#he has an ‘oh shit’ moment and he dives in and swims as fast as he can

[reimagine7]

Hot Lifeguard (Emily Sonnett x reader)

My first story. Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. Opened for  suggestions.

It was just another day at work. Days like this were one of my favorites. Just a few people at the beach and less people in the water, that is almost the perfect scenario for a lifeguard. Because normally that means no incidents. My shift was almost over, just one more hour and I could go home to prepare for dinner tonight with my girlfriend.

Right now I am sitting at the cabbing along with Josh, my partner for the day.

“No fucking way” I heard Josh yell while loking at something through the glass.

“What? What did you see?” I asked “You’re not going to believe who just arrived at the beach” “Well, if you give me the binoculars I could see by myself.” “There is no need to. Look at the group over there.” He said pointing to a place in the sand “Okay, I’m looking but I’m not getting it.”

Just as I said that I saw a blond girl running a few meters at the sand and trying to do a cartwheel on the sand and failing miserably, ending with her butt at the sand. Yep, now I know of who Josh is talking about.

“Girl, that is the US women’s soccer team, seems like the whole team is in here.” He was really excited “Josh, clean it right here…” (I rubbed my hand on my chin and he copied me) “Why?” He asked, after seeing nothing on her hand “You’re drooling.” “Oh, fuck up.” She pushes me and keeps looking at the team, it wasn’t the whole team but is probably half of the girls.

“Okay, I’m gonna say hi. Do you wanna come?” Josh asked me “You can go, someone has to stay here and actually do the work.” Josh rolled his eyes but got the walktalk. “Fine, I would tell them you say hi, I’m bringing the walktalk” “Go there looser.”

I was just watching a few surfers at the beach, when I looked to my left and saw Josh coming back with the group of girls following him. He gave me a sign for me to come down.

“So Y/n these are the players from USWNT and girls this is Y/n.” “Hi girls, I actually know you all, I’m a big fan, you’re all badasses.” “Thank you. We heard that so was you.” Ashlyn said and Alex followed. “Josh here went to say hi and told us that his coworker was a woman and a badass so we needed to come check out.” “Well, it’s my pleasure to meet you.”

“For how long have you been working here?” Ali asked. “In this part of the beach not much, but as a lifeguard, 10 years.” The girls were shocked “Oh, 10 years? Sorry to ask but how old are you?” “25” “You can be a lifeguard while you’re 15?” “Yes. I was a good swimmer and at a young age I started to learn surfing, I always loved the water. So one day I got the opportunity to be a lifeguard at a waterpark near home, since then I never stopped. And soon as I had enough experience to be a lifeguard at the beach I moved and here I am.” Tobin spoke this time. “So do you also surf?” Before I could answer, Josh interrupted us “Oh yeah, this is almost like an unofficial rule to be a lifeguard, and Y/n is like the best here. Sorry girls, but I’ll go upstairs and check the beach” “Bye Josh, it was a pleasure to meet you.” The girls said and then looked back at me.

“I’m probably not that good, but yes I can surf.” “We would love to see that, it’s a shame you’re at work.” Tobin answered. “Isn’t your shift ending?” Emily spoke this time, I looked at her and the sun was hitting her face, making her blue eyes shine, she is so beautiful. “Yeah, actually. I have probably just one more hour left.” 

“So what about you meeting us after it and we can see how good you actually are?” Ashlyn asked me with a smirk. “That is a challenge Ashlyn?” “You can bet on it.” Ali smacks Ashlyn in the back of her head. “Ashlyn, you can’t go out challenging people.” “Just a moment girls.”

I interrupted whoever was saying, as soon as I spotted something on the ocean. I climbed the ladder from the cabin and called for Josh. “Josh!” “Yeah boss!” “Look at the water, 10 o’clock. What do you see?” “There is noth… shit looks like two people. Maybe kids. Go!” I jump in the sand and get the surfboard. “Sorry girls, and it’s a bet Ash.” I ran as fast as I could toward the people, wishing this day could end as good as it started.

As I was getting closer to them I noticed that one of them was a little girl, around 5 years old and the other was a boy around 12 years old. I was going as fast as I could but it looked like it wasn't enough. As I was about to get to them, the boy pushed the girl up, and sank. Fuck! 

“Help! Lucas!” I got the girl, put her over the board and tried to find the boy but he didn’t get back up. What should I do? I looked up and saw the girl was using diving glasses. “Can you lend me this? Okay, look, you see these ropes? Hold them as strong as you can and don’t let them go. I’ll get Lucas.”

I know it look like a stupid ideia, let the girl up there by herself, but if I wait for Josh to get here the boy could be dead. So I got in the water and dived trying to find the boy. I surf back up, check with the little girl, get some breath and dive back. I was almost giving up when I felt something on my left leg and when I looked at it was him. So I get his hand and rise back. “Lucas!!” I got back on the board, laid him down and asked for the girl to sit in front of me holding the ropes. He’s unconscious, I need to get to the beach as fast as possible.

I got to the beach and Josh was already there with the equipment and said he had already called an ambulance. I barely got that, the boy was my first priority, I looked up and saw the national team girls were close. “Hey little girl, you see these women over there?” She nodded. “Stay with them, for me to take care of Lucas okay?” She didn’t want to let go of him, must be her brother. Probably noticing my expression, Emily came over and got the girl, she started to scream. But my focus was somewhere else now. The boy wasn’t breathing, so I started the compression. “Come on, come on. Spit the water. Come on Lucas, you can do it.” I must be doing it for like 1 minute, but it felt like an hour, when the boy spit the water. “Good boy. Calm down, you’re safe now.” I put him on oxigen, and the ambulance arrived just in time as he regained consciousness. “Hey boy, what’s your name?” The paramedic asked. “Lucas.” “Hi, Lucas. My name is Daniel and I’m a paramedic and I’m going to help you okay? How old are you?” “12. Where is my sister?” “Hey Lucas, it’s okay, she is over there, stay calm okay.”

I looked back at the girl and went to calm her down. “Hey little girl, how are you?” She came running for my arms. “Lucas?” She asked while crying in my arms. “He is better now, you see? He is talking with the doctors now. Where are your parents sweety?” “Don’t know.” And as it was agreed the mother shows up. “Lucas? Lucy?” “Mom!” The little girl ran to the women's arms. “Where is Lucas?” “Hi Mrs, my name is Y/N. Lucas is over there being taken care of. Do you know what happened?” “No, I told them that I was going to get some water and when I came back they weren’t there so I started to freak out and I saw the comotion here.” They start to take the boy to the ambulance. “Okay, Mrs…” “Grey” “Mrs. Grey, they are taking Lucas to the ambulance right now, they will check on him, he drowned trying to save his sister, I’m going to explain everything to you until we get to the ambulance, can you just pack your stuff? Are you alone here?” “Yes, my husband is at work. And I already packed everything, it is in here.” “Good, come on. And I would like Lucy to have a check up as well, she hasn’t drowned but she could have drunk some water. We don’t want to take risks right?” With that I went up to the ambulance with the mom and then let the paramedics do their job. I hope the kid stays good.

I went back to the post and Josh was there. “What a way to end the shift right?” “Thank god, I found the boy under water. Otherwise it would ruin the day.” “Yeah, and the super boss shows up again to save the day.” “Stop.” “Fine, now get out of here. There are some people waiting for you. Go have some fun.” I had completely forgotten about them, time to go say hi, again. 

Emily pov

We were still excited about what just happened at the beach.

“She is totally a badass, she was just talking with us and still caught the kids drowning in the water.” Tobin said. “When she left the girl alone at the board I was like ‘what is she doing?’ and then she just got the boy under water, that was amazing.” Christen said “That’s why she is the boss.” Ali complement.

“Okay, but let’s not forget how hot she is. When she ran toward the water, it was just like we were in Baywatch, and her body. God!” “Kelley!!” “What Linds, is not like you don’t agree with me you were drooling watching her doing her job.” Kelley fought back. “I was not…” Lindsey said pouting, Megan put a hand on her shoulder and said. “Sorry Linds but you totally were. But that’s fine, she is hot as fuck and I think that half of the girls here were drooling, even the “straight” ones”.  She intensifies the quotation marks.

Then Christen intervened. “She also looks like a good person, she looks smart, determined and kind. You saw her with the little girl?” “Hey, I don’t have a competition do I?” Tobin protested. “Of course not babe, but she may be good for some other girls here. And watch out cause she is coming here.”

I looked behind me and Y/N was coming over, she had changed off her uniform and was now just in her swimming suit, a backpack and a surfboard. She was more beautiful, if that was even possible and hotter.

“Hey girls, my shift is just over. So I remembered that one of you challenged me on surfing. So I want to know if she is still up to it?” Ash stood up “Oh yeah, game on bitch. Tobs, Kell are you coming?” “Of course, let’s go.” Both of them replied.

Some girls went along with them for the water, others decided to take a walk on the sand and others were just going to lay and get a tan. Before Y/N followed the girls to the water she came near me. “So, beautiful, can I put my stuff here near you?” “I think so.” “Good, you’re not coming?” “Not today.” “Okay, be right back.” She winked at me and left toward the ocean.

I sat back in the sand and just watched her get some waves with the girls, she was stunning. Of course she was winning the challenge, but who cares, everyone was just amazed by her. 

I was contemplating her beauty when Moe sat beside me and asked. “So, are you gonna spill the beans?” “There is nothing to spill. Don’t know what you are talking about?” “You sure do. If you do nothing the others will keep flirting with her and who knows what could happen.” I look at her shocked. “It’s in your eyes Sonny.” 

An hour later everyone came back from the water and we went to play some footvolley. We paired everyone up and Y/N ended up being my partner. She was amazing at that and we had a lot of fun. She was flirting with me the whole time and I was hoping the girls weren't noticing it.

We stopped playing and were getting ready to leave, when Kelley whispered in my ear. “You better do something girl, she is flirting with you the whole day, everyone noticed. If you don’t do something we will.” “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She just shaked her head and went toward Ash and Tobin, whispered something to them and they went to Y/N.

“So Y/n, we had a lot of fun today and we really wanted to get to know you better. Tell us a little bit more about you.” Tobin asked. “Well, you already know I’m 25 and am a lifeguard. I graduated from the University of Virginia with a degree in exercise and sports science. I give surf classes for kids and I’m also a coach for some amatour surfer athletes. And I’m a sports lover.”

“Wait, too much information. You’re a surf coach?” Ashlyn asked incredibly. “Yeah? Sorry but you were the one who made the bet.” “That explains a lot.”

Becky was the one to speak now. “You went to Virginia? That’s awesome me too, so does Moe and Sonnett, but it doesn’t have a beach there.” “Yeah, I know. I took a pause from the beach while I was studying and worked at a waterpark over there.”

“I got a question…” Oh no, Kelley shut up. “Are you single?” With that Y/N wined her eyes and blush a little, she looked at me and then back to Kelley.

“No?” “You don’t seem too sure about that.” Tobin interjected. “I mean, no, I’m not single. But we haven’t told anyone besides family yet, so…” “Wait a second, so you’re not single? Are you sure? I’m way confused right now.” “Yeah, I’m sure. She actually loves soccer, she loves you guys.”

While the rest of the girls started asking other questions for Y/n. Kelley looked at me with a ‘sorry dude’ look. I understand why she was like that, I mean Y/n was indeed flirting with me, everyone was probably confused as to why she was flirting with me if she has a girlfriend. But they were clueless and I was having a lot of fun with it, so I decided to enjoy it a little bit more and so I spoke up.

“Hey Y/N we actually have the whole day off, so we were thinking of hanging out together and going out for dinner. What do you say? Wanna come?” Y/N looked at me with a intrigued look, but agreed either way. “Yeah, I would love to.” 

“Your girlfriend would be okay with that?” Ashlyn asked. “Yeah she wouldn’t mind.”

“Maybe you can call her right now and talk to her just to make sure?” I said, Y/n was really confused right now, she was trying to understand what I mean with that. I just nodded and saw a smirk appear on her face. “Yeah, that will be great.” Some girls looked at me, don’t getting what I was doing. Christen added. “And if you want to invite her, you said she was a fan, we can surprise her if you want to” “Of course, it will be fun”.

Y/n got her phone and made the call. “So who is gonna talk?” Y/N look at me and I nod toward Kelley. “O’hara you think you can do it? She would love that?” Y/n asked “Of course. What's her name again?” “Oh, you don’t need that” She looked at her phone and back at me, I gave her a reassuring look as she started to talk.

“Hi babe. So I’m at the beach now, and there are some girls here that want to say hi to you.” She put on speaker for everyone to hear. “Hi. It’s Kelley O’hara here, and you are talking with half of the national team.” Silent went over the line, the girls started looking at each other and Y/n spoke.

“She is probably in shock, can you tell her about the dinner?” “Yeah, so we just asked Y/n if she wants to come to dinner with us and we also would like to invite you, so what do you say?” I waited a moment and answered on my phone. “I would love to, but I thought that as I was the one who made the invitation I was already invited.”

Everyone looked at me and then back to Y/n, they were in shock. Y/n has that stupid smile on her face that I love so much and answered. “That’s good babe, can’t wait.” We just kept looking at each other's eyes. Oh god, I love this girl so much. When Kelley yelled. 

“Wait a minute. Why did you call Sonnett?” “Well you asked for me to call my girlfriend. So I did.” Y/n spoke with a smirk on her face “The Emily Sonnett, this girl here is your girlfriend?” “Hey, what do you mean by that? I can’t date a hot girl?” 

With that I went to Y/n side, hugged her and she gave me a peck “And you let me, no, you let us, drool over you girlfriend and didn’t say a thing?” I couldn’t get the smile out of my face. “It was funny and I didn’t know yet if she was going to be okay with that.” “That is no excuse, you should have told me, it is not like I was going to tell the world.” Kelley complained and crossed her arms on her chest. “Okay Kelley, less drama. We are happy for you Sonny.” “Thanks Chris, someone here is mature.”

“Wait, does it mean that now we have to give Y/n the shovel talk?” Tobin asked with a serious face. “No!” I protest. “Sorry Sonnett, we have to, it's the team's rules.” Ash responded. “That’s okay babe, I can take it.”

“Fine, but only if Moe gets to be there.” “What? Why? Moe can’t hurt a fly” Becky said. “Because she will make sure you don’t scare Y/n away, she will be on her side.” “Why would she do that?” “Babe you can’t ask Moe that, just because she is my friend.” “Wait, Moe knew?” Kelley said, trying to look hurt. “Way to throw me under the bus Sonny.” Moe complained.

“Of course, she helped me with the plan of asking Y/n out. We studied together, you forgot?” “Of course you were all Cavaliers. That’s it Y/n you are coming with us for dinner, there is no space for debate. We need to see if you are good for Sonnett. Let’s go everyone” With Megan orders everyone start to go back to where the vans were. I got my stuff and I was about to follow the girls, when Y/n pulled my arm.

“Hey hot stuff, I missed you.” She passed her arms over my shoulders and I hugged her waist. “Hi babe, I missed you too. Sorry about doing it without asking you first. But when the girls pulled over and I saw which beach we were at and that you were here, I started thinking about it, and then you were so hot saving the boy, and the girls liked you so much, and they saw you flirting with me, so…” I was interrupted by a kiss. Y/n ’s lips were so soft and rough at the same time. The way she pulls me closer to her and deepens the kiss, I miss her so much.

“That’s okay honey. I loved meeting your teammates.” “What do you say about us skipping dinner? I really missed your lips...” I kissed her lips. “Your neck...” I kissed her neck, and started to touch her body. “I missed all of this, your body is perfect.” She gave a large sigh and pushed me away “Even though I would love to go to our house and make out with you for the rest of the night. I'm sure the girls wouldn’t approve of it. Let’s go, as soon as we get to dinner, sooner you can get this body.” “Nooo, I’m really regretting telling the girls today.” “The good point is that now you don’t have to sneak out anymore, you can always say you are going out with your girlfriend.” “Okay, but one last thing.” I gave her a passionate kiss, until we heard the girls yelling at us from afar. “I love you Y/n.” “I love you too Em. Now let’s go.” We intercalated our hands and walked to where the girls were waiting for us. This night was amazing and now I can say to the world that the Hot Lifeguard is mine.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #emily sonnett #emily sonnett x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

[carelessannie]

how do you think peter and monster!Tony's first mating session went? was peter confused/scared?? was Tony just hungry for someone ;)

Ooo yes good questions!! With the ask I just answered here, I went into it briefly, but I can definitely give you a tiny bit more context in Tony’s POV when he first finds Peter!

Here’s the original piece for context!

Warnings: implied cross species smut, accidental asphyxiation, Tony’s just trying his best, Peter is dumb, possible hormonal drugging (feel good hormones)

---

Finally, all of the surface vessels are in their cages, and each human has wandered back inside. It helps Tony that he rests while it’s light and works when it gets dark, but he still hates that the humans choose to populate his home during mating season.

His arms slowly unfold out of his den as he goes to inspect the surface. Dark, still and steady— just how he prefers it. He takes his time to navigate his usual path around the perimeter, cataloging each change in surfaces and letting his arms search out new contours and crevices in the rock and sand.

He’s hungry, mildly, and catches a few fish while he swims, eating them absentmindedly as he moves slowly, steadily across the floor. There’s not much new to feel— a few nests here and there, debris and chemicals from the surface vessels that he filters mindlessly. When he returns back to his den to resume his work, there’s a ripple across the surface of the water.

Tony dismisses it at first. Land animals and flying animals will often touch down on his waters. But then there’s a violent splashing in the water, the surface disturbed as a creature, a human, kicks and swims a few clicks to the west.

With nothing better to do, Tony goes to investigate. He stops underneath the frantic current, watching as all four of the human’s limbs flutter, desperate to keep afloat.

There are a few wooden beams that anchor the nearby structure down into the ground, and Tony wraps a few arms around one of them, climbing slowly to get a better look at the intruder.

He wonders if this human is injured— his swimming is lopsided, and Tony can hear labored breathing above the loud splashing and flailing of his limbs. Every so often, the human’s smaller arms will lift out of the water to grab the metal anchors on the side, leaving his bottom arms to hang freely in the water below.

Oh, the human is learning to swim.

Tony has never interacted with a human before, but he suddenly feels sorry for this one. The tiny limbs and slight muscles need development before they would be able to swim long distances, but this one looks old enough to at least know basic technique.

He huffs, pulling himself closer to where the human is resting. It probably wouldn’t be best to scare the poor thing, so he hesitantly runs the tip of his forearm against a curved, bumpy foot.

The human jumps, kicking and yelling angrily. Tony rolls his eyes— so sensitive. He peaks over the surface of the water, blinking away droplets as his eyes readjust to the humid summer air. When he can see clearly, Tony is met with wide pools of brown eyes, surprised and... horrified.

There’s a noise spilling from the human’s lips— words Tony can’t understand. He moves closer and the human flinches, but doesn’t flee. The beautiful eyes and lips draw Tony closer and he reaches out another arm, this time wrapping it around the human’s foot and holding on.

Tony. Safe.

He tries to project those words, and watches the moment they register to the human. Curiosity. He can feel curiosity through their small connection, and it makes Tony hum in pleasure. Not scared then.

And then Tony pulls. Not physically, no— he pulls emotions, drawing a few pieces of information from... the man. The human is male. He’s young, untouched, and devastatingly alone. Filled with loss and self-doubt, despite his beauty.

Peter. His name is Peter.

Tony pushes back the same emotions: male, fertile, alone. His own thoughts permeate Peter’s mind, and the boy in front of him blinks slowly, unsteadily. His pink lips turn into a hesitant smile as he murmurs a few more words, extending a hand with delicate fingers in Tony’s direction.

Oh. Okay. Tony’s arms pale in embarrassment, and he can feel his cocks take notice of the proposal. He’s suddenly aware of how bare this human is, how vulnerable and sweet he smells.

He lets his instincts take over for a moment, and a few of his arms snake out, wrapping delicately over Peter’s wrists and ankles and neck, feeling his pulse thrum and race. With a tug, he pulls Peter flush against his body, letting the smaller male feel the aroused wiggle of his cocks peaking out of the slit between his limbs.

Mate.

Peter nods in agreement and it’s all the permission Tony needs. Den, den, den, his instincts scream, and he holds his mate close, diving beneath the surface and heading back to his den. There they will be safe, there his mate can carry his clutch and take care of them.

Safe. Mate. Peter.

It isn’t until he’s halfway back to his den that he feels his mate’s pulse slow down noticeably, and Tony feels his breathing stop. He jerks to a stop and looks down into his young mate’s face, horrified to find his expression slack, eyes closed, and body unmoving— no breath, no sign of life whatsoever.

Oh seas, what happened? He uses a thin arm to snake down Peter’s throat, alarmed to find his lungs full of water. Shit. Tony has never swam so fast in his entire life, racing back towards the pier and throwing Peter’s limp body up on the wooden deck. It takes some coordination, but Tony manages to climb the metal structure, leaning over Peter to turn his head to the side, sliding his arm deep into the boy’s mouth and coaxing the water out of his lungs.

Tony breathes a sigh of relief when his small mate coughs, expelling water and bile across the wooden deck as his body contracts in heaving breaths. He looks so lost, so tiny, and Tony lays one of his own hands across the boy’s back, sending waves of calm and peace to comfort him.

He gets a dopey smile in response and a few more muttered words, soft, content affection returning to him in a soothing wave. Good, he didn’t hurt his fragile mate.

It takes awhile for Peter to stand back up, but Tony stays nearby the whole time, watching and waiting. With wobbly steps, Peter makes his way back towards the land structure, covering his lower half with a piece of fabric as he goes.

Peter turns back once before he disappears up the hill. His face splits wide in a sweet smile, and he waves his hand back and forth, whispering a few words.

Tony has no idea what they mean, but he knows he hasn’t seen the last of his tiny, human mate.

#starker #boys in love #aww so cute #ironspider #peter x tony #peter parker #tony stark #drabble #ficlet #kraken!tony #human!peter #strangers to lovers #tentacles #implied oviposition

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

50 or 33 with jmart for the smooch prompt list :mimhonk.emoji:

#33 - An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it, and #50 - A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck. POR QUÉ NO LOS DOS!

thank you tem!!! :D I had a lot of fun with this one, and because of that it also got Long As Fuck so bear with me on that. Set in the safehouse also! Hope you enjoy ^_^

It’s been a very, very good day at the safehouse. The Lonely has been quiet, lurking almost entirely out of sight rather than clinging onto the both of them, and Martin’s been relaxed and open, happy in a way Jon hasn’t honestly seen him in months. The Eye has been quiet as well, and even Jon’s pain levels have been down today - no small miracle given the chilly weather - and it feels like a day for new beginnings, a day for truths.

So, “I missed you,” is what tumbles out over dinner, over beans and soup and tea.

Jon hears Martin’s breath catch before he sees it, before he looks up to see the stunned smile that takes over his face. “I missed you too,” he replies softly, and Jon pretends not to hear the crack in his voice where the unused muscle of emotion splits the air.

Jon holds his gaze for an admirable amount of time, but even he wavers. He’s never been a brave man, and he looks down at the table before speaking. “There were spiders, while you were gone,” Jon begins, tracing a finger along the grain of the table. “God, I really should have gotten more in the business of squishing them.”

“Yeah?” Martin offers, encouraging. The anecdote feels clumsy, foolish, but Martin is laying a hand across the table to show his patience, and Jon is grateful.

“I never quite could make myself do it though, I guess I just-” He trails off, starts a new thread of the story. “They always made me think of you, in a way. You always cared so much about all the little things. Always insisted on carrying them out. Dreadful things that still deserved kindness in your eyes.” Like me, he doesn’t add. “I always admired that about you. So I didn’t squish them as much.” He finishes clumsily, glancing up with a flash of his eyes before looking down at the table again to pick at the grain of the wood.

Martin blinks at him. Stares at him in silence for what Jon can only assume is an eternity, until he has to look up and make sure he’s still there. And then Martin stands, tea forgotten, maneuvers himself around the table, and darts in and presses his lips to Jon’s.

It only lasts for a moment - half a heartbeat of a touch - but it’s warm and vulnerable and a bit awkward and it sends Jon’s eyes flying wide open in shock.

Martin pulls back just as quickly as he had dived in, retreating so fast he bumps into the nearby counter, his eyes widening, and the first thing out of his mouth is “Oh, shit.”

Jon can’t blame him, he’s utterly dumbstruck himself. His head feels pleasantly fuzzy, but confusion swims up to trump every other emotion until the only thing he’s able to push out of his lungs is; “I- excuse me?”

Martin blinks, his panic floundering in confusion. “I- sorry, excuse you for what?”

Jon’s brows furrow together as he tries to piece his thoughts together. “You... don’t,” he says like it’s obvious, and then hesitates. “I-I mean, you- you said... you did, but not... so why-” Jon looks hopelessly out of his depth as he gestures, not making sense. “Why did you do that?”

Martin stares, the tips of his ears burning dark red. “I don’t what, Jon?”

Jon curls in on himself, shame bubbling to the surface. What has he gotten wrong? What has he missed? “I-in the Lonely. You said you loved me.”

Martin’s breath hitches at his own words repeated back at him - words he doesn’t even remember saying. The fog had been so intense, so much and yet so pointless all at once, it had been so hard to keep anything straight, to hold down any memory or emotion. He hardly remembers saying those words, but they draw a wobbly smile out of him anyways. He supposes it makes sense that he would say them, though. Not much could cut through the fog, but Jon did. Jon always did. He still does.

“Did I? I didn’t know I had it in me to share.”

Jon shakes his head, now looking frustrated. “But you didn’t.” He insists. “You don’t... that means you don’t anymore.” His expression stalls for a second, before something akin to horror blooms on his face, and he scrambles to his feet to face him. “Martin, if you think- God, if you think you somehow owe me this after all that, let me be abundantly cl-”

“No!! No, no.” Martin cuts in, sensing Jon’s building distress and moving away from the counter to rest a hand on his shoulder. “No,” he repeats, softer. He takes a deep breath and lets himself run his thumb over the fabric of Jon’s sweater. “I don’t think I owe you. Not in that way. Christ, of course not.”

Jon is silent for several long minutes, before his voice begins working again, and he stutters back into a sentence. “O-okay. Okay. Good.” He clears his throat. “Then why-? I-I-I thought-” He gathers up what brain power he has left to sort his thoughts. Something like hope tinges his voice, and Martin marvels at how deeply Jon seems to have resigned himself to this truth, while still being eager to save his life and run away with him all the way to Scotland. Love is a funny thing. When he speaks again, his voice is so, so quiet. “After the Unknowing, I thought I lost my chance. Thought you’d moved on. N-not that I would have blamed you, I just- but you-”

“Jon,” Martin says softly, ducking his head to catch his eyes. “I wasn’t quite myself in the Lonely. I didn’t mean that as an ending.” He breaks his gaze away, looks down at his own hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I was mourning something I thought I’d lost.”

“Oh,” The word escapes Jon’s lungs in a rush; several years worth of longing filling up his chest and squeezing his throat like smoke, making his eyes sting. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, no,” Martin shakes his head. “That’s over now.”

Jon presses a hand to his eyes, breathing, letting everything settle in.

“Well. That certainly makes me feel foolish.”

Martin laughs, a free, wonderful sound that fills the air with electricity and warms Jon down to his bones. He realizes he’s staring at him, watching how his shoulders move with adoration, watching the joy radiate from him with nothing short of beauty. A moment of insane courage passes through Jon, and he moves his hand to cover the one Martin still has resting on his shoulder.

He steps closer. “Do you want this then? The way that I do?” His voice is eager, and he’s afraid to breathe.

