signal is the slowing of his heartbeat, and you settle two fingers over his wrist, letting the pulse thrum through you. His vitals are steady, as is to be expected, super-soldier strength doing its job. Your job - the healing - is but a formality, or a greed for more and for better, as he does fine without you.

"James?" You whisper, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. It doesn't work. "James? It's me. You got hurt on your mission and I'm patching you up. I need to check your torso for fractured ribs. Can you please take your jacket off?" He complies, God how you hate that word, and you're soon looking at his mostly spotless torso, defined muscles and strong structure interrupted by a single blue bruise. You prod gently, can tell by the color that it's nothing to worry about. Help him back into the jacket.

"I don't want to go back," He says suddenly, eyes downcast and the statement a sad declaration rather than a protest. As if he is surprised that he knows what he wants, or rather doesn't want, when, for as long as he can remember, he hasn't wanted anything. Weapons don't have desires, but this one is broken. This one is faulty.

"What do you mean, James?" You ask anyway, well aware of exactly what he means, just as surprised as he is that he voiced such a thing.

"The tube. It's cold and you're warm. I don't want to go," He says, meeting your eyes, and you don't have words that encapsulate the gravity of the moment. He has become a bluebell, growing between rain-washed sidewalks, rare as can be and just as beautiful, but oh so lonely.

---

The Winter Soldier's lips are as cold as his bionic hand against the small of your back, as the concrete wall he pushes you against. Everything is quiet, as it often is when the world is numbed by snowfall, and you need not be able to see it to know that it is there. Right now, you see nothing, eyes closed, muted gasps escaping from your mouth as his moves lower to your neck, your collarbone. His teeth scrape like howling December winds against your skin, pins and needles sending trails of fire through your abdomen. His hands hold you steady while yours find solid ground between the unkempt strands of his dark hair. Arms surround your waist, a protective fortress as you desperately try to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and instead focus on the closed panel in the door that guards can open to check on you.

Deciding that your attention has been diverted for too long, he returns to full height from where he was worshipping your pulse point with that pink tongue, and holds your face gently, softly in his hands. Tilts his head forward, letting his forehead meet yours with an elegant bump, before his lips slant over yours again. You drink him in like he's the last taste of water you'll ever get, like you are sick and he is the cure. His hands are roaming, roaming, roaming, inhaling these last few breaths of freedom to do as they please before they're frozen again or obligated to do worse than reduce a woman to warm sighs.

"James, please," You say, moving those hands lower, lower to pause above your navel, and he pulls away with a stifled groan. Presses his forehead to yours, trembling hands splayed out across your lower abdomen, transferring heat and cold in equivalent waves. When you shudder, it is not from the temperature, but from the power of all the words you want to say. The words you want to spill like a waterfall emerging from a burst dam, swirling and raging and dangerous, just as this is is.

Your secret rendezvous, these post-mission meetings that turn into something more after you have done your job healing him. Dangerous doesn't even begin to cover it - it's outright foolish, asking for death. Lack of hope makes people do crazy things, such as finding love where there should be none. Love, in turn, heals in ways that your hands never can, drawing this man, this soldier, out of the mold they have put them in, the bullet casing that he is.

He pulls back with a heavy sigh, hands moving to grip your waist and pull you upright as he looks at you, swirling blues thunderous October storms.

"I should go, shouldn't I?" He asks with a nervous glance to the door behind him. You rest your hands over his biceps, massaging the stiff muscle on your left and stroking the cold metal on your right as you answer.

"If it was up to me, you'd never leave. But yeah, I guess you should."

"It's been too long already. I'm surprised they haven't come looking yet," He says, still making no move to leave. You smile, a sad, tearful thing, and let your hands rise to cup his cheeks. He tilts his head to kiss your palm, delivers a smile softer than a carnation against your powerful skin.

"We'll get out of this, doll, I promise," And the spell is broken as your hands slide down to grip the collar of his vest, anger and fear bubbling like lava under the heat of his kisses, of his love.

"If you're planning something-"

"I'm not. Not now, at least," He reassures, but your concern is not so easily assuaged.

"James…" You begin to warn, brows knitting together. Having grown stronger, more stable, more able to recover from the programming - even having certain moments where he breaks free of it entirely - he's growing confident. Confidence breeds free will, and free will could get them killed in a place like this.

"Doll, I'll be fine. I'm just- I'm getting better, and they don't have the same hold on me that they used to. One of these days, baby, one of these days," He says, enveloping you in a warm embrace, lips embedding the words into your temple, a promise and a threat in equal measure wrapped like a Trojan horse he's preparing for Hydra.

Your own arms clutch his waist tight, eyes open, steely gaze on the door as you pray he never gets the chance. You pray that Hydra self-destructs before James has a chance to do himself any harm, because you don't know if you'll survive that for long enough to heal him. There is no cure for death - it is only treated by tears.

---

Carnations bloom in the singular pot on the windowsill, a luxury the two of you have decided to afford yourselves amongst the stifling dreariness and humid gray of your Bucharest apartment. The lumpy mattress is stiff and awkward beneath you, but James' lap does a good job of shielding you from it. He sits, back against the wall and arms around you, metal hand holding the journal he is writing in, and rests the brown suede against your ribs that rise and fall with every breath you take. To anyone else, it might be irritating to have to shift and adjust in order to write, but to him, it is a valuable reminder that you're alive, you're together.

After his escape from Triskelion and the catastrophic fall of Hydra, he knew nothing, was nothing but a shell of a man scrambled like crossed wires, short-circuiting and sparking in the confines of his mind. There were two things his broken psyche held onto like a lifeline: Steve Roger's battered face in that helicarrier telling him something he's supposed to recognize, and your rare smile.

He found you, afterwards. It took two weeks of hellscape recollections and more courage than he had any idea that he possessed, but he found you. In the abandoned ruins of a devastated Hydra base - his devastated Hydra base - he found you, eyes closed and near-dead, but no. You limped out on glowing limbs, healing yourself as he let his first tear in a century fall down his dirt-smeared cheek, yours pressed to his shoulder like a drying leaf between the pages of a cherished book.

Now, he cherishes you, relishes in you and your touch, the finest comfort he has ever had. This - your washed hair against his cheek, your legs a warm blanket straddling his, and your hands stroking a whispered song against his chest - this is a luxury. The pillow of your lips grazes the stubble on his face, a distraction, a reminder, and he let's himself smile against your mouth. Puts down the book and shifts so you're above him, his red Henley slipping down one of your shoulders to reveal the skin he would die to save. Pink lips skimming your collarbone, dainty fingers in his hair, his own clenching and releasing your hips like spring flowers blooming in time-lapse.

"Someone's in a good mood, today," You whisper against his gentle lips, tilting his jaw to plant a peck against them before waiting for his answer.

"Hard not to be when you're treatin' me like I'm made of diamonds," He quips with a swift brush of his thumb over your cheekbone, hand sliding back and down to rest above the small of your back.

"Never seen a diamond, wouldn't know what to do with one," You shoot back playfully, reminding him that you have no use for material items, however valuable.

"Well, I wouldn't know what to do without my diamond," He says, referring to you, bumping noses and laying a chaste peck against your grinning lips.