Martin’s expression absolutely melts, and he sways closer. He Saw Jon in the Lonely, in all his hopeless lovestruck worry, so he knows what he means. “Yes,” he answers. “More than anything. I don’t-” he makes a pained face, and looks down, prepares himself for the undressing that comes before the acceptance of love. “I don’t know how okay I am. Don’t know how much of me is still me after everything with Lukas and- and well, everything, but...”

“I know what you mean,” Jon assures him, running his thumbs over his knuckles. “I’m not even human anymore.” He exhales, in the tone of a joke fallen flat.

Martin squeezes his shoulder. “Exactly,” he murmurs. “But I still want to try.”

“Martin,” Jon exhales, his voice thick and his eyes wet. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Martin tugs Jon’s hand from where it’s resting atop his to press a kiss to his knuckles, and Jon laughs, a quiet little sound, and then he’s moving, leaning back into Martin’s space; his face growing blurry as he gets up close and presses their lips together again. He misses the mark just a bit, the kiss landing a little too high on his mouth, but Martin leans up into it, rearranging their positions, and just like that it’s perfect. Not earth-shattering, not magical, just perfect, in the way that only imperfection can be. Martin lets himself sink into it.

It’s gentle, sweet, and it makes Martin’s head buzz with disbelief. He breaks away to breathe, for a moment, just to wrap his head around what’s happening, and then Jon is tugging him back in, more intentionally this time.

Jon kisses very thoroughly, Martin soon learns with amusement. He furrows his brow and crowds himself into Martin’s space, curling his hands in his shirt, and he moves his mouth in time with Martin’s like he has a purpose to follow, like he’s devoting himself to studying him; focusing on each touch with crystal clarity. He has a single-minded doggedness about the whole thing, and Martin eventually relaxes and just lets himself be kissed, following along with gentle touches and barely held-back smiles.

He raises a hand experimentally to run through his hair, and Jon kisses him deeper in response; open mouthed and wanting, tasting what he can, allowing himself to bite his lip gently. That takes the breath straight out of Martin’s lungs, and the bitten-off sound he makes apparently encourages Jon even more, as he breaks away and kisses him down across his jaw, under his chin, and down the side of his throat.

It’s frantic at first, a desperate attempt to map out as much of Martin as he can in the time he has, but the sense of urgency starts to bleed out of him, and he ends up kissing gentler and gentler the longer he lingers, until eventually Jon’s just nuzzling his nose into his skin and wrapping his arms around him for a hug. The sigh that escapes him makes Martin’s heart clench.

“I love you,” he mumbles into Martin’s shoulder, and later the weight of this will settle on their shoulders. Later they will have to sit down and figure this out, this mess of personalities and supernatural entanglement, this terrible future of fear laid out before them, and the path forward they will choose to carve out together. But for now they can sink into this embrace and breathe.

Martin doesn’t say the words back, he’s not quite there yet, but he doesn’t need to. It’s enough, it’s more than enough to just be here, for Martin to press his nose into Jon’s hair, and smile until his face aches from it.

#HELLO GAY PEOPLE THIS IS SO LONG #i may be touch starved! #the magnus archives #jonmartin #tma fic #my writing #fic #kisses prompts #god they talk SO MUCH. i do NOT know how to write Tiny Snippets #mossy speaks #ANYWHO ENJOY

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 3

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warnings: Slight mention of scars

Word Count: 3122 words

Summary: You and Cruz go for a morning swim in the reef

*Cross-posted to ao3*

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

That Friday, you stay up late, not drinking or binging a new Netflix special, but fruitlessly trying to decide between your athletic shorts are your more revealing swim bottoms. In a stroke of genius the only ever occurs to a person late at night, you wear the shorts over your swimsuit, topped off with a swim shirt.

With your water-proof swim bag, you sit at the tidepool and furtively lather your legs in sunscreen, waiting for Cruz.

Cruz swims up to the edge of the tidepool, pulling himself up and over the rocks before motioning you over.

“Okay, the cool stuff is just less than half of a klick away, I’ll be carrying you on my back the whole way, but some of it’s underwater. Would you-” Cruz stammers, “Would you mind if I took you down with me, to see it?”

You feel that involuntary smile creep up on you.

“I would love that.”

--------

It’s an odd sensation, sitting on Cruz’s back. You had worried yourself and all your gear would be too heavy, but Cruz barely seems to notice the extra weight. You're placed on the bottom of his torso, right before it connects into tail, but you can still feel it’s movements as he swims through the water. It feels almost like a python, muscles pulling and contracting, his arms reaching out occasionally for a large stroke to gain a temporary boost of speed. He’s not moving so fast that the wind or splashes of water hit your skin, but you can still feel the waves pushing over your feet and thighs. The view is breathtaking and you have a nice time looking at Cruz’s ripped back as well.

When you see some small rock outcroppings by the shore that Cruz stops and raises his head out of the water, adjusting you on his back like one would carry someone in a piggyback ride. The tips of his claws brush against your thighs. You are for sure blushing.

“We’re here. Do you remember the signals?”

You nod, responding with the Okay hand signal.

Apparently Cruz had self-taught himself scuba-diving signals, although he initially had thought they were limited to human “ocean-spies” trying to steal precious fish from the pod (“That’s what the older kids in my pod told me! Stop laughing!”). You yourself were a certified scuba diver, and had gone many times with your mother during college.

With a nod and a hand motion, you two submerge, a bloom of color all around you.

Your arms lang loosely around Cruz’s shoulders, chest pressed against his backside and legs hiked up around his hips to give him maximum mobility. A particular bright hydrocoral catches your eye amidst the rainbow, your heart leaping at the sight. You point urgently in it's direction, unintentionally clenching your legs in excitement. Cruz’s chest rumbles with a giggle, bubbles popping  through his mouth and gills. He shrugs his shoulder to bring your body closer to it.

The purple stretches across the rocks in circular bunches, with the occasional starfish interspersed in between. With a good look, you can see the tiny spines and tiny perforations on it’s surfaces. You tap Cruz’s shoulder and throw your thumb up.

Once out of water and properly breathing, you fingers tap eagerly against Cruz’s shoulder blades.

“Cool, right?”

“Yeah! I’ve never seen that kind of hydrocoral up close before. I’ve heard the California corals were beautiful but wow, those were gorgeous. And that patch was so big, it must be- I don’t even know how old! They grow extremely slow, you see, and because of excess-”” Your eyes glance over your shaky fingers, fidgeting and dancing across Cruz’s as the words fall out of your mouth. You forcibly still them. You gulp. “They don’t have those where I’m from. Sorry, I talk too much.” You force out a giggle.

You peel your fingertips away from Cruz, picking at your fingernails as your neck tints red. The heat makes you pull your arms into yourself and away from Cruz’s slick skin. Your thighs lock tight around his waist to stay on.

“Does it have a name?”

“They just call it California Purple Hydrocoral, since it’s so localized. Nothing too fancy, even though it’s so unique.” Typically, to calm yourself down, you fiddle with your clothing or whatever you have your hand on. With Cruz’s body so close by, your first compulsion is to trace shape alongside his back, map the muscle and bone’s topography. But just the idea of such intimacy sends your head in a swirl.”

“What makes them so unique? Just where they live?” Cruz playfully scoffs, “Because I’ve lived in one area for years and you don’t see me getting any trophies.” You chuckle, Cruz arching his neck to smirk at you.

“Well not not only are they super old, but most corals lose their color when they die and California Purple Hydrocorals don’t. The pigment is so deeply embedded in their skeleton, it remains even after they’re gone.” You float your eyes downwards towards the sea, in the direction where you get merely a glimpse of the bright purple mass. “It’s kind of their legacy, hence the name. That color is so intrinsic to what they are, not even death or time could take it from them.”

The water is cool and the sun is hot, beating down at the exposed skin on your neck and back while your feet mindlessly kick back and forth. Cruz’s muscles shift as he  turns his head farther back towards you. Your eyes are lost at sea, caught in the coral possibilities. There’s an absentminded smile on your face. It brings one to his.

“You’re really fun to talk to, ____.”

You’re snapped back into reality, eyes yanked out of the water and back to Cruz’s own. The inky black stares back, serious and focused.

“Wow, thank you. That’s very sweet of you to say Cruz.”

You avert your eyes in a polite gesture, rubbing the back of your neck. Cruz keeps staring. You can feel it tingling across your cheeks.

“I mean it. You’re really smart.”

“Oh, well, I just study a lot-”

“And-and you shouldn’t have to apologize when you get, y’know, into it.”

Cruz looks away, jaw clenched. “Not to anybody. Not to me, especially not to me, because you’re so-so….” He struggles with his words, chin shaking with unreleased energy, “You love it so much and that’s-you should be able to talk about it whenever. Because it makes you happy and any assholes out there shouldn’t ruin that for you, and I-” His chest heaves as he stutters, blue flushing his skin, “I-I like it, when you’re happy, I mean.” Cruz’s breaths are short and quick, his cerulean blush painting the back of his neck and crawling up to his ears. “Does that make sense?”

Words escape you at this moment, like Cruz sucked up all the energy in the moment. In a good way, he’s pulled the rug out from under you. Your eyes wander, brain turning over his words.

But Cruz can’t hear your inner thoughts, he can only feel your still muscles and the lull in the conversation.

“I-Shit, I didn’t mean-”

Your body jerks back to life as you lean over Cruz’s shoulder with a quick motion, eyes squinting in the middle distance. Cruz jerks.

“Cruz, submerge real quick!”

“What?”

You jerk your thumb down and shakily put on your goggles and snorkel with one hand. “Quick! It’s going to notice us!”

Cruz, befuddled, tightens his grip on your thighs and submerges. His head swivels back and forth, looking for what has gotten you so fussy. You extend both of your arms, pointing about 10 feet away, to the side of a bunch of coral. You then close your hands horizontally, interlocking your fingers into your signal.

Turtle!

Besides the small rock is a large Leatherback Turtle, blissfully unaware of the two creatures not too far from it, taking a leisurely swim. Your right arm wraps around Cruz’s clavicle as you lean over to get a better look, enchanted by her beautiful shell. Amidst the reef, she looks like a dolled up grandma, wrinkled and taking an afternoon continental in the garden.

Cruz ducks behind another rock as she swims closer, trying not to scare the turtle away. Your arm tightens around his shoulder, eyes never tearing from her.

You don’t notice, but Cruz feels himself falling deeper when he looks at the wonder in your gaze. Never before has he ever felt so jealous of a turtle.

She cruises along, Cruz dodging just out of her sight but close enough to give you a good view, all while giving you a spare breath whenever you gesture. As she swims back towards the open ocean, Cruz takes you both up and out of the water.

You whip off your goggles and snorkel, taking a long breathe in.

“That was- wow, that was incredible.”

“She was so pretty I didn’t think about eating her for like, forty percent of that time.”

You smack Cruz on the shoulder, but it’s light, half-joking, and an unflattering snort leaves you. Cruz shoots you a toothful smirk.

A light sea breeze rolls over you two, abating the hot sun, although just a bit. The water has thoroughly sunk into your swimsuit bottoms, pulling down with extra weight on your lower half, but you’ve never felt lighter.

In the tranquility, you rest your front on Cruz’s back, head now tucked into the nook of  his shoulder. The smell of salt and a slight tang of fish immediately washes your nostrils. Cruz’s shoulders and deltoids stiffen for a millisecond and slowly relax in another.

“Hey, Cruz?” You whisper, almost mumble into his skin.

“Y-yeah?”

“Thanks.”

----------

Your muscles slightly ache from the long swim this morning, and  boardwalk food is the perfect level of unhealthy to abade it for a bit.

As you walk back to the tidepool, arms cluttered with overpriced boardwalk food, Cruz’s eyes light up. You struggle to sit down easily, but manage to crouch down to Cruz’s level, motoning for him to grab the hotdog from the crook of your elbow.

He does, but Cruz’s eyes are locked on the two Cotton Candies which you hold in a tight grip; The water laps at your ankles and you don’t want the $7 you spent to go to waste.

“Trust me, this will be best after a full meal. Don’t want you getting nauseous.” Cruz lets out a facetious, over-dramatic sigh, but with one bite of a hot dog, his eyes alight once more. He devours the thing quickly, almost with one gulp, whipping his head around to the cotton candy. He wiggles his eyebrows and you sigh, motioning for him to come closer.

Cruz seats himself up on the rock next you, pupils sparkling as you hand him the cotton candy stick. He takes a large bite and is immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness and how quickly the sugar melts in his mouth.

“Is that supposed to happen?”

You chuckle, taking a much tinier bite out of your own cotton candy.

“Yes, it is. It dissolves in liquid, hence the ‘no water’ thing.” Cruz nods, spun sugar strings stuck to his lips as he attacks the cotton candy like a toddler. You smile, taking another bite.

The two of you continue to snack in silence. The end of Cruz’s tail flicks back and forth, stirring tiny ripples in the pool, extremely cute and reminiscent of an excited dog. After licking away the rest of your cotton candy, you lean over to the trash bag to drop off your paper stick. It’s then do you see them.

With your face up close to Cruz’s tail, you notice lines of discoloration, streaks of white, which pepper Cruz’s tail. Your eye catches one, then another, and another. By the time you pull back, you notice quite a few all near his pelvic fins, the tip of a larger one stretching to the bottom side of his tail.

Holy shit. How did I not notice those?

On the side of his tail, three marks stand out to you. Their pink, freshly healed, and rake along his skin for 2 inches.

“Uh, Cruz?”

“Yemf?” He asks, amidst another big bite of cotton candy.

“Did you accidentally cut yourself on some coral?”

About 20 pieces of coral, technically?

Cruz hesitates mid bite, sweet spun sugar and some sort of excuse on the tip of his tongue.

“What do you mean?” Cruz’s voice, same octave, is somehow quieter, devoid of emotion.

“It’s just, you have all these marks on your tail and…” You pull back and turn your back to him. Cruz averts his gaze, but the look he gives his tail is frustrated and simmering. “I got worried, that’s all.”

“They’re nothing, it’s nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” His intonation, like his furrowed brow, bristles with a hostile energy. You turn your whole body towards him, now a bit peeved yourself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I said it’s not a big deal. I just did something stupid, went somewhere I shouldn’t have. That’s it.” Cruz still refuses to meet your gaze, knuckles clenched white around the cotton candy stick. Your eyes dart back to the littered scars.

Who did this to him? Was it those mermaids I saw?

“Does that happen often? Wouldn’t your pod-”

“Can we just fucking drop it? It doesn’t matter anyway.” Cruz bites back, almost a yell but not quite. Your eyebrows furrow.

“Well it matters to me. If you’re getting hurt then-”

“Then what? Why the fuck does it matter if I get a few scrapes now and again, why do you even care, huh?” Cruz’s glare burrows into your skin, you can feel your eyes go wide. Something deep, something heated and bitter, stirs in your gut.“You don’t have to do anything. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean you have to pretend shit. I’m not so pathetic that you have to force yourself to-”

“Can you stop putting words in my mouth for one fucking minute!” This time, you actually do scream, which echoes off the water and the rocks. Cruz’s eyes widened, stopped in the middle of his tirade. Whatever burns inside boils over, released in hot breathes and the steam under your skin.

“Is it so hard to believe that I might care about you?” Your voice cracks with lost breath and the fast pounding of your heart. You pinch the bridge of your nose and with a deep inhale and exhale, you continue.

“My whole life, people have expected this one thing of me, and I spent so long doing everything I could to be the exact opposite. But I want-” You gesture your hands to yourself and Cruz, “-this. I want to get to know you, I want to hang out and eat expensive seafood and talk about bullshit! But I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me.” You take a deep breath, Cruz not even taking the moment to jump in. “And I get that it’s hard, that we don’t know each other yet. But I want to trust you. I want you to trust me.”

A wave breaks against a rock, the noises drowned out  in the chasm of Cruz’s gaze and the beating of your heart. You can’t read the emotions on his face, what with a thousand thoughts flitting across it and the emotion welling in your eyes. The smell of brine seeps into your skin. You tuck your hands into your elbows, hoping that will stop their shaking.

“I just-”

“I-”

You both pause, caught in the middle of your thoughts. Cruz sputters.

“Sorry, I interrupted you, you can go.”

“No, no you can go.”

There’s another pause, each of you waiting for the other to go. Cruz finally steps up.

“I’m sorry for accusing you. I was making assumptions and-, and that’s not fair to you.” He expounds in one quick breathem sucking another in before continuing. “Since we met I’ve  been….going through some stuff and I think I wanted to let it out. But I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have, not on you, not for shit that’s not even remotely your fault, damn it.”  Cruz laments, pressing his face into his hands. He takes a deep breath in, then out, and pulls his hands away. “I’m sorry.” He sighs again, scratching nervously behind his ears.

You let the sentence hang in the air a bit, trying to consolidate your mind and think hard about what to say. It’s far from easy, trying to find the words and express them properly. But it feels good. It feels right, cathartic almost.

“Thank you. And you don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to. We can take our time with all….this.” You untuck your hands and wave towards the air. Cruz laughs and this time, it actually settles the butterflies in your stomach. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, whether to talk it out or even distract for a bit.”

Cruz hums in agreement, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles.

“Thanks, for that. And I-I’ll be here for you too, i-if you need it. I mean, you know where to find me.” You giggle, a bubble of exhaustion popping out of your mouth as Cruz joins you. You feel infinitely lighter. A wave brushes against your ankle, the ocean slowly eroding the thick stress in the air.

Cruz and you stand about 1 foot apart from each other, your leftovers discarded in the plastic bag by your side. Cruz fidgets with his fingers some more, eyes glancing back and forth between you and the rocks.

“Can I….Can I hold your hand?” Cruz murmurs.

You don’t respond, just nodding and lifting out your hand. Cruz slips his in.

His skin is damp, slightly cold, and he relishes in the heat of your palm. His fingers dwarf yours as they intertwine, his long claws just barely grazing your skin, careful not to actually cut the back of your hand. You brush your thumb over his knuckles and up his palm. His hands are soft, although his palms are dotted by small calluses. Cruz scoots closer to you, both of you looking out at the ocean. With a full belly and your muscles still quite sore, you rest your head on Cruz’s shoulder. You feel his muscles tense to jerk away, but they forcibly relax as he grips your palm tight. You rub his knuckles once more.

It may not be much, but it’s a start. And you think you quite like where it is heading.

#my writing #monster romance #shark merman #monster x reader #merman x reader #shark merman x reader #monster/reader #reader insert

[gretavanfanfic]

Submerged

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 2000ish

Warnings: None, pure fluff!

Summary: You overhear Josh talking to his mom about you. 

Note: Based on this request I got from @noir-couture11​:  I was wondering if you could write a cute josh fic? Something along the lines of he thinks you’re asleep, but you over hear him on the phone talking to his mom about how he’s really falling in love with you.

Your relationship with Josh has been moving fast. Faster than any other relationship you’d had in the past. Usually, you exercise an extreme amount of caution when dating, never one to dive into something headfirst. You’re more of a dip your toe in the pool, then sit on the edge with your legs submerged, then slowly wade your way in up to your shoulders kind of girl. Never in the past had you even allowed your hair to get wet.

With Josh, everything is different. The day you met him, you dived right into the deep end and you still have yet to come up for air. You’ve been freely swimming in the pool of Josh for a little under three months now, and you’ve never been happier. 

You know without question that you’re in love with him. Josh is undoubtedly the brightest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. He constantly radiates warmth and light, always bringing a smile to your face and making your belly swirl with emotions you’ve never felt before. You were smitten with him from day one, and your feelings have only grown every day since then.

Though you haven’t told Josh how strongly you feel about him yet, not wanting to move at a pace faster than he’s comfortable with, you can’t help but suspect that he feels just as strongly about you, if his actions are anything to go by.

For one, he spends every possible second he can with you. Being on a break from touring means that Josh has practically moved into your apartment over the past several weeks. Some of his clothes occupy a drawer in your dresser, he has a toothbrush in your bathroom, and he spends most nights sleeping next to you in your bed. He really only ever goes to his own place to check in and grab more stuff to bring to yours. And during the short periods of time that you’re apart, he’s texting you to tell you that he misses you, that he can’t wait until you’re back in each other’s presence.

Then there’s all the little things he does to show you how much you mean to him. Like when he has dinner on the table when you come home from work, and when he picks you up little gifts from the store that remind him of you, and the thoughtful dates that he plans that you always have a blast on. The way he cares for you is exactly the way you crave to be cared for, and you have no idea how you were lucky enough to find him.

Speaking of things Josh does for you to show you that he cares about you, one of your absolute favorites is when he plays with your hair when you’re laying together in your bed. You had briefly mentioned at one point that you find it soothing to have your hair played with, and so now he does it all the time. It feels so good that it usually lulls you to sleep, and on this Friday night after a long day of work, you’re unable to fight the slumber that threatens to overtake you as his fingers comb through your locks and gently scratch your scalp in the most comforting way. That in combination with the heat of his bare skin has you snoozing peacefully on his chest in no time.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep for, but you’re awakened by Josh wiggling his way out from under you, doing his best to not jostle you too much and disturb you. Unfortunately for him, you’re a light sleeper and even the smallest noises and movements wake you up. In an effort to not make him feel bad for rousing you though, you keep your eyes closed and curl into your sheets, feigning sleep. You faintly hear his phone buzzing on your nightstand before he finally scoots off the mattress and grabs it.

As he exits your bedroom and enters the living room, leaving your door slightly ajar, you hear him mutter a quiet, “Hey, mom,” into the phone. He begins having a conversation with his mother and you try to tune out his talking, not wanting to eavesdrop. But despite the fact that he’s practically whispering and in the next room, you can still hear everything he’s saying clearly. Your ears especially perk up when you catch him saying your name.

“Yeah, sorry. Y/N’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her up,” he says, and you conclude that Karen must have questioned why he’s speaking in a hushed voice.

He further explains to her why you’re asleep at -you check the clock- 8:30 on a Friday night. “She worked all day, so we just grabbed some dinner and hung out at home.” There’s a pause and then he clarifies, “No, no we’re at her place. I’m just here so often that it feels more like home than my apartment.” He chuckles a bit, but quickly cuts himself off, still trying to be conscious of not making too much noise.

Your heart swells in your chest hearing Josh refer to your home as his home. You would let him move in with you in a heartbeat if he told you that he wanted to live with you. There have been countless times in the past that you’ve wanted to tell him to just pack up all of his stuff and bring it to your place, but you had bitten your tongue each time, afraid he would think you were crazy. You figured it would probably be best to tell him that you love him before inviting him to move in.

In the living room, Josh is silent for a few moments, presumably listening to Karen. When he speaks again, you feel like you could die of happiness at his words. Euphoria fills you, and you can’t stop a smile from making its way to your lips.

“She’s amazing, mom. I know its only been, like, three months, but- God, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he confesses to Karen, sincerity evident in his tone.

Obviously you can’t hear Karen’s response, but you assume it’s good because Josh shyly thanks her and lets out a small giggle. They chat some more and you briefly hear them discussing plans for the two of you (!!!) to visit his parents in Frankenmuth, but you’re no longer paying attention. 

All you can do is lay in bed and grin wildly at the ceiling, heart too full and brain too wired to even consider falling back asleep. Even though you really already knew that he loved you, words cannot describe how amazing it is to hear him say it out loud. The sense of validation you feel knowing for a fact that your complete and utter adoration of him is returned has you on cloud nine.

Josh and Karen converse for ten more minutes about his brothers, what’s going on in Frankenmuth, and various other topics, and by the time he’s telling her goodnight and that he loves her, he’s speaking at a normal volume. Bless his heart, the boy can’t help that he’s a naturally loud and animated talker. Some people may be annoyed by it, but you find it incredibly endearing.

When Josh finally ends the call and returns to your bedroom, you’ve given up your ruse of being asleep and are sitting up in bed, looking at your phone. Upon noticing that you’re awake, Josh swears, “Shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

You smile at him as he crawls back into bed and reply, “That’s okay, it’s a little early to go to bed anyway.” You reach over to set your phone back on the nightstand and flick on the lamp. A soft glow illuminates the room and you watch him settle back against your headboard and get comfortable, pulling up the sheets so they’re covering his legs. 

Wanting to touch him, you cuddle up to his side and he instantly wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer. His hand finds its way back to your hair and you sigh contently before you comment, “You know, sometimes I hate being a light sleeper, but other times it’s not so bad…”

Josh looks down at you questioningly. “Oh yeah?” he implores. “Why is that?”

Debating how to word your response, you drag out, “Welllll…I guess it’s annoying because I can’t sleep anywhere even remotely noisy. Like forget me ever sleeping on a plane. But other times, I suppose it’s nice because I get to hear things that I would have missed if I was asleep.” 

You realize your answer is cryptic, so you’re not surprised when Josh scrunches up his face, looking mildly suspicious. This only lasts for a few seconds, however, because his expression quickly changes to one of recognition. His eyes shut for a moment and he tilts his head back, taking in a breath before looking back to you and asking, “So how much of that did you hear?” 

He doesn’t look angry that you were eavesdropping, quite the opposite of that actually. His eyes are alight and you can see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. His fingers are still mindlessly running through your tresses, but his other hand is nervously fiddling with the sheet on his lap.

You try to hide the giddiness in your voice, but your attempts are useless. “I may or may not have heard you tell your mom that you think you’re in love with me.” You smile at him bashfully, biting your lip to convey that you feel a little guilty for forcing the words out of him.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and you strive to communicate with your eyes how happy the revelation makes you, and how much you love him too.

Catching you off guard, Josh leans down and captures your lips with his, the hand in his lap reaching up to tenderly touch the side of your neck while the one in your hair moves to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your hands both slide up to his cheeks, and you rub your thumbs lazily across the soft skin there as you kiss him with everything you have. He sucks on your bottom lip and then his tongue plays with yours, and it makes your skin tingle and your toes curl in delight.

When your lips eventually part ways, Josh keeps his forehead against yours and shoots you the dazzling smile that you adore so much. Your face is starting to hurt from grinning for so long, but that doesn’t stop you from beaming back at him.

In a low but confident voice he simply says, “Yeah, I do.” Then, with a teasing glint in his eye, he jests, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

A loud giggle escapes your mouth, and, unable to resist the sight of his lips so close to yours, you give him another kiss, intending it to be brief. It lasts longer than you were expecting it to, however, neither of you wanting to put an end to the blatant display of the love you share for one another. 

Finally pulling away, you decide to play along with his joke and retort, “Well Joshua, I think I may just have to love you back.”

To punctuate your point, you swing your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap and wind your arms around his neck. Your eyes lock with Josh’s, and in that moment, everything is perfect. There is nothing else that you could want for when you’re this close to the man that you love. 

You hear him mumble a barely audible, “Good,” and then you’re kissing him for a third time and getting lost in his gentle touches and strokes. Diving into a relationship headfirst can be dangerous, you know, but with Josh, the risk was definitely more than worth it. You’re submerged, and the feeling is better than any other you’ve experienced. 

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #greta van fleet fic #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka x reader #gvf #josh gvf #joshkiszka #gretavanfleet #gvf fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet imagine #fluff #imagine #one shot #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #my writing

[blackberry-gingham]

Would it be too soo to ask a pt3 to the mermaid au ? XD (gosh i feel like a middle school girl who likes h2o but who cares I love it !) 😍😂

Chiiiiiille, it is NEVER too soon to request more mermaid!reader au 😩😩😩👌🏻 lmao ik how you feel, but it's all good! We're here for some silly, good old fun right? 😂

---

George

Today is the first day of summer break, and George couldn't possibly be more estatic

Of course it's nice to be off from school, but now he can see you just about whenever he wants

Things were working out alright before, scheduling times to meet and all, but unfortunately it didn't last as long as you both would've liked given his busy schedule

But now, no more!

George is up bright and early and the first thing he does is head off to your lake

He chains it up by the communal dock, then heads off into the forest, away from prying eyes

The two of you had to find a new location to meet, especially as the warmer weather came along, and luckily it's not too far off

George sprints out of the treeline and hops down to the sandy bank

He cups his mouth and calls your name, only growing more excited when he sees you breach the water only a few minutes later

"George? What are you doing here!", you swim towards shore and he sheds his shoes and shit to meet you halfway

He wades out till he's chest deep, "First day of summer break!", he gives you a quick kiss

From the confused look ok your face, he can see that he needs to explain, but once you understand, your while face lights up in excitement

"So... How often will you come down?"

"As often as we want!", he brushes a strand on hair out of your face, "Every day if I could"

George smiles softly, and you give a little squeal, swimming forward to wrap him in a hug

Your scales are scratching his legs a bit, but he doesn't mind

Instead he holds onto you and carries you deeper into the lake

You spend the next hour or so swimming about and exploring the water, sometimes even diving to the lake floor to see what you can find

Today's treasure consist of plastic straw, swimming goggles, a paper clip, and a disintegrating receipt

Nothing unusual there

George always wishes he could find something pretty to give to you, but you tell him you're happy for the help to clean your lake a touch

When you're both worn out from all the frolicking, you take a break on the sand and bathe in the sun

George holds your hand in his while you chat and dry off together

And after a bit of that, he floats the idea of grabbing a treat

He promises he'll be right back, and true to his word he returns after a long break with two ice cream cones

George hands you your favorite flavor, and you gasp in excitement

You love ice cream. Everyday you wish you had this underwater

He kisses you cheek, "just think, we can do this all summer long!"

"Can we?", you ask with suspended excitement

George nudges the tip of your nose with his and kisses your forehead, "Nothing would make me happier"

John

With the start of summer break, John finally has a proper excuse for being out and about so much

Especially to explain away the sand and smell of salt water he keeps bringing home...

Good thing too, Mimi was getting quite suspicious

"Mimi, I'm going out!"

"Wha- Again? Have you done your chores!"

John is already halfway out the door, "Yes, goodbye, love you!"

He slams it shut behind him and races off

He'll accept his lecture later, right now he needs to see you

By the time he gets to your cove, he's completely out of breath as he calls your name

All the commotion rouses you from sleep

Regardless, John seems to be full of energy, with no consideration for that fact that you've just awoken

You, understandably confused, ask what he's going here

John jabbers on with an explanation, looking as though he'll explode from the excitement if he doesn't get it out fast enough

And over the course of his drawn out explanation, suddenly you find yourself feeling just as awake and excited

"Well... We should do something to celebrate!", you suggest

John agrees with you, but faulters when it comes to making a suggestion

You both think hard, but nothing comes to mind

Until, you come up with a different idea, "You know, we don't have to go or do anything... Why don't we just relax? It's been a while you know"

John smiles softly at that and takes a seat beside you on your pile of treasure

"I know.... I'm sorry, I've just been so busy"

You kiss his cheek and tell him he doesn't need to apologise

John grins at your touch, and kisses you back before pulling you onto him and laying down

You give a little squeak as you land safely on top of his chest

He smirks at you and strokes the small of your back, "Hello there"

You roll your eyes, and take his face in your hands before planting a proper kiss to his lips

The heart shaped locket he gave you clinks and glitters against the zipper of his leather jacket before catching his eye

"You still have it?"

"Of course I do...", you fix him with a look and laugh, a touch confused. "It's the most precious thing I own"

You kiss him and lay your head down on his shoulder, nuzzling into the nape of his neck

John's heart pounds inside his chest

He likes the idea of being precious to someone

You run your thumb along his jawline, "Whatcha thinking about?"

John turns his head as far as he can without disturbing you and looks into the gorgeous infinity of your eyes

"I love you..."

Paul

The sun beams overhead as he waits on the forested shore for you to appear

This is his third day in a row seeing you since summer began

Third time! Imagine that...

He's brought you a surprise today, and he can't wait to get your reaction

Soon enough you break through to the surface and crawl up to land

"Sorry, I got a bit side tracked, and I- Oh! You brought your bass?"

"That's right! I wanted to show you this silly little love song I wrote... Made me think of you..."

Paul gives you a kiss, then pulls out the lucky scale you gave him from what feels like so long ago now

He counts himself off before strumming a pleasent bass line which slowly evolves as he adds his voice

You weren't expecting to be seranaded first thing on land this morning, but you can hardly complain

The song is beautiful and you can't help but enjoy the slight nautical vibe it has to it

"Oh, Paul... That was wonderful! Have you played it at a show yet?"

Paul looks pleased with himself as he responds, "This? Oh, no, this isn't for the public, just for you"

He takes your chin gently and tilts your head to look at him as he winks at you

You brush his hand away and laugh cheerfully, "You smooth talker..."

Paul puts aside the instrument and slides closer to you

He doesn't say anything more, instead he invites you to a few kisses as he holds your jaw in his callused hand

You stay like that for a few minutes, until finally you break apart

Paul huffs softly and catches his breath, his eyes still closed as he commits the moment to memory

"Say...", you slide your hand over to his and intertwine your fingers

"Hm...?"

"...think you could play it one more time?"

Paul lights up from the insight out, absolutely aglow with pride

And to think, John told him the song was silly...

"Course I can love"

Ringo

You know, at first he felt rather silly...

Pulling up to the abandoned dock with his brightly colored life jacket like he does

But having the freedom to jump into the water with you and not have to worry about going under always wins out

Ringo runs down the sandy bank calling your name and shedding his shirts and shoes as he goes

You're already waiting for him on a rocky outcrop as he approaches

You whip around at the sound of you name, tail swishing excitedly as he runs to meet you

Ringo drops his life jacket on a rock and climbs up to give you a kiss

When you pulls away, you give his beard a playful tug and then a little scratch as he leans into your touch

"Hello to you too, gorgeous", he nuzzles your cheek

You smile and hum happily

"Ready for the water?", you nod towards his floaty jacket

"Yeah... Don't want a repeat of last weekend, eh?"

The weekend in question consisted of a near brush with death

He'd decided to leave his jacket behind and try swimming in the choppy waves himself

Of course he can swim just fine, but he's still quite weak from being sick all the time, so...

Well, he got tired much faster then he thought and before he knew it, the ocean was swallowing him

Luckily you noticed his absence almost immediately and swooped in to save him

Again

After that scare, you made him promise to always bring his jacket from then on

And, true to his word, here it is

"Oh, don't even joke about it!", you hug him tightly before letting him get it on

He hates to make you worried, but he does love that you care...

Ringo smiles to himself as he gets on his jacket over his skinny chest

"There, now come on!", he slides off the rock and into the waves with you following close bey

With a gentle plop, he bobs right back up to the surface

He kicks and swims over to you, holding on lightly

A wave comes and lifts you both up on a small ride

You laugh, enjoying the simple fun together

You glance over at Ringo with a loving gaze, as you think to yourself how much you adore your little human

Ringo's silly laughter plays back in your mind, from all the countless times you've committed it to memory

He's quiet now as you wait on the next wave, "Hey, is something the matter?"

You clear your thoughts and hold him tightly one more time, smiling against his chest, "Not when I'm with you"

#the beatles #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney x reader #ringo starr x reader #george harrison x reader #mermaid!reader #teddy!beatles #beatles imagines

[handwrittenhello]

(edit made by the wonderful @ghostinthelibrarywrites!)

Summary:

Yennefer stops, sinking into a crouch so that they’re on eye level. “Jaskier. You have a spell placed on you and I need to break it,” she explains.

“A spell?” Contrary to what any sane person would think when told they’ve been bespelled, Jaskier is wide-eyed and excited, the same look he gets as an adult whenever he senses a good story coming on. “What kind?”

“A dangerous one.” She hates to squash that light in his eyes, but it’s true—she doesn’t know what other side effects it might have. She needs to reverse it sooner rather than later—gods forbid it becomes permanent. “Now will you please come here? I’m a sorceress, and I can help.”

Spell after spell after spell she casts, getting more and more complex as she goes, but none work. “Fuck!” she roars as her latest attempt fails, once again.

“Madame Sorceress?” Jaskier asks, brow creasing, worry creeping in. “Is it—did it work?”

“No,” Yennefer replies, and sighs, because she knows what she has to do. Who better to break a curse, after all, than a witcher?

My entry for quick fic this week! Geraskefer, 3k, featuring deaged jaskier—read it here on ao3 or below!

It happens like this: Geralt so rudely decides he’s better off without the company of his very best friend in the whole wide world, and Jaskier thinks, well, fuck this, and goes to find the nearest tavern.

And then—because the gods love to hate him, it seems—he sets one foot inside, sees raven curls and expensive clothing, and immediately turns around and leaves. He’s had enough rejection for one day, thanks, and he’s not sure his poor, sensitive, bardic heart can handle any more barbed words, be they in unlikely jest or not.

“Where are you going, bard?” Yennefer calls, and every eye in the place turns to him. Shit. Well, he knows how to play a crowd, at least.

“Well, you see, I—I’m due a visit to my, um, my elderly grandmother, she—she needs my help, um, corralling her chickens—”

Or not. Why do his stunning intellect and quick tongue always disappear when she’s around?

Yennefer snorts. “Sure you are, and then I assume there’s a cat on a stove somewhere that you need to go save?”

Were it not for years of barding training every and all sense of embarrassment out of him, he’s sure his face would be aflame by now.

“Come have a drink. You’re better company than anyone else in this shit town,” she grumbles, and it’s then that Jaskier spies the numerous empty wine glasses on the table before her.

Misery loves two things—company and copious amounts of alcohol. And if she’s offering…

“You’re buying. I left my coin pouch with G—well. You’re buying,” he says, but he’s already sliding into the chair across from her and flagging down the barman.

A drink turns into two turns into ten, and shit, he can’t even remember why he ever thought maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Yennefer turns out to be much more tolerable when her inhibitions are lowered by drink, uncharitable though it is to think, but really, she’s so much more open, and her cheeks flush so prettily in the candlelight, and she even laughs—not the mean, bitter laugh she does whenever she’s mocking him (which is frequently), but a small flash of teeth, a breathy thing that turns into full-on cackling as it goes.

“I never knew—is this what Geralt sees in you?” Jaskier muses, running a finger along the rim of his glass. Then he pales, realizing what he's just said, and looks up to see that every trace of amusement in her face is gone.

“Whatever he felt for me, it wasn’t real,” Yennefer says harshly, pushing her chair back so fast that it tips backwards and falls to the floor with an audible THUD. She starts towards the stairs, presumably to her room.

Jaskier winces and follows after her, still a bit unsteady, but sobering up quickly in the wake of his gaffe. “Yennefer, wait—”

She’s too fast, and he only barely manages to stick his foot in the doorway before she can slam the door in his face. “Ouch,” he complains, and knows he’ll be feeling it much worse in the morning.

“Go away,” Yennefer hisses. “Don’t you know when a woman has had enough of your company? Or is that why Geralt had to scream it from a mountaintop, to get rid of you?”

Ouch. He flounders, every possible retort dying on his lips. “That’s not fair,” he almost wants to say, except that hurts even worse, so he says nothing. He does withdraw his foot, though, and she’s quick to slam the door, the lock clicking audibly into place moments later.

He thunks his head against the door. Why does he do this? Every time he thinks that someone might tolerate him, might actually want him around, he sticks his foot in his mouth and fucks it up.

“Fuck me,” he mutters to himself, then gathers the strength to peel himself away from the door. He debates for a moment just sleeping right here in the hallway, curled up in front of her door, rather than facing the mortifying ordeal of begging for a room with no coin to promise. But he's just as likely to get hexed as he is thrown out, and, well, at least if he’s thrown out he can sneak into the stables or something. He shudders to think what sort of nasty spells Yennefer could cast on him if she were to trip over him on her way out in the morning.

He sighs and turns to leave, only to hear the lock click again, followed shortly by the knob turning. The door swings open on its own, and, half fearing for his life, Jaskier peeks inside. Yennefer is sitting at a vanity, taking her makeup off, her back to the door.

Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and he yelps, tripping over himself in his haste to retreat. Yennefer rolls her eyes. “Are you going to come in, or are you going to flail around like an idiot?”

“Are you going to harvest my organs and use them for your magicks?”

“No.” He feels a bit better at that, only for her to immediately follow up with, “Your organs aren’t anywhere near good enough.”

He pouts, but edges inside, the door shutting itself behind him. “My organs are perfectly harvestable,” he argues, and then feels quite ridiculous, and shuts up before she actually does harvest them.

“Gods, this was a mistake,” Yennefer mutters under her breath, finishing with her makeup and pulling back the covers on the bed. “You can have the floor. Don’t touch my stuff.”

He gleefully sets his lute case down to claim a space before she can change her mind. He’s touched, really, that she cares enough to offer him this. “Can I have a pillo—” he starts to ask, sneaking a hand up towards the bed, only to yank it away when she smacks it.

“No. Good night, bard.”

Never mind, he’s not as touched.

He sighs and lies down, curling around his lute case like he does on the road. It’s warm, at least, the heat from the kitchen below rising up to warm the floor beneath him. He falls into a deep sleep, hastened by the alcohol, and stays that way for several hours, before his bladder makes its needs known.

Upon waking to see the moon still high in the sky, he groans, reaching a hand up onto the vanity to pull himself up. His questing fingers brush against a vial—whoops—and in his blind fumbling to catch and right it, he ends up knocking over several more bottles. Fuck.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hisses, when Yennefer stirs in bed. Gods, if he's just spilled something important, she really will hex him.

Something important begins to drip onto his hand. Gods fucking damn it. He tries to scrub it away, only for it to begin tingling and burning, quickly spreading up his arm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It’s encompassing his entire body, now, itching and prickling like his skin is too small. “Bard? What are you doing?” Yennefer asks sleepily, sitting bolt upright when she spots the overturned bottle and him scratching frantically as if that will make the sensation go away.

“I didn’t mean to,” he pleads, suddenly very scared, and not just of her. Whatever this enchantment is, it’s spreading fast—will he survive it?

“Is that my fucking anti-aging serum?” Yennefer demands. Jaskier, who has no idea what an anti-aging serum looks like, continues to panic. Even his insides feel weird, guts writhing and bones aching. It’s becoming more and more painful, too, until he can’t stand it anymore, and his vision narrows and darkens and his back hits the floor and then he knows no more.

--

That fucking idiot. That stupid, fumbling imbecile! Yennefer should have known better, really, should have known that the blundering, blithering bard would immediately find the only potentially dangerous thing in the room and spill it all over himself. Really.

She rolled out of bed, a headache already pounding behind her eyes—partially the wine’s influence, yes, but more at the sight in front of her: Jaskier, no longer a long-limbed adult, instead a small, slight child, swimming in silks.

“For the love of fuck,” she sighs, pinching her brow. Her anti-aging serum—which is meant to be used in small doses, one or two drops at the most—she never knew it would have this kind of effect. And now she has to play babysitter to the most annoying person on the Continent, all because he couldn’t keep his hands to his fucking self.

“Wake up,” she orders, refraining from kicking him like she might if he were an adult. She’s mean, but not mean enough to kick a child.

“Hm?” he hums, eyes blinking open, only to freeze when he sees her towering over him. “You’re not Mama,” he says, voice trembling.

Oh, shit. It’s taken his mind as well. For a brief moment, she dares to hope that perhaps he’ll be less trouble like this.

Then he scrambles to his feet and tries to dive out the window.

“Oh no you don’t, you little shit,” she curses, and sends a small spell to trip him up before he can escape. “Stop that.” He stumbles, little palms meeting the wooden floor when he tries to catch himself. She finishes by flicking a finger and latching the window shut, same with the door. The last thing she needs is a de-aged, runaway bard.

Well, if he were to run away, technically he wouldn’t be her problem anymore…

But that’s too heartless, leaving a child on his own like that—and Yennefer can’t deny that her hardened heart has always held a soft spot for children.

That soft spot grows a little softer when Jaskier scoots back against the wall and bursts into loud, messy tears.

She doesn’t know what to do, really, doesn’t know how to comfort him—she can’t remember when she last comforted anyone. “Stop crying,” she orders instead. “Those tears won’t get you anything.”

Incredibly, it works. Whether it’s the shock of being spoken to so harshly, or they were only crocodile tears, she doesn’t know, and doesn’t care. What matters is that he’s finally stopped, and she can actually try and fix this mess now.

“Where’s my mama?” he demands, glaring at her distrustfully. Good, that’s an instinct that will keep him alive someday. “If you want a ransom, then—then Papa says that he won’t pay. Says I’m too much trouble, so you should—you should really just take me home, or else—or else he’ll come here and he’ll kill you.” He lifts his chin defiantly to punctuate his statement.

Well. That’s a lot to unpack, but she’s going to go ahead and shelve that for now. “I haven’t kidnapped you,” she says irritably, then considers the best way to break it to him.

…There is no best way, so she decides not to.

“Then where am I? And who are you?”

“That’s not important. Now come here,” she says, advancing on him and readying a spell that will hopefully reverse the effects of the serum.

He shakes his head, shrinking back further against the wall. His eyes flick between her and the door, and she’s guessing he’s about to make a run for it.

She stops, sinking into a crouch so that they’re on eye level. “Jaskier. It’s very important that I do this. You have a spell placed on you and I need to break it,” she explains.

“A spell?” Contrary to what any sane person would think when told they’ve been bespelled, Jaskier is wide-eyed and excited, the same look he gets as an adult whenever he senses a good story coming on. “What kind?”

“A dangerous one.” She hates to squash that light in his eyes, but it’s true—she doesn’t know what other side effects it might have. She needs to reverse it sooner rather than later—gods forbid it becomes permanent. “Now will you please come here? I’m a sorceress, and I can help.”

He nods, pushing away from the wall and coming to sit in front of her, legs crossed.

“You might feel a tingling, or even a bit of hurt,” she warns, and he nods again, his face creasing in worry and determination.

She’s just about to start when—“Can I hold your hand?” he blurts out. “Mama lets me hold her hand when I—”

She takes his hand before he can launch into some inane explanation. His hand is warm and delicate in hers, no trace of lute callouses to be found. He brightens immediately, gently squeezing their fingers together.

Her eyes, traitors, are getting misty. She angrily clears her throat and begins to cast—the sooner she can reverse this, the better.

Yennefer tries a simple reversal, first. Generic, easy, and evidently not likely to work. No matter. She lets it go and pulls forth another—a spell of speed, to hasten his aging. It fights against her, like drawing a bow, getting more and more difficult as she progresses—she lets that one go, too, lest it snap in her hands like a bowstring rebounding.

Spell after spell after spell, getting more and more complex as she goes, but none work. “Fuck!” she roars as her latest attempt fails, once again.

“Madame Sorceress?” Jaskier asks, brow creasing, worry creeping in. “Is it—did it work?”

“No,” Yennefer replies, and sighs, because she knows what she has to do. Who better to break a curse, after all, than a witcher?

--

“You’re shitting me,” is the first thing Geralt says after Yennefer explains the situation.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Yennefer yells, while Jaskier cringes behind her skirts. Despite his excitement at getting to meet a real life witcher, the actual experience has since proven to be a bit much for him. “I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice, believe me,” she bites out, and Geralt winces, but wisely chooses not to comment.

“De-aged, then?” Geralt asks, sinking down onto his heels. “You can call me Geralt,” he says, and Jaskier peeks out at him.

“Julian,” Jaskier answers, and Yennefer remembers him introducing himself as such to the dwarves. “You’re a witcher?”

“I am,” Geralt nods. “I’m here to help. Did Yennefer explain what’s going on?”

“She said I had a spell on me. But I don’t feel spelled.”

“Mhmm. They can be tricky like that,” Geralt offers.

“Can we get on with it?” Yennefer asks. “This is all very nice, but we still don’t know what the side effects may be.”

“Fine,” Geralt says, standing up and holding out a hand to Jaskier. “Julian, why don’t you come meet my horse.” Jaskier lights up, latching onto Geralt immediately. Yennefer tries not to mourn the loss—why would she? She’s glad to be rid of the annoying little shit, she tells herself.

Geralt gets him situated with Roach, petting gently over her neck and mane, before returning to Yennefer. “I’ve only ever heard of this happening once before,” he begins. “Woman walked into the woods on An Skellig, came out a little girl.”

“And what happened to her?”

“Locals were stumped, until they remembered the old songs. Tír na nÓg.”

Yennefer scoffs. “Skellige fairy tales? That’s all you’ve got?”

“It’s not just a tale. They took her to the bridge during fog season, let her walk across, and she returned three days later all grown up, and no memory of it.”

Yennefer closes her eyes. It’s the only lead they’ve got, and they both know it. “Skellige it is, then. I can’t portal us all and Roach there, though.”

“Good. I hate portals. We’ll head to Novigrad, catch a merchant ship.”

Setting out on the road together is surprisingly easy. Though the fiery passion between them has simmered down, Yennefer still finds she enjoys Geralt’s company, when she forgets to be angry at him. It helps to have Jaskier there as a buffer, oddly enough—Geralt seems to sense her moods keenly, and often makes himself scarce, taking Jaskier with him to identify herbs as they walk, or carrying him on his shoulders as Jaskier tries to reach the lowest branches of the fruit trees they pass.

And sometimes she finds herself alone with Jaskier when Geralt is off hunting, or tending to Roach, or doing whatever the fuck it is he does when he’s alone. He proves to be, if not a scintillating conversational partner, very eager to learn, especially when she explains magical theories to him.

“When I grow up, I want to be a sorceress!” he proclaims one night, and she can’t help but smile.

“What about a witcher? Last I recall, you wanted to be a witcher yesterday,” she teases.

“I can do both!” Jaskier insists. “A witcher-sorceress. They’ll write songs about me!”

He never really has changed, has he?

--

The journey to An Skellig is largely uneventful—there’s one exciting moment, when they spot a blue whale off the bow of the ship, but other than that, it’s a monotony of rolling waves and bouts of seasickness for Jaskier.

They’re all glad to set foot on dry land when they finally do. They’re so close that Yennefer can taste it—though she can’t deny that young Julian has grown on her, and she’ll almost be sad to see him gone.

She swallows her feeling and continues on, trekking through the woods as Geralt leads them to the bridge to Tír na nÓg. The temperature drops as they go, until Jaskier is shivering atop Roach. Yennefer conjures a cloak for him with hardly a thought, and he throws a grateful smile at her.

They keep on, the forest growing darker, and just when she’s about to demand that they stop for the night and continue on tomorrow, the trees before them break, revealing a breathtaking view.

An arched bridge spans a perfectly placid lake ringed by trees, a fine mist overlaying the whole scene. This must be it—the bridge to Tír na nÓg, the land of youth.

Geralt has instructed Jaskier on what to do over the course of their journey, of course—for neither of them can accompany him. He has to face this trial alone. “Are you ready?” Geralt asks, helping Jaskier down from Roach. Jaskier nods, little face screwed in determination.

Anxiety flutters at Yennefer’s throat as she watches him cross the bridge, and she’s about ready to call it off, but Geralt holds her back. “Let him go,” he says quietly.

Jaskier disappears into the mist, and they begin their wait.

--

It turns out to be not very long at all. The sun is just only beginning to rise when Geralt rouses from his meditation, waking Yennefer as well. He looks out across the bridge, witcher senses focused on something Yennefer can’t.

And then Jaskier appears, back to his normal, adult self, grinning brightly. “Geralt! Yennefer!” he shouts, and breaks into a run. Geralt catches him as he leaps, drawing the witcher into a tight hug. It only lasts a few seconds, and then Jaskier is turning to Yennefer and pulling her into a hug as well. She stiffens, but doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you both for taking care of me. I know I couldn’t have been the easiest child,” he says wryly.

“You were fine,” Geralt says, at the same time Yennefer replies, “I don’t know, you might have been preferable as a child.”

“Rude,” Jaskier pouts, but he’s still hugging her.

There’s still so much they need to talk about—that damned mountain, for one—but right now, it doesn’t feel nearly so important. It’s enough to have this moment of peace, the three of them all reunited and as they should be.

#the witcher #geraskefer #geraskier #yenskier #yenralt #jaskier #yennefer #geralt #witcher fanfiction #mine

[em-writes-imagines]

beach party | zuko

study group: a social media au where you work at iroh’s boba tea shop with zuko, try to keep up with your college courses, and stir up an irresponsible amount of chaos with the gaang 

prev. / part six / next

((author’s note: okay, so! this update wound up being over 3k words, oops! also, this one is just the written out scene, since none of this takes place over social media/text, and can be read as a solo piece if you aren’t caught up with the rest of the story! enjoy!!))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stare at yourself in Katara’s mirror, still second-guessing the cut of your swimsuit.

“Hey, you look great,” she assures you from across the room. “Besides, just think about all the fun you’ll have getting to swim again!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you smile at the thought, giving yourself one more once-over before turning away from your reflection. “How do you always know what to say?”

“It’s a secret,” she presses a finger to her lips before laughing. “Now, come on, get dressed!”

You glance at the clock and your eyes go wide. “Shit, why didn’t you tell me it was getting so late?” you ask, moving across the room to pull on a hawaiian shirt and a pair of shorts over your swimsuit.

“You were kind of distracted by the mirror,” she laughs again. “Don��t worry, you still have time!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive to the beach is quiet, but not uncomfortably so, a local rock station filling the silence. You’re not sure what kind of music you’d expected to hear, but it seems… fitting, especially with the way Zuko drums his fingers along the steering wheel in time.

You realize as the buildings go by that you haven’t travelled to this side of the city in ages, and a somewhat childlike excitement builds within you when you see the shoreline come into view. The ocean.

“How long has it been?” Zuko’s voice pulls you out of your reverie.

“Hm?”

“Since you’ve seen the ocean?” he explains. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen it before.”

“Oh, well, uh, I guess it’s been awhile?” You try to think back far enough. “It was before I graduated high school; what about you?”

He seems caught off guard for a moment, hesitant as he says, “I… haven’t been since my last family trip; so, yeah, awhile.”

Of course, you notice the edge in Zuko’s tone when he says family. Outside of Iroh, you know next to nothing about Zuko’s family. You’ve heard the name Azula thrown around a few times, usually in distaste or regret, but other than that… Zuko doesn’t talk about them, and you’re not going to pry.

“Do you think it’d be lame for me to pick seashells at a party?” you ask, only partly serious as you try to change the subject.

When you see the small upturn of his lips, you smile, even as he adds, “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, now I have to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my god! Zuko! Y/n!” you hear Ty Lee’s voice the second you step onto the sand, your bag and towel still in hand as she runs over to greet you. “It’s been so LONG, how have you been?? I’m so glad you could make it!!!”

Her smile is infectious, and you can’t help but grin as you reply, “Things are good! It’s so nice to see you again!”

“Why don’t you two find someplace to set up and then come join Mai and I for some volleyball! We’ve been trying to get a good game going, but no one can handle Mai’s serves,” she laughs, looking back toward her girlfriend affectionately before returning her attention to you. “What do you say?”

“That sounds like fun! What do you think?” you glance over to Zuko, whose expression is incredibly passive.

“Yeah… sounds fun.”

“Yay!!! I’ll go tell Mai!”

Ty Lee runs off toward the volleyball net while you find a place to set your things down, spreading out the beach towel you borrowed from Katara.

“Well, she’s just as sweet as I remember,” you comment, and Zuko shrugs. You watch him for a moment before asking, “Everything okay? We don’t have to go play—”

“No, it’s fine, I just… haven’t played in awhile, that’s all.”

You can tell there’s more to it, but again, it’s not something you’re going to press about, so you just smile instead. “I’m sure you’ll do fine! Now c’mon, get your ass into gear, we’ve got a game to win.”

He shakes his head, but follows you over to the net nonetheless.

“Just so you know, our games can get a little intense,” Zuko comments as you walk over, his tone somewhere between a joke and a serious warning.

“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” you ask with a laugh, not sure how to interpret the smirk he gives you.