These moments - between your gruelling jobs and worse nights, the ones where you wake up sweaty and tear-sodden and disoriented - these moments are all you have to live for. The notion that he might not have you some day is a scary one, especially because you fear how much you need each other.

"We've talked about what would happen if we got separated. We have a plan, in case something happens to me-" You remind him gently before he lays a forefinger across your lips and you resist the urge to nip at it.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, honey. Nothing, I swear," He promises solemnly, honeyed gaze severe under the weekend afternoon sunshine illuminating your otherwise gray apartment. For now, just now, you push away the niggling thought of if something could happen to him, and pick up the notebook that holds the secrets he doesn't yet want to burden you with. You watch him spill the ink left over from the cruel tattoos on his mind into those yellowing pages. Watch him free his past as you try not to worry about your future.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @notsomellowmushroom @veganfangirl5 @mood-pancakes @lbuck121 @redhairedfeistynerd @geeksareunique

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 137 prt 1

137

Standing on the beach, Lance watched the ocean waves lapping the shoreline. He’d gotten so big now. 20ish weeks and his toes were only visible under his stomach. His toes that were currently dug into the sand. He could only go out at night now, but he liked it better that way. The nightlife seemed so far away. Everyone seemed so far away. Keith was so far away. He’d given up. He’d given up and let Keith go... which meant he still shouldn’t be waiting for his boyfriend’s return. He’d heard from Rieva and Matt that Keith was back. He didn’t know if he cared or not. He was broken inside with a million prickly pieces choking his throat and lungs. Mami was gone. He’d tried calling Keith, crying and shaking so hard that his phone had crumbled in his hand before the call connected. He’d given up. So long out of contact, that had to mean Keith was no longer his. He’d tried to go to Rome, to wait for Keith there, but in his head he images of Keith being happy. Happy and relaxed. Joking around with everyone, accepted by James, who seemed his arch rival. The images so clear in his head that his boyfriend didn’t need him.

He didn’t know which way was up anymore. He’d run from Matt and Rieva. Locked himself in his hotel room and didn’t want to listen to anything they had to say. Keith had come back safely but he hadn’t come for him. He’d been so good. He’d waited. He’d come back and waited... when Coran wanted him to stay in Platt. What good was a Platt where Keith wasn’t? A Platt where Mami wasn’t waiting for him anymore. What good was he to anyone when he looked like this? His stomach had grown so much. No longer hidden under Keith’s shirts. Everything hurt so badly, but... he couldn’t... he didn’t know how to start again or return to where he was before. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to. Maybe it was better if Lance McClain disappeared from the world...

Matt and Rieva picked Keith up at the airport. Hugs all round, despite having only seen each other the previous week. The drive to Varadero felt heavy. Keith was in the back of the small rental car, and Matt and Rieva weren’t really talking outside of the general greetings. Whatever it was, Keith felt like they weren’t telling him so didn’t explode in the back of the hatchback. Their friends were supposed to be checking on Lance. Supporting Lance. Keith was confused when Matt pulled into a car park, thinking they were going to a hotel. Rieva’s voice was soft and pained

“Lance will be down there. He likes to go for walks at night along the shoreline. He ran away from us... we’ve talked to him a couple of times, but... he’s really hurting. He didn’t want to see us, but I... I’ve never seen him this bad. It’s not like when came back from Sendak. He feels as if he’s given up on you and lost his way. You should be prepared for that”

“Thanks... I need to thank you for keeping an eye on him”

“We didn’t do much. He did finally talk to us, but he... he’s different. Kind of distant. He’s gotten big too. He doesn’t go out during the day anymore, but he has been to church once, we followed him”

“I still feel better that you guys came here. Thanks for picking me up. I’ll let you guys know how it goes”

Matt added completely unnecessarily

“You better not break his heart”

“You know I love him more than anything. I want to be with him and I’m not about to let him push me away”

“Good. Now go get your man”

Beach sand filled Keith’s shoes, so he toed them off and left them. It was easier to run on the beach without them anyway. Rieva said head for the shoreline so he did. He didn’t expect it’d take him nearly ten minutes of running that had dropped to jogging to find his boyfriend. Lance was standing on the beach, both hands on his swollen belly. He really had gotten bigger. So much bigger than when he’d last seen Lance. 3 physical months had stolen that time away from them. He wasn’t supposed to take anything personal with him on a mission, but he’d taken the last ultrasound photos and the photo of Lance showing his tiny tummy. The photos so creased from all the times he’d pulled them out to remind himself why he was going through everything even with Sendak dead.

Slowly Lance turned his head towards him, a pained smile on his lips

“Hey, Keith”

That was the drive he needed, running the last few steps he crashed into his boyfriend. Lance was finally back in his arms. Sobs falling from him as he held him tightly. Lance taking a shuddering breath before his knees gave out. Both of them sinking onto the damp sand. Lance had waited. He really had waited. And Keith had been late. Nuzzling into his boyfriend, they both tried to talk at the same time. He’d been so scared Lance would run and he had so many things to say to him

“Lance... I... I missed you so much”

“I didn’t think you’d ever come...”

“I couldn’t contact you. I tried to let you know I was coming back but you never answered”

“I broke my phone... and... I don’t think you loved me anymore. I kept waiting for you! I waited and I waited!”

Both of them were ugly crying. Lance shaking so hard in Keith’s arms he felt like he’d shatter from the intensity. Pushing him away, Lance’s big blue eyes searched him, as Keith grabbed Lance by the arms so he couldn’t push him away again, his boyfriend’s whole feel swapping to the aura of anger

“Why didn’t you come sooner?! I waited! I waited and I waited until I finally accepted you didn’t want me anymore...”

Lance knew he was on a mission. He would have come the instant he could have had, had that instant been any sooner

“Lotor...”

“So you don’t need me anymore... you were happier there, weren’t you?”

Keith felt crushed

“I was in a mission! I didn’t know about anything happening. I got the first flight home that I could, then found out you weren’t there. Do you know how worried I was? Every single day I hated being away from you. I couldn’t call. I couldn’t come home. I had no idea where you were. I hate it! I just wanted to be home with you...”

Lance pulled his arms out of Keith’s hold, covering his face as he cried

“Everything was okay and then it went to shit... I thought you’d be happier not having me anymore... but I couldn’t go back there... I have no where to go any more”

Mami might have passed, but Lance still had a loving family waiting for him Garrison

“Idiot. Hunk and Pidge are waiting for us. Everyone’s waiting for us”

“They probably hate me”

“They definitely don’t hate you. They miss you. Everyone wants you to come home already”

“Why did you come here? Why did you come back to me? I’m nothing special”

Taking Lance’s face in his hands, Keith wiped at the tear trails running down his boyfriend’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Lance really did seem so lost

“I came back because I can’t live without you. I hated it. I regretted leaving you before I even left. Every phone call, every message, I just wanted to reach through and hug you. I quit the Blades for good. Signed a new contract stating that I’m not to be restated with them. I never want to be without you this long again”

Lance’s bottom lip wobbled. He looked kind of cute with his fangs poking out. Leaning in, Keith kissed him. Lance hesitating at first, Keith persistent until his boyfriend finally returned the kiss and it turned into one of those “wow” kisses that they both couldn’t quite believe. Breaking the kiss, Keith nuzzled into Lance’s face

“I love you with all my heart, Lance McClain”

“I... missed you... I missed you so much”

“I’m here now. Are you okay? Are the twins okay?”