“Just warning you, that’s all.”

Ty Lee enthusiastically waves as you approach, her other hand intertwined with Mai’s. She’s practically bouncing on tips of her toes, and you can’t fathom how a single human being is filled with that much energy… but honestly, it helps quell the anxiety you’ve been feeling all week.

“Hey Y/n,” Mai nods her head toward you, “Zuko.”

“Hey!” You don’t get the feeling that there’s any bad blood left, as you know Mai has never been much for words. The only discomfort that lingers in the air is emanating from Zuko, who still hasn’t said a thing.

So, you do the only thing you can think to do, and smile at him, trying to encourage him to loosen up.

“Hey,” he finally speaks, “so are we gonna get this game started, or what?”

Ty Lee laughs and claps her hands, and you can even see the smallest hint of a smile on Mai’s face as she rolls the ball over to Zuko. “Your serve.”

“Show us one of those killer serves, Zuko!” Ty Lee shouts, already in ready position, and you start to realize that this “game” might be a little more than you bargained for.

And when you hear the impact of Zuko’s serve, you know this is more than just a simple game of beach volleyball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After starting to sweat and realizing how limited your mobility is, you decide to take off your outer clothes, causing Ty Lee to pause the entire game to run over and get a better look at your swimsuit, overflowing with compliments. You can feel the blush rise to your cheeks, but again, her attitude melts away most of the anxiety you’d been feeling over the swimsuit.

You find it slightly easier to keep up with them after that.

At some point, Zuko’s shirt also gets tossed aside, and you’re having trouble concentrating on your serve. It’s game point, with both teams tied, and the pressure you’re feeling is uncomfortable to say the least. Everyone’s moves are so fast and intense; you feel out of place with your simple underhand serve and wariness toward diving for the ball.

You shake your head, doing your best to avoid looking at Zuko in any… less than platonic way, and serve the ball.

Ty Lee receives it with ease, and Mai sets her up for a spike aimed directly at you. In the span of a few seconds, you have to decide between two options: duck out of the way, or try to receive the ball as it moves at what seems to be 70mph.

While every survival instinct in your body tells you to avoid the hit, you find yourself wanting to… impress these people? Or, at the very least, not let Zuko down, so you move your forearms and try to send the ball toward him.

The ball hits your skin with an impact that leaves red marks behind, but you barely notice as you watch Zuko run toward the ball at its highest point and spike it over the net, his muscles flexing with the movement. It hits the sand on the other side, Ty Lee unable to dive in time, but you’re still staring at Zuko. Hell, how do you look away from that. 

He’s genuinely smiling when he looks back at you, a small but invigorated smile, and you do your best to return the look and play it off like you hadn’t just been eyeing him up. 

“Aw, man!” Ty Lee pushes herself off the ground, but her pout quickly turns into a smile. “Good game, guys! That was fun!!!”

“Yeah,” Mai agrees, rolling the ball back over to her bag before taking Ty Lee’s hand. “Thanks for playing with us.”

“We’re gonna go say hi to some other guests, but feel free to grab a drink!” Ty Lee gestures to the little set-up of coolers nearby, somehow still bouncing with energy as they walk away.

“So, you didn’t feel the need to tell me that you guys were beach volleyball masters?” you ask as Zuko walks back toward you, your voice winded.

He laughs under his breath. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that; I did try to warn you, though.”

“Look at my arms, Zuko,” you hold out your forearms, showing off the marks left from Ty Lee’s last spike. “Look at them! You’re telling me that’s not the work of an absolute pro?”

He rolls his eyes, showing you the lingering redness on his own palm. “Maybe you just need to toughen up.”

“Oh?” You flex your bicep, trying not to laugh at your own dumb joke before you even say it. “This not tough enough for you?”

Zuko just stares at you incredulously, then breaks out into a laugh.

You try to ignore the heat that rises to your face.

“You know what? Fine, if I can’t best you in strength then… race you to the water!” You’re already sprinting away by the end of your sentence, and you giggle as Zuko calls out “Hey!” from behind you.

Despite your head start, you can hear his footfalls close behind you, and glance back to see him only a couple steps away. “Nuh uh, no way,” you mutter to yourself, pushing harder to reach the shoreline first.

By the time you’re only a few feet away from the water, you’re toe to toe with Zuko, and in a last ditch effort, you barrel your shoulder into him. He staggers to the side, most likely only because he was caught off guard by the action, but regardless, it gives you that extra few seconds to reach the shoreline before him.

“Cheater!” he calls out as you wade further into the water, now swimming away from him. You’re about to turn around and taunt your win, albeit dubiously achieved, when a hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you back.

Suddenly, Zuko is in front of you, arms crossed. “You know I should’ve won.” There’s a glare on his face that doesn’t hide the amusement in his eyes, and you feign innocence.

“Who said there were any rules involved, hm?”

His eyes narrow, and you take the opportunity to splash a small wave of water at him, attempting to swim away before he can retaliate.

You make it a little bit farther away from him this time, but again, he grabs your leg, this time pulling you into his arms so he can pick you up and dunk you back into the water.

You resurface sputtering, both from the water in your mouth and the sudden physical contact from Zuko. Deciding to firmly ignore any thoughts sparked by the touch, you frown at him, shouting, “Oh, it is on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the sun goes down, you and Zuko are sitting beside one of the bonfires, listening to the chatter of everyone around you as you warm up. You both have your outer layers on again, the sea breeze carrying a chill that would make you shiver otherwise. Someone’s party mix is playing in the background, on a speaker small enough that the bass doesn’t sound right, but people are dancing around it anyways, drinks in hand.

 Neither of you add much to the conversation, instead opting to listen and shoot each other looks at particularly interesting quotes. It wasn’t all that different from your shifts at the Jasmine Dragon, overhearing the weirdest things from customers and judging them together. When Zuko’s eyes meet yours, brow raised after an incredibly stupid comment from a nearby frat boy, you have to stifle a laugh.

Despite all the strangers, it’s familiar, and it’s nice.

Zuko excuses himself a few minutes later, going to grab another drink, and you nod, watching the flames dance in front of you. Without someone there to make fun of everyone with, you find the fire to be a much more interesting sight, from the embers beneath the logs to the small sparks that float off the highest flames. It’s almost hypnotizing.

So, you hardly notice when someone takes Zuko’s place.

“Hi,” a voice pulls you out of your trance, and you look over to see a girl with dark hair and golden eyes. She’s smiling, but there’s something unnerving about the expression, something you can’t place. “I’m Azula, Zuko’s sister,” she reaches out to shake your hand. “You must be Zuko’s date.”

You finish the gesture, and her fingers squeeze just a little too tightly around your hand as you explain, “Oh! No, we’re just friends!”

She throws her head back with a laugh before looking you up and down. “Of course, that makes much more sense; I’ll admit, I was confused when I saw you two in the water earlier. I must say, it is so brave of you to wear a swimsuit like that.”

You feel your throat constrict, staring dumbfounded for a moment as you try to process her words. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it!” She smiles. “I admire the courage it must have taken just to put it on, let alone wear it to a party like this. You should be proud.”

There’s a glint in her eye that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing, and you don’t know how to respond. Without Zuko next to you, you feel completely alone, surrounded by people who won’t take a second glance in your direction. It’s like you’re drowning, and the girl in front of you is holding you under.

“I— I should go,” you manage to get out, moving to stand up, but she grabs your wrist.

“No, please, stay until little Zuzu comes back! I’m sure we can find something to talk about, like how bold it was for you to show up without wearing any makeup, I mean, wow.”

The pure joy in her eyes as she meticulously picks you apart burns straight through you. “I really should go.”

When you try to yank your wrist away, she pouts, gripping it tighter. “Don’t you know it’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation?”

Your mind struggles to keep up with the sudden change in atmosphere, how quickly the anxiety from this afternoon returns, almost doubled. Any hint of joy, any spark of laughter, it’s all fading under the piercing glare of those molten eyes… you feel trapped. 

“Azula? What the hell are you doing?”

Zuko’s voice has never filled you with such relief, and thankfully, she releases her grip. “I was just introducing myself to your new friend!” She shoots him a grin before turning back to you. “What was your name again?”

Your mouth goes dry as you try to answer, and Azula laughs.

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy now. All I’ve done is compliment your confidence!”

“What are you talking about—just leave them alone, Azula.”

“Fine, whatever you say, Zuzu.” She turns to walk away, sighing, “Sue me for being nice...”

“What was that—”

“Can we go?”

Your voice is small, and you’re staring at your feet, unable to look at Zuko. You want to fade away, or disappear into the sea, or sink into the sand—anything to get away from the eyes surrounding you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Whatever questions he has, he doesn’t ask, simply follows you back to where you left your bag and towels. You can feel your hands shaking as you gather your belongings and you bite your cheek, hoping the night helps to at least somewhat mask your trembling. Get it together, idiot.

You hate that you were letting a few comments get to you this badly. Somehow, Azula managed to hit every single point of insecurity and anxiety within seconds of meeting you, and it takes everything you have to keep from spiraling right then and there.

Once you’re back in the car, you let out a sigh. It’s quiet, the music from the party faint and muffled in the background, and you can feel Zuko looking at you.

Before he can say anything, you tell him, “I’m sorry I pulled you away from the party; it seemed like you were having fun.”

Even you can hear the shake in your voice.

“Don’t worry about it; I was starting to get tired anyways.”

He starts the car, and radio static plays for a few seconds before tuning into a local station. Old rock music pours from the speakers, and you’re thankful to have something to fill the silence.

But Zuko doesn’t put the car in reverse, doesn’t so much as move to take it out of park.

“...are you okay?” His voice sounds stiff, like he’s not sure how to phrase his question, or if it’s something he should ask at all.

When you open your mouth to try and come up with some little lie, you find yourself muted by that tight feeling in the back of your throat, and all that comes out is a strangled, “I...“

Zuko sighs, a bitterness to his tone as he tells you, “Whatever Azula said, she’s just— she’s just a narcissist that gets off on putting everyone else down, her words don’t mean shit.”

It’s not like you haven’t cried in front of Zuko before. After a particularly nasty burn at work, you couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face. He didn’t say anything when it happened, thankfully, just let you take your time taking care of it as he covered both register and tea-making for you. Now, though, it’s different. You don’t want to cry in front of him like this. This isn’t a burn or a bruise; it’s pure shame and embarrassment and frustration. It’s searing emotional pain and you can’t let him see you like this.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you to this—“

“No, I had fun,” you insist, despite the strain in your voice. “It was a lot of fun. I’m not gonna let one bad moment ruin an entire night.”

But that isn’t up to you. Your mind has been fast at work clouding every memory with the realization that you were out there, in front of all those people, in front of Zuko, looking like that. It hurts.

“Do you… still wanna get frozen yogurt?”

The idea of trying to eat anything, let alone something so sweet, makes you feel nauseous, your stomach already turning in unease. “I think I’m gonna have to take a raincheck.” You try to keep your voice steady, try to force a smile. “You still owe me, though.”

He doesn’t tease you back. There’s no amusement in his eyes, just… worry, and you have to look away. “Can you take me home? I’m feeling tired and I— I can just get my things from Katara’s place tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

The drive home is silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko x you #atla imagine #atla x reader #atla social media au #zuko scenario #zuko smau #atla smau #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #avatar smau

[lapis-arts]

The Knife of Amphibia

Chapter 2: Prison Escape

Summary: Months had passed since Anne's arrest. After putting up with mistreatment and retaining her innocence, she finally thinks about breaking out of prison... Little did she know, someone is willing to help her out.

Fandom: Amphibia

Features: Assassin AU, Aged Up Anne and Plantars

Warnings: Violence, blood, interrogation

Word Count: 1,807 Words

--

Anne woke up in her dingy cell that morning. Her body had ached all over from sleeping in the prison’s horrible conditions for the last few months.

Lady Olivia was nowhere to be found to hear her out, having to replace the king's duty to restore order in the city, lest it burned down completely. She had told General Yunan what happened word for word since day one, but it all fell upon deaf ears. All Yunan wanted was for Anne to confess to the murder and she might get life in prison. She wasn't going to, though. She knew what happened, her story stayed consistent throughout the months, so she stood her ground and retained her innocence.

It had felt like today was the final day of her life as guards came to her cell and dragged her to the torture chambers once more, strapped down into the chair for the torturer to do as Yunan ordered. The tall and hulking toad burned Anne repeatedly with a red-hot iron rod, the human crying out in pain, the general trying once again to force a confession. A few burns later, Yunan finally stepped in.

"Ok, ok, that's enough!" She said, motioning for the torturer to leave them alone. Anne growled as the woman got closer and spat in her direction.

"I already told you everything that happened... Why won't you listen to me!?" She hissed. Yunan just gave her a grin as she walked up to Anne and placed a hand on her chin to make her look up at her. "Oh, you foolish human.. It was part of the plan all along." Yunan said, about to reveal her hand to Anne.

"Wh-what?... What are you talking about?" Anne asked, clearly confused by what Yunan was telling her.

"Andrias was bound to be murdered before you and Marcy arrived earlier than noticed.. You just showed up at the wrong place at the right time. Now, I get to hit three flies with one stone." She chuckled, Anne staring wide eyed at the general in disbelief.

"You're insane..." Anne said, her brows furrowed in anger as she tried to struggle through the straps, the thick leather leaving rope burns on her skin the more she struggled to break free to beat up Yunan senseless.

"It's far too late to put up a fight, Anne. The whole kingdom believes you killed Andrias in cold blood and poor Olivia has no time to listen to your pleas. I'm in charge of your fate now.." Yunan smirked, grabbing the iron rod the torturer left in the burning fire, poking at Anne with it to get an official fake confession for the last time.

"Don't make this harder than it already is.." she threatened, burning Anne every time she refused to agree to the confession, the human stifling her cries of pain the best she could, not giving Yunan the satisfaction of hearing her pains.

After enough torment, Yunan knew the human wasn't going to give in. By that account, refusing to admit to the murder, Yunan had sentenced Anne to death by guillotine.

Anne was to be thrown back in her cell and await execution for the next few days, her body completely sore and covered in fresh and painful burns. She can't take on this abuse anymore. Anne had to get the hell out of there. She was clearly innocent based on the evidence, but a conspiracy damned it all...

Something didn't add up.. Why would Yunan kill off Andrias? Did she have something to do with the plague, or does she just want to rule Amphibia for all the glory and power? No matter what the newt's motives were, Anne needed to get out or her head will be rolling from the chopping block this weekend no matter what. For now, all she wanted to do was rest and slumped into a corner of her cell to sleep the afternoon away.

---

Later that evening, Anne woke up from the sound of a guard rattling the bars of her cell, signifying that it's dinner time already.

"You should eat up, Anne. This meal is from a friend." Is all the guard said, leaving rather quickly. A friend, was it? The human made her way over to the food tray, seeing a bowl of soup as usual, but it was actually warm and fresh this time. As she pulled the bowl away, she noticed a folded piece of paper in tact. She nearly tossed meal aside and quickly opened it, a small key falling out on her lap, yet revealed a handwritten note directed to her, and she couldn't be more relieved to recognize it was Lady Olivia's handwriting in particular.

"Hello Anne. I apologize for my absence, but I know for a fact you are innocent. I've pestered Yunan to extend your trial, but she's too over her head for reasoning and I have no time on my hands to continue doing so. Take this key, escape your cell and take refuge into the sewers."

Anne wasted no time at that point. She looked out the bars of her cell to check for no guards doing rounds, and slipped the key into the cell lock and got out. To her convenience, it seems like the guard who gave her the note left a sword on top of one of their tables, Anne gladly took it and fled the area. The human stuck close to the walls, peeking over the corners to make sure no guards were in sight. In some parts of the prison, Anne had to stick to the pipes and vents near the ceiling to avoid the guards scattered across a room. Never had she been more grateful to endure Marcy's stealth training, as it came quite in handy until she reached the exit point.

Just outside of the entrance gate was the river that surrounded the prison. If she could find a way out, she could easily dive and swim to the sewer entrance on the other side. Unfortunately, in order to do that, she had to get through the guards. Anne evaded the guards doing rounds, sticking to the shadows and hiding behind storage containers. She managed to slip through a broken window the entry office hadn't fixed yet, seeing a newt guard yawning while he was writing something down. Anne couldn't take any chances and neutralized him, putting him in a chokehold until he passed out.

"Sorry.." she muttered under her breath, quickly traversing to the next room, taking down whoever was there. Next to the window was a control panel, a lever off to the side labeled "Gate."

Bingo, her one way ticket out of here.

She quickly pulled the lever and waited for the gate to open, slipping out through the back door. All the guards turned their attention towards the gate, puzzled as to why it was opening. Once the moment was right, Anne sprinted as fast as she could towards the exit, shoving guards aside as they got in her way.

"Sound the alarm!!" A guard yelled, a couple of officers running towards the nearest alarm, hastily ringing the series of bells.

"Shit!" Anne growled as she heard the alarms ring out, pushing herself even faster towards the ledge. Near the edge of barbed wire fence were the watch towers by the lifted bridge, the prison guards hearing the alarms and spotted Anne down below. The guards grabbed their crossbows and shot at her, Anne pulled out her sword in response, slashing a few bolts out of the way, save for one that nicked her right on the shoulder, drawing blood. Anne hissed from the sharp pain, but ignored it once she reached the ledge, and finally jumped off.

She dove down a few yards into the water, quickly swimming away. She made her way to the sewer gates just across, swiftly opening and shutting them close as she entered, finding a loose pipe and shoved the metal in between the handles of the gate, making sure no one would enter for a good moment.

Once the adrenaline rush ended, Anne took off deeper into the sewers and stopped as she was met with a locked gate. She took a step back to rest for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing on, processing that she actually broke out of prison.

"Oh my fucking frog.. I actually made it out.." she panted, sliding down the wall onto the floor to take a breather. After regaining herself, Anne turned to the locked gate again, trying to figure out a way around it. Off to the side of the wall, was another handwritten note, seemingly from Olivia again.

"Anne, if you made it, then congratulations! Beyond the sewers should be your exit, and familiar friendly faces should see to you after you leave through the storm drain. Good Luck"

Anne looked up the gate and saw a little crawl space, climbing up and crawled through to get to the other side. She soon heard footsteps and officer commands echo through the sewers, knowing it was the Royal Guard trying to find her. The human stuck towards hiding again, trying to avoid much conflict as she could this time around. Anne even had to endure swimming through the sewer water under bridges just avoid detection, thankfully leaving unscathed.

--

After exiting the sewers out of a storm drain, Anne finally reached above ground where she saw a familiar looking family wagon, seeing three young looking frogs keeping watch. It wasn't until she saw that unmistakable aviator hat on one of the pink frogs that she realized who it was.

The said frog with the hat turned towards the drain to see the human climbing out of it, his eyes widened in disbelief as he realized who it was and quickly hopped over to her.

"Anne! You're ok!" He said, jumping into Anne's arms and hugged her.

"Sprig! Hey buddy!" She hugged him back, embracing the moment for a bit before she placed him down as the other frogs came to see her. "Hey Polly, hey Ivy. Damn, it's been a long time." Anne said. While the sentiment was nice, they all understood they didn't have time to waste.

"We gotta get you to Wartwood! It wasn't easy for us to get past the barricade." Ivy explained, Polly brushing off the situation. "Oh please! Those guys are nothing. We can take them on if they're trouble." That statement hinting the young frogs certainly weren't going down without a fight.i

After that, the frogs quickly got Anne into the fwagon, making sure there were various hiding placing for Anne just in case someone inspected them. Sprig took the driving seat and grabbed Ol' Bessie's reigns and finally took off to make the journey to Wartwood.

#amphibia #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #assassin au #amphibia yunan #general yunan #amphibia sprig #sprig plantar #amphibia polly #polly plantar #amphibia ivy #ivy sundew #the frogs are there just towards the end lol

[lazaefair]

Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral. 

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees. 

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?” 

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

#the old guard #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #disney princess au #by lazaefair

[honey-dewey]

How each of the boys deals with beach/ocean shenanigans

Because my life goal is to be a marine biologist and my only place of true peace is the ocean and limiting me to 100 words is fucking cruel. So I just wrote until I felt done. Not 100 words each, obviously, but entertaining nonetheless. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin: 

Okay so did anyone else see how Din dove in The Heiress? Because that was beautiful. He probably learned to swim late, after he joined the Covert, but once they put him in a pool, he refused to get out. He's an amazing swimmer, even with all that beskar on. 

But we aren’t here to talk about that. We’re here to talk about what happens when you beg him to take you to a water planet because goddammit you’ve been on nothing but dry desert planets or dry ice planets or dry city planets for the longest time now and if you don’t get to put your feet in the water soon, you might kill him. 

He doesn’t understand the appeal. Sure he’s seen the ocean. Woo-hoo it’s a bunch of water. But the way you go peaceful with wonder when you mention it, he’s ready to take a break too. And hey, maybe Grogu can finally see the ocean. So he finds an ocean planet and sets course. And because he’s a stubborn bastard, he won’t tell you where you’re going. 

When you step off the Crest and immediately find nothing but slowly crashing waves and soft shell studded sand (that is black as obsidian because remember, we’re not on earth) you almost cry. Stripping out of your shoes and rolling your pants up to your upper thighs, you wade out into the water, completely ignoring Din’s warning to be careful, he doesn’t know what’s in the water. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, the water licking at your thighs, the soft drag of the waves rolling over and over, the way your feet slowly sink into the blackness of the sand, grounding you to this one spot, this one moment. Eventually, you find that you have a companion. 

Din’s not a wide ocean kind of guy, but for you, he’ll take the armor off (but not the helmet) and come stand beside you, his pants rolled up as well. His are tighter, so the rough edge gets slowly soaked in water, but he doesn’t mind. 

Half an hour of mindless and relaxing standing around in the water later, and you’re ready to explore. Scooping Grogu up and putting him in a baby carrier across your chest, you begin to look for suitable shells to keep aboard the Crest. Again, Din is confused, but doesn’t question it as you walk up and down the same stretch of sand, occasionally bending down and happily pulling a gorgeous shell from the clutches of the water. He wouldn’t be at peace here if he was alone, but you sure as hell would be. Still standing in the water, listening to you babble back and forth with Grogu, the waves occasionally kissing his hands, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could find peace in your peace. 

Marcus Moreno:

Marcus is not an ocean person, but he’s not not an ocean person, y’know? Sand irritates him, the air smells funny, and it’s usually loud. But he likes the water. If it could be a quiet pool it would be better, but the ocean works too. 

And then he’s put on a boat with you, a still-learning water Heroic (think like. Aquaman), and things change. 

At first, he hates it. A boat that’s tipping constantly may be your thing, considering how much you look like you belong, but it sure as shit ain’t his. You try to teach him some stuff, shouting over the crashing of the waves, but he’s trying too hard not to throw up to really pay attention. 

Then everything settles. The water stops tipping, the boat is still, and you quietly tell him there’s a pod of humpbacks outside. 

He’s terrified when you jump into the water, no oxygen or gear or anything. It’s only when he remembers you can breathe underwater that he stops losing his mind. And when the whales start to breach? Yeah he’s gone. He’s all smiling and laughing when you breach right alongside the whales, and when you get back on board the boat, he’s so incredibly excited. 

So next time, you tell him you’re right above one of the biggest groups of migrating hammerhead sharks ever. He reacts less kindly to that one, even when you dive and tell him it’s perfectly safe. They won’t hurt you. But looking down to see you surrounded by hundreds of great hammerheads, just swimming lazily beside you? Yeah that’s surreal as fuck. 

Max Phillips: 

Ah yes. The resident vampire who hasn’t been to a beach in almost a decade. He can’t go out in the sun, what makes y’all think he’d actually enjoy the beach? Nope, he is not risking his life so he can feel some sand. 

But the beach during the day is completely different from the beach at night, and you are determined to prove it. You blindfold Max, at the expense of many dirty jokes, and drive him to the beach. 

He can smell it before you can, the salt in the air that drifts through the windows and promises all will be right with the world. Then you guys hear it, the soft crash of waves on the shore, the gentle buzz to the air. Finally, you stand Max on the empty beach and remove the blindfold and he can see it. Night darkened waves, the shifting water turning the full moon into a shattered mosaic of light glimmering on the waves. 

For the first time in a long time, he lets himself drown in sensation, in tranquility. It’s been ten long years since he forgot he wasn’t a human being anymore, but with the water licking at his bare feet, he’s completely unaware of his deadness. All he can feel is sand and water and salt and you, holding his hand and looking out with him. 

He’s determined to stay there all night, but you insist on walking, occasionally bending down to grab a shell you see in the darkness. Max is definitely at an advantage here with his night vision, but that’s nothing a flashlight can’t solve. By the time the sun begins to peer over the horizon, you and Max are fast asleep in bed, a small jar of sea shells on your bedside table. 

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales: 

When I tell you I was excited to write Frankie, oh boy. See, I headcanon him to be like me. Enamored with the ocean since before he can remember. It’s always, always, made him wide eyed with wonder. Aquariums are his safe space, and his favorite animal, above every other living thing on the planet, is sharks. 

He finds peace in knowing they exist, seeing something so powerful be so docile. You’re a marine biologist, and you end up taking him on a caged shark dive. He’s ecstatic, practically vibrating as you take the boat way out where you’re bound to find something good. 

And you do. Everyone else on your team, along with Frankie, is cage diving, but you’re just out there, swimming freely alongside huge Great Whites. They’re so beautiful, and Frankie nearly cries when you coax said shark to the side of the cage so he can run his hand over the shark’s wide belly.

His next dive is a general reef dive, just you and him. Beaches aren’t his thing, there’s too little activity, so you take him out on a reef. He’s smiling the entire time, swimming alongside fish the size of his arm and manta rays with a wingspan bigger than his. But the best part is the reef sharks. Black Tips, no longer than four or five feet. They crowd Frankie and make him laugh as he actually pets their bellies. Suddenly, he’s surrounded by sharks who all want the same thing. Scritches. 

His third dive is open ocean, and you don’t tell him what you’re diving with. He gets in the water, turns around, and immediately starts to cry tears of joy. His favorite shark, his absolute favorite, is swimming lazily behind him. The Whale Shark. It’ll be hell to get him out of the water later, but in that moment, you want nothing more than to see that smile, wide enough to show off his dimple. 

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

Jack Daniels is not an ocean person by any means. He’s an open fields kind of man, where he can look up at the Montana night sky and feel like he’s two inches tall, surrounded by mountains and plains. But his latest mission with you takes him to Hawaii, and he ain’t mad about it. 

The first few days, you spend hours on the beach alone. Jack stays indoors, not able to be persuaded out with you. Finally, he’s forced to go to the beach with you because of the mission, and he complains all morning long. You simply roll your eyes and put on your bathing suit and floppy hat. 

Beach time lasts much longer than anticipated. The target won’t be there for a while, but you wanted to relax before working, so you settle in a beach chair with a nice book and get to reading while Jack grumbles about sand in his shoes. 

BUT, dear reader I would be cruel if I made Jack unhappy, so while he may not be a beach person, he is very much a you person. Once you stand to go shelling, wrapped in that teasing black and white swimsuit and flowy white cover up, he’s by your side with minimal complaints. 

Turns out, Jack Daniels’s whip quick reflexes are good for grabbing shells before they’re stolen by the water. You and him get an impressive collection going, eyeing your target the entire time. By the time you have your intel, Jack’s actually enjoying himself and almost doesn’t want to leave. 

The next morning, he’s red as a tomato from sunburn and vows to never go to the beach again. You laugh, and you and him spend the day indoors, sorting through your shell collection and rubbing aloe on Jack’s red shoulders. (Yeah he’s going shirtless all day. You ain’t mad about it.)

Ezra: 

It’s a headcanon of mine, and I’ve mentioned it before, that Ezra grew up an orphan. He lived in a state house until he was 18, which is when he began to prospect. He’s been all over the galaxy, but never been to a water planet. Long story short, he’s never seen a beach. Or an ocean. Or anything bigger than a small pond. 

After the Green, you decide to spoil him and take him and Cee to an ocean planet for some time off. He has no idea where you’re going, but he’s excited nonetheless. 

The planet is almost 90% water, with vast underground caves and beautiful beaches. You land on one of those beaches and when Ezra steps out of your transport pod, he immediately starts to cry. 

Cee’s seen an ocean before, but it’s been a while, so she immediately rushes past Ezra and jumps into the water. Watching her splash around in the gently crashing waves is like bliss, and it makes you smile. 

But Ezra, oh boy Ezra. He’s transfixed, standing with the water lapping at his ankles and his face slack as he takes in the vastness of it all. Eventually, you convince him into the water. He can’t swim, so you guide him out to a safe depth and hold his hand tight as he floats on his back. He’s so calm, so at ease that it’s almost scary. 

That night, he doesn’t want to go inside. The setting sun makes the ocean orange, and you finally manage to get him in. You pop a window open to allow the salty air into the pod, lulling you to sleep and putting Ezra at ease. 

Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey: 

Dio will literally never admit he loves the beach. Never. He’s a bad boy! He can’t love anything! 

Except for sea turtles. He really fucking loves sea turtles. He can name all seven species by heart, he’s got a beautiful teal blue bracelet that he wears all the time that has a turtle bead and he got when he ‘adopted’ a green turtle, he has two turtle tattoos, and he’s absolutely a huge turtle geek whenever you take him to the aquarium.

Which is how you learn he’s that in love with turtles. You take him to an aquarium on a date, and he sits in front of the turtle tank for almost an hour. It’s actually kinda cute. 

So you take him to the beach, a beautiful beach with not many people and, according to the locals, is a turtle nesting site. You and Dio mess around for a while, until the night falls and you sit him in the back of your truck. He’s almost mad you won’t let him leave, at least, right up until the turtles come out. 

He’s a kid in a candy store, all lit up and giddy as the turtles come out to lay their eggs. It’s a dream for him, and when one of the locals asks if you two want to say hi to the turtles, he’s up immediately. 

Two months later, you and Dio return to the same beach, eager to help the baby turtles into the water. Yet again, the outer hard boy shell falls away, leaving you with the soft and giggly Dio that you adore. 

From that day on, your phone background is a photo of Dio holding one of the baby turtles, a warm and genuine grin on his face. 

Javier Peña: 

What makes you think Javier has time to go to the beach? He hasn’t been in literal years, ever since he headed to Columbia. 

But, when he’s home? You manage to get him some time off and take him out to the gulf for a few days. It’s crowded, sure, and that sets his anxiety off big time, but he’s in Texas, not Columbia, and you’re by his side the entire time. 

You manage to find a nice spot away from people to relax on, laying in the sand for hours. No stress, no mess, no looming threat of death, no nothing. 

In the evening, once most of the people go away, you and Javier start to walk along the shore, holding your shoes and each other’s hands. Javier picks up a beautiful multicolored shell, all dappled with beiges and whites and hints of purple. It’s gorgeous, and you immediately slip it onto a necklace you were wearing. 

You manage to one up Javier when you find a brown shell. On the surface, it’s not much. But under the setting sun, it’s beautiful, streaked through with lighter browns and shining ambers. You hand it to Javier, and he immediately tells you it’s boring. At which you tell him it reminds you of his eyes, a deceptively simple brown at first, and then a mesmerizing whiskey amber once you study them. 

Yeah, he tears up at that. 

Maxwell Lord: 

Yet another man who is not a beach person. He hates sand so much he’ll forgo the entire beach experience, because as we all know, he a drama queen. However, unlike Jack, Maxwell is loud about his dislike of the beach. 

Finally, he gets dragged out for a business opportunity and has to spend almost four whole days at the beach. You best be ready for the entire month leading up to the trip to be a whole bunch of complaining. The plane ride out is blissfully quiet, and when he sees the beach, he’s no longer completely insufferable. 

However, you quickly learn that while your dear Max is not a beach person, he likes the ocean. He’s all for getting on a boat and spending the day on the water. Which is exactly what you two do. He’s sensitive to the sun, but he’ll sit in it with you if you want. 

Eventually, you convince him to get in the water. You expected him to be a decent swimmer, not great but not horrible. But then he jumps into the ocean with no life vest and you’re freaking the hell out until you watch his form. He’s a damn natural. And he’s so happy it’s almost scary. He’s in the water for almost an hour, and when he comes out, it’s only for a quick snack. 

That night, you two sit on the beach, much to Max’s complaining. But he’s beside you and his hair is still stiff from the saltwater, so he’s happy, despite the whining.

#Pedro Pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #we can be heroes #marcus moreno #Bloodsucking bastards #max phillips #Triple Frontier #frankie morales #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #prospect (film) #ezra (prospect) #nypd blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #narcos #Javier Pena #wonder woman 1984 #maxwell lord #Dewey's Drabbles

[belovedbangtan]

Dive : Part 3

<Part 1> <Part 2>

Pairings: Jungkook x y/n, Yoongi x oc

Word Count: 3.4k

Description:  Camping with your ex, sounds horrible right? The camping trip was   planned and payed for long before y/n’s shitty boyfriend broke up with   her. Her best friend Abby, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are  there to make sure she has an amazing time. However, sharing a tent with  a smoke show like Jungkook is bound to lead to some complications.

Warnings:Language, Alcohol, alcohol poisoning, nipple play?, little bit of exhibitionism?, So MUCH fluff you might faint.

✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️

The morning arrived quicker than you expected. Cuddling with Jungkook gave you a sense of security that you had never had before. The sun instantly started to heat up the inside of the tent making it nearly impossible to sleep in very long. You throw the blankets off of your body, waking Jungkook in the process. He mimics you in discarding the blankets before he moves over to your side. He sleepily pecks your temple with multiple kisses, making you coo into is arms. He wraps them tightly around you for a moment before you interrupted by the sound of the zipper on your tent.

“Ah! That’s what I’m talking about!” You hear a high-pitched squeal as Abby peaks her head inside the tent. “Get up love birds, were going floating!”

You feel Jungkook’s chest quake as he laughs at how obnoxious her response was, his arms still tight around your body. Finally, you pull yourself away and the sight of him when you turned around was enough to break your heart and set your insides on fire. His full body, from his beautiful toned thighs to perfectly imperfect bed head; on full display for you. His bottom lip jetting out to tell you he didn’t want you to leave, and his puffy eyes signaling that it might take a few more minutes to get him moving. You giggle as his hand around your wrist tightens, he attempts to pull you back to him. Jokes on him because you didn’t really want to leave his side anyway. Smirking as you crawl back over to him, straddling his hips and placing your hands on his tones abs.

His eyes instantly pop open, he’s awake now. He slowly sits up to meet you, his hands finding your hips. His fingers slowly glide on the skin beneath the long t-shirt you were wearing. While his lips find your neck, leaving soft and lazy kisses all the way up your jawline.

“Don’t make me come in there!” Jimin screams from what seems like only a few feet away. Jungkook laughs silently before leaving one last kiss to your jawbone. You slide off of him, grabbing your bag full of clothes. You turn away from each other while he puts on his swimming trunks and you put your bathing suit and a pair of jean shorts. You throw a hat over your hair to hide the bed head you were sporting. There wasn’t really a point to try hard since you would be floating down a river all day.

Once you’re finally out of the tent, everyone is packing up their coolers to head to the river. We get in a bus that the campsite provides, and they drop us off at a starting point in the river. We float five miles until we reach the ending point, and the bus picks us back up to return to the camping grounds. Floating was always one of your favorite things to do with your family each summer. It was basically just you, an innertube, and a lot of alcohol.

Some of the groups rented a raft, and some of the guys chose to canoe. Your group decided that inner tubing was the way to go. Yoongi brought rope to tie all of the innertubes together, along with the innertube that held the cooler. You flopped into the tube laying back, while the boys pushed you off of the bank into the flowing river. The sun was out, and the day was absolutely beautiful. The bus driver from the campgrounds mentioned that a storm was coming in so we needed to be at the stopping point before it got bad. You figured you might as well get drunk now since you’ll most likely be stuck in your tent later on. To be honest it excited you thinking about getting to spend more time alone with Jungkook, and you hoped that’s how it played out.

You’re about a mile in and a few beers down, when you feel his fingers lacing with yours. You look up and he’s fully immersed in a conversation with Yoongi. It makes your heart skip a beat knowing that even while he’s distracted, he’s pulled to you. When Abby pulled Yoongi away to talk, Jungkook turned around, resting his head on your innertube.

“How’s it going gorgeous?” he asked softly.

“Oh you know, kind of buzzed and its only noon,” you lower your glasses to let him see your eyes, as you lift your beer to your lips.

He smirked at you and followed your lead, drinking his beer too. Getting drunk while you’re in water is always a dangerous game. Sometimes you can’t really feel the effects until you’ve been out of the water for a while. Simply put, you can really fuck yourself up if you don’t watch yourself. Taehyung opens the cooler and pulls out a bag of homemade Jello shots. Jungkook grabs one for you and brings it over.

He loosens the Jello from the container, “Open up,” you listen as he lets it plop into your mouth. You’re face scrunches in disgust, nearly making him choke on his own shot at he tries to control his laughter. Of course, Tae would use way too much booze in the recipe.

“Tae, these are so strong!” you whine as you force it down your throat feeling the sting of the Vodka.

“No shit, I’m trying to get drunk love. “He rolls his eyes at you, how dare I complain. You start to laugh, as he throws you another one, “Stop complaining and drink!”

You regret it as soon as it hits your tongue, swallowing quickly so you can wash down with your beer. You look over as you feel his eyes on you, he’s biting the inside of his cheek with a smirk. You know something is stirring in that brain of his, and you really want to know what it is.

One of the other groups finds a bank eventually and everyone pulls off to eat, and drink more. Some of them switching around in the canoes and rafts. You pull your tube to the rough sand, making sure it wont float away. You stand up, and your instantly hit with all of the alcohol you’ve drank so far. It wasn’t enough to make you stop drinking, but you knew you needed to eat something. Before you can find what cooler the food is in, you feel yourself being tugged away. He pulls you into the water deep enough so that no one can see our bodies, just your shoulders and head.

“There’s no current here, so we can swim.” He explains as he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you into him. You voluntarily put your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“You wanted to swim, yeah?” you giggle sarcastically

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse,” He starts as he pulls you in closer to him, lifting his hand to push some of your hair from your face, “to feel you again.” He shrugs.

He sighs, “You know, you’re really fucking killing me. I just want to rip your suit off.” He looks down biting his lip. Your eyes widen, and you look to see if anyone is watching you. When you realize no one is, and you’re far enough out, you slowly start to kiss his neck.

“y/n, baby,” He groans you giggle quietly continuing your attack. You decide to lean back in his grip, to pull your swimsuit top to the side. Your nipples hard from the cold water, he practically starts to drool. You know that no one can see what’s going on but the fact that you could get caught makes you feel so naughty. He brings one of his hands around to feel, taking your nipple in between his fingers tugging gently. You let out a soft moan before readjusting your top.

“As much as I appreciated that, it did not help my current situation.” He pouts, but all you can do is laugh. He starts to dip your head back into the water, leaving kisses on your collar bone each time you do. You loved how touchy he was with you; however, it was making it extremely hard to take things slow with him. After a few more minutes, you’re being called to the bank to start floating again.

The day was honestly picture perfect. You didn’t even realize that Ben was there, and it felt so amazing. Tae, Jimin, and Yoongi were way too drunk already, but that made for the best entertainment. Jungkook wasn’t nearly as drunk but you could tell he was tipsy, by the how clingy he was. Perhaps your earlier shenanigans didn’t help, since that he couldn’t stop touching you. Yoongi decided to tell you that Jungkook has never been this clingy to someone this quick. You know that you should be excited to hear those words, but your brain starts to panic wondering if things are going too fast. Abby, of course was eavesdropping on the convo and tried to calm your nerves but telling you not to over think it. You were the queen of overthinking, it was definitely easier said than done.

“Look, do you like him?” Yoongi said matter-of-fact.

“I mean, I do… but I ju-“He cuts you off instantly.

“No, none of that. If you like him and he likes you then that’s that. You know? That’s life. Maybe you guys won’t be together, maybe you will, maybe you’ll break up, maybe you’ll get married.” Your eyes widen at the words and he sighs, “The point is, you can play the maybe game all day, but don’t let it get in the way of something real.”

You nod in agreement. Yoongi was quite possibly a genius and of course he was right. You glance over at the Jungkook while he sings loudly with Tae and Jimin and you know that regardless of how scary the thought of someone like him was, there was absolutely no way you could deny the way he made you feel inside. The chemistry was undeniable, and unlike anything you had ever experienced.

With two miles left in the float, there was a massive cliff that was known for being jumped off of. Abby told you about how everyone would do it every year. You were excited about it until you saw it with your own eyes. It was massive, and you couldn’t even see how to get on top.

One raft pulled to the side and started to walk up to the top of the cliff. The trail was set, but it still looked incredibly dangerous. The guys in the group were helping the girls, which instantly discouraged you. When they finally got the top, you could see the pure fear in a few of their eyes. Within seconds one of the boys was running off the edge and into the deep water beneath it. The gasp that came from your throat each time someone decided to jump was involuntary. Jungkook thought it was cute though, peaking over at you each time it happened to watch your expression.

“You wanna come jump with us? Yoongi is gonna watch the tubes,” He asks already anticipating a strong ‘fuck that’ from your lips.

You watch the girl jump and come up from the water, she looked so thrilled. You wanted to feel that. A rush of adrenaline was exactly what you needed. You looked over at Jungkook and it makes your chest tingle when you feel like no matter what he’ll take care of you.

“Yeah, lets do it.” You respond quietly. His eyebrows raise and his smile stretches across his face, “Hell yeah, lets go!”

Jimin and Taehyung start to head up first with Abby. You start to follow them with Jungkook leading you by walking backwards, you giggle as he watches your every step.

“I’m good, Kook.” You look up at him, but he shakes his head. He doesn’t care how confident you are he’s not chancing it. When you finally get to the top its flat, but its so high. You take a deep breath as you look over the edge carefully. Taehyung pulls a bottle of Soju out of nowhere and starts to chug it, “It’s a tradition every year, you have to take a shot before you jump!” He explains before passing the bottle to Jimin, who passes it to Abby. She passes it to Jungkook and he tilts his head back downing the harsh liquid before holding it over you mouth. You open without thinking, he started to pour it in until its overflowing.

“Now we jump!” Jimin yells taking Tae and Abby’s hand. They scream as they run off of the edge before plummeting into the dark water below. You exhale the breath you had been holding when you see all of their happy faces pop out of the water.

You feel his arms around your waist, you didn’t realize how bad you were shaking.

“If you want to go back down, we can.” He mumbles, as you turn in his arms to look at him. He subtly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. You shake your head no; you want to do this.

“We’ll just go on three, okay? Just close your eyes and jump.”

“Fuck its so scary,” you breathe holding his hand as you look over the edge once again.

“The most amazing things in life are. Sometimes you just have to take a breath and dive in, no matter how terrifying it is.” His voice is small, yet warm. You turn into him knowing that his pep talk is referring to more than just jumping off of the cliff. He’s talking about you, and the feelings he has. If you couldn’t breathe before, you definitely couldn’t now.

You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, “I think I’m ready,” You whisper just before pressing your lips into his. You feel his lips pull into a smile while he kisses you back. He takes your hand in his and he looks at you once more to make sure you don’t want to change your mind; you nod at him once before looking forward.

You both start running towards the edge when he counts to three, “LETS GET IT!” he screams as you both fall through the summer air and into the icy water. When you surface it takes you a second to grasp your surroundings. When he finds you and pulls you into him, you wonder if that’s all you need in life. You feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he holds your waist, floating in the water. Telling you how amazing you did and making sure you’re okay. Adrenaline had a funny way of making you feel like you were in love. Your head was spinning, and your breath was short. Perhaps it wasn’t adrenaline at all, maybe you were falling hard and fast for him. You held onto him tight, there was no way to stop it now.

Once you get back to the tubes, the others give you both a knowing look. Taehyung pulls out even more Jello shots, and you happily take all of them with out complaining this time. Jimin starts to pass the remainder of beers and shots out, demanding that we finish them before the float ends. The adrenaline and alcohol make you feel drunk, you seem to have a hard time saying no, so you drink everything that’s handed to you.

After what felt like an eternity you finally see the bridge that marked the end of your five-mile float, and the bus that was meant to take you back to the camp ground. As you took your seat on the bus, you feel your legs give out. Your head is spinning in a different way than before. Your limbs are heavy, and you know you’re drunk but it feels like more than that. Jungkook slides in next to you, instantly picking up on how off you are.

“What’s wrong?” He worries as he pulls you into him.

“Don’t feel good.” You answer quietly, your head dropping to his chest. He goes to get up but you pull on his shirt, “Don’t go, please.” You beg without opening your eyes.

“I’m not leaving, baby.” He coos as he runs his hand up and down your spine. He quietly asks Abby to grab one of the plastic bags in the front of the bus in case you needed to get sick. Despite the awful feeling in your stomach, having him next to you gave you a sense of security.

✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️

You don’t know how, but when your eyes open, you’re lying in your shared tent. You look around you but you’re alone, and you still feel awful. Then you realize why you woke up; your stomach is turning and you have that familiar feeling in your chest and you know you’re about to throw up. You shuffle to your feet, unzipping the tent as fast as you could running to edge of the woods. You buckle to your knees, jumping when you feel your hair being pulled back for you.

Jungkook knelt beside you, while you threw up an absurd amount of booze. Once you were done he handed you a bottled water. You stood up with wobbly knees, walking back to the tent.

“Feel any better?” He asks quietly, sitting down next to you.

Lay back and you put your hands over your face, “A little.”

“You need to eat something, y/n” He grabs your hand and you look down to see a sandwich with chips on a plate, “Please.”

You sit up slowly knowing that you were genuinely worrying him, and suddenly realizing that you hadn’t eaten at all that day. You take the plate and you start to eat it in small bites. You ask him for the time and when he tells you its only 3 pm your eyes widen. You started the float so early, but there was no way to keep track of time on them. You wondered if you would be able to rally for the rest of the night. Jungkook makes you drink at least three bottles of water before he’s satisfied. The Advil he gave you with your food is helping slowly. You lay back on the mattress, and he lays next to you.

“You scared me,” He whispers, making you turn to look at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot for not eating,” You mumble turning on your side to be face to face with him, “thank you for taking care of me.”

He smiles and nods, “It’s impossible not to,” He explained and you swoon as usual. Mostly because you could feel how true it was. Ever since you had made a connection with him, he was always looking out for you, taking care of you.

Abby peaks her head in to tell you that she and the boys were going to play drinking games in her tent since the storm was coming in soon. You instantly want to vomit again at the mention of drinking or smelling anymore alcohol.

“Kookie, you can go. Im still really tired.”

“I’m good here.” He says not moving a muscle, “Do you want to change into something comfy?”

You take a deep breath knowing how good it will feel once you have his big t-shirt on instead of this uncomfortable swimsuit and jean shorts. Swinging your legs over the side of the mattress you groan as you start to get up. He pulls you back to the mattress telling you to lay back down. He started to sift through your bag and you watch, “Can I wear your shirt again?” You whine. He has to chuckle at you and how needy you get, its possibly one of the cutest things about you.

“You want my shirt, Princess?” He hovers over you. You nod with big pleading eyes, for whatever reason you think it will make you feel better. He takes your hands pulling you so that you’re sitting up. He slowly starts to untie the top of your swim top, then part around your back. He slides it off, before taking the shirt off of his back to slide it onto your body. You lay back, watching him as he starts to unbuckle your shorts pulling them off of your legs.

He laughs to himself when he sees how red your cheeks are, laying down next to you before pulling you on top of him. Your head fits perfectly in the spot in between in chin and his chest.

“Go ahead baby, I’ll be here.” He says quietly and that’s all you need to drift away again.

✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️

Taglist:

@cainami @carolsummerlove @zeharilisharaban @jikooksgirl19 @fallen-for-luke @madygswich @sugalarity @itboykook

A/N: PLEASEEE dont forget to tell me your thoughts! It makes me want to write more! Also Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

#bts smut #bts #bts fluff #bts imagine #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff

[silenceinthenull]

Swapped

So, I just saw someone post something about Gordon and benrey swapping bodies and it made me remember this little thing I did a while back. I had totally forgotten about it. I decided to post it here because I thought it was an interesting concept.

The first thing he noticed when he wakes up is how everything aches. He knew the ground was uncomfortable but he didn't think it would fuck him up this bad... until he realizes he can feel the ground... not the ground through the HEV suit gloves but the actual ground... he jolts up only to crumple back into himself. That was far too fast to be normal and his bones ache even more.

"Hello Gordon! It would appear you and I have swapped bodies!"

He blinks at that and looks up at... himself... he's very confused for a moment before what dr. Coomer actually said sets in... is this how dr. Coomer lives?

"I'm sorry for the pain my friend, I just took the opportunity to dispose of some of my clones while in this much more spry form! I simply forgot you would feel everything they felt."

He slowly stands up, wobbling a bit as all his movements seem more robotic and sharp now.

"It's... it's okay dr. Coomer. I'm just glad you don't always feel like this... so how did this happen?"

"We seem to have stumbled upon the black mesa mental manipulation experiments! More specifically you were hit with what has been labeled the swap gun! I was never informed how far they got into these experiments."

Gordon looks at himself. He never noticed before how absolutely ripped dr. Coomer was... it was kind of terrifying... but as the pain faded he was glad for it. He was glad dr. Coomer was so strong, if he wasn't they would have lost him long ago.

"Where are the others?"

"They feel down the shaft!"

He points to a flooded elevator shaft on the other side of the room. Gordon approaches it, only to be pushed in. His body seemed to react immediately as he dived in, swimming around the busted elevator at the bottom into the hall below and up a second elevator shaft into a new room where bubby and Tommy sat, talking about beyblades or something... or test tube babies/puppies... Gordon honestly couldn't tell.

Something pushes him out of the water and he looks over, confused. Oh. Dr. Coomer, in his body, climbs out of the shaft with ease, picking Gordon up and carrying him to the others... holy shit how did Coomer make his body so strong.

"Were you aware the power movement function on your suit was deactivated Gordon?"

"... my what?"

"Your power movement function! ..."

He starts rambling about the function Gordon didn't even know he had as if he was reading off another one of his wikipedia articles. He sits Gordon next to the others and does an awkward squat. It's very hard to sit in that suit...

"Gordon, I'm uncomfortable."

"Yeah... it helps if you use an actual chair, or just lay out..."

Dr. Coomer flops face first onto the floor.

Gordon groans, just knowing his nose is going to hurt when he gets his body back... if he gets it back anyway...

And he's suddenly laying on the floor, nose uncomfortably pressed against the concrete. He slowly stands up.

"Hello Gordon! I'm comfortable!"

"... me too dr. Coomer. Me too."

Gordon was getting tired this. One more claymore and he was going to lose his fucking mind! He peeked around the corner, looking for any more of those telltale blue lasers. Only to be very startled when he was sudden standing behind himself and he just pulled the trigger, watching as a bullet whizzed past his own head detonating a claymore just out of range of hurting any of them.

He froze for a second as everything seemed to move in slow motion, soldiers rushing towards them as the dust settles and without thinking he pulls the trigger again, barely even having to think about aiming everyone who was rushing them almost immediately drops.

He takes a deep breath and there's a quiet electrical buzzing in his ear from the rails below them as he looks at the others, coomer, bubby and himself, meaning he's in Tommy's body... everything felt... different, but in a way he couldn't describe. Things he didn't even notice before were suddenly at the forefront of his mind, like the way the now empty gun in his hands clicked quietly as he continued to pull the trigger, or the way standing on the electric rail actually felt... really nice... or how that electric buzzing from the rail wouldn't stop!

He got off the rail but it didn't help. Why was it suddenly so loud? He covered his ears but it really didn't help. He pressed the clicking gun to his head and that blocked out some of the noise but it was still there.

"It's so quiet... is it always like this for you mr. Freeman?"

He looks at Tommy.

"I... I guess? It's... its different. So loud... so constant... how can you stand... how do you think... how do you live like this?"

It was so much he just wasn't to rub his ears until they stopped working... Tommy quickly pulls him away from the rails. The pressure of the hand wrapped around his wrist feels... nice... but wrong at the same time. He doesn't understand.

Tommy reaches into Gordon's coat pocket and pulls out what looks like the launcher of a beyblade. He gently takes it and does the ripping motion and suddenly all Gordon can focus on is that sound. He quickly takes the toy and starts doing the motion over and over, blocking out the rail and making the most heavenly sound he's ever heard over and over.

Gordon is immediately pulled out of it when dr. Coomer puts a hand on his shoulder and he immediately feels very wrong. He moves out from under the hand and stares at him, confused.

"Are you alright Gordon?"

"I don't... know... everything seems like it's too much!"

Even speaking felt so wrong! The words leaving his mouth felt bad! He covers his mouth, quietly stomping his foot. That helped. That thud in his leg. That helped.

"You need to stop mr. Freeman. You're going to hurt yourself. Stomping like that isn't the best stim."

Gordon looks at him, confusion clear on his face.

"I know it feels good, but you're damaging the muscles."

Benrey walks over, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Tommy! What's up bro? Rails getting to be too much? Need some soda to chill?"

He stops in front of him with a smile, not a smirk or anything mocking like he would give Gordon and holds out a soda.

"That's a great idea! Drink that mr. Freeman! It will help!"

He's still confused, and benrey is too now, looking between Gordon and Tommy. Gordon takes the soda and opens it. Oh, nice sound, good. Oh, nice feeling! Better! The fizz touching his lips has him in heaven again and he can even relax a little. No wonder Tommy had soda for lunch.

Bubby huffs and walks ahead and Gordon feels bad for holding them up. So bad tears start welling up and he doesn't know why it hurts so much... benrey pulls out another soda and Gordon takes it without hesitation, trying to soothe the sadness that seemed to bubble up from nowhere. It... might of worked? He doesn't know because the next moment he's back in his body looking at Tommy quickly wipe up his tears.

"... is there any way we can help you manage that tommy?"

"I'm okay mr. Freeman... I know... I'm used to it."

He gives a reassuring smile and Gordon believes him, but wishes he could help more. He decides Tommy gets first dibs on soda from now on.

Gordon was in a tube... the last thing he remembered was the lights going out and then nothing... he looks around for a way out but he really was trapped. It was frustrating. He felt trapped and alone... eventually he heard voices, dr. Coomer, Tommy and... his own? Was he in bubby's body!? He didn't feel any different... soon they walked into view and he saw it... dear god...

"You just had to fuck up!"

Gordon jumps a bit and stares at himself.

"You couldn't just take your punishment like a man, could you!? Had to make me suffer in your place!"

"... you let them cut off my fucking hand!"

He remembers the voices after the lights went out, what bubby said... he remembers the pain.

"That wasn't the plan! They were just supposed to rough you up a but!"

"And!? You sold me out to the fucking military!"

And suddenly everything feels different. It feels wrong, everything hurts, he's lightheaded. He looks down before he registers anything else.

"And now I'm back in my fucking tube!"

He stares at the stump. He feels sick. He wobbles a bit but dr. Coomer catches him and brings him to the console. Gordon looks at it, seeing the release button and just pressing it.

"... you're just going to let me out?"

"... you suffered more then enough..."

And they moved on.

Gordon sighs as they headed down the elevator, clutching his aching stump. He was very Surprised to see the scientist. After everyone was introduced everything shifts again... he closes his eyes, please don't tell him he's in benrey... he slowly opens them and looks at himself... darnold? He turns back to his body who is looking around, shocked.