Lance sniffled loudly, trying to bring his breathing under control, Keith giving him a moment

“I... I had a bleed... it was terrifying... and Mami... Mami died... and I... don’t know what I’m doing anymore...”

“Okay. Okay, babe. It’s okay. I’m here... can you stand? It’s cold here...”

They were cold and they were wet. Lance was exhausted and Keith was scared, despite how he tried to soothe his lover

“It’s not that far back to the hotel...”

“You’ll have to show me the way. I have no idea where I am”

Lance nodded quickly

“Okay... okay...”

Keith couldn’t keep his eyes off Lance’s stomach. The singlet Lance wore under his jacket hugging his form tightly. Lance had been quite on the walk back, then excused himself to the bathroom when they’d gotten back. Keith listening at the door until he heard the shower running, then taking the change to snoop around.

Things were organised messes. A yellow bio waste container sat by a collection of syringes and glass medication bottles. Folded washing sat on the kitchen bench. Sandy shoes lived in various places across the area. Lance hadn’t been letting hotel staff in to clean. With two bedrooms coming off the main room, Keith opened the closest door to the bathroom first. Flicking the light on, his heart broke for his boyfriend. Miriam’s suitcase sat neatly on end of the bed. The room was Lance’s usual high level of clean, the case the only thing out of place. Carefully Keith closed the door, that room wasn’t a place for him to enter until Lance was ready for that.

The second room opened up onto a balcony. The door wide open, sand swept up and across the floor. Lance had piled the bed up. Keith seeing many of his clothes in there, which was good seeing he came with only the things that fitted in his backpack... which was in the hire car. He probably would have come with nothing if Pidge hadn’t reminded him that spare clothes were a thing. He might not have Lance’s sense of smell, but he could smell the depression and struggle in here. Lance had tried to be so strong. On the bedside table sat photos. The twins. Keith. Blue. Miriam. That was it. It hurt.

Closing the door behind him, Keith moved back to the kitchen. Lance coming out the bathroom already changed, towelling his hair off as he did. Keith’s eyes on his belly the whole time. He had so many questions. Like why had Lance had a bleed, and if he was really okay

“There’s lactose free milk in the fridge... I... kept buying it thinking of you”

Keith could honestly say that right now he didn’t want coffee at all

“Babe...”

“We should... you should... can you clear the sofa? I’ll make coffee. Just put whatever’s there on the coffee table”

“I...”

Lance looked away from him

“You keep staring at my stomach... I can you please clean the sofa. I know you want to talk but I can’t talk like this”

Keith had no choice. Lance turning lights on as he went about things. There were papers upon papers on the sofa. Keith trying not to look at them. Letters, documents, photos... he realised that most of it must have been to do with Mami. With the utmost of care he gathered everything, placing it all together on the coffee table, before using the glass decoration from the table to hold the pile down. Nervousness coursed through him. How was he not supposed to be captivated by Lance? How was he not supposed to be in awe over the amazing thing of the pregnancy still being viable. Their tiny macaroons not so tiny any more. They were more like cupcakes now.

Bringing over the mugs, Lance passed Keith his, before sitting down beside him. Nursing the mug, Keith tried to think of what to say...

“I’m sorry about Mami”

Lance tensed, then slowly relaxed again

“Thanks. I know it’s harder for you hearing it now”

“I’m never there when you need me...”

“I’m... not okay, but I think I’m going... I think being there made it better...”

“Can I ask...?”

“She was your Mami too. She bragged and bragged and bragged about you. Made me show everyone your photo. She passed away in her sleep. We were staying at my aunts for the night... and I... kind of felt it. I think maybe she did too. She passed peacefully, and she’d been so happy being here. It’s all I could have asked for really”

“Coran tried to call me back, but the Blades didn’t let him”

“I broke my phone. When it happened I tried to call you, but I was so upset it broke in my hands...”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there”

“It... was hard. But I can’t stop thinking about how happy she was. How at peace she seemed to be seeing everyone again. They were really good to both of us. And the minister here... we had a service for her and I didn’t feel like I had the right to be in the church. He realised I was the little boy he’d seen when Mami used to bring us to church. We’d been a few times while we’d been here. I broke down and apologised to him, but he didn’t throw me out...”

“That’s good...”

“Yeah. Not like the rest of the family back in America. Luis tried to have me barred”

Fucking Luis. Lance had bent over backwards for Miriam. He loved her fiercely. Lance hadn’t done anything wrong bringing Miriam here, if anything he’d given her back her family ties and happiness in her last days

“I had the bleed on the day before the funeral. Coran wouldn’t leave my side. He said my body freaked out from the stress. I stayed there for a couple of days before coming back here...”

“You’ve gotten big while I’ve been away”

“Yeah. Coran said we could find the sex out, but I couldn’t even look at the scans without you. Mami was happy for us... she kept saying you’d be back soon and in for a surprise”

“I’m sorry. A lot of stuff happened. Lotor killed Zarkon. Honerva went crazy. She was taken out by the Blades. It was a goddamn mess”

Lance raised his head to look at him in clear shock

“That’s more than I thought”

“Yeah. The second we could pull out, I was out and back to Rome. That was a mess too. Shiro ended up with a broken arm. Curtis has twin horns now, but his feet don’t smell as bad. Honerva turned her magic on him... it was fucked up”

“And you?”

“I’m okay”

Busted ribs. New scars. Lance wasn’t going to be happy

“That’s good”

Silence fell between them. Keith didn’t like it

“Babe...”

Lance shook his head

“Sorry. I was thinking about Mami”

“I really wish I’d been here”

“I know. I... I waited here. I couldn’t be there. Not in Platt without her and without you. Coran tried to push me to stay, but I couldn’t. I wanted to wait here for you. Where she was”

Keith had to ask. Lance had said he’d given up. He’d been prepared to give up. Then he’d waited

“What does this mean for us?”

Lance took a sip of his drink, leaning back in the sofa as he did

“I don’t know”

“And if I said I love you?”

“I’d say I love you, too. I do. I missed you so much that every day felt like a lifetime away. But I’m not sure what to do now. I don’t know how to move forward when I was feeling like all I could do was run and leave it all behind”

Keith placed his drink on the coffee table, before taking Lance’s drink and doing the same. Turning to his boyfriend, he placed his right hand on Lance’s belly, and his left on his boyfriend’s cheek

“We don’t have to rush back. We don’t have to rush at all. I still love you. That hasn’t changed at all”

“But we were apart for so long”

“And we’ll need time to figure things out again. To me, you’re still the most amazing man I’ve met”

“Even when I look like this?”

Keith rubbed Lance’s swell. He was at least three times the size he had been when he’d last done this

“This... there’s nothing wrong with this. Or with them. Rome isn’t coming after you or them. Or me. Matt and Rieva pretty much told the council there’d be all kinds of trouble if they so much as thought of it. We did get in trouble for lying. Mum was ready to shoot some idiots”

“That doesn’t seem possible”

“Like I said, a lot of things happened”

Lance worried his bottom lip, getting ready as he did

“How do we fix us?”