"... were you hit by the swap gun?"

"Yeah. Do you know anything about it?"

"Nope, just that sometimes you don't swap back... better fix up your body just in case then!"

He happily walks over to a barrel and easily picks it up, bringing it to his desk and laying it down so it's at a very specific angle before popping open a compartment on the suit Gordon didn't even know was there and pulling out... a silly straw?

And he just starts chugging... Gordon is actually impressed! He downs the entire barrel in less then a few minutes. Gordon didn't even know his body could drink that much that quickly... and as soon as he finishes Gordon is back in his body... just in time for the pain...

Gordon was getting tired of random swaps with people, so he starts experimenting. With dr. Coomer's help he has figured out that a swap is initially when he feels helpless, exhausted and/or extremely afraid. He wonders if there's a way to weaponize this? He doesn't have long to wonder though when they run into a particularly irritating soldier once again, this time he's holding a fucking dog hostage and the second Gordon sees that it happens. He looks at himself and at Coomer, who immediately understands what happened and tackles his body to the ground. Gordon grins and gets off the elevator, bringing the remote for the turrets to Tommy.

"For once that had excellent timing."

"Huh?"

Benrey is suddenly there and very confused?

"... forzen... bro... why are you here? Aren't you still pissed about that irate gamer thing?"

Forzen starts ranting from beneath Coomer and benrey pouts a bit before seeming to realize what's happening, before pretending he didn't realize and going up to Gordon and kissing him straight on the lips.

"Sorry, we aren't working out." And he walks away, leaving everyone stunned.

"I dumped you ass yesterday you angry video game nerd fanboy freak!"

Everyone is immediately looking at forzen again, giving benrey the opportunity to sneak away and melt a bit as he internally squeals in delight. He kissed feetman! And feetman doesn't know he knew! He got to kiss his crush before they have to... end his game... he's not letting that spoil his mood. He revels.

Gordon returns to his body a few moments later and forzen bolts.

Gordon was fucking tired as they approached the scientists, exhausted when they told him what he had to do, and done when the mystery briefcase man showed up again... and that's when it happened. Everything made sense, he felt powerful, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted!!!

And then he was back to normal. He looks at the man, who he now knew went by G-man Coolatta... Tommy's dad is creepy and all powerful... Gordon was just going to do what the guy wanted. He did as he was told.

Gordon was exhausted, afraid and helpless. He was honestly Surprised the swap only just happened. It felt... strange. His size felt too small, his shape felt wrong and it felt like he was wearing a full body suit... what is benrey? He stared down at his own body as the other's panicked and benrey just stared back.

"... hug?"

At first he wanted to say fuck no but... that was his pleading face... benrey genuinely just wanted a hug and became he was in Gordon's body he could read him like a book... he gently picked benrey up.

"... what do you really want?"

"... you shouldn't be here bro."

He looked scared. He looked hurt. He looked... lonely... Gordon gently placed benrey against his chest. He can't really hug benrey when he was this big, but benrey could hug him... and he did... and it was really nice... Gordon wishes he knew how to take them all back. He wishes he could soothe benrey's fears and loneliness...

He gently picks up the other members of the science team, looking for there they needed to go. He set them all down once he found it, and looked for a way to follow them, Surprised he hadn't swapped back yet.

"How do I make myself small again?"

"Huh? Just... just want it..."

He didn't know what that meant... after a moment of trying he seemed to do it, becoming roughly benrey's current size. They all move forward, together.

They don't swap back until the boss fight... it hurts when it happens. It feels like he's being ripped out of benrey's body and forced back into his own. Gordon feels sick when he realizes why... they had to kill benrey. If they didn't they would never get out...

"What happens if we don't fight? Do we really have to?"

"Yeah bro... gotta... gotta be the bad guy. Gotta be mean..."

"I don't want to do this."

"Doesn't... doesn't matter bro... I'm sorry..."

He doesn't hold back...

~~~~epilogue~~~~~

I'm gonna do the epilogue now.

It had been about a week since the party when Gordon's head started pounding.

"Uh, hey bro... been a while hasn't it..."

And Gordon doesn't even question it. He's too relieved. To happy in that moment. They didn't kill benrey! Or... they did... but he was still around!

"Yeah feetman! Hitched a ride when my body kinda fizzled. Think I could... maybe stick around? Keep you from having anymore... dick slips and shit..."

Gordon just laughs and nods to himself. He can't wait to tell the others. Benrey can't either a little bit of sweet voice flows out of Gordon's mouth, shocking him a bit.

"Oh cool! I can still do that!"

And Gordon just rolls with it. Why the fuck not you know? Makes as much sense as anything else he's been through. He opens his mouth and just lets it flow! His room quickly fills up with it.

#hlvrai #bubby #dr coomer #tommy coolatta #forzen #darnold #benrey #gordon freeman #g man #fic #swapped

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beach Waves (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: One morning, you wake up to find yourself on a tropical island with a man claiming to be your fiance. When he tells you that you’re suffering from a case of amnesia after a diving accident, you want to believe him. But you can’t shake the feeling that your “fiance” isn’t being completely honest with you...

Hello, guys! So this is my submission for @imanuglywombat​‘s ‘The Ugliest Wombat Challenge’! I used the Beach Babes moodboard, and I hope you guys like my story! Let me know what you think. 

Warning: This story is DARK! It contains non con and dub con, so please read at your own risk! 

The first thing you registered when you woke up was the sound of waves crashing on the beach. You smiled and snuggled into the sheets beneath you, the scent of water thick in the air as a breeze drifted in through the window. You didn’t remember leaving your window open, nor did you remember putting on a playlist of ocean waves before going to sleep. Come to think about it, you were stretched out pretty far on the mattress beneath you; typically, you’d have at least a foot sticking out if you laid like this on your twin-sized mattress at home…

Your eyes shot open, and you saw pure white sheets obstructing your vision. When you sat up, you took in the large bedroom around you; chestnut wood made up the floors and walls, and there were huge windows decorated with sheer curtains directly to your right. What lay beyond the windows was what really surprised you, though.

A pristine beach with white sand and turquoise water lay on its other side, palm trees dotting the shoreline every hundred yards or so.

“Well,” you whispered to yourself, “as far as dreams go, this is pretty good.”

You stretched your stiff limbs and stood up from the bed, feeling a plush faux-fur rug beneath your feet. You frowned, wiggling your toes around in the material; it felt real. You took a few cautious steps over to the window, looking out over the scene beyond; the breeze blowing into the room felt real, too.

There were no people out on the beach, and there had been no one in the room when you woke up. With the same frown plastered onto your face, you opened the first door you came to, but it only led out into a bathroom. There was a large, open window in it, too, right in front of the bathtub. You imagined how peaceful it must be to take a bath while watching the sunset, but you shook that thought away. With every passing moment, this was seeming like less of a dream and more of an impossible reality, and you needed to find out which one was the truth.

The next door you came to opened into a large, open room. There were sofas and chairs positioned around a huge tv, and beyond that there was a kitchen decked out with the newest appliances on the market. The room was full of windows, too, most of which were open.

You looked down at your body and realized with a start that you weren’t wearing your same old ratty pajamas, either; you were in a lacy, white nightgown that came down to your knees. The fabric was alarmingly sheer, revealing to anyone who might see that you were naked underneath it.

Feeling the first twinge of fear strike through you, you pinched yourself. When nothing changed, you did it again, hard enough to make you wince; there was no denying that you were awake.

You were about to start panicking when you saw the note. Over on the dining table, there was a crisp sheet of white paper folded down the middle, and your name was on written on the front of it with messy handwriting. Padding over on your bare feet, you picked the paper up and opened it.

Hey, doll. If you’re reading this, then I’ll be back soon. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.

There was no signature to be seen, and after rereading the short paragraph, you walked into the kitchen as instructed; you were feeling pretty hungry. Your eyes landed on a bowl of fruit, and you took out a banana before going over to the fridge. It was chock full of food, but you only grabbed a bottle of water from it before walking back to the dining table and starting to peel the banana.

Don’t freak out, you were telling yourself. There’s probably a logical reason why you’re here. Maybe you have amnesia, and this is like 51st Dates. Maybe there’s a glitch in the Matrix or something. Maybe-

You were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you, and you stood up and turned around so fast that your head spun with the movement.

Standing behind you was, quite possibly, the most attractive man you’d ever seen. He had long brown hair that came down to his chin, and it was wet. In fact, his whole body was wet, and the only thing he was wearing were a pair of black swim trunks. You quickly focused on his left arm; it was made entirely out of metal. You could see the angry seam of scar tissue where it met his shoulder, and after your eyes ran along the line of the metal, they couldn’t help but trial downwards to the impressive six-pack he was sporting.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he smiled, walking over to you. “Sorry for leaving you like that; I just went down to the beach for a swim.”

Your mouth opened to respond, but after a moment you just shut it again. The man arched his eyebrows at you, raising his flesh hand and pressing it against your forehead.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “You look confused.”

“I…” You cleared your throat, your voice still raspy from sleep. “I am confused. Where am I?”

The man frowned, letting his hand fall back down to his side.

“We’re on Tony’s island, baby,” he explained. “We came here on vacation, remember? To celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” you echoed. He smiled again, though there was a glint of confusion in his eyes.

“Our engagement?” You watched, dumfounded, as he lifted your left hand, holding it up to show off the gorgeous ring resting upon it. It was made of white gold, a breathtaking diamond resting in its center surrounded by a thin ring of opal.

“…Engagement?”

“Baby, you do remember, don’t you? I asked you at the party?”

Your mind was completely blank, and the concern on his face only grew when you shook your head.

“I… There has to be some kind of mistake,” you assured him. “I… I don’t know who you are. We’ve never met.”

“…Shit.” He shook his head, setting his hand on the side of your face ever so gently. For some reason, the contact didn’t bother you. “Honey, I know you hit your head hard yesterday, but I had no idea that it was this bad.”

“I hit my head?”

“Yeah. We went swimming together, and you dove in where the water was shallow. Hit your head on a rock. I carried you back here, and at first you were fine, just a little dazed. But now…”

You felt your heart sink like a rock, and you tried to remember something, anything, of what this guy was telling you.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” you spoke. “But the last thing I remember was going to bed in my dorm room; I’m in college.”

“Hon, you graduated six months ago, the week after we met. You seriously don’t remember?”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt as he bowed his head, letting out a sigh.

“I… I’m really sorry,” you whispered. “Um… What is your name?”

The man gave you a sad half-smile, letting his hand fall to your shoulder.

“…My name is James,” he said. “But you’ve always called me Bucky.”

________

You were seated on a beach towel, running your hand along the soft, warm sand to your right. Despite having a wicked case of amnesia, you supposed that it was very nice here.

Bucky had really been so understanding of the situation; he’d made you sit still while he checked out the bump on your head (it was hardly noticeable at this point, but your head had felt a bit tender when he’d touched it, which only further convinced you that he was telling the truth). After that, he’d let you know that he didn’t have any way of communicating with anyone off the island. But, before the two of you had left, he’d scheduled a small plane to pick the two of you up eight days later.

In the meantime, all that was left to do was relax and enjoy your vacation as much as possible. After saying you’d like some time alone to think, he’d quickly gotten you a beach towel and suggested you lay out in the sun for a little bit.

So now, as you lay there, you tried to rack your brain for anything at all that struck you as familiar about Bucky. You really did feel bad for him; if what he was saying was true, and you really believed that it was, then it must be hard on him. As you pondered his face, you did feel as if he was a little bit familiar. His eyes were what caught on your memory; you swore that you’d seen him before.

“Honey?”

You jumped and turned around, looking up to see Bucky standing next to you. He was still only wearing his swim trunks, but a pair of aviator sunglasses were perched on his nose as well, and he was holding two cups of what looked to be some kind of blended beverage.

“Hey, Bucky.” You tried to smile at him, sitting up on your elbows. “Whatcha got there?”

“Well, I know you said you wanted to be alone for a little bit,” he started. “And I promise I’ll get out of your hair if you still want me to, but I made pina coladas for us…”

You laughed, picturing a buff guy like him making such a girly cocktail, but you gladly took the glass he offered you.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind if you sat with me for a little bit,” you said. “I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

“I’m sure you do.” Bucky sat down beside you, not batting an eye as he rested in the sand. You giggled again as he took a sip through the straw in his drink; it was pink to match yours.

“You know,” you joked, “you strike me more as a whiskey kind of guy.”

“I was for the longest time,” he smiled. “But after you ordered one of these things at the bar we go to on the weekends, I tried one and, uh… Well. Let’s just say that this isn’t the first time you’ve teased me about it. But they’re good.”

“Happy’s?” you asked. “Is that the bar you’re talking about?”

“The one and only. It’s where we had our first date.”

You sipped your drink, humming when the alcohol left just the slightest burn down your throat.

“Tell me about it?” You turned to him, giving him a smile. “Maybe if you tell me about our life together, I’ll start to remember it.”

Bucky smiled and took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before letting it fall back into the sand.

“That’s an excellent idea, baby,” he praised, smirking as your eyelashes fluttered.

“So, like I said, our first date was at Happy’s,” he began. “We were both there alone; your friends had cancelled on you, and I had just moved to the area, so I had no friends to speak of. I was sitting there when you walked up and I just… I knew that you were something special.

“I watched you for a little bit afterwards,” he admitted, giving you a sheepish smile. “And you didn’t even notice. But, eventually, I worked up the courage to do something about those butterflies you’d put in my stomach. I asked if I could buy you a drink, and you said yes, and, well… The rest is history.”

You smiled; you still couldn’t for the life of you recall this ever happening, but it was a nice thought.

“So you watched me for a while, huh? Like some kind of creep?”

He laughed at your joke, but his jaw ticked and his eyes shifted away from you as he did.

“I didn’t mean that,” you assured him. “You seem…really nice, actually. Tell me more about us.”

Bucky’s smile softened, and he started telling you story after story about the six months you’d known each other for. He told you about your parents’ first reactions to him, about how he’d helped you stay up all night studying for your finals just five days after meeting you, about the first kiss you shared. You’d felt as if your cheeks were on fire during the entirety of that story, but you’d still listened with a smile.

“When was the first time you told me that you loved me?” you suddenly asked, and a sly smirk stretched across his face.

“Who says I have?”

You chuckled and shoved his shoulder.

“Some fiancé you are,” you giggled.

“You know I’m joking, baby,” he grinned. You still couldn’t get used to his little pet names for you, but you also couldn’t help but adore them.

“I told you that I loved you after we dated for…about two weeks,” he recalled. “It was a little soon, I knew, but… I needed you to know. We’d gone out to dinner that night, and afterwards we’d gone back to my place to watch a movie. I can’t even remember what the movie was called, but I know that it made you laugh. And before I knew it, I was telling you.”

You smiled, scooting closer to him.

“Did I say that I loved you back?” you asked. Bucky smiled mischievously.

“You did later on that evening,” he winked. “It was also the first time we made love, you see.”

Your eyes widened and you turned back towards the beach, biting your lip when you heard Bucky laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, setting his metal hand on your back. “I didn’t mean to make you all flustered.”

You turned back to him and gave him a half-smile, allowing him to let his hand rest against your shoulder. All of a sudden, you felt painfully aware of the heat of his eyes on yours, of the skimpy, see-through dress you were wearing.

Without warning, you stood up, feeling guilty when you saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I, um… I’m getting pretty hot out here,” you rushed to explain. “Do I have any swimsuits? I think I might go for a dip.”

Bucky once again was all smiles, and he stood up beside you, collecting your now-empty glasses from where you’d rested them in the sand.

“Do I have a swimsuit, she asks,” he joked. “She does, in fact, have a drawer full of them.”

You followed him inside, definitely not watching his impeccable back muscles as he led the way. He told you that they were in the top-left drawer of the dresser in the bedroom before going into the kitchen to wash the glasses, and you took that as your que to get dressed.

A few moments later, you were face to face with at least seven different bikinis. All of them were different colors and made of different materials, but they were all equally revealing. After making sure the door was locked, you took off your thin cover-up and eventually settled on a white bikini made out of a braided, rope-like material. It seemed to be the most modest one from the collection, but you still pulled your lacy dress on over it.

When you walked out into the living area, Bucky was sitting at the dining table, tapping away at a tablet.

“I thought we didn’t have contact with anyone off the island?” you spoke up. Bucky’s head snapped up to you, but his surprised expression was soon replaced with a smile.

“Oh, I was just using this to read,” he explained, locking the tablet. “I see that you picked out my favorite one.”

He pointed to the bikini, and you blushed, regretting that you hadn’t chosen a thicker dress to wear over it.

“I, um… I’m gonna go swimming now, if its ok,” you said.

“That’s fine, hon,” he assured you, waving you off towards the door. “I’m gonna finish with this last chapter and then I’ll join you.”

You didn’t tell him that you were absolutely fine with him staying there and leaving you to swim alone, but that was how you felt as you rushed out the door. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Bucky, but it was just odd, being around a man who seemed to know everything about you while you knew nothing about him. And you weren’t naive; you’d seen how his eyes had been lingering on you all day. You had no doubt that the two of you had had sex before, but you couldn’t remember it. It might as well have been as if he’d never touched you at all.

As you waded into the ocean, you closed your eyes and let yourself float, letting the sea move your body with its waves. The last you remembered, it had been January, but now, six months later, it had to be July. You’d been living in New York for college, and all you could remember about the weather was it being cold and, more often than not, damp with either snow, sleet, or rain. Now, though, it was perfect – warm, but not too hot. And there was a constant breeze from the ocean.

You let yourself relax, the waves soothing your nerves. Was it really so bad? After eight days, Bucky could take you to a doctor, and hopefully they would be able to help you regain your memory. And until then, you were stuck on a gorgeous island with a gorgeous man who very clearly loved you. Maybe you could stop questioning it. Maybe you could be happy.

After spending a good hour swimming through the waves, you dried off and trudged back inside, your limbs feeling heavy after all of the exertion. When you walked past the living room, you saw Bucky poke his head out from the kitchen, giving you a smile.

“Have a good swim?” he called out.

“It was amazing,” you gushed. “But now I need a shower and some dry clothes.”

“Well, once you’re done, come back out and eat dinner! I’m attempting to make a stir fry.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder.

“I bet it’ll be great, Bucky.”

With that, you walked into the bathroom, running a bath for yourself. You thought about Bucky as you washed, about how mysterious he was. You still didn’t know why he had a metal arm; you didn’t know where he was from or what he was like as a person. But, despite how silly it might have been, you wanted to trust him. He seemed like a good man.

It took you a surprisingly long time to find something to wear that was modest enough to make you comfortable. You found, right next to the drawer of bikinis, a drawer full of lingerie. Your face warmed up as you looked over the lace and silk, imagining packing them to wear for Bucky. Which set was his favorite, you wondered? Which of these had you worn for him before?

You pushed those thoughts away, pulling on a pale pink bra with its matching panties. Most of the dresses hanging up in the closet were similar to the lace one from before, but you managed to find a simple one made out of soft gray cotton.

You arranged your hair until you were satisfied with how it looked, and with one last glance in the mirror, you walked back out, heading into the kitchen.

Bucky was dividing the stir fry into two bowls for the both of you, wearing the same swim trunks but now with a white t-shirt on as well. He gave you a smile when you walked in, his eyes sliding up and down your body quickly before turning back to the task at hand. You tried to pull your dress down a little bit more, but no matter how you adjusted it, it still only came to about mid-thigh.

“You look lovely as always,” Bucky complimented. “If you would just set out a few waters for us on the table, then I think we’ll be all set to dig in.”

You nodded and did as he said, still flustered from his praise. You set out the waters and took a set when Bucky held your chair out for you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, and Bucky just gave you another close-lipped smile.

“Gotta take care of my girl,” he shrugged.

When he set your bowl down in front of you, your stomach gave a lout growl, and the both of you giggled at the sound.

“I guess I should’ve eaten more than just a banana today,” you chuckled.

“That’s all you had?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Baby, you gotta eat more than that. You’ll starve at this rate.”

“It must’ve been my accident,” you explained. “I didn’t wake up with much of an appetite.”

“Well…still. Going forward, I want you to make sure you eat enough.”

You frowned at his authoritative tone, but you still nodded.

“Ok, Bucky. I will.”

That seemed to satisfy him, and he finally took a bite of his food. You followed suit, letting out a hum; it was really good. So, he could cook, too. Of course he could.

“Um… Bucky?” You spoke up after a few minutes of silent eating. “Can I ask you some personal questions?”

“Of course you can, doll,” he assured you. “I’m sure they’re nothing you haven’t asked before.”

You bit your lip, your eyes shifting to his metal arm of their own accord. He followed your gaze and flexed his fingers.

“This?” he asked. When you nodded, he held his hand up, watching the metallic fingers wiggle a bit before letting it rest in his lap.

“A long time ago, I lost my arm in a war,” he eventually explained.

“Oh my gosh… Bucky, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you sympathized. “Which war was it?”

He hesitated, searching your face as his mouth opened to speak. After a moment, though, he closed it and looked back down at his food.

“Would if be ok if we didn’t…”

“Oh, Bucky, of course! I’m so sorry for prying,” you rushed to apologize. He gave you a half smile and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help the tiny, dreamy smile that came over your lips.

“It’s ok, baby,” he promised. “It’s just hard for me to think back to that time… It was so dark. Even after I, uh…recovered, things were still bad. But when I saw you… You make life seem bright again, doll.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you leaned over to press your forehead into his neck, reaching down to take his flesh hand in yours.

“Bucky,” you whispered, “that…was really cheesy.”

“Hey!” He grinned and reached over, tickling your ribs. You squeaked and scooted away, but Bucky didn’t let you get far.

“You think that’s nice? Picking on an old man like me?” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you.

“Bucky, c’mon,” you smiled. “You can’t be any older than, like, 32.”

His eyebrows shot up, and a deep laugh rumbled in his chest.

“I have you well and truly fooled, don’t I?”

You narrowed your eyes. Something in Bucky’s tone seemed…a little darker than it had been a few seconds ago. You couldn’t help but wonder if the two of you were still just talking about his age, and you were suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. Your chair was pressed flush against his, and you were very nearly perched on his lap.

Before you could move away, though, his lips were on yours – soft, chapped, insistent. The part of you that felt nervous before melted away as your body reacted; no one had ever kissed you like this. You parted your lips for his tongue, and as it swept into your mouth, you couldn’t help but think that this was what all those romance novels were talking about – this is what it felt like when a kiss was claiming.

You heard the clatter of bowls being pushed away before Bucky’s hands were on your hips, lifting you up to sit on the table in front of him. His lips pulled away from yours, red and swollen and slick, and he started lifting the skirt of your dress, sliding his hands over your thighs and kneading the soft flesh.

“Bucky…” you sighed, cupping his cheeks.

For a moment, the two of you were still as you looked into his eyes. Your fingers could feel the roughness of his stubble, and you ached to know what his coarse facial hair would feel like against your neck as he kiss you, against your thighs…

With a soft whimper, you pulled his lips back to yours, wrapping your arms around his neck. You knew that this was wrong; you didn’t know him. He was a stranger. You were trapped on an island with him, for god’s sake.

But this felt so right. You reasoned with yourself that this couldn’t have been your first kiss; the two of you had probably been intimate many times. You just couldn’t remember.

You gasped when Bucky pulled away and started lifting your dress up. You raised up your arms to help him get it off, and you felt as if your blood was on fire when he paused to look at your body. His eyes devoured you, lingering over your soft skin. You knew you had to look like a mess – panting as if you’d just ran a mile, lips still wet with his saliva.

But when Bucky’s hands traced the curve of your hips, running them up your belly and to your breasts, he was reverent. He whispered your name before leaning back in, attaching his lips to your neck as he pushed your bra down. Your back arched of its own accord when his thumbs started teasing your nipples; your mind slipped into a haze when he sucked over your pulse point.

All of a sudden, you felt him bite you while pinching your nipples at the same time, and the shocks of pain send a wave of heat right down to your core. You threw your head back and moaned as he licked over the bite mark soothingly, your hands settling in his long hair while he moved down to bite at the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Bucky…” He let out a groan when you moaned his name, and you let yourself lay down on the table as he leaned over your body.

His tongue was tracing one of your nipples when his fingers trailed down to your panties, gripping the hem of them between his two hands and ripping. You gasped as he tore away the thin fabric, tossing it behind him. You were about to protest; you’d liked those panties, but then he rolled your nipple between his teeth, and every word you were about to say fizzled out into white noise.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pulling away to look up at you. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to meet his eyes, and he gave you a half-smirk as he moved further down your body.

His hands pushed your thighs apart and his eyes raked over your pussy hungrily. You bit your lip as he pressed a kiss to the top of your mound, and you braced yourself for what you knew was coming next.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Bucky pushed his tongue past your lips, licking a long, flat line from your entrance to your clit. You closed your eyes and hummed as he flattened his tongue against your bud, lapping at it softly; he had definitely done this before.

The sound of his tongue running along your sensitive flesh seemed to echo in the room, and as obscene as it was, it only made you feel more desperate for him. Your hands tugged on his hair, eliciting a gravelly moan from him.

“Faster,” you begged. “Bucky, please…”

You saw him smirk as he complied with your request, starting to trace tiny little circles against your clit. Your toes curled at the sensation, and you thought that you could cum just like that, with his tongue flicking against your bud incessantly.

But then you felt a cold, smooth finger slide past your entrance, and your eyes flew open in time to catch a flash of sliver against your pussy. Your moan was embarrassingly loud as he added a second finger before thrusting gently. You covered your hand with your mouth, but the second you did so, Bucky pulled his mouth away.

“Nuh-uh, baby,” he chided. “Take that hand away; I wanna hear you.”

You whined but did as he said, moving your hand back into his hair. He gave you a smile before he started moving his fingers again, curling them in a way that had you seeing stars. His tongue found your clit once more, using just the smallest bit of teeth to start sucking on it.

“Bucky-!” you cried, hips rocking up against his face of their own accord.

“That’s right, doll,” he rumbled. “No one but me can here you out here. Be as loud as you fucking want.”

It only took a few more minutes of his attentions before you felt that familiar coil starting to build up in your belly. Your moans turned incomprehensible; broken syllables that might have belonged to his name were flying past your lips, but Bucky seemed to understand what you needed perfectly.

“Want you to cum on my face, baby,” he growled. “Give it to me, doll, right fucking now-“

With a few more swipes of his tongue, you were gone, muscles tensing and back arching almost painfully as you came. Bucky slowed his fingers, letting you ride it out while lapping gently at your clit. Your eyes were closed but you swore you saw galaxies behind them, and you only came back down to Earth when your clit became too sensitive. You hissed and tried to pull away, and finally he moved away from your swollen bud, lapping instead at your entrance.

“You taste so sweet,” he sighed, licking up as much of your cum as he could before pulling away.

You opened your eyes and nearly groaned at the sight of him; his hair was wild from you pulling it, a few strands falling down into his eyes as they stared intensely back at you. His stubble was slick with your juices, his lips a bright red as he licked them. Your eyes trailed down, and you could see the tent in his swim trunks from how hard he was.

Before you knew it, you were being lifted up into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all, and your limp, spent body leaned against his broad chest.

“Oh, baby,” he mumbled. “I hope you don’t think we’re done yet.” He nudged the bedroom door open with his toe and marched over to the bed, laying you out on it before starting to lift his shirt off. “Just didn’t wanna fuck you against the table. Not tonight.”

Your eyes widened and your body felt significantly less relaxed when he shoved his trunks down; his cock was huge, the biggest you’d ever seen in person. It was thick and long, even bigger than any of the toys you’d used on yourself in the past. You gulped and looked back up at him, squirming a bit when you saw the smirk on his face.

“What is it, baby?” he asked in a falsely innocent tone. He crawled over you, spreading your legs again so he could lay between them. “Don’t go getting shy on me now; the fun only just began.”

“Bucky, it…” You gulped, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just… you’re so big. You’re sure we’ve done this before?”

He chuckled and captured your lips with his, sliding his tongue along yours so you could taste yourself. You tried to relax into it, even when you felt the tip of his dick run up along your slit. But when he positioned himself at your entrance, you tried to pull away to say something, anything, to get him to wait for a second. You were still disoriented from cumming so hard before; you didn’t know if you could-

All of your thoughts faded into background noise as he pushed inside of you, stretching you painfully as inch by inch of his cock sank into your wet heat.

“O-oh, my god,” he panted. You could hear the gears in his left arm whirring as he gripped the sheets on either side of your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he finally bottomed out.

The pressure against your cervix ached, but you still tried to relax into the feeling. Your gripped onto his biceps, your nails digging into his flesh arm, but you needed something to ground yourself. He pulled back, leaving only his tip inside of you before thrusting back in, and you blinked away the tears in your eyes.

“Bucky, it hurts,” you begged. “Please-“

“I know it hurts, doll,” he moaned. “But just relax; I promise it’ll start feeling good soon. Just be a – fuck – just be a good girl and take it…”

He moaned as he started finding his rhythm, and you tried desperately to do as he said. You willed your pussy to relax against him, focusing so hard that you barely even registered him kissing you. Your wrists were being held down by his hands, and if his lips weren’t on yours, then they were on your neck, biting and sucking and leaving bright purple marks in their wake.

You didn’t know how long it took the pain to subside, but when it did, you opened your eyes to see a pair of stormy blue irises trained on you.

“I told you, baby,” he sighed. “Doesn’t that feel good now?”

You nodded your head blearily, wrapping your arms around his back as he started moving faster. The pain was still lingering, but alongside it there was a delicious pressure building up; he was hitting that same spot inside of you that his fingers had found earlier, and it wasn’t too long before you started moaning for him again.

“You’re so good for me, doll,” he breathed, breath hot against your ear. “Knew you would be fucking perfect…”

You could barely register his words as you felt your pleasure cresting, and you tried tugging your wrists free from his hold, needing to feel some kind of stimulation to your clit. You were so close; you just needed that little bit of contact to push you over the edge.

“Bucky, please,” you gasped, “Please, let me-“

He removed one of his hands from your wrists, but when you tried to bring it down to your pussy, he growled and pushed it away, replacing it with his.

“Let me,” he ordered, pressing one of his fingers against your aching bud. “I know what you need, baby. ‘ll take such good care o’ you…”

You let your head fall back as you felt your thighs twitch; you were close, you were so close. You didn’t even realize that you were begging him for your release, staring up at him with unseeing eyes as you frantically moved your hips against his.

With a few more snaps of his hips, though, you saw Bucky’s eyes widen, and when you felt his hot cum coating your inner walls, you finally felt yourself burst, cumming around his dick so hard that you screamed for him. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock, and you heard Bucky let out a growl at the sensation.

He rolled his hips a few more times, lazily riding out the high, and you tried your best to kiss him back when his lips landed on yours again. You were quickly succumbing to exhaustion, though; between your shocking discovery this morning, your long swim, and being fucked until you were nearly passing out, your body ached for sleep.

You didn’t open your eyes as Bucky rolled over onto his back, pulling you to lay against his side.

“I love you so much, doll,” he whispered, and you smiled when you felt his lisp descend onto your forehead.

You drifted off to sleep quickly after that, but somewhere in the back of your mind, your brain was nagging at you, telling you that something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he answered when you’d asked if you guys had fucked before? And what had be meant a few minutes ago when he’d said he’d known you’d be perfect?

You shook away your thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the feeling of Bucky’s chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. It wasn’t long before you drifted off, but even while you were asleep, you couldn’t escape your anxiety. Your dreams were plagued by the feeling of being watched, by blue eyes staring at you from across a crowded bar, by waking up to see a shadowy figure looming over your mattress back in your dorm while you slept.

But the dreams were only that, right? Only dreams? They had to be, because the alternative was too horrible to be true.

______

The next few days went by surprisingly quick. You and Bucky spent the days together on the beach for the most part – swimming, sunbathing, getting tipsy off the drinks Bucky would mix for you. Or, rather, you were the only one to get tipsy. Bucky had this crazy high tolerance to alcohol, as it turned out.

Every day, you would ask him questions about your life together or about his life apart from you. You learned that he had a best friend named Steve and that they’d fought in ‘the war’ together. He never told you where he fought or how he’d lost his arm, but you never pried.

He also told you stories about your time as a couple. He described dates you two had been on, gifts you’d gotten for each other, how your family had behaved while meeting him for the first time this last December. He didn’t have any family himself, but he spoke so fondly of yours that you got the sense that he considered them to be just as much his family as they were yours.

When the two of you weren’t on the beach, like the fourth day, when it had rained, you watched movies together. Bucky hadn’t seen most of your favorite movies; he was an old fashioned kind of guy. He spent most of the movie on his tablet, reading that same book he seemed so obsessed with. He never let you see it when you’d asked to, asking if he could wait until he finished the last few chapters before loaning to you, and you hadn’t pushed it.

On your seventh day on the island, you woke up feeling pleasantly sore from the previous night. The two of you had been having a lot of sex ever since that first night. You suspected that the two of you were slowly working your way through the Karma Sutra, what with all of the new positions Bucky had coerced you into trying. Last night had involved your legs bent into a shape that you could only describe as pretzel-esque, but you hadn’t complained when Bucky made you cum twice before he was finished with you.

Now, though, you woke up to a surprisingly empty bed; Bucky had made it a point to spend lazy mornings in bed cuddling. (And if those cuddles turned into morning sex, then all the better.) But today there was only a piece of paper next to you, just like there had been on your first morning.

Going out for a swim; you looked too peaceful to wake up. Love you.

You smiled at the note before placing it on your nightstand and getting up, stretching with a sigh. You saw Bucky’s gray t-shirt from the night before laying on the ground right next to the hamper, and you walked over and pulled it on, excited to see what his reaction to you wearing his clothes would be. You could imagine the dark look in his eyes even now, and you didn’t fight the excited grin that came to your lips as you walked to the kitchen to make breakfast.

You settled on some oatmeal for that morning, popping it in the microwave before realizing that Bucky’s tablet was laying on the counter next to the stove. You picked it up, opening it before you thought anything about it; you only wanted to see what he’d been reading.

You frowned, though, when it opened straight into a text exchange; you’d thought Bucky said you didn’t have a way of communicating off of the island. The name “Steve” was at the top of the screen, and you started to scroll up through the texts.

The last few were just Steve “checking in” on Bucky. You scrolled past those, stopping only when you saw a longer one from Bucky’s friend.

So when am I going to get to meet this mystery girl?

After we get back from vacation, punk. Can’t have you scaring her off just yet.

You know I’m happy for you, Buck, but it seems a little fishy. You’ve only known this girl for, what, a month?

Your blood ran cold when you read Bucky’s reply.

It’s been two months, jackass. But I know she’s the one, ok? Just trust me. You’ll get to meet her soon.

Your heart was hammering when you swiped down on the page, staring at the date unbelievingly.

“I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

You dropped the tablet to the floor with a clatter, turning to see Bucky standing behind you, his arms crossed against his chest, his swim trunks still dripping with ocean water. You gulped, backing up until you felt the small of your back bump against the countertop.

“…Bucky,” you gulped. “…How long have we really known each other?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back against his head.

“Does the answer really matter?”

“Yes, it fucking matters!” you screamed. “You told me we’ve been together for six months, that I’ve been out of college for six months. If that’s true, then how is it still January?”

Bucky looked to be at a loss for words, and both of you jumped when the microwave let out its long beep. Shaking your head, you stomped over to him and shoved his chest, trying to move his body out of the doorway. He didn’t budge, though, so you kept desperately trying to move him.

“You lied to me!” you shouted. “I never had amnesia, did I?” You looked up when Bucky said nothing, feeling a twinge of fear at the blank look in his eyes. “…Bucky, I never had amnesia. Did I?”

The man sighed and put his hands on your shoulders.

“…No,” he finally admitted. “You don’t have amnesia.”

You felt as if your body had been dunked into a pool of ice water, and for a long moment you couldn’t move. You could only stare up at the man you’d spent the last week with, begging for him to explain with your wide, frightened eyes.

“I was going to tell you,” he sighed, rubbing your back. “After we’d spent the eight days with each other, I was gonna come clean. I just… I needed you to give me a chance. I needed you to see how good we could be together-“

“Oh my god,” you sighed, stumbling backwards away from him, a hand pressed to your mouth as tears started falling down your cheeks. “Oh, my god… I had sex with you. I trusted you; I thought that I might even love you-“

Bucky’s chest expanded with a silent gasp, and his eyes widened as he took a step towards you.

“You… You love me?”

You scoffed at the question and shoved past him, storming into the living room.

“Not anymore,” you spat. You turned around to face him, feeling a torrent of anger at the tears in his eyes. He had no right to feel that way – he was the one who’d hurt you.

“Everything you told me was a lie,” you shouted. “The dates, the way we met, everything! How do I even know if your name is really Bucky?”

“It is Bucky,” he insisted. “And we can make what I said true! We can go on those dates; I can meet your family. We can build the exact same life together that I told you about!”

You gulped when you saw the manic look in his eyes, shaking your head as you continued to back away towards the door.

“You’re fucking insane,” you whispered. You could see how hard those three words hit him; he looked as if you’d just slapped him, and you let out a scream when he started marching towards you.

You turned on your heel and ran out onto the beach, not knowing where you were going as you fled. But you didn’t even get to the shoreline before Bucky had tackled you. He forced you onto your back in the sand, trapping your thighs between his knees and pinning your wrists down on either side of your head.

“Stop it!” he shouted. “Just give me a chance to explain-“

“I’m not giving you anything else,” you yelled back. “I gave you my body and my trust and you lied to me! You took advantage of me! How did I even get to this island, huh? Did you kidnap me? Drug me in my sleep and cart me away to a private island for psychopaths?!”

You’d only been throwing wild accusations out at him, but from the guilty expression on his face, you saw that you’d struck a nerve.

“Oh my god,” you murmured. “That’s exactly what you did, isn’t it?”

Bucky gritted his teeth and growled, squeezing your wrists until you cried out in pain.

“I am not,” he spat, “crazy. I’m in love with you, (Y/N). And I wanted to do it the right way; I gave you time to notice me. I’d go to that bar every single Sunday, watching you, begging you to see me. And one time, you know what? You did. Your eyes looked right into mine, and I thought that that was it; I thought you’d finally seen me. But do you know what you did next?”

You gulped, watching as his face got more and more red with the force of his yelling.

“Bucky-“

“You fucking turned away,” he continued. “You let some other asshole buy you a drink. All I wanted was for you to give yourself to me, but instead you forced me to take you instead-“

“You’re fucking crazy!” you screamed, bringing your knee up against his stomach. He grunted, doubling over for a second, and you tore your wrists away from him and squirmed away, stumbling through the wet sand as you willed your legs to move as fast as they could.

You only made it a few yards before Bucky’s hand grabbed your arm, turning you back to him so forcefully that you thought he might have given you whiplash. He pulled your body against his, using his impossible strength to keep you there.

“Stop fucking struggling,” he growled. “You’re gonna make me do something we both regret.”

You flailed frantically, but it wasn’t enough; you were no match for his strength. He pushed you back into the sand roughly, shoving your shirt up until it was bunched up right under your breasts. Your heart caught in your throat when he brought his hand down hard on your pussy, and you wailed as the sting seemed to reverberate through your entire body.

“You still don’t see it, do you?” He wrapped his metal hand around your neck, keeping you pinned there as he shoved his shorts down with his free hand. “That’s fine, doll, don’t worry. I’ll just have to show you again, won’t I? How well we fit together?”

Your eyes widened as he started stroking his half-hard cock, and you once more struggled, flailing your limbs around desperately. The hand on your throat only tightened, though, and you had to stop as it became a struggle to inhale. Your ears were ringing by the time he was fully hard, and when he loosened his grip on you, you inhaled greedily, gulping air into your lungs.

“Last change, dollface,” he growled. “If you promise to play nice, I’ll make this easy on you.”

Your eyes met his, narrowing at the threat that lay within them.

“Go to hell,” you growled. Bucky only laughed, though, roughly shoving your legs apart.

“Baby,” he chuckled darkly, “Hell is what made me.”

With that, he shoved his cock inside of you, clamping a hand down on your mouth to muffle the scream that came from it. It hurt; it was even more painful than the first night. Typically, when the two of you made love, he would make sure you were at least wet for him before entering you.

But this wasn’t making love; he gave you no time to adjust before he started slamming inside of you, spitting on his flesh hand and reaching down to coat his cock with it before continuing.

“Not wet for me, huh?” he grunted. “That’s fine, baby; I’ll take care of you.”

His hand rested beside your head, and his metal fingers tightened once more on your neck. You winced and still tried to weakly push against his chest, even though you knew that it was of no use. His strength was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

He was panting as he pounded into you, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your face. Keeping his hand your neck, his other trailed down to where your bodies were joining, pressing his fingers to your clit. You whined, trying to press your thighs together; it was too sensitive, too dry, to feel good.

“C’mon, doll,” he moaned, desperation clinging to his voice. “You were so responsive last night.”

He licked his hand, once more trying to coax your clit into feeling good, and you wanted to cry as it slowly started to feel good, softening the pain of him fucking into you and turning it into something more pleasant. You clawed against the grip he had on your throat, but he wouldn’t budge; you might as well have been trying to move an oak tree.

“There we go,” he moaned. “Now you’re starting to get wet – see? Told you I’d take care of you.”

You whined, feeling the corners of your vision starting to go black with lack of oxygen. Every sensation you felt was heightened; you were acutely aware of his cock inside of you, pressing against every bump and ridge of your inner walls. The week previous had conditioned you to like this, had made you crave the feeling of him stretch you, but you fought against that unwanted instinct.

Despite your best efforts, though, it was as if struggling against the pleasure only made it increase in its intensity. Every brush of his fingers against your clit felt like an electric shock, and before you’d even became consciously aware of it, your orgasm was hovering over you.

You tried to breathe deeply, tried to push the feeling down, but Bucky only moaned and shoved himself harder inside of you.

“I know you want to,” he breathed. “Cum for me again, baby. Just like you always do…”

He squeezed your neck even harder, and you felt your brain start to go fuzzy. The only thing you were aware of was the feeling in your core, and when you felt your orgasm finally, finally, come over you, you couldn’t even take a breath. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around him even as your eyes started to close. The ringing in your ears got louder, but somewhere far away, you could hear Bucky’s roar as he came.

Before you could fully process what was happening, though, your mind slipped into unconsciousness, just barely registering the sound of Bucky murmuring your name before you were gone.

________

Your head was pounding when you woke up, and the skin around your ankles felt sore and raw. You blinked open your eyes, wincing as the bright sunlight flooded your vision and stung your corneas.