Keith sighed softly

“By figuring things out. I’d like to see the twins. I want to hear about everything you’ve been through and what you’ve been doing. I didn’t even debrief with Coran. I told Pidge and Hunk I didn’t want to tell anyone about what had happened until I told you”

“Did you get my letter?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t read it. I wanted you to tell me all things you had to say for yourself”

“That sounds like you. It’s probably better you didn’t. I don’t think I’m ready to go back yet”

“Then we won’t. What do you want to do right now?”

“Sleep... I feel like I don’t have the right to ask you to hold me... you’re right here and I don’t know what to do”

“Let’s just go to bed then. I’m kind of beat. I took the first flight I could get on to get back to America, then had to wait for Coran to organise the flight here... I really want to hold you”

Lance was shy as he undressed. Keith coming up behind him, placing his hands on his boyfriend’s belly as he kissed his hair

“You don’t need to be ashamed”

“I’m scared you’ll hate what you see”

“I don’t and I won’t. You’re the single most beautiful man I’ve met”

“You sound like you’re drunk”

This was bad. All it took was holding Lance for his dick to be like “Hello!”

“Nah. I just really missed you”

Rubbing Lance’s stomach, his boyfriend moaned softly. Keith feeling a little emboldened, rutting lightly as he slipped his hand lower. Letting his drop back, Lance whined into his touch, arse pushing back against Keith’s shameless dick

“Babe...”

“Touch me... I can’t remember how you feel on my skin anymore”

Fucking hell. He was aiming for snuggles and tummy time

“Bed?”

Lance nodded, moaning as Keith’s hand brushed over his dick. It’d been months. His boyfriend must have been so starved of physical affection. It was a good thing Keith was never going to leave him alone that long again.

Laying Lance out on the bed, his boyfriend hid his face as Keith stripped to his underwear. His belly was so cute. Climbing between Lance’s legs, Keith ran his hands over his lover’s swell, pressing kisses to the bump as Lance tried to draw his legs together. Too cute... and probably too much. They could barely talk properly but falling into bed together, yeah, they were good at that. Nuzzling Lance’s belly, his boyfriend propped himself up on his elbows, looking Keith in the eye. Keith blushing slightly

“Are you... you don’t have to... you, know...”

Keith kissed Lance’s baby bump again

“I’m not forcing myself”

“But you were staring so much before”

“Because I was mesmerised. Our twins are alive and they’re in there and I... I couldn’t the prouder”

“I thought you’d be grossed out”

“I’m not. I’m very not grossed out...”

“It’s weird”

“I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re beautiful”

Lance blushed under Keith’s praise. Keith relieved that he could make Lance relax enough to let him see him

“I... don’t know what to do...”

“Layback and let me love you?”

Lance snorted

“I’ve never not loved you... I didn’t think you’d want me ever again”

“That’s because you think too much. Lay back down and let me take care of you”

“Can... I have a kiss?”

“You can have all the kisses you want”

Lance blushed harder, Keith moving up to cage his boyfriend beneath him. If Lance doubted he was hard for him, he wouldn’t be doubting now as he rutted against him. Lance’s body was amazing. Not as amazing as his heart and soul, but amazing in its own right. Kissing him filled him with a thrill. Lance responsive to his kisses, starting to move his own hips in search of friction. Keith was liable to come in his underwear if Lance kept this up. Jerking off wasn’t exactly top priority during a mission. He and Lance had jerked off to each other on camera, but this was far better.

Lavishing attention on Lance’s chest, his boyfriend whimpered at the touch. Small mounds forming barely there breasts, Lance hissing as Keith sucked his nipple, Keith tugging the hard bud with his teeth before letting it slide out from between them

“You okay?”

“It’s tender...”

“Should I stop?”

“No... no, it’s fine... Coran said they’d be sore for a bit”

“Let me know if it gets too much”

Lance nodded, Keith turning his attention to Lance’s neglected nipple, swirling his tongue around the small bud before nipping, Lance letting out a much nicer moan at the stimulation. His body was so honest. His scent pouring thickly. He’d missed Lance’s smell. Knowing he was with his boyfriend who felt as good as he did made him proud.

Working his way down, he kissed all the spots Lance squirmed at, leaving a trail down to this snail trail as he then sat back. Lance was already leaking pre-cum. The muscles in his thighs spasming as his legs quivered. He loved it. With no hesitation he sank his lips down over the crown of Lance’s dick, Lance spluttering something in Spanish. He’d missed the taste of Lance. He was hopeless and completely whipped by the man beneath him. Bobbing his head, Lance moaned, Keith closing his eyes as he breathed Lance’s natural scent

“K-Keith...”

Holding Lance’s legs apart, his boyfriend rocked into his mouth the best he could. Keith not surprised it took moments for Lance to come down the back of his throat, until he was filling his mouth and Keith had to pull off so he didn’t choke. Swallowing what he could, he milked the last few drops from Lance with his hand, his boyfriend’s belly quivered slightly as he panted. Lapping Lance clean, his boyfriend groaned at him. So fucking cute... as it was Keith’s thighs were firmly pressed together trying not come.

“Babe...?”

Lance was staring up at him, Keith smiling at him

“I missed you”

“I missed you, too... I want to touch you”

“In a minute... I want to remember this. Remember you. It wasn’t the same not being by your side. I can’t do it. I can’t. You’re like the most radical person ever”

Lance chuckled at him, hand coming up to wipe cum from the corner of Keith’s lips

“And you’re terrible at bedroom talk...”

“You say that, but I’m pretty sure I can make you speechless”

“With your stupidity?”

Keith arched an eyebrow

“I’m wounded”

“Then come down here and let me kiss you all better”

“Mmm... I think I can do that”

Lance was overstimulated. Keith’s fingers inside of him as his boyfriend kissed him. He’d been so prepared to be done, then Keith had come. He’d come for him. His boyfriend had come all the way to Cuba to be with him. Lance felt horrible for doubting him, but after so long... All of this felt like a dream. Rocking in Keith’s fingers, the kisses they shared had him wanting more. He was more than prepped enough, Coran said being horny was alright, but it was hard to be horny when the only person you’d ever let you touch you had left.

Whining for more, Keith smirked into his kisses. He’d barely been able to contain his racing heart as he’d showered. His body accepting his lover was back before his brain could could fathom Keith was real and really there

“Keith... Keith, please...”

He was so strung out on the way Keith rubbed his sweet spot without filling all those part only Keith filled. Nosing at his nose, his boyfriend was sending him cross eyed

��Feeling good?”

“It’s not enough... I want you”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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certainempatheticturkeymuffin · 3 years

Text

BOTW Challenge Ideas

So, I made a giant list of botw challenges. They’re under the cut, because trust me, it’s looong.

I might add more, I might not. Didn’t do it on a google doc because google docs look horrible on mobile. Please note that challenge runs are for fun and you don’t need to adhere to these exactly, if you have an idea, or like one of these, but want to tweak it slightly, it’s your game, you should have fun with it. I’m not gonna hunt you down or anything. Anyway, I recommend you give it a look over anyway because I added in-universe justifications for Link acting this way and some of them are funny.

The more indents they have, the more difficult I think they are. Then again, I haven’t attempted all of them, so I don’t really know. Italics are the “rules”, Bold is the name, and normal is the in-universe justification. Idk if Tumblr actually did justice to my formatting, so you may have to ignore this entirely.

This took several hours to make, and several more to put into tumblr, because tumblr hates Quotev’s formatting.

Edit: Formatting is fine, but only for the desktop version :(

Limited Teleportation: Purah dared Link to do it, not thinking that he’d take her seriously. You pick 5 shrines, and those are the only ones you can use to fast travel.

No Teleportation: Fast travel makes Link very queasy, so he’s not going to use it. No fast travel.

Only Foot Travel: Link’s allergic to horses, and fast travel makes him want to throw up, so he’ll stick to the tried and true method of walking and running. No horse, fast travel, or bomb launches.

Random Limited Teleportation: Purah dared him to do it. She has the names of each of the shrines and randomized them, she didn’t think he’d actually do it. Input all the Shrines into a randomizer, the top five are the only ones you can use to fast travel to.

Horse Only: Link loves horses very much. They don’t make him want to throw up, and they’re faster than walking. Sure it may be a hassle to drag them up mountains, but he always has a friend, so it’s fine. No fast travel, get a horse as soon as you can, you must have a horse beside you at all times (excluding the desert or other areas where your horse is literally blocked from entry)

My Best Friend!: Link thinks it’s cruel to have a lot of horses and pay very little attention to them, so he decides to keep one horse so they can be best buddies! You get one horse and it needs to be by your side until you defeat Ganon (once again, excluding the desert), try to keep it alive, you only get one horse and I hear the trip to Malanya will take quite a while without your best friend. (Bonus points if you name the horse Epona) If your horse dies, you must go to Malanya IMMEDIATELY and abandon whatever you were doing. No fast travel! (Teleporting horse is yours to decide though.)

Farmboy: Link and his horse have befriended a wolf! Link decides to officially name it Wolfie, and they’re a trio of best friends! The above, except add the Wolf Link Amiibo to it. Same rules apply, keep them with you at all times unless they are forbidden from entry.

I Do What I Want Old Man!: Link is honestly just doing it to spite the old man for leading him on for so long. The Plateau isn’t even that tall, he can climb down! It was only the fog that made it look scary! No paraglider. That's it. Have fun.

Limited Upgrades: Turns out, the Great Fairies have limited magic, even with him supplying the materials. That’s fine though, He doesn’t want them to waste their magic on him when they need it for themselves. You can only upgrade 3 outfits (9 articles of clothing) though you can upgrade them to their maximum.

Restricted Upgrades: Turns out, he can’t find the last two fairies. He feels bad, but it’s fine, he’ll just restrict his upgrades to repay them. It’s not like they’ll ever find out... You can only upgrade 5 articles of clothing, and only half-way.

No Upgrades: What are Fairy Fountains? Link doesn’t know! He’s too busy looking for memories to chase rumors. Fairy Fountains are not to be used for upgrading clothing.

Limited Clothing: Link thinks the clothes are cool, but he doesn't want to waste money on them when he has a perfectly good doublet and perfectly fine pants. He'll have a backup pair, but anything more is just excessive. You get 2 Armor sets and that's it, you can mix and match, but you can only have 2 pieces of headgear, 2 shirts, and 2 pants.

Small Wardrobe: Several travelers have given him the advice to "pack light" and "only bring as many clothes as you need" but a girl also said that "mixing and matching clothes is the worst thing ever" so he'll play it safe and pack lightly but avoid mixing two different outfits together. They’ve been in this world longer than him, so surely they’re right? You get two clothing sets, no mixing and matching

It's My Favorite Outfit: Several travelers have said to pack lightly, and some even said that it was only worth it to bring the pair of clothes that you wear. Smell apparently doesn't matter if you're a wanderer, which is good to know. You only get one clothing set, and if you plan on getting Vah Naboris, you know which one it'll be.

Birthday Suit: Link doesn't like clothes, they chafe and they get in the way. Underwear are the minimum he needs to be decent apparently, so he can't completely get rid of clothes. Someday though, he'll do it anyway. No clothes. Period. I don't recommend combining this with No Meals.

Restricted Clothing: Link figures that "packing light" would mean that he only has one set of clothes. If he plays it smart, one set is all that he'll need anyway. You only get one headpiece, one shirt, and one pair of pants. Mixing and Matching is allowed

I don't like pants: If he's being honest, Link hates pants. He likes the breeze on his legs and the grass, or rocks or sand or snow, beneath his feet. Pants also restrict his movement more than a loose shirt does. He's far more flexible without pants. You can only wear shirts.

This is my favorite shirt: Link doesn't like pants. He also got attached to one specific shirt. He loves it and he's not changing. Sure, he'll take it off to wash it, but he won't put a different shirt on or anything. You can only wear one shirt. Choose wisely

Aren't I beautiful?: Link doesn't like clothes, but headpieces are fine. A lot of them look really interesting too! People keep saying they'll look better with clothes, but his comfort is more important than looking good to other people. He looks good to himself, and that's all he needs. Only headpieces are allowed.

Safety First: Link doesn't like clothes. They're a waste of time and they feel weird. He doesn't really like headpieces either, well, except for one specific piece. Only one headpiece is allowed. (The name is a reference to Hard Hats.)

Shirtless Chad: Link can admit that he likes the attention when he goes shirtless. He isn't particularly muscular, but he's made more than one person blush, and he counts that as a win. If it means he's less restricted when using his bow or a weapon, well that's just a plus. Become that one buff guy that never wears a shirt. Pants only.

I don't smell!: Link doesn't like shirts, and he doesn't like anything on his head that might pull on his hair or block his vision. Pants were a bit of a compromise, until he realized how painful it was to step on a rock barefooted. Still, only one pair of pants is actually comfortable for him, and he rarely takes them off. One pair of pants, choose wisely.

No Shops: Link...doesn’t like asking for things. It makes him feel stupid or greedy, so when he found out that there was a whole profession where people gave things to you if you asked, he didn’t want anything to do with it. Even if it was technically a trade, it made him feel bad. You're not allowed to purchase anything from any shops or wandering merchants.

No Gifts: The king said not to trust strangers too much, and after his first encounter with the Yiga, he understood why. He doesn’t know if they’d try to poison him or use money to lure him into a false sense of security, but he isn’t going to trust it. He’ll be polite, and then immediately throw it away once their back is turned. He isn’t going to let his guard down. If an NPC gives you something, you ain't allowed to keep it or use it. If that thing is rupees, spend them on bugs and set the bugs free.

No Selling: Link didn’t know you could sell things to the shop owners, and even if he did, he’d feel greedy and stupid for trying to sell a shopkeeper bugs and plants, so he’d probably avoid it anyway. You're not allowed to sell anything to get money, if you want money, win it from a mini game.

Wiser the Miser: Link doesn't like spending rupees, so he doesn't. If he can steal or get something for free, he will. Someone gives him rupees? Their loss. Who needs to buy things when there's a world full of resources? Don’t buy anything. If you want exceptions, like getting into Gerudo Town, it’s your call.

No Selling or Shops: Link doesn’t like stores. They make him uneasy. Enclosed spaces where people ask for your stuff? No thanks. You’re not allowed to buy from shops or merchants, and you’re not allowed to sell anything either.

No Selling, Shops, or Gifts: Link doesn’t trust anything that people give him. Maybe it’s paranoia, but it’s entirely justified. Shops are the same, people asking for his stuff when he has more important things to do than barter. Shops are honestly a waste of time when he can get everything for free, except maybe goat butter. If an NPC gives you something, you must drop it, or, in the case of a food item, use it at full hearts/full stamina and if it has an additional effect you will stand in the middle of an inn and wait for the effect to wear off. You’re also not allowed to sell or buy at shops or from merchants.

No Chef Here: Link can make a good elixir, but he can’t cook and he’s not even going to attempt it. He’ll make do with raw apples and meat and whatever else he can find. He’ll be fine. Elixirs are fine, apples and stuff are fine, cooked food is not.

What's a Cooking Pot?: Link doesn’t know what the giant bowl thing is, so he stays away from it. If people give him stuff to eat or drink, he tends to throw it away, because he’s smart enough not to risk being poisoned. If it requires you to use a cooking pot, you ain't allowed to ingest it. This includes gifts from NPCs because we all know not to take candy from nice strangers

Don't Eat Raw Food!: The king warned Link against eating raw food, so he isn’t taking any chances. If you want to eat something, you need to cook it first.

No Meals: Link doesn't understand why people waste time eating. Nor does he understand the whole hunger thing. Maybe it's a Shrine of Resurrection thing? Essentially, you aren't allowed to eat or drink anything, including elixirs.

I Can't Cook: Link thinks his cooking is pretty good. Sure, he thinks it's weird that people eat Moblin guts and wood, but who is he to judge, he doesn't really know anything, and he hasn't died yet, so it's fine! No elixirs or proper food, only Dubious food and Rock-hard food.

Insomniac: Link wants to sleep, but he can't, not when there're so many things he needs to do. He can sleep after he saves Hyrule. No beds, including the one in your own house.

No meals or inns: Link doesn't need to eat, and it's unsafe to sleep in a room full of strangers. Mipha has his back, and Hylia does too, if he rests, he'll do so where there aren't any strangers or wild animals to stab him in the back. You can only heal via Mipha's Grace, Heart Containers, or buying your own home.

No Meals or Beds: Sleeping wastes time, and he doesn't need to eat. He needs to save Hyrule, and he can relax when that's done. You can only heal via Mipha's Grace and Heart Containers.

No Meals, Beds, or Heart Containers: Link uses all of his Spirit Orbs for Stamina, because anything that makes him faster will also help him save Hyrule faster. He does wonder why Purah freaked out and tried to force him to sleep when he admitted that he hadn't slept since he woke up, or eaten for that matter. Eh, maybe Zelda will know, and the only way he can ask her is if he saves her. Only Mipha's Grace and three hearts, have fun!

Ew: Link refuses to drink elixirs when he knows exactly how they're made. It disgusts him, and he's not letting them anywhere near his mouth. No elixirs/tonics.

Normal Hylian: Link isn't some sort of god, he can't just freeze time in the middle of battle to heal or change his clothes or grab a new weapon. He can only heal or change after a battle and if he breaks his weapon, he can take cover and switch out or he can just use bombs. Like a normal person. No changing clothes or healing during battle, no flurry rushes or bullet time. If you break a weapon, take cover and get a new one, or use bombs.

Actual Normal Hylian: Aside from not being a god, Link also needs to eat and sleep. Sure he can go without for a day or two, but eventually he'll just crash. And whether it's five raw apples or a five course meal, he needs something to eat. He also needs to stay hydrated, but that's what rivers are for. Try to make him sleep in a bed once every three days at least, and make him eat one meal a day (it doesn't have to be cooked, but it is generally preferred). Also, let him go for a swim every once in a while to stay hydrated, because I doubt he's carrying around any water. (This one adds on to the one before it, though not combining them is totally your call!)

Carnivore: Link got messed up in the Shrine of Resurrection, and now he can't digest plants. You can eat it raw or cook it, but you can only eat meat. Inclusion of Elixirs is up to you

Herbivore: Link gets queasy when he has to kill innocent animals, so he's doing fine just eating plants. He refuses to drink Elixirs too, knowing what they're made of. No meat or elixirs.

Liquid-Only Diet: The Shrine of Resurrection messed up and now Link can't ingest solid food, he also happens to be lactose intolerant, so no milk for him. Elixirs only.

No Map: Link doesn't want to waste time climbing the towers, he'll figure it out. Don't get the towers (except the Great Plateau), you have to use your surroundings, get a feel for the land. Use of Minimap, Divine Beast Maps, and Teleportation is Allowed (No Hyrule Castle Map though)

No Map PRO: Link doesn't want to waste time climbing the towers and realistically, he doesn't have a HUD in the corner of his vision telling him where North is. No Map+Pro mode, so have fun with that. You'll be very reliant on Death Mountain and Hyrule Castle. Divine Beast Maps are still allowed

I'm Lost: Link promptly forgot about the fast travel function and he really doesn't want to climb the towers. You can get the shrines, which are recommended for the spirit orbs, but you aren't allowed to teleport and you must be on Pro Mode. Divine Beast Maps are allowed. You can get the towers if you want to waste time, but you won't be looking at the map, so it's not recommended

The Legend of Zelda: Link has no idea where he's going, but he figures he'll be able to figure it out the more time he spends awake. He feels like he's forgotten something though... We're going back to the NES days! No teleportation, no horses, no bomb launches, and absolutely no map! Have fun getting lost just like the good old days where tutorials didn't exist and maps were reserved for dungeons. And, like dungeons, Divine Beasts do have maps and you can in fact use them.

No Retreat!: Link isn't a coward and he's stubborn. He isn't running from a fight even when he probably should. If you hear the battle music, you can't run away.

No Rest for Heroes!: Link doesn't need to sleep and he doesn't really care that it's dangerous at night. He'll beat whatever stupid monster picked a fight in the first place. You can't sleep through the night to avoid monsters, and you must stay and fight if you hear the music. You have bombs if you run out of weapons

I'm Not Failing Again: Link is guilty and angry. He is Hylia's hero, Protector of Hyrule, it's high time he did his job. If you happen to be near a monster, attack it. Monster camp? Destroy it. It doesn't matter if they don't see you. If you see them, you kill them. Simple as that. No intentionally avoiding monsters either. Best paired with No Map, but I'm not your minder.

FOR THE FALLEN!: Link is the Hero of Hyrule and he will do his job. Sure, he has a problem with rushing into battle, but really, what hero didn't? It's essentially the same as I'm not failing again, but you aren't allowed to do Stealth Takedowns, you see a monster, you run in and do melee combat, bows are allowed if you're close range and the battle music is playing.

Boss Hunter: Link doesn't like boss monsters. Taluses especially are literal death traps for travelers. He's sure he'll get a reward too, they're called Boss Monsters for a reason, right? Kill every boss monster in the game.

Lynel Hunter: Link knows they pose a threat to the people of Hyrule. At least you can run away from most boss monsters pretty easily. For the safety of Hyrule, he will kill every single lynel.

Limited Weapon Slots: Link never meets Hestu. No Koroks to expand your weapon or bow slots.

Spears Only: Link didn't feel comfortable using a sword because he felt like he didn't live up to who he used to be. But the claymores and other two handed weapons were bulky, and he was horrible with a bow. And then he found a spear, and he's never regretted grabbing it. The only weapons you can use are spears, no bombs either. Have fun getting a spear in the first place. (The Korok Limitation does not apply to the rest of these unless you want it to)

Elemental Spears Only: Link likes spears, but elemental spears are way better, in every way. He's never going back. Spears Only too easy? Well now you can only use spears that have an elemental effect.

One-handed Weapons Only: Link's muscles have atrophied from the time in the Shrine. He'll have to make do. What it says on the tin, only use one-handed weapons.

One-Handed Swords Only: Link would rather not use a stick, he's been trained with a sword so by Hylia he will use a god dang sword! One-handed swords only.

One-handed Elemental Swords Only: Link hates that he can't handle larger swords because these elemental ones are great. They just seem way harder to come by than the bigger ones. These disappear the further you get in the game, so have fun with that I suppose. Rationing is going to be your best friend.

One-Handed Elemental Weapons Only: Link loves elemental weapons, but he still hasn't built up enough strength to use the big ones, and he wasn't great with spears or the bow, but the Wizzrobe rods are fun too. One-handed too easy for you? Have fun with this. Options are the Wizzrobe wands and the small elemental blades, the further you progress, the less of the weak blades that'll pop up, and the stronger ones are two-handed weapons, so you'll be killing a lot of wizzrobes if you want to keep a good supply.

Rods Only: Link doesn't really like swords or bows, or really any other weapon. He couldn't really pinpoint why. Until he grabbed a wizzrobe's rod. Power that he didn't know he had coursed through him, and he decided that he wasn't using anything but rods from now on. Only use wizzrobe rods. If it's easier, use any weapon until you find your first wizzrobe, whatever works for you.

Boomerangs Only: Link didn't like getting in close, but he also sucked at archery. Then he found his first boomerang. His aim was good and it came back! It didn't break upon impact, it was perfect! Boomerangs only

Two-handed Weapons Only: Link feels inferior to his Before-Calamity Self whenever he wields a one-handed weapon. Because BC Link was trained with a sword, so there's no way Post Calamity Link can ever compare. To get rid of that feeling, Link only uses two handed weapons, weapons that he's pretty sure BC Link was never trained in. Use only two-handed weapons

Claymores Only: The king, upon Link's inquiry, said that he used a royal claymore. In an effort to remember him, and an irrational fear that he'll forget everything again, Link decides to wield a claymore. Even when he finds out the less than stellar parts of the King's personality, he's too used to the claymore to give it up. Claymores only.

Korok Leaves Only: Link doesn't like swords or traditional weapons, and the Wizzrobe's rods are a bit too...hostile? Yeah, hostile. But the Korok Leaf's magic is quieter and more serene. It also seems...familiar, but he can't pinpoint why. It's also pretty hard for him to break, so he's fine with using it to blow opponents away. Korok Leaf Only, have fun beating Ganon, though Dark Beast is impossible with only a Korok Leaf.

Bow Only: Link likes the bow. He likes it very much. Past Link was good with a sword, but Present Link is not Past Link, Past Link is never coming back and Present Link will grow to become his own person. What better way to distance himself from Past Link than to specialize in a weapon that knights rarely use? Bow only

Normal Arrows Only: Link does not like the sensation he gets from using elemental arrows, and really, they are much too expensive, he'll stick to his normal arrows. Bow only, with only normal arrows.

Elemental Arrows Only: Link finds them very effective, and very fun to mess around with. He kind of forgets that boring normal arrows exist. Bow only, only elemental arrows.

Bomb Arrows Only: Link likes explosions, and the ones he gets from bomb arrows are much more satisfying than the ones he gets from plain old bombs. Sure they're expensive, and sure the rain keeps them from exploding, but...really, after being killed and resurrected, he can afford to give into a few whims, right? Bow only, bomb arrows only

Ancient Weapons Only: Robbie said they were more effective, and Link'll be the judge of that. He'll have to scavenge a lot of dead Guardians, but it'll all be worth it for these supposedly more efficient weapons! Ancient Weapons only, go to Robbie's immediately after the Plateau, I don’t think you actually need the quest, until then, all weapons are allowed

Master Sword Only: Fi is calling out to him, and Link will get to her as quickly as possible. Get thirteen hearts without weapons or using bombs as weapons, then go straight to the Great Hyrule Forest to retrieve Fi. Fi is the only weapon you're allowed to use as a weapon. Other weapons can be used to cut down trees and such, but if they damage a living creature or a monster, then you must reload your previous save.

Trial of the Sword: Fi is weak, and Link hates seeing her like that, so he wants to help her as quickly as possible. It shouldn't be hard for a chosen hero, right? It’s essentially the above challenge, but you also do the Trial of the Sword immediately after getting Fi. Weapon rule is obviously exempt for the duration of the Trial.

Wooden Weapons Only: Link doesn't like the sound of clanging metal. He only uses wooden shields, bows, and weapons. He doesn't care if it makes Death Mountain difficult, his poor ears don't like the sound. Only use wooden weapons, shields, and bows, if it attracts lightning, it's not allowed. Korok leaves or other non-metal but still non-wood items are also banned.

Metal Weapons Only: Link doesn't like splinters, he'd rather be a lightning rod. He also doesn't really trust the durability of wooden weapons, so he'll avoid them like the plague and use only metal shields, weapons, and bows. Only metal weapons, shields, and bows are allowed, if it attracts lightning, it's good to go.

Nuzlocke: Turns out, Link forgets how to use weapons once he breaks them. It's an annoying little quirk that means Link can only use each weapon once. You break a stick? You can't use another stick for the rest of the game, same goes for all weapons, bows, and shields.

The Moon's Curse: Every Blood Moon, Link loses all of his weapons, shields, bows, food, elixirs, and items. He only keeps his clothes and the special items. Link thinks it's Ganon trying to stall his inevitable defeat. Every Blood Moon, clean out your inventory, your hands must be empty, whether or not you count clothing is up to you, and you can eat meals to get rid of them.

Tech Mage: Link....has forgotten how to use weapons. It's a bit unfortunate but the king told him to collect the runes for a reason right? And the Wizzrobes' rods just need to be waved around, no training needed, so he'll be fine! Runes and Rods only.

Techie: Link...doesn’t really know how to use weapons, which makes it hard to kill anything. But, he does know how to use the runes. He did just learn how to after all. He doesn’t...really need weapons...right? Runes only, no weapons, shields, or bows. Well, allowance of shields can be personal preference, since Guardians will probably be a nuisance until you get Daruk’s Protection, if you allow use of the DB Powers.

No Shields: Link finds them bulky and useless, he'll just go without. Simple as that, no shields.

Fragile: Link doesn't really find the need for heart containers when he's mostly running around. Besides, it's just more incentive to get better at fighting. No Extra Heart Containers. Divine Beast Heart Containers can either be kept or traded in for stamina at the Hateno statue.

Asthma: Link can deal with not being able to run for long periods of time. What he can't deal with is how fragile he is. If he hadn't had that fairy, the Moblin would've killed him in one hit! No, he needs to be way more durable than he is now. No Extra Stamina Wheels.

I Don’t Need A Goddess’s Help: Link looked at the statue once, and saw it as a waste of time to pray. He's failed once, he doesn't need a goddess's help to do what previous heroes did alone and on their first try. No praying to statues, so no extra Heart Containers or Stamina Wheels.

Zero Deaths: Link isn't immortal, Mipha's magic isn't as powerful, and fairies don't work on him after the Shrine of Resurrection, so Link has to be careful. He won't get a third chance if he dies again. Disable Mipha's Grace and don't collect fairies. If you die, it's over. Ganon wins.

Sorry, Your Gifts are Worthless: Link appreciates the thought behind the champions giving him their powers...but he can't actually use them. He's not a trained medium or anything, and he needs to communicate with them to make the powers work....soooo.... Don't use the divine beast powers.

I'll Be Quick: Link never got the memo that he was supposed to help the Divine Beasts, but, well, Zelda was alive and the champions aren't, and the only one actually causing any immediately dangerous issues was Vah Ruta, but the Zora will be fine, they're fish people. Defeat Ganon without the Divine Beasts.

Time for Fun: Link is bored, then he remembers all the mini-games around Hyrule. Get the best score on all the mini games.

Photogenic: Link likes taking pictures and getting information for things. It's a fun pass-time that also helps out Symin and Purah. Take a picture of everything, it doesn't matter if you fill your compendium, but you must take a picture if you see something new (obviously only starts once you get the camera rune)

Everything Breaks: Link finds breaking things fun, and if it keeps him sane, might as well indulge his urges. Make a list of all the breakable items in the game, and then break every single one. Maybe you'll defeat Ganon, maybe not. Vandalism is more important.

Economist: Link doesn't really know how to hunt, or which fruits are safe, so he collects things, sells them, and proceeds to buy things that he knows are safe. He buys all his clothing and food, weapons are perhaps the only things he can get for himself. He helps out NPCs too, on the off chance that they'll give him something. Once a city boy, always a city boy. If you pick it up in the wild, you can't use it unless it's a weapon. Sell everything you pick up, and instead buy all your food and clothing. Elixirs too. If you have a picture of a recipe from the stables, you can use those, but only those.

Eventide Challenge: Link is a bit of a completionist, but he also hates back-tracking, so, using the towers as a measure of his progress, he decides to do everything he can in one region before going to the next. You do all you can in one region, or as much as you feel like doing anyway, then you collect the next tower and get rid of all your food, weapons, shields, bows, meals, and clothes. You must make your way directly to the tower if you leave the region, collecting shrines or fighting monsters before collecting the tower is sort of cheating. (You can decide for yourself if previous regions are off limits or not. If they are, I recommend planning out which region would leave you in the best position for Ganon. If not, just have fun!)

Reverse Dungeon Order: Link expected the Divine Beasts to get harder as he progressed, but they got...way easier... Vah Naboris, Vah Ruta, Vah Rudania, Vah Medoh (people say Rudania is the easiest, and I can't even get past the puzzles, so...maybe Fireblight is easier, but Rudania kills me via my unintelligence and I did Vah Medoh in less than five minutes, just go for the hardest ones first and the easiest one last, since I guarantee someone found Vah Medoh to be challenging and Vah Naboris easy. This one is probably the most customizable.)

I'm Not A Hoarder!: Link doesn't like using his resources, because he might need them later and it's such a bother to backtrack and get more if he runs out. He collects things because he might need them later. And really, it's better safe than sorry. You see something, you pick it up. Don't sell anything, try to eat or use as little of it as possible, actively seek out more rupees via mini games.

I may have a problem: Link acknowledges that it isn't exactly normal to have so much of everything, and to immediately restock upon using some, but...he can't stop. Max out all your inventory space. 999 of everything. Max out your rupees while you're at it.

I'm Actually Not A Hoarder: Link doesn't see the value in wasting time picking up useless crap. He has bombs, and he doesn't need to eat, he'll be fine. Don't pick something up if you don't intend to use it immediately. Keep your inventory as sparse as possible. Only collect rupees if you intend to use them for something.

Speedrun: Link has a task he needs to get done, and he needs to do it quickly. Pick a speedrun category and do it. Don't compare to the world record, compare your time to your previous times and measure your progress that way. World record doesn't matter, only having fun does.

Where does this go again?: Link is currently in a pickle and has no idea where the blue flame is. He found one in Akkala and decided that it was the one Purah was talking about. He couldn't find it again when Robbie asked, but he did find the one in Hateno, so he used that one. Use the Hateno Blue Flame for the Akkala Lab, and the Akkala Blue Flame for the Hateno lab.

Impaired Senses: There has to be some consequences for resurrecting, and only losing his memories is a very light consequence. A blindfold is the most obvious one, though you can also turn off sound, which still has a little bit of impact, though it isn't as drastic.

Auto Saves Only: Link is subject to the whims of the goddesses. What it says on the tin, no manual saving for you!

Hunger Games: Link has the rules of the game outlined to him by a goddess. He can do nothing but submit, fearing her wrath. Pretend that towns and stables don't exist (avoid them like the plague), Master Mode, Only Foot Travel, the only time you enter a village is if you intend on completing the Divine Beasts and/or Memories for Impa. If you see an NPC don't interact, only wear clothing sets without set bonuses or special effects, if you see a Yiga, kill them, the Yiga are the only NPCs (aside from the Main Story NPCs) that you are allowed to interact with. Interacting with Koroks and Great Fairies is fine. Every blood moon, you choose one tab at random and completely empty it (special items tab doesn't count, Master Sword and Hylian Shield are exempt from this), and every time you collect a tower you can scan an amiibo, try to ration them.

Pacifist: Link doesn't like killing. Never has, never will, and he avoids fights like the plague. There's no need for excessive loss of life, he'll defeat Ganon and save the Champions, but that's it. Only kill the blights and Ganon and any other mandatory fights for the true ending (Like, I think Kohga is mandatory.)

I'll use this until it breaks!: Link doesn't see the need to stockpile weapons, not when almost anything can be used as one. He'll be fine. Essentially, you pick up the first weapon you see, you use only that weapon until it breaks, when it breaks you, again, pick up the first weapon you see, rinse and repeat. Master Sword is allowed, since Ganon’s going to suck without it.

100%: Link is going to do everything. He has no memories, and he's been dropped in this giant world. He's doing everything and nothing will stop him. You know exactly what this entails and I don't recommend it unless you're speedrunning, and even then, it's a bad idea.

Don't get hit: Link's stubborn, he doesn't like getting hurt, so he won't. Take no damage, even a quarter of a heart means you failed. Doesn't matter if it's a golden heart or not.

#botw #breath of the wild #challenge #botw challenges #spice up your game #have fun #just for fun #legend of zelda #loz #loz breath of the wild

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