“Oh, thank God.”

You turned to your left and saw Bucky perched on the side of the bed, leaning over you.

“I was afraid when you passed out on me like that,” he sighed, cupping your cheek.

You tilted your head away from him and looked down, seeing two lengths of ropes looped around your ankles, keeping them securely tied to the bed.

“Oh, that.” Bucky winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought it would be in both of our interests if you didn’t try to run again. I’ll take them off as soon as I’m confident that you won’t try anything again.”

You blinked away your tears and stared up at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the hand still resting on your cheek.

“They’ll find out,” you warned him. “The people driving the plane. When they come tomorrow, I’ll tell them what you did.”

A look that was almost pitying came across Bucky’s face.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed. “Did you really believe that there was a plane coming for us tomorrow?”  

#theugliestwombatchallenge #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes imagine

[harrykilledmoi]

Silence + Noise | Part One

1985. Manhattan, New York.

Noise, a live fast, die young, wild child living in the Chelsea Hotel, meets Harry, a newly immigrated, struggling, young poet in search of inspiration.

This is a story about life. A life so loud it’s quiet, and so quiet it’s silent. Fast and fleeting. It's about music and poetry and art in the filthy dwellings of its creators in New York City.

Rated: M (for language) Word Count: 5.3K Themes:  AU, angst, 80s!Harry, Poetrry, love at first sight??? Pairing: Harry Styles x OFC Warnings: drug use + addiction, smoking

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Harry remembers the exact date and time that he first saw her.

June 30th, 1985.

10:34pm.

Although it could've been 10:36 as he was still unsure if his wristwatch was still running two minutes too slow. He does, however, vividly remember the weather.

The last remnants of spring were being washed away with the droplets that cascaded from the heavens that night. He'd thought he'd been lucky enough to leave the rain behind when he moved to New York, but like his writer's block, it seems the heavy clouds followed him across the pond as well. He was in search of inspiration and his small English county could no longer provide that for him. He'd only been in the city for a week but had still yet to find his footing, his place. It was the very words of Ginsberg that brought him to the seedy, down-at-the-heels boroughs of New York City, that propelled him to get on that plane, that brought him to her. Whatever the poets of Gotham were smoking, he wanted in.

He'd been walking down Canal Street that night, the rain lightly kissing the tops of his cheeks, puddles flooding around the soles of his loafers. Why he'd decided to wear the dark leather footwear on a night like that night was beyond him. It was his first official night out in the city, so it could be said that he subconsciously wanted to look his best. He'd spent his first week in the city holed up in his apartment. A corner walk up in an old hotel that rented rooms by the month.

The Hotel Chelsea.

The heartbeat of the city located in its underbelly.

He knew it from literature, from music, from art. He was told it was where artists are conceived, born, and died in a never ending forest fire of pathos, ethos, and on very rare occasions, logos. Swimming in a pool of their own shit and only their own shit, and then somehow making it glitter like gold. He was told it was where the muses lived. Every single one, from every myth and every legend. He was just waiting to meet his own.

He ducks into a dimly lit concrete stairwell when the rain begins to pick up. Soaking through the unbuttoned-at-the-top shirt he'd been gifted by a friend before leaving home. He stands under the small coverage provided by the building above him. Watching as bright yellow taxi cabs wiz by, distorting the already distorted refraction of soft warm light that spilled from the street lamps above. He watches a couple kiss in the rain before departing and going their separate ways and yet, although he was in the presence of such a magnificent amount of pulchritude, Harry was still unable to string words together into a verse that would do it justice.

A muffled cheer sounds from behind a door he hadn't realized led to anything, catching his attention. He turns, peaking into the frosted glass window located in the center of the old wooden door, leaning so close his nose flattens against it and his breath fogs the glass beyond its frost. He squints, trying to get a peek inside when the door swings open. He steps back swiftly, heart pounding, lungs heaving for air, hand pressed to his chest. The culprit, standing in the doorway eyeing him. Platinum blonde hair is the first thing he sees, then a sharply arched eyebrow over icy blue irises, and a cigarette, pressed between two lips painted in a maraschino cherry hue.

Harry struggles to collects himself when she side steps and gestures for him to enter or leave, either way, the purpose was to get him out of her way. His eyes are still locked on hers, swimming the in whirlpool of her energy, feet about to touch the sandy bottom of the frozen ocean within her eyes.

A snap of her fingers in the space between them pulls him out of his liquid dream like a buoy pulling a drowning boy to safety.

"Move it or lose it, I haven't got all day."

Her voice is unlike anything Harry had ever heard before. Although she looked lithe and delicate, her voice held grit and power. With an edge Harry could only imagine the sharpness of.

He squeezes past her through the door, their chest brushing as he scuttles. He dwindles when he catches a whiff of her. Whiskey and cigarettes and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. Vanilla? Sandalwood? Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

She scoffs as she pushes past him into the evening downpour, forcing him further than he'd planned on going. He turns quickly and watches her ascend the drenched concrete steps as the door closes, her tall, chunky heeled boots slapping against them like duck wings on water.

He stands there, staring through the small rectangular window at her blurred silhouette. It isn't until he's shoved lightly to the side, and then back, further into the bar by people trying to exit, that he realizes just how long he'd been standing there. In the process he loses sight of her.

The door opens again and Harry is pulled further into the small bar by a wayward group of people. He concedes in that moment, walking through the dive on at his own accord. His mind still spinning with a looped triptych of the encounter.

This was a new experience for Harry, the momentary loss of self in a stranger, specifically supernal, a particularly peculiar case of sonder. He'd had the luxury of knowing everyone in his small town and therefore had not been afforded the company of fresh faces and anomalous auras for the majority of his adult years of life. This was a feeling Harry wanted to relish in, to drink and be drunk on and its catalyst had just walked out the door to indulge in her nicotine laced vice, and in all probability, to not to be seen by him again. New York is a big city. All big, blinding lights and an even bigger populace.

That, however, didn't stop him from nursing an inaudible prayer on his lips as he ambles carefully through the bar, hoping, while trying to keep hold of realistic expectations, to catch a glimpse of the fair-haired sparkler one more time before he, himself, burned out.

The room, puzzlingly humid, dimly lit, and thick with people, carried the stench of old beer and rotting wood. A heavy cloud of cigarette smoke floats up from the crowd and threads through the dank wooden beams of the ceiling. The walls, covered in a deep red, are peeling and fading into a grimy brown, reminding Harry of the rust that sat on his neighbour's old chevy back in Cheshire. The floor, beer soaked wood that Harry was sure could give out at any moment if they weren't below street level.

Everyone in the room was gathered around a small stage made of old skids in the middle of the small space. A woman, small in stature with tousled brown hair tucked under a dark gray pageboy cap and black, thick rimmed glasses, stands on the stage in front of a microphone.

Harry heads to what he assumes could only be the bar. As if the rows of liquor bottles located behind a very well groomed young man hadn't been a clear enough indicator. His look, a stark contrast to the dwellers in the bar. A crisp white short sleeve button up, tucked into a pair of sharp black trousers, held in place with a black belt, silver buckle.

"What can I get you?"

Harry looks up at the bartender, then over to the bottles of liquor on the wall. A decent sized plank of driftwood sits snug in the center of the middle row of bottles. 'The Sick Rose' it read in a delicate, hand-painted cursive, the same red that dressed the walls.

He looks back over at the bartender who is watching him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"Whiskey, neat."

The bartender smiles before turning to grab the bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind him. He grabs a glass from under the bar top and place it in front of Harry before pouring.

Harry watches him intently, taking in every detail. From the way his brows furrow when the liquor splashes up against the side of the cup and onto the bar to the 'nectar of the gods' glisten of the liquid in the glass.

With a tight but genuine smile, the bartender pushes the glass towards him. Harry reaches into his pants and takes out a balled up fiver. He flattens it out on the bar top, a light, embarrassed chuckle leaves his lips before he hands it over, returning the smile with a curt nod.

Feedback bleeds momentarily over the sound of soft conversation drawing Harry's attention. He picks up his drink and turns his attention to the stage.

She's seated on a high stool, the woman on stage, and has a cigarette pressed between her middle and index fingers, the smoke cascading up to join the rest of the crowd's. In her other hand, an old, black and white school jotter with several coloured post-it notes sticking out of every side.

She gets off the stool and steps towards the mic, poised with her book open and resting on her forearm, against her chest. She speaks with candor. Her tone rhythmic, almost musical.

She pauses and the verse rings in Harry's ears. A dull ache pulses through his chest. The tips of his fingers tingle. There's an itch trickling up from under his skin that grows with every word, every pause, every breath.

This is what he'd been looking for. What he had come to New York for. To live and exist as the wordsmiths before him. In a dark dingy basement bar, last legs, glass of whiskey in hand, cigarette smoke clinging to every space. No more thicker than the voltaic energy that has the hair on his arms standing at attention. The baring of souls in stanza, in verse, in caesura, in rhyme. A chorus of pain and lust and life, oh to live a life like this. And now it was his.

He rubs his arm but knows that that isn't what will satiate his craving.

That the only cure lies within the keys of his typewriter and alabaster sheet of 8 ½ by 11.

Harry takes another generous sip of his drink with peeled ears and attentive heart. Hoping that the ability to write something, anything, would strike him like the lightning that had been streaking the sky that night.

He'd almost forgotten about her in the hurricane of poems and poets that swept on and off stage throughout the night. But when he sees her again, hours later, the initial rush of titillation he had felt returns like an unexpected punch to the gut.

He's three glasses of cheap whiskey deep, leaning against the small bar top. The crowd in the bar had gotten boisterous, rowdier, and now instead of poets baring their souls to the patrons, there's a louder than hell band on stage. He's sure they have no idea how to play their instruments but the magnanimity of their outrageous on stage antics made them entertaining enough to watch. The lead singer had broken a bottle over his head and made out with three different women on stage within the span of ten minutes and yet, once Harry had caught sight of the platinum stick of dynamite, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

She's seated in a worn leather booth at the far end of the room. And although there were copious amounts of intoxicated people standing between them, Harry had managed to maintain a clear and direct line of view.

The first thing he noticed was the smug smirk that never seemed to leave her lips. It was as if she was holding onto a secret that no one, not even herself, knew. The second was that she wasn't alone.

Next to her in the booth sat two people, a man, neck full of tattoos and decked out in leather. His dark, shoulder length hair looked as if it hadn't seen a wash in weeks but Harry could admit that the man was quite handsome, in a dangerous, "I'd steal your car" kind of way. The other, a woman, wild curly hair, tucked under a black beret. Her dark skin shown against the dim lighting in the bar and was a stark contrast to the bright red, latex dress she had on. The outfit was soaked in intimidation but the smile she had affixed on her face as she whispered to the object of Harry's full attention, was soft and genuine.

The blonde head of hair whipped around in Harry's direction and their eyes catch each other's.

In a movement too swift for him to register himself, he turns to face the bar, an embarrassing warmth making its way up his neck. He orders another drink even though he already has a full one in his hand. He throws it back, finishing it before the bartender could put the new one in front of him. Harry takes in a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves before turning back to catch one more glimpse of the blonde matchstick before calling it a night, but just like before she'd disappeared. In fact, the only person sitting there was her female friend, the male compatriot had disappeared as well.

Harry can't help but wonder. Had she gone out for a cigarette, or had she decided to take the brooding tattooed man back to hers. Maybe she'll be back. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she was still here.

He scans the room before his body propels him forward, a heart over head start of an active search, removing him from the bar and into the crowd on people. Popping up every now and then to see over the sea of heads.

When he finally does spot her again, she and neck tattoos are wedged in the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. Their chests pressed together as they speak in hushed, harsh voices.

"Neck Tattoos" holds a small plastic bag above her head, a frown etched deeply in the curve of his brow and the edges of his lips. Harry watches as she attempts to grab the bag back from the man but fails, falling into him, her head turning and immediate locking eyes with Harry's curiously impeding stare. Her eyebrows furrow and her lips pucker. Her gaze is intense, hard but it sends a neon jolt of electricity through Harry's body.

She looks away, pushing herself away from "Neck Tattoos'" chest, as she makes another attempt to grab the baggy from him by propping herself up onto her toes. His large tattooed hand wraps itself around her wrist tightly and her eyebrows furrow in pain as he leans closer to her. Harry's body jerks forward as her eyes drift back over to his. His legs move to carry him closer but halts momentarily to size up the situation.

He'd always been someone who thought about actions and their consequences before making rash decisions. Logical and reliable were words that could be said to be synonymous with Harry Styles.

Heck! The most impulsive thing he'd ever done was what had brought him into this very situation. He didn't think a bar fight would be in the cards for him, ever. But he figures there's a first time for everything.

Harry makes his way over to them as quickly as he can, bobbing and weaving through the crowd, trying to keep an eye on the situation all the while trying to figure out how he was going to incapacitate "Neck Tattoos", who looked to be about a whole head taller than him.

The crowd seems to be fighting against him, trying to keep him away but he fights against it anyway. In that moment, Harry likens himself to salmon swimming upstream in the frigid autumn waters. A dangerous journey but to give up would go against their nature. Fight, however, was not in his nature but he thought himself fiercely passionate and empathetic which could be the same, he thinks. Harry finally breaks through the crowd and is within spitting distance of the two just as the snowy haired firecracker winds up and socks "Neck Tattoos" square in the nose.

Harry's eyes widen as "Neck Tattoos" falls, landing at his feet. He stares at the man on the floor before trailing his sights up to the woman who'd mystified him the short time they had been aware of the other's existence.

Her hand whips up and down as if shaking it will rid it of the throbbing that had begun to consume the limb. She bends down over "Neck Tattoos", retrieving the reason for the abruptly violent situation that oddly enough, no one else in the small bar acknowledged. She pats him on the shoulder comfortingly, her smirk returning to its place between her lips.

"Probably should get that checked out John. Broken nose wouldn't do that pretty face any favours."

Her words are firm but underneath it, there was a hint of something that told Harry that she actually was friends with "Neck Tattoos". That she cared about him, although her actions seemed to say otherwise.

She stands, and in the process notices one of her bruised knuckles bleeding. She brings it to her mouth, and it's all Harry can stare at, eyes still as wide as a deer in headlights.

Her icy blue orbs move up from the floor to Harry's face and he melts.

"Thanks for all the help man."

Her blood stained lips spit the sarcastic benediction with the prick of a sharp dagger.

Harry blinks. He opens his mouth and finds it hard to form words with the amount of indescribable feelings rushing through his blood stream, or maybe it was just the alcohol.

She sighs, rolling her eyes, and pushes past him, stepping over "Neck Tattoos", to a door adjacent to them. Harry twists his head to follow her, in a daze. It isn't until a loud clang sounds, the door closing, that he snaps out of it.

The spinning in his head comes to a standstill but the bubbling in his veins is far from subsiding.

His body is moving towards the door before his head can even fathom it. The pull is so magnetic. It's as if his soul had left his body and is pulling him along by hand, it's celestial.

He moves quickly, almost a blur, as he jogs out of the bar and into a dark lit alley. The rain had stopped and had left behind tiny reflective orbs of liquid on every surface that sparkled even in the darkness. He spins to his left, then his right in search of a halo of bleached tresses but comes up short.

A weight lands on his chest and trickles down to the pit of his stomach.

Regret, maybe. Nausea, definitely.

Should've said something.

He spins on the heels of his now drenched loafers with the intention of heading back inside to grab one more drink and quell his overstimulated mind and heart. He reaches for the large metal handle, when something catches his eye. A spark, several. Flickering and flashing to an off kilter beat. Small but bright in the darkness of the alley.

He closes his eyes and takes in a breath before letting go of the door handle. He takes a step away from the door, relieving his filled lungs with an aggressive puff. He's already been reckless thus far tonight, what's one more ill informed decision.

He opens his eyes and takes a few cautious steps towards the continuous tiny combustion. Slowly, hands curled in tight fists in case something or someone jumped out at him. In case he met one of those colossal rodents that New York was so famous for.

When he gets closer and his eyes adjust to the low light, he sees her. Leaning up against the grimy, graffiti filled, brick wall of the bar, cigarette between her lips, lighter in her bruised hand, pint glass filled with beer in the other. A brisk breeze flows through the wind tunnel alley way as she struggles with the lighter. A slick curse passes her lips every time the lighter goes out without lighting the cigarette.

Harry walks up to her, still cautious but fists unclenched.

"Need help?"

Harry chokes out the words but it's enough to cause her eyes to flick up, landing on the smile he struggles to keep soft. He doesn't wait for an answer, instead he steps forwards, cupping his hands around the lighter when she tries to flick it again. This time, the cigarette lights and she breathes out an audible sigh that dances around the smoke as it leaves her lips and Harry finally finds his voice.

"Y'alright?"

His eyes trace the lines of her face that are faintly illuminated by the end of her cigarette. Her soft lines a stark contrast to her hard glare. The corner of her lips fixed in a subtle scowl.

"Could be better."

Harry nods. He racks his brain for something to say. Anything to hold her attention for just a little while. Anything to keep this energy, au courant, from fizzling out.

If words came easier to him he wouldn't be in this alley. He'd be back in Holmes Chapel, in his makeshift cave of books and trinkets and old wood. With candles that smelt of Christmas and full body warmth, and his family would be just a quick jaunt away.

"You like poetry?"

Idiot.

He mentally curses his inability to come up with something less benign but stops when she lets out a loud, choking laugh. Her head tossed back in sweet amusement.

"Do I like poetry?"

She forces out through her chuckles.

"Is that a line?"

Her eyebrow peaks as she takes another drag of her cigarette then blows the smoke in Harry's direction. He blinks rapidly, the smoke causing his eyes to gloss over.

"You don't have to try so hard. If you wanted to take me home then all you had to do is ask. You're pretty and honestly I'm not picky."

Harry's eyes widen as he shakes his head, his eyes darting to a piece of soaked garbage on the cement, a candy wrapper.

Never had he met a woman so forward, so unapologetically crass and yet, still so enthralling.

"S'not what I want," he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. His front teeth press down so heavily he thinks he might've drawn blood.

"Really?"

She flicks the ash of her cigarette and brings it back up to her lips. A crooked smile cause the smoke to exit her mouth from the side rather than in Harry's face. He nods, it's subtle, but she acknowledges his answer.

"Doesn't seem like it. You've been watching me all night and when people do that it usually means one of two things. One, you want to fuck them or two," she take another drag, "you're a perverted stalker."

Harry's attention snaps back at her.

"M'not a stalker."

She steps closer to him, her body flush with his.

"I believe you," her voice is soft as her hand runs down Harry's shirt collar, fingers hovering just above where his exposed skin starts and not stopping its descent, "and that's sad because I'm sure we would've had a good time. Never done it with one of the Queen's sons before. Guess I won't be crossing that off my bucket list tonight."

She steps away from him and flicks her cigarette. It hits the wall causing the cherry to burst and glowing ash to trickle down like fireworks on the fourth of July. She walks past him towards the door but pauses before opening it. Looking over her shoulder at him, she shakes her head and laughs before disappearing into the building.

Harry stands alone in the alley. His body quivers with shock, with fear, with sheer excitement.

His heart was beating in his ears. His head, a spinny, dizzying top, unrelenting in its momentum.

He attempts to steady his breathing as he leaves the alley, stepping onto the sidewalk. The streets no longer bare as the patrons of bars and clubs alike pour out, where they'd follow the call of the rest of their night. An after party here, a quick, regrettable in the morning fuck there.

Harry bobs and weaves through people, still high off of the sheer aura of the woman. Missing a step and nearly eating shit as he descends down the stairs into Canal Street station.

He dawdles through the station, stopping to take a look at some of the musings of urban philosophers in permanent marker on the walls. Declarations of love and lust, names of places and people, numbers if you're in need of a good time.

"I'm sure we would've had a good time."

He checks his pockets for his wallet or some change when he gets to the pay toll but comes up short. He throws his head back and sends a curse out to the universe.

A chime sounds and Harry double times his pace, looking left and right before hopping over the turnstile. All but flying down the steps, he glides into the train just as the doors begin to close, narrowly missing his torso.

He catches his breath as he looks around the near empty train car for a seat. An elderly woman with a small buggy filled to the brim with groceries offers him a soft smile to which he returns as her makes his way to the far end of the car.

He takes a seat, his back to the window. He clasps his hands together as the train enters the tunnel. His body shakes and rumbles with the movements of the vehicle as a loud, low whistle fills the space around him.

He leans back, resting his head against the glass with eyes closed. Words bloom behind his eyelids like spring flowers but refusing to link together like a daisy chain to create anything worth writing down. His lips part as a heavy sigh floats past them. The train comes to a halt as his eyes open with the door.

His eyes shift to the doors as the elderly woman makes her way slowly off the train.

She passes and when she's clear of his line of view, a glimmer of pale blonde catches his eye.

A few blinks and a double take help clear his vision.

There she is. Sitting at the other end of the train, head bobbing back and forth to the tempo of whatever tune is floating through the headphones that are snug around her ears. A bright red portable cassette player rests on her lap, legs clad in houndstooth.

Although she was quite a distance away from him, he could see her now. Really see her. Her hair glows in the fluorescent subway lights and Harry is like a moth to a flame.

When she stands to get off the train, he does as well. Stepping out of the train a few doors down from her. On the wall, in mosaic tile is the name of the station, his stop. He heads towards the stairs, staggering his pace to stay a few feet behind her.

She walks with purpose, with power. A strut that says stay the fuck out of my way.

When they make all the same turns Harry chalks it up to more than coincidence.

Divine intervention maybe? Not likely.

As they both close in on the hotel, Harry decides that he's going to say something. But when she stops abruptly in her tracks, it throws him for a loop. His legs, not quite registering what was happening, continue to bring him forward and closer to her than he'd planned. She spins around quickly, her eyes landing directly on his as he stops a few steps away from her.

"Are you following me?"

She points a sharply manicured finger at him. Harry steps back, shaking his head. He holds up his hands in surrender.

"M'not. I swear, it's just a-"

"Pervy stalker," a sing-song lilt carries the accusation from her mouth to Harry's ears.

Harry's eyebrows furrow.

"I live here?" It's a question more than a statement. He points to the building.

"You sure? You don't seem so sure."

Harry clears his throat as his hands fall to his sides.

"I do, I live here."

She raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Where's your key?"

Harry sighs, defeated.

"Was in my wallet, but I lost it."

"Your key?"

"My wallet."

She hums, nodding slowly. Her eyes narrow as she leans forward. She steps back and turns on her heel.

"Sucks."

She approaches the front door of the hotel, putting her key in the lock. She pulls it open with brute force before looking over at Harry, who's standing in the middle of the sidewalk, alone.

"Well are you coming or what?"

He nods quickly as he breaks into a light jog. Slipping past her through the door she'd holding open with her back.

As they begin their ascent up the main square spiral staircase Harry can't help but let his mind wander. Questions bounce around his mind and on to his tongue like a diving board. A deep dive, cannonball wave pool displaces his quietness.

"What's your name?"

It's soft but she hears him.

"Noise."

Her voice echoes off the walls, stinging like a sour note.

"Noise? Your parents couldn't have possibly-"

"They didn't," she cuts him off with an over shoulder smirk so devious Harry could swear for a split second he'd seen the devil himself. Afraid to ask anymore questions he stays quiet.

They reach the 4th floor and she stops, turning around the face him.

"This is me," she points to a bright teal door, the number 412 affixed to the center in bold brass.

Harry nods.

"Where're you headed?" She asks.

"512," his answer is curt as he keeps his eyes on the ground.

"Not sure how you're gonna get in without a key. You might just have to sleep in the hallway until maintenance comes in the next few hours."

Harry groans but nods, wishing her a goodnight, frustrated that he wouldn't he able to sleep in his own bed tonight.

He turns and begins to continue up the stairs.

"Hey 512," Noise calls out. Harry stops mid step and turns around to a mound of black leather being tossed in his direction. He fumbles when it hits his chest but catches it, his wallet.

"Welcome to New York."

Harry watches as she slides through her front door. His eyes narrow but the corner of his mouth lifts as he jogs the rest of the way to his apartment.

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #harrystylesff #poetrry #fanfiction #1980s movies #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #writing #hkmwriting #80s!harry #harry styles au #harry styles angst #poet!harry #silence + noise #hsff #80s #hotel chelsea

[rosaline-kei]

Oh my god that yandere armin x mikasa fanfic was sooooo good. Reading that really brightened up my day thank you for taking my request! I realllyy can't wait for part 2!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 2/2

Synopsis:  Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Requested By: @bobfregmegler

If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: Thank you for liking it! Here’s the second and final part. I hope you’ll enjoy it <3. There’s a slight twist at the end?? Sorta. It’s up to your personal interpretation.

-

Mikasa could handle her own, Armin knew. Alongside her striking beauty, was her prowess in pure, physical strength. But, that didn’t mean Armin should lower his guard.

It didn’t mean he shouldn’t protect her.

Scanning the crowded room, it didn’t take him long to spot them. Not when the herd of uncivilised barbarians stuck out like a sore thumb, with their yapping and hollering; their disruptive noises that dared ruin his serenity.

They were sitting together, and aside from all the chaos that erupted from their mouths, reverberating about, they were enjoying the sight of voluptuous women putting on a performance in front of them while wolfing down their bottles of beer. The next thing Armin knew, he was eavesdropping.

“What a show!” One of them exclaimed enthusiastically before clapping, “Too bad it wasn’t that oriental lady! Ahh! What a waste, I tell ya!” Armin tensed, his hand diving into the secret compartment of his jacket, searching impatiently for his dagger.

Wait, no… Control. He reminded, hand abruptly halting in its search. Upright killing them in this crowd is silly… and luring them out might take too long… I don’t want to keep Mikasa waiting. He considered. That only leaves one other option…

“Do yer’ think we can get a grab of her? I saw her enter that motel nearby…” His friend hiccupped, taking another swig of alcohol. Cheeks flustering; not because of the alcohol, though. Armin felt his stomach twist. “Her friend looks like a puny piece of shit anyway…” A smirk decorated the blonde’s expression.

“Ha! Why not?” He smirked deviously, “You don’t see Orientals these days… and can yer’ get us a little more alcohol pal? The encore’s gonna start! And then after… I’ll gather the boys and…” The revolting, impure look said it all, and that was enough eavesdropping for Armin, who felt his patience and control thinning; the taut thread waiting to just… snap!

I’ll kill you. He swallowed, eying his prey that departed from the pack, staggering towards the counter, bargaining with the bartender for another few bottles. He waited, as much as it pained him, he waited, for the right moment. To make the right move.

Luck seemed to be on his side, given how his doltish and stupid prey appeared to be distracted, his attention being directed towards a pig-tailed brunette who revealed a little too much. Watching his mouth water as he slid himself toward the brunette infuriated Armin; did he think about Mikasa like that, too? His Mikasa?

Control. Control. Armin, you can’t let loose, yet. He reprimanded himself, shaking his head, recalibrating himself. Before he knew it, the ugly drunkard and the lady got themselves entangled, swaying back into the crowd.

Perfect.

“OI!” The bartender yelled at the man, who clearly forgotten his order. “YOUR DRI—”

“I’ll deliver it to them!” Armin exclaimed in an awfully high-pitched tone, eyes fluttering as he emerged from the shadows, twirling his way in front of the bartender who looked at the blonde questioningly. “Oh, come on, I don’t wanna keep them waiting! I want to impress them!” He had his lips pouted out, arms crossed, internally praying he’d buy this gimmick. If he could pass off as Historia with a wig and a skirt, this shouldn’t be that much of an issue. Besides, based on his intuition and gut, this particular bartender didn’t seem like the sharpest man out there; he appeared to be more flippant and frivolous.

“Whatever… I’ve seen too much shit, and I’m not paid enough.” He waved his hand dismissively at Armin, evidently fed-up with whatever he had going on in his life. Not that Armin cared though. He was just grateful that his intuition was right.

“Thank youuuu!” He squeaked, smiling all too brightly, before carrying the tray of beers away.

To a secluded corner, where the edges of his smile sunk, grimly settling into a frown

Quietly, he removed a vial containing a form of floral poison he had extracted from a flower not too long ago. It was back when they resided in the woods with the rest of the squad, when he accompanied Mikasa one day to gather wood.

“Careful!” She warned when the blonde nearly trampled on a patch of violet blossoms. “Those are poisonous…” She explained, before rambling on about how her late mother once told her how these killer flowers were commonly mistaken for another more innocent breed, and how it would irritate your skin, possibly leaving long-lasting scars if you got too close to it. “Poisonous, huh?” Armin said, intrigued. How… useful. He didn’t say that out-loud. And it didn’t take Armin long to find out the effects of consuming such a deadly little thing. (How he found out, Armin didn’t have the time to recall his experimentation).

Cautiously, he dripped the deadly liquid into each of the beer mugs, letting it swim and camouflage in the yellow drink, staying hidden, awaiting to strike when indulged. Luckily I brought this along… You never know what trespassers you’ll meet. He noted to himself, eying the idiotic bunch.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with his performance.

“Heeeyyyy sirs!” Armin chirped as he skipped his way to the hooligans, wearing a cheeky smile as he set the venomous tray down.

He watched as their eyes watched him carefully, and as he had anticipated, they were too intoxicated to even remember who he was, or the fact that he wasn’t a woman. “Ehhh? What happened to t—”

“Ah, who cares? That bastard’s probably humped himself elsewhere. Tsk!” The man spat, unconcerned with the disappearance of his other friend. “Besidesss,” He droned out, shooting an inappropriate look towards Armin’s direction, licking his lips ravenously. “We got a flat babe here to fool with before we chase the Oriental… c’mon, join us—”

“You should drink first!” Armin insisted, arms and legs both crossed as he continued, “I wanna go wear my specciiaaalll bunny costume for you… delightful men…and maybe get a couple of my friend to join, after all, you guys seem like charming folk!” He persuaded, a slight whine echoing towards the end of his statement.

“Bunny costume eh?” He watched as their face twisted into something nauseating as they let their fantasies run wild.

Disgusting. Impure.—Those were words Armin associated with people like them; people that dared cross that line. Fortunately for him, they’d never have the chance to inflict those fantasies on Mikasa. Not after this.

“Be right back!” He giggled, stepping back into the crowd as they raised their jugs, exclaiming eagerly that they have scored one, before chugging all of it down.

“Drunkard fools.” He uttered under his breath, his giggling and cheerful appearance alike coming to a halt, replaced by a cruel yet excited look. Alas, Armin began the countdown.

10.

He watched as they continued chattering amongst themselves, full of corrupted exhilaration as they waited for Armin to supposedly return with toys and goods for them to exploit.

9, 8.

He watched them starting to shift uncomfortably, something itched.

7,6.

Something was set ablaze in their throats, they first shrugged it off as the burning aftermath of alcohol at 7, but at 6, they started to drown themselves with beer, then water in hopes of extinguishing whatever was burning.

5,4.

Then, the world spun before darkness enveloped some of them. The others who were still stubbornly fighting against the flame, refusing to surrender to their abrupt fate, dropped to the ground, one by one, choking. No one paid too much attention, having either assumed they drank one too many bottles or were too engrossed with the music; with their dance to debauchery.

3.

They gasped for air. Pathetically, helplessly. Armin watched with elatedness, although he was a little disappointed with himself that he had given them a quick and easy death. If he hadn’t promised Mikasa that he was to be back within forty-five minutes, perhaps blood would’ve been spilled. Perhaps he’d have something else schemed, to drag out their death, to make it excruciating. Ahhh! What a missed opportunity! He couldn’t help but think as he bit his lip, watching their deaths unfold.

2.

Everything became numb, from their flesh right to their bones. Everything became limp; everything, all their nerves started to relax itself—settling them down into an ugly afterlife or hell. That was what they deserve.

1.

Death washed them over, stilling them completely. P-e-r-f-e-c-t. Armin hummed, pleased by the results. Turning away, he snuck his way to the back-exit before anyone could notice that they were, in all actuality, dead.

I can’t believe I had to use that high-pitched tone… ahhhh! How embarrassing! Not to mention, I still have to buy bread... what a troublesome day! He huffed calmly, taking a glance at his watch. I have eighteen minutes left… geez, time flies too fast…Ah! I should get some bread for Mikasa too! He smiled, rubbing the hand that Mikasa touched, feeling and embracing her lingering warmth. I should hurry…

He wanted to see her, quickly. To gaze at her undying beauty, inhale the sweet scene her entire being emanated, perhaps to even embrace her… to lay next to her—if Mikasa’s offer was still on the table; he wouldn’t force anything on her.

Never.

“Ah… I wonder if they have the bread Mikasa likes—”

Having been too engrossed in his thoughts about the raven, he had failed to pick-up the approaching, threatening steps that headed towards his direction; failed to be aware of his surroundings.

He had carelessly fallen prey, his words cut off when a bloody barbarian shoved him against the wall face-front, gripping both his hands.

“Y-YOU…! YOU MURDERED THEM RIGHT?!”

Ah, right. Him.

It wasn’t Armin’s intention to keep him alive out of his own good heart, he thought it’d be humorous to let him be the only one living while his other friends died. It was wicked, sure. But in his mind, it was his own fault for being so careless to leave the drinks right there, in his reach—and maybe Armin would’ve sincerely thanked him for that, if he hadn’t touched that hand.

“I…I saw you serving them that fucking shit!”

His grip was wavering, trembling. Armin couldn’t tell if it was due to some form of developing trauma eating him up, or the fact that he was still drunk. Either way, that wasn’t his primary concern at the moment.

“I…I will kill y—”

“…ouched…th… and…at…he…” Armin’s words were at first inarticulate, as he tried to comprehend the sin that this man had just commit.

How dare he.

“H-Huh?!—”

Interrupted by a successful kick to his groin thanks to his incompetency of securing his entire body properly, Armin threw him on the ground, his feet crushing his face. “How… dare… you…” His voice started out low as he squatted down, glaring daggers at him while his right hand searched for one of his own.

“W-W—”

“How…dare you touch this hand?” He lifted up his left hand, while his right snatched out a dagger that had been waiting in a hidden compartment of his attire. “You know…? Don’t you know…? I knew you barbarians were idiots but I didn’t expect you to be this stupid… This… This was the hand that she touched… and you—” He pointed the dagger right at his throat, tracing it round and round, finding some amusement as he watched his hunter-turn-prey’s eyes follow the knife, evidently terrified.

“…And you fucking contaminated it.” He cursed, head tilting in this flummoxing being right in front of him. He couldn’t understand nor comprehend how someone could be this impolite, this inconsiderate. Even Captain Levi—who had once lived in this place—never did something so offensive!

“I…I… Y…You’re a sick bastard!” The man choked out; and before he could even have the chance to struggle, the dagger pierced right through his throat.

Armin watched the life drain from his eyes. “Sick bastard…me? But what about you?” He said in an accusatory tone, dragging out the plunged dagger, trailing it around his eyeballs, paying no mind to the blood that spewed out. “I saw that look… you know? The look you and your low-lives gave her... and I heard… what you planned to do to her and oh… did that ticked me off.” He said, an eerie chuckle following after as he aimed the tip of the dagger at the lower end of his eye, tempted to dig it out, and perhaps hang it as ornaments somewhere far away; where that look wouldn’t reach Mikasa.

But alas, he didn’t have the time. There was still the bread.

“Ahhh, I’m going to be late!” He groaned as he stood up, patting off any dirt or dust that stained his clothes; he’d have to deal with the blood later. Albeit, he was careful enough not to let it stain too much on his clothes. “Maybe in your next life, you could be a little more considerate of wasting people’s time… honestly, was seeing your dead friends not enough? Ah! Or you could rot in hell! That way you won’t bother this ‘puny little shit’ anymore… right? Right? Hah!” Armin shook his head, taking one last laugh at his idiocy before strolling off, unbothered to clear the mess. It was the underground after all; decomposing bodies and murders weren’t a rarity. And right now, he doubted the military police would even bother with an investigation, given the corruptness of the system, and the trouble the corps were stirring up.

What a day.

“Hmm… I wonder if the bread shop has that bread she likes a lot…” He hummed.

-

Armin stood outside silently. He was a twist of the doorknob away from reuniting with his love.

It is unlikely Mikasa is asleep, no matter how exhausted she is. Armin calculated, and then took a glimpse at the edge of his sleeves where a faint crimson stain remained smudged. The room is dark, it has poor lighting… she won’t see this… then again, she has sharp eyes… ahh… Well, even if she does, I’ll think of a reason… I wouldn’t want to worry her. But if she’s asleep… I’ll just set the bread down and make a run to the washroom.

Taking a deep breath and grasping the packet of loaves, he entered the dimly lit room, closing the door after. “Mikasa… I got you some bread if you want to eat it, oh and it’s not that stale! Even if you’re not hungry, it could be tomorrow’s breakfast before we have to set out in search of those documents…” Armin spoke, settling the package down.

Albeit, before he could do a full scan of the room in search of the raven, he was met with a sharp pair of familiar obsidian orbs that never failed to steal his breathe away. “M-Mikas—”

“You’re… early.”

“I…I didn’t want to keep you waiting…” She’s close. Armin noted, feeling her breath brush the exposed surface of his neck; needless to say, it sent a thrill down his spine. It was difficult to contain, control. “I…Is something the matte—”

“No, No… I’m glad, you’re back safe—”

“Your wrist!” Armin gasped; withdrawing himself from his lovesickness the moment his eyes caught sight of a scar that stretched form the top of her wrist to god knows where. Did… someone come here? Did I miscount? Did I miss someone? I’m sure all of them drank the poison… and I even made sure to get rid of the last… who did it? I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have—… but… who did it? Who dared to touch h—

“I was… just checking if our gear was working, and I accidentally cut myself.” Mikasa assured, “Even in the dark…” She took a step closer. “Your eyes never miss a thing, do they?” Whether it was meant to be a praise or not, Armin took it as one.

“But don’t worry, I’m fine.” She smiled, hand reaching out for his. And Armin would’ve let her. Hell, did he desire her soothing touch. Words that she can’t say, she made it up for her actions. Armin loved that about her. Just a tight squeeze of her hand on his was already overwhelming, it was heaven and earth and all of serenity. He wanted to feel it, but then he remembered it.

Panicked and instinctively, he took a step back, his hands hidden behind his back.

He won’t let her hands be contaminated too, with that filth.

“A…Armin?”

“A-Ah! No… I’m just a little dirty, that—”

“Not that.” She said, a finger pointing towards the faint smudge on his sleeve. “…Is that…--”

“Jam.”

“Jam…?—”

“The bread shop owner spilled some on me when she was taking the bread. Ahhh, it doesn’t matter now! Geez Mikasa you don’t need to be so worried.” Armin quickly brushed it off. He looked at her worried eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.” Even in the dark… he thought, admiring her eyes as his hand reached out about to caress her cheek, your eyes are sharp too—

But froze when he recalled how filthy.

“A-Ah! Sorry… I—” And then, Mikasa nuzzled herself in his palm, Armin’s eyes widened in horror. “M-Mikasa! I’m dirt—”

“It’s fine.” Armin flinched. What? “Because it’s you, it’s fine. I couldn’t care less.”

Armin felt his heart skip, race, palpitate.

He wanted to hold her longer, closer, tighter. He was obsessed. But… he couldn’t risk her noticing that that red patch, wasn’t jam.

“I-I… I’m going to take a quick shower!” He coughed, before forcefully dismissing himself.

Once he closed the door, his back hit the wall and slid down. He held the hand that had the blessing of touching her cheeks. Were they… pink? Armin couldn’t tell due to the lighting. He bit his lip. I love her. He couldn’t help but think. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so filthy anymore.

Caressing the hand, he once again savoured the warmth that was there. Never again, was he going to be so careless to let anyone stain it with their own trace of impurity.

I love her. I love her. I love her, so much. He bit his lip. Nobody’s… I’ll make sure nobody will bother you.

Nobody.

--

Mikasa heaved a heavy sigh. I wonder if that was really Jam… I can’t tell anymore, not in this dark. Not when… Her eyes glimpsed at her fresh scar, and while Armin may not notice due to his little adventure that Mikasa was unaware of, there was a faint scent of blood in the air. Not Armin’s, not the man he killed, and not—

At least he looks fine… he’s… Her cheeks blush, as her hand reached out to touch the side that Armin touched. He’s safe…

She bit her lip. I’ll make sure he’s safe.

--

A/N: Is Mikasa a Yandere too, hm? Well. I left it ambiguous! So it’s up to your personal interpretation <3

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #arumika #armikasa #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfiction