#i once got lost in death stranding

[teecupangel]

Guess who finished AC Mirage just now XD

I'm still missing a few misc trophies concerning the open world but all story and collectible-related trophies are done. (The worst was the books mainly because I got lost trying to get the last - main story gated - book and my RL bad sense of direction showed itself once more)

Anyway... wanna see the funniest glitch I got?

I'm putting it underneath the Keep Reading because of spoilers, but my god, I could not take the scene seriously because of the 'uninvited quest'

But hey, if anyone wants to see the jinni in better lighting, here ya go.

#teecup plays ac mirage #man the moment the ezio family played #during that moment #well... that scene got me that's for sure #anyway i have feelings for the ending #but more importantly #for those who are waiting for more desmond x basim #as promise i will write a third part as i have finished ac mirage XD #also... really? #there's no modern day ending? #but seriously #my sense of direction is soooo bad #i once got lost in death stranding #EVEN THOUGH I USED THE MAP TO PLOT MY ROUTE

[bigfatbimbo]

okay omg this is so dumb ong but basically, alastor said like vox is powerless without the other vees, right? and so picture like maybe something happens and the vees like fall apart and that leaves vox totally powerless. i just find the idea of a loser ass gideon graves type vox crashing on your couch because his entire empire fell apart very entertaining.

basically, headcanons? smut, fluff, angst, idc this is just such a silly episode type plot

i know i’m not alone, your a loser, just like me

a/n — I have such a love for oddly specific requests like this. In fact, I just love oddly specific x reader au’s.

summary — After the fall of the Vees, along Vox’s empire, and power, he’s left totally stranded in the reader apartment as their more or less housewife, and forced to live the life of, for lack of a better word, a total loser.

extra tags — headcanons, established relationships, mentions of smut, mentions of angst, mostly just fluff, like you could skip over the smut and angst if you want and barley loose anything

Vox has never had a lot of free time. In death, his schedule was just as packed as it was during life. From meetings, to live shows, to arguments with Alastor, to any so-called ‘downtime’ with the Vees, he’s never not been busy. 

But the Vees weren’t here anymore, and neither was his empire. That meant, no arguments to mediate and no business offers to consider. Practically, he had no work to do. 

And the part that really bothered him, was that you did. Him being out of a job, meant that you were the main breadwinner of the household. In simple terms, Vox was powerless. And the downgrade from his studio standing high above the rest of Hells scum, to your one bedroom apartment was certainly less than charming. 

He had nothing to do all day, but sit and wait for you. That doesn’t sound that bad for any normal person, but Vox wasn’t normal. And neither was the way he was dealing with the sudden fall of his empire. 

The first week came and went, rocky to say the least. His time was spent either in bed, or lounging by the bathtub, reluctantly petting his shark, Vark. After a while, the comfort of the creature evaporated as quickly as it set in. Vox’s brows would furrow with irrational. Vark, the only remaining piece of wreckage, reminding him of his once powerful kingdom. 

But Vark didn’t know Vox had lost anything. Infuriated by this thought, each visit to the bathtub that week led to Vox promptly storming out of the room. 

The second week hadn’t been all that better. Feeling the need to compensate for the absence of his power, he acted specifically entitled. Not to mention, coming onto you every five seconds, and trying his hardest to act domineering. 

However, this desperate act crumbled as soon as you got fed up, “Seriously Vox, could you keep it in your fucking pants? Acting powerful doesn’t bring back your power, douchebag.” 

The statement should have prompted an argument, one that would have happened if it hadn’t been for Vox’s fragile state of living, but he simply shut his mouth.

Which brings us to the third week. The initial sadness and desperation has worn off, since it has been almost a month. It’s not that he doesn’t crave that power back anymore, but there is a subtle understanding that it’s not coming back anytime soon. 

Instead, he focuses on distracting himself through more mundane aspects of life. 

For lack of his surveillance cameras, he’d resort to following you around with a small drone for part of the day, examining your tasks. Watching you work he’d sigh, you were so productive.

However the drone would only last so long, since it wasn’t the most well-made contraption. At first, he’d really hate the feeling of being all alone. It made him feel like your housewife, or something. Well, he thought, in a sense, he was. 

Reluctantly, and given his time period, he’d do what he knows about the whole concept of being the stay-at-home partner. Although, given he’s never played that role, he’s terrible at it.

You’d come home and his attempt to clean the house would lead to slippery soap suds on the ground, acting like breadcrumbs leading to the task that Vox accidentally distracted himself with.

In most cases, this would be a chalk board where he would uselessly try to plot out his rise to power, once again. And he’d be laughing maniacally while explaining it to you, but he’s very proud of all of his [unrealistic] plans so you’d just have to nod and smile. His ego has taken enough hits as is, he doesn’t need your disapproval too.

However, sometimes, he would really try to cook something for you when you arrive home. This… doesn’t work out well, to say the least.

As soon as you walk through the door, you’re greeted with smoke, and angry shouting. Not at you, however. When your surroundings become less fuzzy, you see clearly Vox screaming profanities at the oven.

“Useless piece of shit,” he’d shout, kicking the oven, and then recoiling back from the pain in his toe. Then once again getting angry and throwing a spatula at the wall closest to you.

“Y/n!” He’d observe, putting on his, now rusty, customer service voice, “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” 

“Yeah, looks like you needed—“ You cough, swatting away the smoke from the kitchen and going to open a window “—more time to finish up.”

Walking over to him, he’d slouch over and cross his arms, clearly not happy with his failure of an attempt to cook for you. With his new foreign feeling of uselessness, he’d be very desperate for any form of success.

You’d put your hands on either side of his shoulders and rub comfortingly, “What were you trying to cook?” 

And that starts the new routine. Vox tries to cook for you, fails, and you come home and help him finish the job.

He doesn’t like being bossed around, even in the kitchen, but with the sudden withdrawal from the spotlight, he’s constantly craving your attention to an obsessive amount, which mostly makes up for his control-freak nature.

With this, however, that means that every second you’re off work and NOT at home with him, he throws a huge hissy fit. 

Probably leading to a big argument where, after a short time of pouting, Vox realizes that he probably doesn’t want to loose the only person he has left. So he smooth talks his way back, before you even consider kicking him out.

But every morning before work it’s a struggle too, “Vox, get off of me, I have to go to work.” 

“Call off, then.” “No?” “Oh, so you don’t fucking love me enough.” “Do you not love this roof over your head? I’m going to work.” “…pick up some gatorade on your way home.” 

Along with being desperate for attention, as could be assumed he’s intensely and apologetically clingy. Well, unapologetic in the sense that he doesn’t change he’s behavior after you call him out on it. He does get very defensive when you tease him.

Like even when it’s undeniable. He’d have his head laying in your lap, lazily playing with your fingers while he talks about whatever his ‘evil plan to rise to power’ of the week is. And you tell him you needed to go to the bathroom and he would move and just tell you to “Wait until i’m finished talking.”

Sex wise, he would try really, irritatingly hard to be super dominant to compensate for his loss of power in society. But on the flip side, because of his vulnerable state, he’d probably naturally find himself being more easily submissive in bed. 

But with that, I think he’d have less of a tolerance for overly degrading words. Because usually, I would definitely say he has a thing for degrading and humiliation, but his ego was [very high but] fragile before, and in the light of recent events, it’s completely fucking shattered.

It’s really just embarrassment at the end of the day. His self entitlement isn’t gone, it’s just been replaced by a “aw boohoo, i’m so much better than this :(“ mindset.

So he needs praise more than anything. In fact, a lot of what he does, or rather tries to do, around the house is to get your approval. To not fail at something, and it’s been a while. 

Now, smut aside, like I said, there’d be a lot more vulnerability on Vox’s part. Because, after all, he’d probably be in the worst headspace of his entire existence.

It’s safe to assume, being a white man in the fifties, that he didn’t have it rough in life. And up until the fall of the Vees, dying was one of the best things that ever happened to him. 

For the first time, in all of the years he’s lived and died, he isn’t overtly privileged, and it’s driving him crazy. His immense power has been replaced by a terrible craving for success. His fear of failure and rejection have been heightened, and he’s almost as obsessed with getting his empire back, as he is dependent on you. 

But with no real way to achieve his goal, and barely any drive, he is left being, for lack of a better word, a washed up loser. A hazbin, if you would!

But he does miss the Vees. In fact, he misses them a lot. Occasionally you have to comfort him at night when he’s thinking of them, or when he sees something that reminds him of the two of them. 

I also think he’d go through days where he’d either be super prone to arguments and super touchy, or you see a noticeable change in this behavior because he just doesn’t care as much anymore.

Silly Vox though, which you’d see a lot more of now that he isn’t a CEO, would be very present.

You’d get home from work and he’d be super siked because he picked out a movie to watch with you. (Goodfellas, American Psycho, or Joker, it is never not one of these movies.) 

But he has a lot of time when your away, and that’s kinda dangerous for a guy like him, especially in a closed space since he’s too ashamed to show his face to the outside world.

You’d walk through the door and he’d show you some new tech he swears will allow you both to “rise through the ranks of hell!” But you’d take one look and realize, “Vox did you take apart our microwave to make that??” 

Most days, he’d go through weird cycles of trying to clean the house and cook, basically doing what he knows he’s ’obligated’ to do as your sitcom housewife, but then other days, literally trashing the place.

You’d come home find glass shattered all across the, almost flooded, floor. Then you’d look up to find Vox lowering Vark into a clearly homemade tank.

He’d reassure you and be like, “No, now we have our tub back! All thanks to me and my genius brain, your welcome—“

“Where’d you get the glass, Vox,” you’d sigh, massaging your forehead because of the new, growing headache. Not to your surprise, but definitely your disappointment, the response would be, “…The bedroom windows.”

Also, this is off topic but he’d have one of those “kiss me, i’m irish” aprons. 

I think that Vox at rock bottom has such a fun ‘beginning of season character arc’ vibe to me. Like watch as he goes from the world’s worst housewife, to semi-competent over the span of a few months.

It reminds me of peridots (steven universe reference) redemption arc, in a sense of vibes alone. If we’re talking from a realistic in-show perspective, end of the season, the redemption arc would not be successful IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Like he would be fully adjusted, and honestly happy with his life. Slow dancing with you each night, honestly getting the hang of cooking, and a lot less complaining. But then he would get an opportunity to once again rise the ranks of hell. And a good opportunity too, like it would place him very relatively high up.

And well… society can take the villain out of the capitalist, but never the capitalist out of the villain.

a/n — actually society, especially in hell, does not have the power to take the villain out of the capitalist, but I digress. Don’t get bimbo started on capitalism as a social concept because it is literally the most interesting thing in the world to me lowkey.

Anyways, I love housewife!Vox so much, and I will be SO HAPPY to do more with this au. He’s the worlds shittiest stay-at-home partner and I love him.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #inbox open #vox x you #vox x y/n #vox x reader fluff #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel fluff

[greenglowinspooks]

Gävle Goat v.s. two drunk half-ghosts (DCxDP)

—

Tw: alcohol consumption (no way), one(1) mention of sex

Summary: Jason and Danny accidentally burn down the Gävle goat. You all voted for this, and I delivered. Merry crisis, tis the season and all that.

—

Jason wove through the ever-shifting crowd, an irritated scowl on his face.

Kori and Roy had dragged him here to celebrate a successful mission together, but the two had wandered off together not thirty minutes after they arrived, effectively stranding him in an unfamiliar club in Europe.

Now, his only two options seemed to be stealing someone’s car and getting back to their temporary safehouse himself, or waiting for the two to come back for him.

Still, considering the lecture he’d get from Dick if he hotwired a random guy’s car just because he didn’t want to wait for his friends, option one wasn’t much of an option at all.

It was humiliating. He was a crime lord, not a little kid who’d lost their mom in the store.

Jason sighed, slumping against the wall as he watched the drunken crowd swirl together.

He had never really felt at home in places like this, especially not since his resurrection. It always felt like people were staring at him, like they just intrinsically knew that he was other.

Jason startled when he felt someone tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” The stranger said, “I just, um, are you okay?”

Jason blinked. The person talking to him was clearly somewhat tipsy, wearing a blush on his face and a slightly loopy smile. How had he possibly snuck up on him? Was he really that deep in thought?

“My asshole friends ditched me, and now I’m stuck here,” Jason blurted out without thinking. The stranger barked out a laugh, clearly surprised.

“That sucks,” he said, leaning on the wall next to Jason. He hummed in response.

The stranger looked back at the open bar, where quite a few people were frantically miming to him. He motioned back to them, clearly hoping for them to stop, before just flipping them off. Jason chuckled at that.

“Those your friends?”

The stranger blushed brighter, the tips of his ears going red.

“Uh, yeah. We’re here to celebrate some legal stuff that I finally got done with, but, uh, they wanted me to go talk to you.”

Jason hummed again, giving the stranger a quick once-over. He was actually pretty cute; he had messy black hair, icy eyes, and an outfit that screamed “I’ve never been in a club before but my friends dragged me here anyways”.

If he was gonna be waiting for Kori and Roy anyways, why not have some fun?

“Well, I am technically here alone, now that my friends wandered off,” he said, looking at the stranger meaningfully.

The stranger grinned brightly, holding a hand out to him.

“Then, d’you wanna hang out with my friends and I? I promise we’re lot of fun! I’m Danny, by the way.”

Jason took his hand, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Call me Jason,” he said, following along as the (surprisingly strong) man dragged him over to his friends.

-

Danny was having the time of his life.

The restraining order on Vlad had finally been granted. The abolition of the Infinite Realms’ monarchy had gone through. And, on top of all that, he was on the most incredible club-hopping adventure of his un-life.

And sure, it might not have been the best idea to give ghost alcohol to Jason, the mortal his group had picked up in Germany, but he was taking it like a champ!

He hadn’t thrown up yet, in any case, so clearly it wasn’t that much of an issue.

Danny giggled, leaning up against Jason as they walked along the street, his ghostly friends filling the street.

As the night went along and they all got more and more tipsy, they’d mostly let go of their mortal forms. Despite being surrounded by a bunch of ghosts with death-blows clearly exposed and mythological creatures, Jason didn’t seem to be too bothered. He had an arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulders and was singing along with some of the ghosts in Arabic(?), his lovely baritone voice echoing out amongst the dead and unborn.

Danny just snuggled further into his side, enjoying the novel feeling of human warmth. He’d have to get Jason’s number after this, Danny sluggishly thinks. If he wasn’t freaked out by Danny being dead once he was sober, at least. He found that most people weren’t quite so open to cuddling up to a corpse. Even if that corpse could talk and walk around.

The streetlights around them began to spin as they once again walked into a rip in the veil. Everyone cheered as the lights warped and distorted, the sky becoming neon green and foggy.

Danny stumbled forward on unsteady legs, dragging Jason along with him. He wanted to get to the front of the group, to see where they were going before everyone else!

Jason tripped as Danny continued to drag him along, stumbling off the path and straight off the Realms island they were currently on. Danny, still clinging to him like a lifeline, fell alongside him.

A cheer from the spirits rang out above them, unaware of their mistake, fading as they fell. Before Danny had a chance to call out, though, they fell through another rip in the veil.

-

Jason sat up. He’d fallen face-first into a snowbank, and judging by the pair of legs sticking out of the snow, Danny had a similar fate. He dragged Danny out of the snow by the feet, tumbling over nothing and falling over in a heap.

Danny rolled over, laying down in the snow next to him with both arms around his waist.

Jason just looked up at the sky in awe.

It was most certainly the alcohol, or maybe the lack of pollution, but the sky looked so much more beautiful than usual.

There were so many stars in his blurry vision, and each one twinkled and shone and spun like they were dancing.

With a tremendous amount of effort, he got to his feet, dragging Danny up with him.

He twirled the man in his arms, his legs unsteady as he tried to waltz. Danny giggled, trying to match his uneven steps.

The arctic wind blew over them, carrying with it the snow and ice of the ages. The wind curled around them, spinning in circles around the pair as they danced. Sprites of fire glimmered in the corners of Jason’s vision, glimmering cheerfully. It seemed that something had caught alight, but nothing was going to distract him from the man in front of him, grinning widely with a blush that covered his entire face.

Jason fell over again, collapsing in the snow, and Danny fell over on top of him.

-

Light shimmered down from the snow-covered trees, falling onto Danny’s face. He scrunched his eyes closed, groaning in agony.

He was so, so hungover.

Served him right for agreeing to go out partying with Johnny of all people.

Danny’s head pounded to the beat of his heart, his core humming in rhythm. He buried his face into the fabric beneath him, trying desperately to block out the light from reaching his sensitive eyes.

Where was he, anyways?

The area around him was definitely snowy; even arctic, maybe, judging by how strongly his core was thrumming. Still, he was perfectly warm, laying on top of…

…a person?

Fuck, he was never partying with Johnny again.

Through great willpower, Danny squirmed off of the stranger and sat up, scrunching up his face as he turned away from the sun. It didn’t make his headache any better, though; the snow reflected the light almost as bright as the sun itself.

Fresh snow can have an albedo of 0.9, Danny remembered, a college lecture popping into his head. It had the highest level of albedo of anything on earth. That’s why it was bouncing the light of the sun directly into his poor sensitive eyes.

Of course Danny would wake up next to a strange man and the first thing that he thought of was science facts.

The man next to him groaned, immediately bringing his arm up to block the sun.

“What the fuck did I do last night?”

“I know, right?”

The man went abruptly still. It took all of Danny’s willpower not to laugh.

“…Do I still have my kidneys at least?”

Now Danny did burst out laughing, bright and cheery. And then he groaned and clutched his head.

“Oh gods my head hurts,” Danny hissed, “does this happen every time you drink?”

“Not unless you hate your liver.”

Danny laughed, and they both fell into silence for a few moments. It wasn’t comfortable silence by any means, though; it was unbearably tense and uncomfortable. Danny almost wished he could die on command, if only to get out of this.

“…Wanna go get breakfast?”

“Fuck yes,” Danny said, getting to his feet before helping the other man up. “Your treat?”

The other man laughed loudly.

“We’ve known each other properly for a total of five minutes, and you’re already bleeding me dry?”

“Come on, I’m a college student, it’s basically my job to ask for free food.”

-

The two of them sat in utter silence as they ate, watching the TV in the corner of the diner with a fascinating flavor of giddy horror.

Someone had burnt down the Gävle goat, and from the footage, it was very clearly them.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, luckily; the video had gone so staticky that it was very nearly unwatchable. But when combining the scene on the shitty box TV to Danny’s (very limited) memories of the night before, it was clear that they had done it.

“…Knew I forgot something that happened last night.”

Danny barked out a laugh at Jason’s comment, which earned him a sly grin in return.

“Better or worse than getting laid?”

“Eh,” Jason shrugged. “With most people? Better. With you? Worse.”

Danny laughed harder, wrapping a leg around Jason’s and waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, arson isn’t the worst end to a first night out.”

Jason snorted.

“By the way, are you a meta? I just assumed, with the fire and all…”

Danny looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, I thought that was you.”

“What?”

Danny summoned a small burst of wind, twirling it around in his hands, creating tiny snowflakes.

“I can do that,” he said, gesturing to the snow, “but, like, fire? Nope.”

To Danny’s utter shock, a core in front of him pulsed in confusion, his own mirroring it.

Jason’s core. Jason was dead.

Jason looked at him, his face pale.

“Did you feel that too, or am I having a heart attack?”

Danny laughed nervously.

“As long as we don’t get arrested, I promise I’ll explain everything on the way back to Germany.”

—

Notes:

If Jason really was alive, he wouldn’t be for long after drinking ghost alcohol.

I brought up albedo because I learned something new in science class. Godbles

The wisps were Jason’s core forming and activating for the first time. That’s also what got the goat

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #dead on main #dead on main pairing #merry crisis 😐👍 merry chrysler #it’s extra funny that I’m doing this because I don’t even like christmas

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Seven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: EEEEEEE ANGST!!!!! LOVE!!!! CONFESSIONS!!!! PROGRESS!!!!! Also, mentions of childhood trauma, childhood emotional abuse, parental abuse, mentions of death, extremely deep and emotional. Very painful. Also, some adorable Theo in the beginning.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Just as Mattheo was on the verge of popping open the door to the washroom, he halted, pivoting back to face you, locking eyes in an intense moment.

"I'll go out first," he declared, his gaze dancing from your eyes to your lips and back, a fleeting yet charged exchange. "If Nott is still there, I'll distract him. Meet me in the courtyard."

Before you could formulate a response, he swiftly flicked the lock open and swung the door wide, leaving the room with purpose. Internally cursing him in a cascade of languages, you realized the gaping flaw in his plan--it was you who had called out to Theo from inside the washroom, not him...so surely, Mattheo's departure from the bathroom before you would hardly appear inconspicuous to Theo, should he still be lingering outside the fucking door.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

Releasing a prolonged breath laden with anxiety, you pivoted back toward the mirror, meticulously assessing your appearance. Adjusting your mask, you coaxed your hair into place, smoothing down any unruly strands. Just as you were finally beginning to feel the tension ease off of your shoulders, the bathroom door groaned open once more--revealing a tall, brown-haired figure, elegantly clad in a sharp blue suit.

Your heart stuttered, and you spun around, breath catching in your throat. "Theo..."

Theo entered the bathroom, a cheeky smirk adorning his lips as he leisurely assessed you from head to toe, allowing the door to click shut behind him.

"Looks like I've finally figured you out," he declared, his voice a low, honeyed drawl. "Although it seems I'm a tad too late."

Closing the distance, you anxiously tried to apologize. "Theo, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be, Bella," he interrupted, wetting his lips, softly raising a hand to his heart. "Your secret is safe with me."

"My...why? In exchange for what?" Your words hung in the air, lost as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

A low chuckle escaped him, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Why would you think I want something?"

Tension gripped you. "I just-"

"I already told you," he interrupted, his hand ascending toward your face, delicately brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm a gentleman, little bird...you owe me nothing...all I ever wanted was confirmation."

Your brows furrowed, his touch sending subtle tingles over your cheek as his thumb grazed against it. A delicate shiver traced its way down your spine, and the room seemed to close in as his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that held the weight of unspoken revelations.

"Confirmation?" you questioned.

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes briefly scanning your features, and then he slowly withdrew his hand, leaving an almost lingering warmth on your skin. "Confirmation that Riddle's got it bad for you...as bad as I've ever seen it."

Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of confusion and denial clouding your thoughts. "No-"

"Yes," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his eyes at your quick dismissal. "We all could tell there was something going on with you two, little bird...we could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at you...come se tu fossi il sole e lui fosse un bambino che lo vede per la prima volta..."

(As if you were the sun, and he was a child seeing it for the first time...)

"And you...you looked at him just the same..." he added, his voice a low, encapsulated murmur, "since you've come around, it's been obvious, even to us heartless jerks, that he's different...it's clear that whatever this is, whatever you two have been hiding...È il tipo di cosa per cui aspetti per tutta la tua dannata vita..."

(it's the type of thing you wait your whole damn life for.)

Your words caught in your throat, a mixture of shock and disbelief washing over you. Stammering, you struggled to find a coherent response as warmth and bliss swirled in your chest, something deeply suppressed coming to life inside you at his revelation.

You looked up into his deep blue eyes, speechless for a moment before managing to utter, "thank you, Theo...thank you so much..."

"Of course, amore..." he said, his hands casually finding refuge in his pockets. "I understand precisely what he sees in you...I can only envision the fiery clashes of tongues you two must have..."

Smirking, you remarked, "You have no idea."

Theo chuckled, the mischievous glint growing in his eyes. As you made your way to the door, an impulsive idea took hold. Without hesitation, you spun back around, meeting his eyes as you reached for his face, drawing it down towards you, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. With a smirk, you pulled back, leaving him momentarily taken aback.

"Your secret is safe with me too, Theodore..." you murmured, a sly grin playing on your lips. "Wouldn't want anyone to know that the Italian playboy has a heart, now would we?"

"You're absolutely right, Piccolo diavolo..." he quipped with a smirk, his eyes glinting playfully. "Now get out of here before Riddle comes to claim my bloody head."

Suppressing a snorted giggle, you confidently swung the washroom door open and gracefully glided back into the dimly lit hall. Swiftly traversing the corridor, you aimed straight for the courtyard, a subtle cringe registering as the rhythmic patter of rain on cobblestones reached your ears. As you approached the courtyard's entrance, there stood Mattheo, casually leaning against the wall, patiently awaiting your arrival.

Or rather, impatiently. "What took you so long?"

"I, uh, got caught up..." you stammered, wincing inwardly as your throat tightened. It didn't seem like the right moment to mention Theo, who had obviously somehow snuck past him. "I'm sorry."

"What am I ever going to do with you," Mattheo sighed, hint of amusement his voice as he turned toward the forest. "Come on,"

Mattheo guided you through the courtyard, the rhythmic cadence of raindrops creating a melodic backdrop to the night. The atmosphere crackled with an unspoken tension, and the moon and stars, obscured by thick clouds, added an eerie allure to an already anxious situation. Your dress, now entirely drenched, clung to your form, and navigating the wet ground in heels became an adventurous feat on its bloody own.

Frustration mounted as you navigated the slippery pathway in your soaked dress and precarious heels. An unfortunate misstep led to a stumble, and you found yourself cursing both the uneven ground and your choice of footwear.

Mattheo's irritation mirrored your own, evident in the sharp tone of his voice. "Watch where you're going, Raven..." he said, barely sparing you a glance as he continued moving. "Do I need to bloody carry you?"

You rolled your eyes, mumbling a response under your breath as you struggled to keep up with him, aggravated further by the relentless rain and Mattheo's brisk pace. The forest swallowed you both as you entered into it, its dark shadows and dense foliage intensifying the unease in the air.

"Can you please slow down?" You hissed, your voice rising over the sound of the clashing raindrops, hastily stepping over splayed branches and sharp rocks. "Is this all really fucking necessary?"

Mattheo stalled, the black fabric of his suit clinging to his strong frame, outlining the tensed contours of his body. As he paused and turned to look at you, his eyes reflected the profound darkness of the forest, deep pools of intensity that seemed to absorb the ambient light. The raindrops glistened on his chiseled features, and his once meticulously styled curls now lay flattened against his forehead, drenched by the relentless rain.

His intense gaze pierced through the darkness, capturing your soul as you staggered closer to him. The thick canopy of the trees cast shadows, with only the moon's pale glow filtering through the dense forest greenery.

"I'm giving you what you wanted," he declared, the weight of his words echoing in the eerie stillness. The moonlight outlined the contours of his soaked, dark suit, emphasizing the true irrationality of the moment, and you snuffed a scoff. "We're almost there-"

"This isn't what I wanted, Mattheo...I just wanted you to talk to me!" you snapped, frustration boiling over and echoing in the quiet forest. Your words hung in the damp air, mingling with the sound of raindrops and the distant rustle of leaves. "I'm sick of all the fucking theatrics...Gods, I'm soaked, I'm freezing, my dress is ruined, and we could get attacked by an endless array of creatures at any bloody moment....yet, you don't fucking care...you won't even slow down for me..."

Mattheo blinked, his emotions entirely indecipherable, his stern expression momentarily softening as he studied your figure. Seemingly dismissing your words, his eyes then shifted to the darkness behind him.

"I have a time frame...we need to move," he urged, but a scowl marred your face.

"Mattheo..." you pleaded, desperation laced in your voice, grabbing his arm and making him spin back around to fave you. "For Godric's sake! Please!"

Mattheo's eyes bore into you, the irritation etched on his features creating a tension that echoed through the darkened forest.

"What, Raven? What the hell do you honestly want from me?" His voice was a hiss, teeth bared, face contorted in a snarl. "You want me to tell you all my dirty little secrets, is that it? You want to know the dark corners of my past? What if I lay it all bare, and you decide I'm not the man you thought I was, huh? What then?"

You swallowed, dispelling the lump of anxiety lodged in your throat. Glimpsing the hardened features of the man before you, you mustered the courage to reach up and pull his mask off, before doing the same to yours, tossing them onto the forest floor.

"You're worried I'm going to leave," your thumb grazed his cheek as you questioned, "...is that what you're worried about, Mattheo?"

His gaze underwent a subtle transformation, softening amid a tempest of conflicting emotions. An audible swallow punctuated the charged atmosphere, the rain forming a delicate veil between you, its mist blending with the subdued downpour beneath the thick canopy of trees. Without a word, he nodded, his silent admission making your blood buzz with electricity.

"I'm not going anywhere," your whisper hung in the damp air, the fragility of your voice carrying a delicate plea. "I prom-"

He scowled, stalling your words as he shoved your hand away and attempted to step back, but you were quicker, seizing his arm and halting his retreat.

"Listen to me, Riddle...Gods, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I couldn't, even if I wanted to..." the intensity of your gaze bore into him, the misty rain creating an ethereal backdrop to the raw exchange between you.

"Yes, you could," he muttered, his voice torn. "And you will want to."

"I know your heart is at war with your head, Mattheo...but I'm here...I'm right fucking here...there's no leaving, there's no forgetting you..." you released a shaky breath, observing the subtle shift in his gaze toward your lips, his breathing gradually slowing, and you pulled him closer. "It’d be easier if you asked me to tear my heart out of my chest with my own fucking hands, then it would be to even make an attempt at forgetting you…"

"You're insane," he muttered, smirk teasing the corners of his lips, a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability in his eyes. "No wonder I can't get enough of you..."

You huffed, involuntarily blushing in response. Theo's words echoed in your mind, a persistent refrain like a neon sign blinking in the darkness. Type of thing you wait your whole fucking life for, he'd said.

As his sentiment lingered, the words dancing around you like a ghost, you felt a warmth enveloping your body despite the shivers running down your spine. The chill in the air became irrelevant, overpowered by the undeniable heat radiating from within. Gazing into those enchanting brown eyes, the ones you've let yourself drown in over and over and over again for months now, you grappled with the realization that what you felt for this boy transcended the superficial.

You didn't want him, you needed him. You didn't like him, you fucking loved him. And that meant for better, or for worse.

And as you stood there, struggling to contain the overwhelming emotion, you could hardly resist the urge to confess. Until, he raised his hand, gently pulling you closer, holding you tight against his chest. It felt like a silent prayer, an unspoken gesture for which no words could suffice.

"My childhood was similar to yours, Raven," he admitted, his words laced with a mix of reluctance and vulnerability. "Rich asshole parents, never around...dad was too busy fucking his assistant, and mom was too preoccupied spending his money to care...they pawned me and my brother off to my grandparents for most of our childhood."

Mattheo's grip tightened around you, his embrace offering both solace and a sense of protection as he paused for a moment, letting his words linger in the night air. You tensed, mentally bracing yourself.

"Which would have been fine, but my grandparents had their own issues," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of years gone by. "They split up when we were five...my brother went with my grandma while I stayed with grandpa...everyone blamed him, everyone fucking hated him, cut him out. My dad treated him like a piece of filth, as though he'd singlehandedly murdered his best friend or some shit...I was the only one he had left..."

As his words unfolded, you could feel the resonance of his pain, the narrative of abandonment and familial strife painting a somber picture in the midst of the rain-soaked forest--and at that, you could relate.

"I was all he had, and I was a fucking asshole...I treated him like shit because I felt like shit," he almost growled, his voice carrying the burden of remorse, tone becoming more strained with each syllable. "My brother was given everything--adored, loved, and cherished while I wasn't even looked at, fucking thought about. Wasn't my grandpas fault, but I took it out on him...I told him I fucking hated him, that he ruined my life. I just did whatever I wanted and he let me, because what else was he going to do?...this went on for years, until we got into a huge fight one night, and he called my dad...I left the house before he got there...just stormed out without another word..."

Mattheo's grip tightened further, his chin digging into the top of your head as he continued, the pain in his voice echoing louder than ever. "The next call I got was from my dad...telling me grandpa's at the hospital," he admitted, a heavy weight in his words, your heart beating in your throat, his echoing in your ears. "He went to chase after me and some fucking goons jumped him, in the middle of the street, while I was too busy being a fucking selfish, pathetic little bitch..."

The rawness of his story unfolded in the damp air, adding layers of complexity to the connection between you, the rain serving as a silent witness to the cathartic release of his past. Your chest rung with pain, lids fluttering shut as your lungs reached for air, gripped by the depth of the agony in his tone. Mattheo's voice trembled as he continued, the raw pain seeping into the damp air.

"It was my fault...all of it, my fucking fault...and my dad made sure to hammer that into me...every single fucking day since," he spat the words through gritted teeth, hastily letting go of you, shifting his hands to your shoulders as he met your eyes. "I reached the hospital just before he took his last breath...and you know what he fucking said to me?"

You gasped, taken aback by the overwhelming surge of emotions within him. "N-no,"

"He told me to forgive him, " he seethed, his teeth barred, tears threatening to spill from his intense gaze. "He told me to fucking forgive my dad, that insufferable prick who never spared him a fucking minute, never spared me a minute...that heartless bastard...how the fuck could he tell me to forgive someone like that? How the fuck could those be his last fucking words?"

Your breath hitched, a sharp intake of air as his words etched themselves into the recesses of your mind. The pain and raw emotion swirled around you effortlessly, an inescapable tide. “Rebelling was my coping mechanism, yet it was fleeting. Nothing I did was enough, always slipping through my fingers like fucking sand…”

His grip on your arms tightened, fingers digging in with a brutal force that threatened to splinter bones, jolting you within the clutches of his anguish.

"…I just-fuck--tell me where to put the fucking anger," he growled, the desperation in his voice palpable, echoing the tumultuous storm within him. "Fucking tell me, Raven...fuck...where the fuck-"

"Hey--breathe, just breathe," you whispered, meeting his gaze with understanding, bringing your hands up to his face, pulling him close. "It wasn't your fault...you were just a boy...a boy who needed his family...needed someone to tell him he was loved...they turned you into a fucking weapon and then told you to find peace..."

"And you were right..." he sniffed, his hands shaking as he held you; his eyes actively searching yours as if seeking solace. "...I let it all consume me...possess me," he murmured, voice heavy with regret. "I became the weapon they wanted, the one they made me out to be, because anger was better than wallowing...better than grief...better than guilt..."

Your hands trembled against his damp skin, the collective heat from your bodies hot enough to ignite the whole forest into pure fucking flame. You glimpsed his lips, and he wet them, little rivers of rain running down his skin, your hearts pounding in rhythm.

"At least rage would lift me up...make me stand..." he whispered, blinking the liquid away from his eyes, and whether it was rain or tears, you weren’t entirely sure. "Make me walk..."

"I understand..." you chewed your cheek, breath shallow as you nodded. "I completely understand."

"I've done shitty things...more than I could even begin to tell you about...all because I couldn't deal with my own bullshit, but, now...it just feels different...I feel different..." he confessed in a hushed tone, the weight of his words palpable. "Where I once craved vengeance, I now crave rest."

"Yeah?" You blinked, searching his face, thumbs softly brushing over his cheeks. "Why is that?"

"Because of you," he said, glimpsing your lips, his eyes clouded with emotion. "You gave me peace in a lifetime of war."

Your breath froze, time suspended as if under a spell, the world around you caught in a momentary stillness. Your grip on his face tightened, as though afraid he might slip away, the rain dancing around both of you in a silent cascade. And as the two of you stood there, his face, held in your hands, revealed a complexity of emotion that entirely mirrored your own--a beautiful mess, a captivating ruin.

As raindrops continued to create a soft percussion around you, you found yourself lost in the depths of his brown eyes, unsure if you were even inhaling anymore. But one thing you did know, was that this was the boy you loved, an intricate blend of imperfections, a chaotic disaster just like yourself.

In this instance, he embodied everything you've ever yearned for without even realizing it--a mix of nobility and ruthlessness, courage entwined with vulnerability, a paradoxical blend of strength and weakness. He is the type of man that you'd choose to stand beside in a war, never wishing to stand against. He's been unapologetically badass, yet somehow still possesses a heart that resonated with honesty. He was the embodiment of your dreams, realized in the midst of pure, complete chaos, and you wouldn't want to change a goddamn thing.

And just as you were parting your lips, just as you wanted to let the sacred words fall from your tongue, Mattheo's head snapped up--and then you heard it too, the breaking of branches shattered the moment, an ominous sound of something moving in the distance.

Without hesitation, Mattheo seized your wrist, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you into motion with an intense purpose. "Come on."

Deeper into the forest you followed, the urgency palpable in each step. After a brief but purposeful journey, he slowed, guiding you behind a tree with a subtle urgency, the surroundings now cloaked in a heightened sense of alertness. As you pressed against the rough bark, the sounds of animals moving reached your ears, an eerie symphony veering closer.

In the veiled darkness, Mattheo's firm grip on your wrist subsided as he released you, his movements fluid despite the rivers of rain streaming down his face and body. Unfazed, he reached for his gun with practiced ease, the metallic click of it being cocked and the safety being flicked off resonating in the air.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you met his eyes, searching for answers. Mattheo, seemingly calm amidst the night's intrigue, noted your perplexity.

With a steady gaze, he said, "This is a thestrals' nest."

Your features contorted even further, not understanding what was happening--caught between the concealment of the tree, the mysterious sounds of the night, and the sudden revelation. Raindrops trickled down your face, mirroring the cascade of questions flooding your mind.

As Mattheo peeked out from behind the tree, you stammered, "A thestrals' nest? But...wh-what do you need that for?" Your heart thundered, fear gripping you. "...you're not hurting them, are you?"

"No," Mattheo's head whipped back at you, raising a hand to his face and pushing his sopping hair off his forehead. "I'm protecting them."

You paused. "You're-"

"Merlin's sake you ask a lot of questions, don't you?" He teased, an amused glint in his eyes despite the undercurrent of annoyance in his tone. "It's a long story, but basically I've spent a lot of fucking time in this forest...pretty much every night since first year I'd come out here...and one night, I just started studying them, their sounds, behaviours...just watching what they do."

A pause lingered, pregnant with anticipation. Mattheo cast another furtive glance beyond the sheltering tree, his gaze slicing through the darkness like a laser. When he pivoted to meet your eyes, the intensity of his gaze held a silent invitation into his life.

"But then my fascination extended beyond just watching them. I took out some textbooks, literally the only books I've ever taken out of the library, other than that book on stars, were about them...I just wanted to know everything," he said, cautiously examining your stunned face. "And by doing that I found out that they're vulnerable to certain predators, but especially Acromantulas...so as the years went on, and I noticed their population dwindling, I knew exactly the reason why, and I knew I had to do something about it."

"I tried spells, natural deterrents, enchanting the trees...didn't work. I even planted a bunch of magical herbs and plants around their nest, ones that emit scents that are repulsive to Acromantulas, but they're not strong enough, I guess." Another brief pause, another glance out behind the tree. "I had to get creative...I went to Snape...told him about my idea, and he was on board. He gave me permission to enchant the gun, and actually helped me devise a spell called Stellaverti specifically for this purpose. It's not meant to harm the spiders; it's designed to deter them effectively without causing any lasting damage."

He took a deep breath, his voice steady. "When I cast the spell on the bullets, they transform into magical projectiles. Upon impact, they create a blinding light and emit a loud, echoing noise. It's disorienting and frightening, encouraging them to retreat. The effects are temporary, wearing off after a few minutes, but the spell allows me to safeguard them while still keeping them and others free from harm."

Your jaw hung agape, every fiber of your being seemingly pulled skyward. Speech escaped you, a silent symphony of astonishment conducted within. Vibrations of disbelief and internal tremors accompanied each uttered revelation, leaving you in a state of wordless chaos. When words finally left your lips, you didn't even know what the hell you were saying.

"You created a fucking spell?"  Your voice, louder than intended, verged on a near scream. The question, a burst of astonishment, reverberated through the forest. "Why not wield your wand directly?"

"Using my wand directly poses a risk, Raven. If I were to miss, the spell might deflect, hit something else, causing unintended consequences..." he said, his expressions completely serious. "With the modified handgun, I can maintain a safer distance while ensuring precision and accuracy. It's about minimizing risks and maximizing the effectiveness of the deterrent."

He paused for a moment before adding, "Plus, having a dedicated tool specifically enchanted for this purpose allows me to act fast...I only do this for a couple weeks during the Acromantula breeding cycle, when they're more aggressive...they usually stay fucked off for the rest of the year."

As Mattheo's explanation hung in the air, you stood there, utterly speechless, your mind trying to grasp the depth of what he just revealed. The man who others perceived as indifferent to everything had been quietly dedicating himself to safeguarding these enchanting, misunderstood creatures all this fucking time. A profound sense of beauty unfolded in the revelation, leaving you stunned by the contrast between perception and reality.

Despite the rain seeping into every crevice, a newfound warmth enveloped you. In this mystical realm, your shock transformed into a profound appreciation for Mattheo's silent commitment to protect the fragile balance of the forest. It was a revelation that transcended the weather, the night, and everything else, leaving you with an indescribable certainty that you always fucking knew--beneath the surface, there was more to this man than met the eye. Despite all he's been through, there was still good in him.

"Stay put, and be quiet…” Mattheo instructed in a hushed tone, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demanded obedience. “Please.”

When you nodded, he moved, darting out from behind the tree, shifting toward a closer one with swift purpose. Peering out from your hidden vantage point, the thestrals' nest unveiled itself--a spectral scene of maternal serenity juxtaposed against the dark mystery of the forest. Yet, the tranquility was shattered by the impending arrival of Acromantulas, their looming forms casting a foreboding shadow over the ethereal tableau.

Your focus shifted to Mattheo, becoming a silent witness to a ballet of controlled power and graceful precision. Like a predator in fluid motion, he maneuvered through the trees, a master of stealth. His every step seemed to echo with purpose, aligning effortlessly with the approaching threat while remaining veiled behind the foliage.

In the orchestrated dance between protector and adversary, Mattheo's movements radiated a controlled power, a testament to years of dedication. As he raised the enchanted gun, a cascade of spells erupted with an otherworldly grace, each shot hitting its mark with eerie precision. With each resounding pop from Mattheo's weapon, the Acromantulas recoiled, swiftly retreating into the rainy silence. The echoes of their hurried departure lingered in the air, blending with the sound of branches snapping in the distance as the forest reclaimed its calm.

Mattheo, having deftly wielded the weapon, then lowered it with deliberate ease once he had scared the last of them off. He tucked it back into his pants before moving toward the thestrals, his movements now mirroring a far more soothing rhythm. Gently petting them, he reassured the creatures that the threat had passed, murmuring words of safety and comfort amidst the delicate patter of raindrops.

Stammering through the aftermath, you approached him, your mind in complete disarray, grappling with the revelation that shattered all of your preconceived notions. Everything you thought you knew about this man had been upended, leaving you standing on the precipice of understanding, yet feeling like you were teetering on the edge of an unknown abyss.

Words eluded you, lost in the echoes of enchanted gunfire and the fading retreat of Acromantulas. Your gaze lingered on Mattheo, who now stood amidst the thestrals, his demeanor shifting from vigilant protector to a gentle guardian, and it was in this moment of perplexity, a newfound attraction stirred within you, a magnetic pull fueled by the complexity that unveiled itself beneath Mattheo's exterior. The dichotomy of strength and tenderness, protector and nurturer, had never been more alluring, and you'd never been more fucking attracted to him in your life.

As you closed the distance, his gaze met yours, the intensity in his irises now softened to a warmth akin to melted chocolate. Rivulets of rain cascaded down his face, weaving through the contours of features that seemed to shed the need for concealment. It was as though, in this rain-soaked sanctuary, he’d finally found the freedom to reveal his true self.

In the weighty silence, he blinked, a subtle tension clinging to him. "I've said a lot tonight, and I understand if it's too much for you-"

But you cut through the air, your words breaking free in an unguarded moment, shaking your head as you stepped closer, kinking your neck back to fully catch his eyes.

"I am so fucking in love with you."

——————————-

Find chapter 28->

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[roseglazedlens]

⦑ seeking the light ⦒ ✧.*

NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER SYNOPSIS: Nanami receives his final wish before passing, with you by his side in Kuantan, Malaysia. CONTENT: character death. SMUT MDNI. S2E18. hurt/comfort, unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), body worship (lots), missionary, slow sex, light choking, pet names (darling). briefly mentions haibara, gojo. A/N: nanami girlies, hope you guys are recovering (i am still struggling rn)... sending you all hugs and a care package. « 3.3 k words | masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

A body moves on its own accord in its nature to protect. For Nanami, it comes with a cost this time. Even now, at his final breath, even when his numbed, scorched body pleads otherwise, fractured beyond repairable, Nanami chooses someone else’s life over his. There isn’t a doubt about this choice in his mind. All this fighting, all this suffering, this sacrifice—it was for someone worthwhile. For a generation with bright futures ahead of them, not meant for battles like these.

Nanami doesn’t see his act as a virtuous gesture. After all, this is his job, and protecting children is his duty. Perhaps part of him thinks he a coward to stand compliantly and let Mahito end his life, taking the easy way out.

His only regret—not being able to say goodbye to you. Even when all that remains is a silver of consciousness, you are his last memory. He thinks about how you are praying and waiting for his safe return at home, hating himself for not being able to give you the simplest things in life.

“Nanamin…”

In his hazy mist, he hears Itadori’s voice. Lost of vigor, echoing through the isolated platform of Shibuya station with the two of them burrowed deep in this mess. Poor child, he’s about to cry. That’s not a good look on a young man like him.

“Itadori-kun… You’ve got it from here.”

His eyelids are forced to close as the pain becomes unbearable, embracing the cold blackness behind his eyes.

But in that darkness, Nanami isn’t alone.

Rays of light catches up to him, scorching the path ahead of him: burning, igniting, freeing. It illuminates a straight road that leads him into the end of darkness. Nanami had never seen this road in his life, but when he did just now, for some reason, an overwhelming urge makes him walk down this path.

As he tries to walk, something behind his ear cries out his name, asking him to close his eyes once more. Something in him obliges to do so.

.

..

…

“Kento?” Someone calls out.

There are sounds of children giggling away, adults conversing casually in another language accompanied by tunes from local street performances. And most prominently, Nanami hears the waves, rhythmically resonates when it crashes against the shore. He blinks open his eyes.

Light sharply enters his sight, wincing, shielding his face with a risen hand. A shadowed figure stands in front of his sight, slowly becoming apparent as his eyes adjust to the light.

And it’s you, clutching a smile on your face. Your hair catches sun streaks in beachy strands, cheeks sparkle with sand speckles that illuminates your face in some kind of holy light. The clouds, voices and shore freeze when you giggle in your own little world.

“Darling...?” He speaks hollowly as if this is just a memory, fearing that it is, that means it’s all over for real. “Where—am I?”

The world moves again, sounds beginning to rise up into murmured chatter, and his gaze raises in line with the horizon where the sky meets the sea, looking into the deep blue beyond.

“By the beach, sleepyhead. The book’s no good?” You giggle once more, but this time the world doesn’t stop with you.

Nanami has a finger prop up a page in an opened book. He finds himself wearing a tropical button up and pants sitting on an inflatable chair with sand between his toes. “I guess not.”

He doesn’t remember when he got here or how he got here. But Nanami knows exactly where this place is. A famous beach in the east coast of Kuantan, Malaysia—Teluk Cempedak. He saw this view on a magazine once and told himself he would travel here on his day off. That was two years ago. So this is what it looks like in person?

“Did I sleep for long?” He asks.

“Long enough for me to get the both of us something to eat.” You say as you pass an ice cream cone to him. He turns to grab it, and when he does, Nanami’s neck snaps to the seat next to him. A monkey sits comfortably by his side with its grin stretched wide, surprising him so much he drops the ice cream onto the hot sand.

Nanami hears a few tiny click of shutters as both the monkey and you giggle in unison. The camera lens point directly at him.

“You got me. Very funny now.” Nanami sighs, but behind that irritated frown, there is a smile that he reserves only in your presence.

On cue, the monkey reaches over you as you try to enjoy your ice cream, snatches it off your hands, and escapes across the beach.

The two of you stand in shock for a moment, staring at each other, before bursting into quiet smirks and giggles. When the laughter subsides, Nanami brings you close, landing a kiss on your soft lips. He sees his own reflection in the glaze of your eyes, and he realises he haven’t seen himself so carefree in a long time, especially not since he went to Shibuya.

“So, does that mean you won’t make me delete the photos?”

“Since I’m in a good mood, I’ll let you keep it this time.” He says, then corrects himself as you light up. “As long as Gojo doesn’t get his hands on it.”

“What’s he going to do with a picture or two?” You play with your phone, nervously fumbling the screen.

“Knowing that guy, blackmail. Probably.”

“Well… please don’t get mad at me.”

That is when something dings in his pocket consecutively. He reaches for his phone, and he sees the name Gojo Satoru on his screen, spamming rows of laughing emojis.

“I’m sorry! Gojo already saved it. I can’t unsend it anymore.” You whisper, retreating with your head hang low.

Nanami sighs again, but this time with forgiveness. It doesn’t matter to Nanami anyway. Small things doesn’t matter when he’s with you. He kisses your lips to reassure you. “That’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not really upset.”

And it is at this moment, you can hear a roar of music in the background. Some local nostalgic tune, even if he had never heard this song before. Nanami’s feet taps to the beat of rhythm, and an idea surfaces in his head.

“My lady.” He stands to lean his torso into you, mesmerizingly gentleman. “May I have this dance?”

You hesitate at first, an onslaught of eyes staring at his bold gesture in the middle of a fairly crowded beach. Nanami looks up at you, his drooping eyelids and focused gaze only makes him ever the more persuasive. His charms can’t be denied. Reluctantly, you reach for his hand.

Nanami immediately pulls you in to a dance. Jiving through the sand forming love trails with your bare feet, letting the humid wind sweep and sway through the air. He spins you with a raised hand, and when you do, you notice the many pair of eyes on you, momentarily embarrassed.

“They’re watching, Kento…” You whisper.

“Let them watch.” He whispers back into your ear.

It starts with lively children weaving through the crowd to find the lone couple dancing. They punch their fists clumsily in the air, people cheering and awwing, and suddenly, more people joins, forming a circle. Dancing without any concern of the world. A conga line forms, and the crowd livens in cheers and chants when the two of you leaves the dance circle.

“Look what you’ve done.” You say.

“You know I am only charming when I’m not at work.”

He picks up his phone, finding almost ten texts from Gojo with his face Photoshopped in different memes. You laugh at some of them, even though Nanami seem annoyed. He powers down his phone before you get to see more, in case it gives you any ideas.  

“That’s it. No more work texts on vacation. This trip is about us, and I’ll make sure you have a great time.”

And so he did. He took you to the best curry mee in town, and you had a sip of your teh tarik while overlooking onto the tide. He teases you with a tired loving smile over how you gawk at your food as you eat the kampung delicacies. Something you two would never have eaten in Japan, or Denmark, when he brings you home to meet his grandfather—and shows you that he intends to marry you.

But that’s not just all of his plans. Kuantan has much bigger delights than just the countryside; you took a taxi to all these places that Nanami briefly saw in a magazine. He tries painting batiks (and finds out it’s harder than it looks), walking and admiring local vendors, shop displays until it’s time for dinner again and you had the loveliest Nyonya style seafood that fuses between two cultures.

As the sun sets, there is one final spot Nanami wants to take you. You see the big Kuantan sign as you take a high speed elevator all the way to the top of the Skydeck. And it’s just you and him alone in the breeze of the night, watching streets light up with traffic, illuminating into the same horizon as before.

“Thank you for making my last day memorable.” He speaks into the deep dark sky, not a moon or star in sight.

And at that moment, you know he realises that none of this is real. That his body—or whatever’s left of it—is still back at Shibuya. But for whatever reason, even when he knows he’s already dead, Nanami is smiling. His blond hair reminds you of the moon hanging high in the sky, shining brighter than any spark of light on the streets.

“Mm-hm.” You reply, no other words needed.

Nanami’s arms come around your waist, pulling you close to him, until your bodies connect as one. He leans his head on top of yours, and breathes in your scent, your bashful reciprocation, and all of you that he will most definitely miss.

“Hey.” Nanami says, barely louder than a cricket. “I have one last request.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to taste you one last time.”

The two of you scramble through the linoleum flooring, giggling through the hotel lobby as you share private jokes between each other without a care for the world. Passerbys wonder: ‘I wonder if they’re on a honeymoon’. And it doesn’t matter if it’s the beginning or many nights, or the end of them, your love for each other remains just as passionate.

When Nanami touches the key pass against his door, you try to push him in while he’s distracted, but he smirks at your boldness, but ultimately he turns you around to kiss you instead. He likes how you try even if it always ends with him turning the tables on you, kissing you while his whole body pins you against the hard wall.

He kisses you with the same fervour as he did the first night you spent together in the bedroom, and even after many years together, that doesn’t change.

Nanami helps you out of your clothes, one article at a time, savouring the look of you with each piece undressed, until you lay stark naked in front of him. He removes his glasses to place them against a bedside table, then he gets to work.

Guiding you to plop your hips onto the edge of the bed, Nanami positions himself on his knees to face you. He nudges your legs to open first, and he can’t help but fall in love again with how beautiful you look down there. His instinct is to put your bud in his mouth, and a cold rush of shiver frights you on your lower body. Your fingers curl slightly in reaction to his forwardness.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Nanami smirks, kissing on your clit a few more times before his tongue peeks out, tasting at your delicate bud. He does that for a few minutes, varying the intensity and speed to edge you until it fizzes your lower body. Occasionally, if he thinks you sound cute, he’ll impress you by pressing down his tongue on your clit that makes your fingers curl and uncurl over and over. “You like this?” Nanami asks innocently.

Oh, he knows that you do. But of course, Nanami likes hearing you confess his charms from your own mouth.

“Kento…” You lower your voice. “I love everything you do. That goes without saying.”  

He hums, satisfied by your obedience.

“Now do th-that thing you always d-do, please…”

“As you wish, darling.”

Nanami loves to satisfy you, loves to obey you and make him yours. He takes your bud in his mouth, his tongue inside, circling along your clit while his middle finger dips in your wet coated slit. Long finger curls to meet your g-spot with ease, moving only his last knuckle on his hand so he can repeatedly rap at your sensitive spot until your whole body feels drowned in your own pleasure.

“Oh god…”

His tongue darts out in quick succession, letting the needy bud smack against the tip of his tongue until it grows swollen and sensitive to the touch. Nanami wonders if you are enjoying yourself until he hears a weak noise, back arching, cunt pulsing as the pleasure lightly tips you off the edge like a gentle ripple.

“H-Hey, that’s enough.” You say through huffed breaths.

“Five more minutes.” Nanami says, his breath just as uneasy.

You hesitate. “One.”

“Fine by me.”

Every passing of his tongue on you can’t seem to satiate him, he laps at your taste over and over again. Until foams of saliva bubble over your wet clit and you are soaking under his finger. His chin coats wet with you, with how delicious you are, but he doesn’t mind one bit of the mess. Taking his time is his priority.

“Nnh.” Just like he promised, almost sixty seconds later, he parts himself away through a throaty huff, withdrawing himself to lick his lips clean and wiping streaks of drool from his face with the back of his wrist.

Nanami moves in quickly for another kiss on your lips, and you respond with equal enthusiasm. He shuffles you backwards to accommodate him to enter the bed, lips bound together through the awkward motions. Naturally, you prop your legs on top of his thighs, and you feel his length taking advantage of you without obstructions, closing the distance until his tip meets you at your entrance.

He guides your torso flat against the bed through the firm pad of his palm, pressing them up form your pelvis all the way to your belly, your chest, your collarbone…

He stops moving. “How hard do you want it this time?”

“Hard.”

“As you wish, my darling.”

His left hand continues upwards to find your neck, curling around the circumference of your neck. Some pressure is applied, and you roll your eyes back. Gentle at first, until you’re comfortable with his hand, he settles his tip inside of you. Quiet grunts leave his body as he puts you in missionary, overcome by the need to probe at you further until he feels all of himself buried.

But he restrains, for your sake. Nanami knows, with his size, bottoming out in one go only hurts you more. So he takes his time when he does so, easing himself in and fucks you with the intent to make eternal love, letting him continue this dreamlike state that will soon come to an end.

“You’re gorgeous…” He grunts, simply gazing at you, into your heart and into your soul. You do the same, admiring all his worn-out features relax like creased fabric undoing in the presence of you.

Nanami blinks away a watery glimmer between the speckles of his eyes, hoping you didn’t see it even though you did, and moves again.

Throughout the whole time, he only wants to stare at you, think of you through the burning sensation in his body that continues to remind him his time is almost up. But that doesn’t deter him, in fact, it only makes him want to take as long as the both of you need with no urge to climax hastily.

Each part of this is an experience, one final pleasure before the curse of reality hits them. You, in front of him, probably isn’t real. But it feels so real. It feels like Nanami has been granted his final wish. You, and this lovely scenery.

Soft, sensual pulses throb below you in a flowing state, crashing like the low tide on the evening beach, just like the view outside your fancy hotel window. Until the orgasm comes, in due time, through the labour of his efforts. How Nanami comes down to kiss you in gratitude as come spills inside of you, and the both of you grin into the kiss.

As you snuggle under the sheets next to Nanami, he brings his arm around your belly, grazing, pressing, worshipping—that this is the last time his hands will feel the warm plush again.

“I don’t want this night to over.” You mumble weakly.

He pulls you in with a hand that weighs a thousand of thoughts in his mind.

“I know, darling. I know.”

He sees himself in your eyes for the final time. Looking through the clearness, Nanami’s real body, burned and bruised on one half. Yet you still look at him with eyes that would stay by his side forever.

But this is not your time yet.

You blink back the tears, a rainfall along your cheek. He brushes it away with a look of yearning.

“Promise me you’ll have a good life, darling.”

You nod, unable to say anything else, knowing the tears will return if you do. Between you two, no words are needed. He can read you, and you can read him without any words uttered. Reaching for his jaw at first, you graze your fingers along Nanami’s cheek, and rests his eyes to a close. He mouths something inaudibly in his sleep before he departs.

You do the same, but he can’t see you.

...

..

.

Nanami opens his eyes in the middle of nowhere. He fell asleep at a bus stop sitting afloat above the sea’s surface. He sees now, the same path as before, ablaze above the sea levels, leading into the horizon where the sun falls into evening glory. At the start of the road, stands a figure.

Yooo, Nanamin. There you are!

The blinding lights on the path dims when the figure takes big, energised strides towards Nanami. Upon closer inspection, it’s a man in uniform. He has a distinct lean of someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Haibara?” Nanami asks.

Long time no see, bud. You don’t have to suffer anymore.

What is this feeling? Overwhelming pain, or relief when meeting a long, lost friend? There is so much Nanami wants to say he doesn’t know where to begin.

That he should have been stronger ten years ago, should have rescued Haibara in a battle beyond both their abilities even though he was just a kid. How he spent the rest of his life repenting, dedicating himself to protect the children who didn’t deserve to be in war. How he tried and failed and made it here…

… but none of that matters anymore after death.

Nanami jumps into his arms, bringing Haibara into his tight embrace. He hugs back. Nanami closes his eyes when he feels a sting behind his cheeks, then opens it again with newfound determination. Haibara bellows a laugh, pointing at Nanami’s reddened eyes which he fails to rub away.

Let’s head on to the other side, shall we?

Nanami nods. And they walk forward, side by side, towards the end of the path. He knows it’s all going to be all okay.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. ITINERARY: > Teluk Cempedak > Lunch (Hoi Yin Restaurant) > Dessert (Kula Cakes - not mentioned) > Natural Batik Village (batik painting) > Kuantan 188 Skydeck taglist (open): @valsthea @kennedyswhore @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or use in ai & other machine learning programs.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱ #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk season 2 #jujutsu nanami #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk nanami #nanami #nanami kento angst #nanami angst

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule IX

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: ehehehehe enjoy, my loves! The calm before the storm 😌😌😌

Masterlist, Latibule VIII

“Agustd is alive.”

Jung Hoseok raised his brow when his suspicion was affirmed. See, he thought it was all too easy. Everything had gone so smoothly that it seemed…wrong. There was no way that he could kill him that effortlessly. The night that he trailed his brother and boss in that quaint, little province because he fed him wrong information was the fucking highlight of his life. Stabbing him felt like he finally got what he was owed. Watching him bled out managed to release some of the decade-long hatred he kept hidden in his heart.

In his mind, what he did could be considered his very own twisted justice. After all, he did kill her. Min Yoongi killed the love of his fucking life, the only woman who mattered to Hoseok. So why then shouldn’t he kill that fucking bastard?

It only felt right.

It did feel right.

Until it didn’t.

He should have known Min Yoongi was like an annoying cat with nine lives. He was Satan’s long, lost brother and even though he could send him to hell, Yoongi would only come back with a vengeance.

Hoseok slowly lowered his phone. He gripped his phone in anger and disbelief that he failed her again. But no more.

He would end this once and for all.

Hoseok stepped out of his office with a calm facade when all he wanted to do was destroy this whole room. His steps were brisk, his face emotionless. He had just turned the corner when he saw Jimin, the brother he found to be closest with. He was staring at nowhere, his back leaning against the wall and his hands shoved in his pocket in a nonchalant posture.

A stray strand of Jimin’s blonde hair fell on his forehead, and he thought he didn’t see him approach when his eyes suddenly turned to him. He should have known nothing got past his sharp eyes.

“Jiminie,” he called the younger man as he stepped near him. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Jimin didn’t answer. He merely stared at the man with no ounce of his usual happy emotion. In its place was a somber look. “Hyung…,” he started, his tone flat, so unlike how he usually sounded. “do you wanna go to New York with me for a while?”

That was so sudden, Hoseok thought. He tilted his head before putting his hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Jimin? Are you okay?” He asked with worry, not used to seeing him this solemn.

“Just…go with me tonight.”

“I can’t. I have something important to do. But maybe next week?”

He looked into Hoseok’s eyes with unhidden sadness and disappointment as though he already lost someone, as though he was already mourning. Jimin chuckled humorlessly as he stood straight. He slapped his shoulder twice with warmth before walking away from him.

Yet, before he completely stepped out of the police precinct, he turned his head and offered him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you for everything. God be with you, hyung.”

Jimin thought he needed it the most. After all, hell would rain on earth once Agustd resurfaced.

—-

“It’s no big deal!”

Suga threw you a glare from his position in the kitchen. He had been busy cooking since the moment he heard Jackson greeted you. Had he known it was your birthday, he would have planned better! He thought that your day should be fucking celebrated and you should be treated like the queen that you were. Instead, he was cramming his preparation and you smiling so beautifully at him didn’t help one bit.

“It is your birthday! How can it not be a big deal?”

“I don’t celebrate,” you replied nonchalantly, your eyes trained at him and the numerous dishes he had already cooked. It was just the two of you but the way he was cooking made it seemed like he was feeding three families. It was true, though. You didn’t celebrate since that tragic day. You probably didn’t want to admit to yourself how you loathed being the only one who survived.

They said it was survival’s guilt.

You thought it was just the truth. You didn’t want to survive.

“Well, we do now. From now on, we will celebrate your birthday until you turn a hundred years old, angel,” he grumbled as he was focusing on plating.

You chuckled at his ridiculousness, his lips formed into a pout. “Well, I don’t think I’ll live that long. Do you want to live that long?”

“I’ll live as long as you exist in this world.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He smirked at you, wiping his hands with the towel as he leveled you with his dark eyes. “I do, Angel. I refuse to live in this world if you don’t exist.”

And the way he said it sounded a lot like a promise, like he would see it through. The way he was looking at you, the way his dark eyes bore through your soul made your heart beat faster as though it was in danger. “Should you go before me, I will burn this whole world down and then I will follow you.”

You had always known him to be intense. You were always aware of the darkness that seemed to follow him. At the back of your mind, you were aware of the power he excluded.

You were aware. That was the thing, you knew.

But nothing could have prepared you for the true him.

Suga set up the dinner out in your garden. He spent the whole afternoon putting up lights, cooking and preparing as best as he could. He never even let you helped him and just shooed you away when you attempted. He never thought he would put so much effort on someone, yet here he was. Additionally, he never thought he would feel so much for someone. And yet, here you were, the center of his whole fucking universe. You came just in time when he thought his life was coming to an end like the angel that you were.

You stepped out of the house, your hand clutching your chest as you saw what he did. Everything was so beautiful. It was so simple, so opposite of the beauty that money could bring. No, this was the pure beauty of effort, of simplicity, of domesticity that he brought in your life. He brought so much light in your otherwise dark life, he brought so much color. You thought you were living before he came, but you were merely existing that time. He came, and you found happiness again. He came and suddenly, you were no longer alone in this world.

“Happy birthday again, my angel,” he whispered from behind you. You turned around and there he was. He had his long hair combed back neatly. He donned a white shirt and a nice slacks in exchange for his usual dark clothes. He looked so beautiful, you thought.

And the way he was smiling with his adorable gums showing melted you.

This, you thought, this was happiness.

“How come you cook so well?” You asked as you took another bite of what he cooked. He looked pleased as he watched you eat. You thought he wouldn’t answer once again like he always did. You were so used to his silence when you asked anything about him that you were surprised he answered.

“My hyung loves to cook. He thought me how to, said that all seven of us should know all the basic skills to survive.”

“Seven?” You repeated, grasping at another information he was willingly giving you.

He nodded before he put down his wine. “You met my oldest hyung. That’s Seokjin. I have five other adopted brothers.”

“I wonder what they’re like.”

He smiled at you, “You’ll meet them soon, Angel, when we go to Seoul.”

“Oh, we are?”

“Of course. You’ll love my house. Or if you don’t, we can buy our own house-“

“I’ll live there?”

He scoffed at you before pulling your hand gently to him. “As if I’ll ever leave you here. You’re stuck with me forever, Angel.”

He kissed the back of your hand before standing and walking behind you. That was when you felt the drape of chain on your neck as he fastened the necklace. “I bought this because you love the stars so much. This way, you can have it near your heart.”

You clasped the star pendant in your hand, your eyes tearing up at his words.

“Why are you crying?” He asked with slight panic as he kneeled beside you, clutching your face to his worried one. “Did you not like it? O-once we go back to Seoul, I’ll buy you more expensive ones. I’ll buy you a diamond-“

You kissed him.

Without any warning, you kissed him. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much. I love it.”

You kissed him once again, your lips moving slowly against his. And when you parted, you found him looking at you with so much tenderness as though you were the only one that mattered to him.

And to you, he was the only one you had. To you, he was your family.

“I love you, my Suga,” you admitted to him quietly, you whispered at the silence of the night. For the first time, you said what you had desperately trying to suppress. You said it so softly, so terrified that once the truth was out there that he would see you for who you were. You were terrified that he would turn away.

But he didn’t.

“You can never take that back,” he ordered as he stared at you with so much authority. He said it as though in warning, as though should you take it back, there would be consequences. “You can never stop loving me. Do you understand?”

“I-“ you planted a kiss on his forehead, “love-“ his nose, “you.” And finally, his lips.

Suga would make sure you stayed loving him. He wanted to dig himself so deep in you that there was no way you could remove him from your very core.

No. Loving him meant forever. Now that you loved him, he could no longer go back, and neither could you.

Your love sealed your future.

Suga looked at you for a moment, and then he moved. He grabbed your nape, pulling you close to him as he devoured you. His kisses were hungry, but yours were starving. You were driving him completely insane and you were threading on a dangerous line. The true Suga, both Yoongi and Agustd were already fucking crazy. With you added to the equation pushed them further to the edge. There was no going back.

He pushed his sinful tongue in your mouth. It was just a kiss, and yet you were already trembling against him. You knew his kisses had been dominant before, but heavens was this different. It was as though he wanted to own you, and you wanted to be owned just as much. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he stood up, bringing you along with him. His strong hands supporting your legs, bunching them up on his waist. As much as he was filled with lust, his possessiveness stopped him from taking you out in the open.

No, you were only for his eyes.

You were only his.

Your hands were entangled on his silky, dark locks, desperately trying to get closer to him as he lead you back to your bedroom. He managed to close the distance within seconds and gently, he dropped you in the middle of the bed, the ends of your dress bunched up to your thighs. Suga greedily looked his fill, looked at what was his. He followed your body down, plastering his front to yours.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

And without any warning, he tore your dress down. His knee was in between your thighs, spreading your legs for him. You unconsciously crossed your arms in front of you, hiding your bared breasts from his lust-filled eyes.

Suga did not like that one bit. He growled in displeasure before he pushed your wrists above your head using his one hand, while the other caressed the smooth expanse of your waist. “This is mine. You are mine. Never, ever hide from me, okay, Angel?”

He didn’t even wait for your response before he put his mouth to your breast, sucking your erect nipple with his tempting tongue. You were too defenseless from the onslaught of pleasure he was giving you. You were a mess, a whimpering mess as his hand slid down to your thighs, teasing you with his feathery touches.

You should have known your underwear was not safe with him. And just like your poor dress, he tore down your panties. He smirked at your gasped and looked at you as he brought your wet underwear to his nose.

And heavens, you smelled fucking amazing. If he was insane with lust before, he was feral now that he smelled you.

And once he tasted you?

Who knew what state he would be.

“You smell like heaven, angel,” he groaned, his eyes closed as he sniffed the little piece of cloth that used to hide what was his. He thought it was only fitting that you smelled like heaven for you were his angel.

His.

“I need to taste you,” he said absentmindedly, his brain focused on one thing: you.

Suga removed the buttons of his shirt calmly, but his eyes told a different story as he kept contact with you. He was dashing, so beautiful that even in the dark you could see him. Once he had his shirt off, he pulled your legs closer, putting them over his shoulder. Your squeak of surprise at his prompt movements didn’t deter him. His fingers slid along your core, collecting the wetness on his finger.

“Su-Suga please-“

“Shh, Angel. This is my show. This is mine. So fucking wet, Angel,” he said with his eyes focused on your pussy. You jolted in shock when you felt his tongue on you, a cry escaping from your lips. He licked a path from your entrance to your clit slowly, wanting to memorize you and how you felt.

“Fuck. You taste so divine.”

His tongue circled your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves. You were so wet that you could see your essence glistening on your chin, and yet he didn’t stop. His fingers entered you, his mouth on your clit, sucking, licking, tasting.

He never stopped.

Not when you screamed.

Not when your body buckled up.

Not when you were pushing his face on your core.

His hands secured you to him. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Oh my- fuck, baby p-please-“ you moaned, feeling your orgasm sneaking up on you. “So g-good, hngh-“

And he watched. He watched as you fell apart for him.

Only him.

From now on, it would only be him.

He was kissing your inner thigh as you came down from the high. He lifts his head when you finally stopped shaking, looking at you in adoration and with an unbridled darkness in his eyes. Now that he had you, there was this ugly emotion that pushed him to do everything so you would be safe, so you would never be hurt, never to leave him. He wanted you so fucking tied down to him that you could never leave, never breathe without him.

“Still okay? He asked softly, opposite to how his thumb was drawing circles on your clit, overstimulating you. And you couldn’t move, not with his weight on you, not with his shoulders in between your legs. You nodded, because this was the most okay you had ever been. Here, with him.

“Suga,” you whined, wanting more of what he just gave you. And he knew what you wanted. He crawled up to you, kissing you tenderly, his tongue playing with yours before he peppered kisses on your neck, on your breasts, leaving his marks for people to know you were already owned.

“What do you want, Angel?” He whispered hotly.

“You-“

“Yeah? Do you want my cock, Angel?”

“Yes!” You moaned, his lips wrapped around your nipples.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“I want your cock, baby please!”

“Then you shall have it, my Angel.”

You heard the buckle of his belt, the exciting sound of his zipper. And then you felt his hardness. He felt so fucking big. So fucking hard.

He lifted your knees up, positioning your heels to his bared ass. He lined himself, sliding his cock in your slit, drenching it with your wetness. He parted your slick folds with his fingers, looking down at your cunt. The bulbous head of his cock slowly entered your tight heat, his eyes full of desire as you watched him watched his member entered you. He looked vicious, his dark hair framing his face, his scarred eye focused intently on you. His movements were gentle and deep- at first. When you finally adjusted to his girth, he thrusted all the way inside you. He moaned so deep, so loud that you felt your core tightened on his member.

Fuck, he sounded so masculine. “You feel so unbelievable. This fucking pussy- mine. You’re mine,” he growled as he thrusted inside you, molding your body to his.

The way he rolled his hips was heavenly, and you were close. His thrusts were precise, controlled, hard. You could feel him hardened even further. He was close, he knew it.

A better man would have pulled out.

Hell, a decent man would put on a condom.

A twisted, devious, manipulative man, on the other hand, would do everything to tie you to him. And if his seed would take root on your womb, then even better.

See, a better man would not come inside you. He definitely would not finger his cum back inside you as you fell asleep.

Alas, he wasn’t a good man that you thought him to be.

He was insatiable.

Suga was like a man possessed, you thought as you winced. The damned prick looked please as he watched you wobbled out of bed. He did make it up to you though by preparing you a hot bath and a massage.

That was an hour ago. He stepped out, remembering the promise he made little Jackson that he would bring him a slice of your birthday cake.

You had never slept as good as you did last night, safely inside his arms. You woke up earlier than him, and you just…stared at him. You wanted to engrave what he looked like in your mind. Your hands caressed his face, tracing every outline with your eyes closed. You were sure that you could recognized him even in the dark. He was your person, you thought.

Someone knocked on your front door. You smiled when you opened the door, thinking that Suga must have forgotten his key.

But it wasn’t him.

You looked at the man with confusion, “May I help you?”

He smiled.

Jung Hoseok smiled, and behind him was a gun hidden from your view.

Epilogue

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #min yoongi smut

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TENDER LIKE A BRUISE ─── ethan landry 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “A lover? Maybe. Something tender, anyway. But tender like a bruise.” — ‘The Winner’s Kiss’, Marie Rutkoski

pairing. spiderman!ethan landry x reader

warnings. swearing, mention of blood + death, mildly suggestive

summary. its late at night when you get a knock at your window. first, its a familiar mask, then a really, really familiar face. (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n.  i honestly just wanted an excuse to write about patching up this lovable dork. this is also the weirdest crossover ive ever made but hey! if the shoe fits, the shoe fits (ethan landry is 110% spiderman nerd coded). an early warning: this is sooo all over the place. i fr do not know where this is going or if i should make a part 2

i.

You’re staring at your monitor, half-asleep and half-wishing your econ class got a bomb threat so you didn’t have to get assigned homework, when you hear a knock at your window. 

It was four-am on a Thursday in the middle of March, so you were expecting a knock. It was probably Quinn, or maybe even Tara, knocking on your window to get into the flat because they lost their keys somewhere at the frat party and didn’t want to alarm Sam. 

Having the room with the fire-escape window was a blessing and a curse. For one, the view was beautiful, and you could sneak out without any of your roommates knowing. On the other hand, however, any stranded friends of yours snuck back in through your window. 

Well, whatever. You slammed your laptop shut on your desk, and walked to your window. In the journey, however, you paused. 

The crime rate in New York had gone up terribly recently, and you had remembered that case just a few weeks ago about a man who broke in through a fire escape window… 

You weighed your options: open the window, oh it’s just Annika, shoo her out of your room, continue Econ homework. Open the window, oh it’s a murderer! Die, don’t finish Econ homework. 

You opened the window. 

Then: “Spiderman?!” You all but screamed, taking a hesitant step back. 

It was Spiderman, the guy in the spiderman suit, New York’s “friendly neighborhood Spiderman”, the hero who fought crime in Brooklynn and swung around Times Square, that Spiderman. 

And he was here. On your fire escape, awkwardly shuffling (which reminded you of a certain dork who was at that Halloween frat party right about now), hands behind his back. 

“Spiderman? What the— fuck, are you—?” You repeated, and you could practically hear his stumbling thoughts as he gestured incoherently to himself, arms flailing about. 

“Hi?” He settled on, then groaned, lifting himself into your bedroom. You took another step back, tentatively eyeing the little league baseball bat you had in the corner of your bedroom, a keepsake from home. 

Once more, the thoughts of those recent window-entry break-ins flashed in your head, and even though it was Spiderman, what if it wasn’t? What if it was just some weirdo freak in the costume, about to use your trust of the hero to their advantage?

Spiderman, solemnly, seemed to notice this hesitation in you. “I’m not— I’m not going to hurt you, I just…” Spiderman sighed, and then all at once and far too fast, he pulled his mask clean off. 

Suddenly, a familiar head of curls were splayed out on an equally as familiar brown-eyed face. 

“Landry?” You said in the same tone as before, except this time it was Ethan Landry, Quinn’s awkward, younger-by-3-minutes brother, who ended up rooming with Chad, your own friend from highschool, after Quinn moved in with you.

Your only conversation had been nods in Econ, handing him a drink at a party, asking if he’d seen Quinn, him asking if you’d seen Chad, and now… whatever this was. 

“This” was Ethan Landry in the Spiderman suit — because he was Spiderman(!!!!), the biggest mind-fuck you’d had since you found out Sam’s bio-dad was a weirdo murdering loser rotting in jail with his oddly homoerotic, equally as murderous, bestfriend — politely closing your window and dusting himself off so as to not get your room dirty. 

This was not the shock you were hoping for right before midterms. 

Then, you saw how pale-faced and sweaty Landry was, a red-and-blue gloved hand pressed against his abdomen, slowly hunching further. 

“Sorry— I,” He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out between his teeth, “I got cut, and I— your apartment was closer than Chad and I’s place, and I also couldn’t go there, because I lost my keys while I was swinging—“ 

“Hold on— Landry! Back up a moment!” You protested, interrupting his anxious rambling. “Let’s get you patched up first, okay? I won’t accept any of your answers until then.” 

Quickly, you wrapped an arm around him, helping him limp over to your small, crowded apartment bathroom. 

You situated the 6'0 giant you’d only referred to as “Landry” for the better half of the past six months onto the toilet, then rummaged through your bathroom closet, searching for the first-aid kit Quinn had used on her latest hook-up just last week after he bonked his head on her bed frame. 

(That was hilarious and disgusting, having to sew stitches onto one of her hookups while she wore a police costume and him a bright prison suit. You were not going to pry, but crudely speaking, it was a shock to find out Quinn was… kinky.) 

When you finally got it, you turned, having expected Landry to have pulled the top half of his suit off. Instead, he sat, head leaning against the tiled bathroom walls, cloaked hand still pressed firm against his wound. 

“That thing’s got a zipper on it, doesn’t it?” You said, taking a peek at the backside of Landry’s suit. 

He nodded. 

“So?” You said, expectantly placing your hands on your hips. But Landry stayed still, as if something was holding him back. 

“By gods, Landry, are you embarrassed?” You said, aghast. By the looks of his increasingly red face, you were right.

Extremely affronted at his ill-timed shyness, you swiftly found the zipper to his Spiderman suit and helped the boy peel off the top half. 

“Jesus, Ethan, you’re practically bleeding to death. Stop being so shy, I can handle you of all people.” You whispered to him as you did so, and he let out a shaky breath. 

(Not because of the wound, but rather how close you were, his real name on your whispering lips as you almost graced the side of his face, your hands undressing him. He felt like he was on fire. 

Fuck, Ethan thought, then, immediately after, shook himself mentally of such thoughts.)

Then, with several beads of sweat dripping from Ethan’s forehead, a low groan coming from him, you saw just how bad his wound was. 

It was a messy, leaking gash on the left of his lower stomach, blood staining his thin skin. Landry seemed entirely focussed on the pain, eyes squinted and body wincing with every labored breath. 

So, you moved swiftly, opening up your bottle of rubbing alcohol and throwing the cap behind you, informing Ethan it was going to “hurt like the time Sam punched you square in the nose because she thought you were hooking up with Tara” (to be fair, that did hurt a lot — Ethan cried a little, after it, and you had to silently hand him tissues) before dousing his wound in the solution. 

Ethan’s back immediately arched in pain, head thrown back, and you could hear him bite back a soft whimper. His now-bare hands grabbed at the closest thing he could — your sweater sleeve, which was apparently at the perfect height for his incredibly lanky, though shockingly well-built, arms to hold — squeezing down in pain. 

“I’m sorry, truly,” you whispered, on your knees in front of him, as he was far too tall to perform this stitching up without doing so. 

(You continued by knotting your needle and thread, ignoring the odd predicament you had found yourself in, on your knees in a cramped bathroom, so close you could feel Ethan’s warm breath on your neck. You swallowed, head fuzzy, then blinked rapidly, trying to get your thoughts back on track.)

If that had bothered him, you were more than worried at how he’d react to your poor stitching ability. You’d only ever fixed up a hole in your shirt, so any sewing knowledge you knew, you were going to apply to Ethan’s skin now. 

“I’m gonna stitch it up now, okay?” You said, in a soft, dulcet tone, considering the pain he was going through. 

Ethan nodded vehemently, probably more so interested in getting it all over with. 

You made quick work of the operation, sewing his skin together, back and forth, back and forth. Your concentration drowned out any and all of your thoughts, except for a stuttered keen or bitten curse word from Ethan every now and then, that effectively shattered the mental wall you’d been building. 

Finally, you unraveled the white roll of bandages sitting on the counter, and wrapped a thick dressing around his abdomen, crossing over his left shoulder to give it some stability. 

(Your elbows had been propped up on either side of Ethan’s thighs, and you were so carefully focussed on wrapping his gash correctly that you hadn’t realized how close you were to his… well, him. 

Ethan had, however, and gulped at how suggestive his view was, looking down and just seeing the crown of your head over his lap. So Ethan looked away, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately focussed on keeping something down.)

Finally, you finished, rubbed your sweaty palms on your thighs, and looked up at Ethan, who was leaning back, head on the wall. Your cheeks dusted pink, seeing how he stared at you through his long, brown lashes, slowly blinking, lips parted. 

You coughed, looking away from the boy, and got up. “You okay to stand?” 

Ethan blinked, then nodded, heaving himself up from the toilet seat. He limped across the hall to your bedroom, then sat on the chair sitting by your desk. 

“You should sleep here tonight. I don’t think your sister will ever forgive me if I let you go to bed alone with a knife-wound.” You flashed him a smile. “But first: what the hell was that?”

Ethan bit his lip. “Surprise?”

You gave Ethan a look, settling on your bed across from him. “I thought you were at that halloween party, with Chad and Quinn?”

“Okay, fine. I was at that party, but I… kinda sort of stole a police’s walkie talkie, like, two years ago and I’ve been using it since to hear about any crime going on. There was a 10-31 — an active burglary,” he said, noting your confused face, “at a local bodega, so I told everyone I was going home, and left. They’d run into an alley by the time I got there, so I followed them, and things got a little… messy.”

You nodded, following the story carefully. “And when did… all of this start?” You gestured to him in the half done up Spiderman suit. 

“Well,” Ethan averted your gaze, “When I was seventeen, I went with my dad to a crime scene during a stupid Bring-Your-Kid-to-work-day activity. The place was a real hole-in-the-wall illegal animal testing lab, and I was being dumb, touching things I shouldn’t have, geeking out over whatever latest smuggled in Oscorp tech they had blown up, when a spider bit me in the neck. After peeking through the case files, I found out it was a radioactive spider. The next few days after that I got sick, then got better, and one day after that I woke up and I could do crazy shit like climb my bedroom walls.”

You blinked, digesting the large threshold of information. Just as you were about to ask another question, Ethan let out a large, teary eyed yawn. 

All at once he seemed so much more tired than you thought he’d been, all the pain he’d experienced showing clearly on his delicate features.

Your brows knit together. “…Okay, I think it's time you change out of those clothes, I order food, then you go to bed.” 

Ethan agreed numbly, hunching over on the chair he was sitting on. Quickly, you began digging through your closet for clothes that might fit his muscular frame — a feature that surprised you as much as finding out he was Spiderman, considering you thought him to be a skinny and lanky tree. 

After a moment, you pulled out two pieces. “It’s all I had that would fit you,” you said quietly, handing him a pair of pink Hello-Kitty pajama pants you bought in the wrong size, and a “I Survived My Trip To NYC” shirt Mindy gave you back in highschool. “Sorry.”

“No, I—“ Ethan fumbled awkwardly, taking the clothes from you, ears tinged red, “thanks. For everything.” He settled on, looking from his hands to your face.

You peered up at him, analyzing the boy-hero. His deep brown eyes, the freckles that danced across his cheeks, how his lips pursed, watching you look at him.

The air between the both of you had suddenly turned static, and you were so much more aware of how flush you were against one another.

Ethan’s gaze flitted from your eyes to your lips, trailing across your face almost unbearably slow.

But then you blinked, sobered, and stepped away from him. “I’m— gonna,” you caught your breath, “I’ll let you change.”

You quickly exited, leaving Ethan in the room alone.

(Ethan’s face burned, terribly red while he felt feverish just by the slight touch of your fingers on his own. How you had stared at him, your eyes coursing over his entire being—

There had been something there, but Ethan could not find it in himself to pry.)

#jack champion #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry x reader #spiderman crossover #jack champion x reader #scream imagine #spiderman!ethan landry

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod With Monster!Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Reader is described with some monster features depending on which character, blood drinking, Reader is dead in Ghost’s section, descriptions of blood and a slit throat, a decent amount of spice Soap’s along with some dub-con, also mentions of eating human flesh, Reader is described with a green dress in Soap’s part because it’s part of the mythology that I read, Reader remains Gn though.

A/N: This is the post I got way too into. Soap’s especially is….way too goddamn long.

Price - House Spirit

Price first met you when he moved into his new home. He was annoyed when he thought he had mice, what sounded like their little claws scurrying all under the floorboards and in the cellar, unaware that that was just you moving about. So preoccupied with his own worries, he never wondered how dust never seemed to collect in home, despite him being gone for months at a time, how his clothes and sheets always smelled clean and unwrinkled, or how his dressers were always full despite not actually having done his laundry since he moved in.

It all comes to a head one day when he was home on leave and decided to check his cellar for the first time in the whole 3 years he’d technically lived here. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t even know he’d come home that day and were too busy reorganizing your little nest in the back corner of the room to hear the door open or his heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Not until you could feel his bewildered gaze staring holes into the back of your head.

Things from there were….tense. He wanted to believe that you were some strange person who was either trying to rob him or maybe someone who was suffering mentally and was confused. Something that didn’t fuck up his entire concept of reality and what was real and myth. That was, until he got a good look at your little horns, your long and floppy, almost bunny like, ears, and the swishing tail behind you. He promptly backed himself up the stairs and slammed the door to the cellar shut.

It took another week or so before he went back into the cellar, but this time you were hidden away from his eyes. It took some coaxing from him to get you to reveal yourself, promises that he wouldn’t hurt you or try and force you to leave. Once you did come out, he was all questions, what you were, why you were here, why you were staying in the fucking cellar of all places when he had a bed he didn’t even sleep in when he was home.

After that, things were a bit rocky but….almost domestic. He enjoyed coming home and seeing your ears perk up so cutely when he walked through the door, or how your tail swished a bit faster when he greeted you kindly. Overall, he enjoys your presence and it’s no skin off his back if you want to do all the cleaning that he can’t be bothered with on his few lazy days. Or if you feel like cooking for him when he comes home. Or if you wake him from his ptsd induced nightmares, touching his face and holding his hand, making him warm tea and something to eat to help stop his shaking.

The only thing he insists on is that you move out of the cellar and into an actual room.

Gaz - Dullahan

Gaz met you when he was lost in the woods, a chopper having crashed and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was thirsty and hungry, having run out of emergency rations and water days ago, with nothing nearby to help him. He was on Death’s door, his eyes heavy, his stomach long since having stopped it’s rumbling, body weak and feeling like lead. But, as his eyes began to close, he heard the strangest thing just before he lost consciousness.

The beating of hooves on the ground beside him.

When he came to, Gaz was feeling significantly less thirsty and weak, but still very much tired. The warmth of whatever he was laying on brought him a sense of ease and relaxation.

Until he registered that what he was laying on was ever so subtly moving up and down. At the same time that he made this realization, something cold and wet nudged at the palm of his hand, making him shoot upright. Whatever it was startled at this and snorted almost angrily, making him lose his balance and fall back.

What he saw only confused him. A large black horse with a long mane and tail, it’s eyes completely white and leaving him feeling cold every time he looked into them.

And then a voice, your voice, calling out to the giant creature. “Dubhshláine, come.” You said, and it did, but not before sniffing at Gaz’s face one more time before it trotted over to your side. Then Gaz was pushing himself back up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, almost shouting when he saw the headless body that was petting the snout of the great beast.

It took….a while for you to calm him down, frantically trying to keep him from running, your voice shouting from somewhere that he needed to calm down and that he shouldn’t move when he was like this. But his struggle only ended when he was practically dry heaving in your arms, dizzy from trying to exert himself like that when he was recovering from dehydration and starvation.

Things went a bit smoother after that, at least, once you reattached your head and offered him some berries and meat that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to eat, despite you insisting that it was just goose. He did end up eating it though, if only to stave off the incessant rumbling of his belly. And that night, as he let you guide him into a cave and helped him into a large pile of warm furs, you promised him that you’d help him get home.

But he couldn’t help but think that going home meant he’d never be able to hear your soothing voice again.

Ghost - Poltergeist

Ghost is someone who goes to thrift stores every once and a while. A habit of his, as he doesn’t like to spend too much money, and part of him likes to see what sort of things other people have collected and gotten rid of over the years. Priceless things and useless things alike. Normally he sticks to buying little, only things he needs, like a cheap and worn t-shirt because his last one finally became too ripped to wear in public.

But on that day, something else caught his eye. A simple and small Jade necklace tied on a black string. His fingers brush over it, running his thumb over the hole in the middle where the string was tied. Ghost should have known something was wrong then, as he never took interest in jewelry. Ever.

The owner seemed to take notice of his attention and told him to just take it, as it had been sitting on the rack for ages, longer than he could remember. What he didn’t tell Ghost was that people constantly avoided it, avoided even looking at it, even the owner himself. It instilled a sense of dread and fear, and made people’s hearts race. The owner had tried to simply throw it out but it ended up right back on that rack, time and time again. And if it wasn’t making this strange masked man uncomfortable then he was more then welcome to take the fucking thing off of his hands.

Ghost is surprised at the offer but accepts after a moment of hesitation. The necklace becomes sort of a good luck charm for him, and he rarely, if ever, takes it off. It’s always so warm against him (it grew almost scorching whenever he took off his clothes), making him feel a sense of security that he wasn’t sure that he ever felt before.

But soon things…changed. He noticed that if he neglected to touch the necklace for a certain length of time, things would happen around him. Things moving from where he left them, pictures falling from walls, objects jumping off of shelves. Like a brat throwing a temper tantrum after being denied attention. It was something that he brushed off time and time again as the wind or loose nails or whatever other thing he could think of. Ghost didn’t believe in the paranormal.

At least, he didn’t. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to hands oh so gently petting his face and chest, an eerie and croaky sounding cry echoing quietly in the room, he starts to believe just a little bit. His eyes slowly peek open when your hand on his face drifts down to cup the back of his neck, your other hand going from his chest to his hip as you press soft and sweet kisses to his chest, focusing particularly around the necklace that laid in the center of his skin. He only got a good look at you when you started rubbing your cheek against his clavicle, that same noise as earlier coming from your mouth.

And god when he saw you.

Your throat was slit open, that much he could make out, wide and deep, so deep that it must have damaged your vocal cords, which explained why you sounded so croaky. The blood from the cut was all down your front, staining your once white t-shirt and the panties that adorned your body. And you looked almost see through, but Ghost could certainly feel how corporeal you were.

Ghost’s eyes quickly shut again when you started to move, straddling his hips as you pressed those same kisses to his face before curling yourself against him, burying your face into his neck. You seemed…..lonely, almost. And Ghost decided he could work with lonely, especially when he had been left feeling the same way for the longest time.

Soap - Baobhan sith

It was a stupid wish, made in the dead of night, when he was lonely and sleep deprived on a mission in the middle of nowhere, his comrades sleeping around him on the forest floor while he took the watch shift. It was a wish for companionship, to not be as lonely as he often felt. Sure, he had the 141, but the 141 were family. Not a lover that would hold him tight, press kisses to his lips, tell him that he was loved and cherished.

And that was when you appeared. He didn’t see you at first, too lost in his own thoughts. You only caught his attention when you shifted, your curious and mischievous eyes peeking out at him from behind a tree trunk. He was stunned for lack of a better word, especially when you came out fully, your long green dress dragging on the ground. What were you doing out here?

He called for you quietly, his voice full of concern. Were you hurt? Looking for help? Lost? He stepped closer but you stepped back, gesturing for him to follow you, to chase you. And it was stupid that he listened. He was a soldier and he was leaving his sleeping comrades defenseless. He shouldn’t have set his gun down and took off after you, no matter how worried he was. But something about you was clouding his judgment, making him lose his way.

He stumbled through brambles and branches, through bushes and mud, your giggling the only sign that he was even going the right way. And then finally, a break in the darkness. A little homey cottage, the sudden light almost feeling blinding to his retinas. But when he opened his eyes again, you were there, excitedly beckoning him again, coaxing him into what was supposedly your house.

Soap knew he should turn back, should wake away, but his body only moved forward, his mind a fog of confused desire as you pulled him in for a kiss, your back pressed against the door. He was putty under your touch, just waiting to be molded into whatever shape you wished for, whatever shape pleased you best.

And apparently what pleased you was having him under you on your soft bed, riding his cock for your pleasure and your pleasure only, batting away his hands every time he tried to touch you. He was desperate for it, for more of you, like you were a drug he’d never be able to come back from, that he’d never stop craving.

And then you came and all he could think of was how you were pulling away, how wanting he was, how he couldn’t let you leave him like this. He didn’t notice the red in your eyes or how sharp your teeth became, how you started to go for his wide open neck, his blood pumping so deliciously fast for you.

And then you were flipped, so distracted by the thought of your own meal that you didn’t notice that he’d grabbed you until it was too late. He pushed your face into the pillows as you started to wiggle, his other hand clenching the meat of your hip tightly to keep you still as he plowed back into you, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He’s overcome with the need for his own pleasure. With the need to drown himself in the pleasure your body gave him. His cock was twitching, he was so close. So so close. He needed it, needed it more than he needed the air in his lungs. He leaned in-

And you screamed.

Your cry was loud and sharp, like a banshee’s wail ringing in his ears. It shattered the haze in his mind, sent the wool flying from his eyes. He looked down and he saw your skin steaming from where his dog tags had touched your back. You seemed relieved with them gone, your body shaking under him, snarling at him over your shoulder.

It clicked for him suddenly, everythinh falling into place like one horrible puzzle that was missing its final piece. He’d grown up on old stories and legends of creatures that harmed humans, ate them down to their bones but were repelled by iron. His tags were steel, so he supposed they were close enough to iron to merit their effect on you.

You watched him. He watched you.

And then all at once he was moving again, finding your little squeak of surprise both amusing and cute. You were confused but he had never been more certain in his life. As he used you like his own personal whore, his mind was made up. You were his now. You couldn’t leave him. You were the first person in so long to take away the loneliness, the pain.

He flipped you onto your back, holding your hands above your head with one hand as the other whipped his dog tags over his head, wrapping them around your wrists as you hissed at him, bucking wildly. It only served to impale you further on his cock, making him groan with delight before his mouth was on your skin, nails raking down your sides now that you were successfully restrained. And he didn’t stop til you were a drooling whimpering mess on his cock, his cream dripping from your sore hole as he pressed kisses along your face and hands. Showing you how good he could please you and take care of you.

And then, you’d come with him, right? You chose him that night in the woods, and he chose you right back. Except instead of a quick meal, you ended up with a Sergeant who was head over heels for you and refused to leave you out in your woods all alone.

At least he was cute.

#call of duty #cod #mwii #mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #John price #John price x reader #Kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #House Spirit!Reader #Dullahan!Reader #Baobhan sith!Reader #monster!reader #Spectrophilia

[goose8791]

Space And Time

(Song by S.G Goodman)

pairing: luke castellan x AphroditeFem!reader

Warnings: Angst, kissing, death, description of death, spoilers for the end of the lightening thief

From the moment she stepped into the camp, her life became a tapestry woven with threads of fate and love. She was beautiful, a child of aphrodite would have to be. She met Luke the day he arrived, Luke Castellan, a year older but relatively new to the camp, entered her orbit as a lost boy with big brown eyes and curly hair that fell in front of his eyes, clothes drenched to the bone and accompanied by a little girl with a tight grip on his hand. He was fourteen and angry. 

Unclaimed by her godly parents, she sought a transient haven in the Hermes cabin. Positioned directly above Luke's bunk, she could practically sense the intensity of his gaze burning through the shitty mattress. She could feel his emotions, every stomach twist and finger twitch reverberating through the thin barrier between them.Curiosity got the best of her, prompting her to peer over the edge of the bunk, startling Luke from his thoughts. He snapped his head, obviously startled and scared. 

"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were okay," her short hair barely touches her back when she stands but as she hangs her head off the top of the bunk, long strands fall over her ears. Gaining a clearer view of his face, she thought he was pretty for a boy. Her eyesight adjusted, and with a closer examination, she almost whispered in a yell, "You're bleeding!"

In response, Luke's hand instinctively rose to the top of his head, where the blood had begun to congeal and cling to his hair. His gaze lowered to his hand, the tips of his fingers stained with red. A hand places itself over his, holding it, when he looks up the girl has come down from her bed and is using an old top to dab away the blood. 

He hadn't uttered a single word, and yet she was already helping him, leaving him utterly perplexed. Her eyes, intensely focused on the task at hand, seemed to possess a magnetic quality. When her gaze shifted downward to meet his eyes, he felt a sensation as if Eros himself had unleashed an arrow, piercing straight through his heart.

"Than- thank you," he stammered, his words stumbling over each other. "Don't thank me, it's the least I could do," she responded with a smile, "God she’s gorgeous.” he thought.

Now three years later, and she found herself seated in the stands at the training arena, feet propped up on the seat in front of her, a bag of almonds in her lap. Her once-short hair had grown, now cascading over her shoulders and collarbone. Her mother said it suited her so she kept it. She was watching Luke train, he was cutting through practice dummies ruthlessly. 

Beads of sweat roll down his temple making his hair damp. His chest rises and falls as hot breaths escape his mouth, Her playful heckle cuts through the air, breaking the intensity of his focus. "Do you think you can hit that thing any harder?" she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

Luke's head snapped in her direction, his intense gaze softening into a momentary smile. He wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe I should ask the dummy if it thinks I'm being too harsh," he replied. The end of his sword jabbing into it. 

Her laughter was like a melody, filled the air, and Luke couldn't help but revel in the joy of making her laugh. As she began tying her hair up, he couldn't help but appreciate the simplicity of the moment

She giggled, finishing tying her hair up. She gracefully hopped down a few steps before leaping down from the stands, landing gracefully onto the gravel ground. Dusting off her jeans casually, she sauntered over to where Luke was, an energy in her movements that drew his attention.

Walking behind Luke, she became the focal point of his gaze. Intrigued, he watched as she positioned herself in front of the training dummy, her hands resting on its shoulders as though the inanimate object were seeking her fashion advice. Luke tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms, a smile playing on his lips at the whimsical scene before him.

"Maybe it needs a break," she teased, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips when she looked back over her shoulder at him. 

Luke chuckled at her playful remark, the sound echoing in the training arena. He unfolded his arms, the playful glint in his eyes turning into a full-fledged grin. "Perhaps," he replied, joining in "I wouldn't want the poor thing to file a complaint with Chiron about the harsh treatment." 

"Oh, imagine the headlines: 'Camp Half-Blood in Disarray as practice Dummies Demand Justice!'" Her laughter danced through the air. She took a step back from the training dummy, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Well, Mr. Dummy, you've been spared for today," she declared with a mock-serious expression, earning another chuckle from Luke.

As if on cue, two younger kids burst into the arena, their presence announced by boisterous yells. "Chiron says you two are late!" Luke turned to look at them, a grin forming on his face. "Yeah, alright. We'll be there," he responded with an easygoing nod.

As the younger demigods scampered off to deliver the message, Luke began packing up his training gear. She observed him taking his armour off. He sharpens the blade of his sword, he pulls back the muscles in his arms tense and then releases for a moment before she starts to walk towards him. 

"Race you to the woods?" She proposed a challenge in her tone. Her eyes tracing him, he laughs and puts the sword on the rack. Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're on," he declared, the familiar thrill in his voice. 

As they run out of the arena dust pools around their feet, Luke almost slips on the small rocks to try and catch up with her. leaving behind the fading echoes of their laughter. When the tree’s start to come into view their leaves fly over the top of them. He catches up to her. Just, he grabs her hand and she looks back. She pulls on his hand and he stumbles forward and her back foot catches on a root. As they stumbled as they a little the forest floor seemed to shift, and laughter turned to surprise as they tumbled down a hill.

As they tumbled down the hill, Luke instinctively pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as they hit the ground with a thud. The world became a blur of leaves and twigs. 

When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, Luke looked down at her, his arms still encircling her. "Are you okay?" he asked, lifting himself up with his arms so that he could look down at her. His eyebrows furrowed with concern as he scanned her face for any signs of injury.

She laughed, the sound a melody of amusement that echoed through the woods. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken," she reassured him, her hand circling his upper arm with a reassuring touch.

"Are you sure?" Luke asked, his eyes still reflecting worry.

"Yes, Luke, jeez," she smiled, rolling her eyes playfully. Her hand moved from his arms to his face, her fingers gently tracing over his soft skin. Her gaze was fixed on her hand, but Luke found himself captivated by the delicate movements of her fingers.

As her eyes darted towards his, the world seemed to pause for a moment. In that suspended instant, their connection deepened, and he felt the magnetic pull drawing him closer. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

Time seemed to stand still as the forest around them held its breath, a witness to the unexpected turn of events. Luke's eyes closed instinctively, savouring the warmth of the kiss and the rush of emotions that accompanied it. He pulls away “your so pretty” she says, her breath coming back to her.  

His brain seemed to fail him, a cascade of thoughts and emotions rendering him momentarily speechless. His gaze drifted downward, but her fingers found his chin, gently lifting it to meet her eyes. “I don’t want to leave this world without saying,” she began, a breath catching in her throat, she knew that every day at this camp could be her last “I love you.” He finished her sentences, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

They lay on the grass for a while, the world around them fading into the background. Luke on his back, and she on her stomach, propped up on her elbows to gaze at him. The wind, a gentle caress, whispered through the leaves overhead.

"There's some who have loved me," he said, his fingers delicately playing with the loose strands of hair that danced lightly on her face. "Some who have tried." His touch shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "They all have their grips on my heart and grips on my mind."

She stayed quiet, a pretty smile gracing her lips as her hand gently found its way to his. The tranquillity of the moment lingered between them, the soft rustle of leaves above providing a gentle soundtrack to their shared contemplation.

"That's poetic," she finally remarked, her light  laughter breaking the quietude of the woods.

"It's supposed to be romantic," he retorted with a playful grin, their hands entwining in a silent agreement that transcended words.

The sword slid between her armour and into her flesh, a burning sensation that seared through her. The edges of the blade stung, and tears welled up in her eyes, Her hand shakes as she brings it to his face. Her thumb runs over the scar that splits his face. She remembers when he came back with that wound. it was a quest he was sent on after that day in the woods. “Luke” she gasped, the pain sharp and agonising. But Luke wasn’t there. He hasn’t been there, not for a while.

He pulls out his sword and her body falls to its knees and then falls to her side her breaths stopped. Luke stumbled back, his gaze shifting upward to the sky. When his eyes returned to her, still and lifeless, he threw the sword aside, its metallic clang echoing in the emptiness of the battlefield. Tears streamed down his face, silent sobs escaping him as he dropped to his knees beside her.

His hands grab at her armour pulling her lifeless form close to him. She’s still, with little to no breath. Blood stained his hands as the deep wound bled through both sides of her body. Desperation etched across his face, he fought with her hair, pushing it back from her

"No... no no no no," Luke cried, the words escaping his lips in a tortured whisper. "I love you," he whispered, the sincerity of the words wavering in his own ears. He could only lie, that's all he was good for. He screwed his eyes shut not wanting to look at her. 

Soft fingers dusted over his face “that day in the woods” she coughed, her voice strained. “it was clear to me” she persisted, “you owe your life to even your  enemies” she coughed again, like her breath was catching in her vocal cords “To the ones who have loved you, to the ones who have tried” her hand slowly lowered, she knows he can see her.

"I want you to know, I'm not leaving this world without saying," she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes falling back, her body growing still. Cold was all he could feel – her cold body in his arms.

He shot up, out of bed. Hot tears spilled down his face. He sobbed into his hands, curling his knees into his chest like he was a boy. He had lost her forever. He cried for her, he was inconsolable, not that anyone would be there to comfort him. Alone in the dark, he clutched at nothing, cursed at memories he could never replace and that he could never get back. In these moments, he was just Luke – a fractured soul, grappling with the enormity of his choices. He was Luke Castellan, a traitor. a killer.

#luke castellan #luke castellan fic #luke pjo #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo spoilers #luke castellan x you

[smooth-perceval]

“Make the world go away”

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader is struggling after going public with Charles- reader has a breakdown when Charles returns home.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of depression, reader hating herself a lot- a lot of body shaming, death threats, Charles being so sweet, a lot of tears, fluff, my bad writing.

Word count: 2,041

Music: Make the world go away- Duffy.

Key: Y/N (Your name)

A/N: I’ve been feeling a bit off lately- and there was no other song to describe how I felt than the one I have tagged- it’s a cover by Duffy, original singer Timi Yuro if I’m correct <3

THIS WAS RUSHED I HAVE A VERRYYYY GOOD CHARLES SERIES THAT IM STARTING AND IM EGER TO GET THE FORST CHAPTER OUT BY TOMROROW EVENING!!

Enjoy!!

Charles and me went public roughly 3 weeks ago- not officially public, but I mean it’s official in the sense I had been spotted with him during race weekend- and not exactly in a friendly manner, wrapped up with one and another at the back of his garage- stealing sweet kisses and adoring smiles.

I’ve attended races before- been in exact same spot before yet this time we got caught, and well-

My, oh my you should’ve seen the headlines…

-Charles newest trophy,

-Leclerc at it again,

-Leclerc’s mysterious girl.

-The Ferrari driver and the other woman.

The other woman? It’s been a year since his ex and him announced their split- somehow I’m the other woman? I mean give me a break…

Seriously, give me a break- the hate I’ve received for liking a boy was just unreal. Charles was a saint in their eyes- but me? Oh I was the wicked witch of the west, I somehow bewitched this boy into wanting me- it was all my fault!

Overtime the hate as always gets too much, and now I find myself every night finding a new flaw on my once perfect body. A new feature on me I didn’t realise was so disgusting until that one user online commented about it.

I found myself stuck in rotation infront of a mirror I used to once love admiring myself in. The same old mirror that now shows a broken girl, struggling to breathe like I was drowning in a pool of hatred. The world weighing me down sitting like devils on my shoulders, always reminding me that I am not good enough for the world.

Not ever good enough for Charles.

And just like a routine I was stuck in crying myself to sleep every night and ensure Charles that I was fine, “I’m just tired” I was tired truthfully, I was tired of it all, I couldn’t take it anymore- I hated myself for not loving me more, I hated me for not loving Charles more, I hated me for not being perfect for him. I hate me.

I finally urged myself to get in the shower tonight. Not only the fact I needed one- but because Charles was soon to arrive home, and I had to wash off every piece of evidence that I’ve been feeling so lost and alone.

As the night rolled on more, I laid in bed- Charles robe tied tightly around my body hiding the matching black underwear set, hair still wrapped up in a towel. The mirrors were avoided- I knew for a fact I looked terrible, but couldn’t bring myself to confirm it. My eyes were glued to the time on my phone, expecting the guy I need is such desperate times to walk through the door.

Another 10 more minutes and his back to being mine. Sighing to myself I rolled my head to the side the towel coming loose and sprawling across the bed, finally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and like a trance I found myself sliding off the bed and over to the exact mirror, watching myself like I was hunting me down. The girl in the mirror wasn’t getting away again, she had to be judged.

My damp hair dripped behind me leaving a little trail from the bed to the mirror, some wet strands sticking to my face. With a huff I brushed them back before untying the robe, revealing my semi-naked self, my bra strap sliding down with the robe- and like my hair I brushed it back up with a defeated sigh.

Moving side to side, I observed every crease in my body, every mole, every dent, every scratch. I observed everything- stepping away from the mirror I took in my entire body, it was horrid. What did Charles see in me?

The girls he could have and he chose me- I feel sick looking at myself, I don’t know how he must feel… I hate me. I hate that nobody thinks I’m perfect for him, perfect for their Charles.

Lip quivering, and my cheeks slowly getting wetter by the moment, I slid my hands over my stomach and hips- my skin feeling rough, biting my hands at every movement.

Eating me alive- and with shallow breaths I glanced away from the mirror trying to regain some control over myself. The shallow breaths soon eased, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.

Like I wasn’t suffocating anymore, or that the room wasn’t getting smaller and as soon as I could breathe I looked back at myself once again.

“mon chéri-” (my darling)

Spinning around on the spot- caught in the act I stared at a very confused Charles.

“What are you doing?” A little smile on his face as he stepped in the room, forgetting his suitcase and bags behind him.

“I didn’t hear the door go-” swallowing the lump in my throat I quickly crouch down scrambling to grab Charles robe from the floor.

Charles had moved further into the room crouching down to my height. “And even so you still haven’t welcomed me home.” His smile grew even more teasing as he placed his knee onto the robe holding it down.

“Charles move over-” a fake laugh left me as I tugged away at the robe, more self conscious by the second.

“Where’s my kiss?”

“Two seconds let me just cover up-”

“Do I have to kiss you hm?” Raising his eyebrows he brushed my damp hair over my shoulder.

“Charles move.” Looking up at him with a glare, I pulled hardener at the fabric underneath his knee.

Now furrowing his eyebrows, he lifted his knee watching me, like a lion stalking his prey, eyes glued to me just like I was not long ago in the mirror.

Quickly scrambling away, I pulled the robe over me quickly tying it even more tighter around my waist, abruptly standing up.

“Sorry… I didn’t meant to raise my voice.” Chewing my lip anxiously, looking down at Charles, still knelt on one knee, on the floor beneath me.

“What was that all about?”

“What? Me raising my voice?”

Shaking his head, he now knelt on both knees raising himself up a little, his head at waist line as he looked up at me.

“You practically begged for this robe.”

His face showed no emotion. Truthfully he looked like he was still piecing together what just happened. “I was just getting cold that’s all- come stand up so I can welcome you home-” rubbing my hands through his hair, I slid my hands to either side of his face.

And like in a trance guided him to his feet, him now standing tall above me.

“Welcome home” leaning up onto my tip toes I kissed his lips softly.

Charles lips didn’t move against mine, they was stiff. He was now stiff.

“You’ve been crying.” Closing my eyes, I pulled away from him stepping back.

“No I haven’t long showered Charles.”

“I know what this is.” Nodding his head with surety he stepped closer. Guiding his hands to my hips and pulling me in, both of us now inches apart.

“Take it off.” His hands now found the strings of the robe pulling them loose.

“Charles-”

“I’m not asking Y/N.” With tired eyes, they silently begged me to re-undress. Mine? They filled with tears once again, lip trembling as I tired to hold it all back.

“I’m so sorry Charles…” looking down at his hands watching him intently, them now brushing the robe back off my shoulders and back onto the ground, kicking it aside.

Gulping to myself Charles now moved, looking up quickly wondering where he had gone, I then felt his presence behind me. “Look at you.” He brushed my hair over the other shoulder, now resting his head on the bare one, hands now resting on my hips again.

“Look at you mon chéri.” (My darling)

“I am looking at me…” sighing I tilt my head slightly, the tears making their way down and dripping off my chin.

“Why you crying?” His hand reached around wiping both cheeks and cupping my jaw, bringing my head to tilt his way.

“Because-”

With a delicate kiss to my cheek, he then stared at me through the mirror.

“Use your words Y/N”

With another loud sigh, I finally gave in. Pushing my back closer into his chest, his arms in an instinct manner wrapped securely around me holding me tight.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles.”

“Who said so?”

“Everyone says so-”

“My maman thinks your perfect.” Smiling a little at me his hands started caressing my body.

“I think your perfect.” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of my spine and slowly trailed kisses down it.

“I just want them all to leave me alone…” looking up at the ceiling I bite my lip, to stop more tears, and to suppress any other emotions wanting to escape.

“Who?” While once again knelt on the floor he grabbed my waist softly twirling me on the spot.

“the whole world.” Subconsciously my hands now rested on his shoulders squeezing them tight.

“Make the world go away.”

Smiling sadly up at me, his head placed itself resting against my stomach, arms hugging my legs, like a child.

“Get it off of my shoulders.”

Wrapping my arms protectively around his head I bent slightly trying to lower myself to his level. He was quick to move, now throwing me over his shoulders and moving over to the bed, and ever so softly placing me down. Throwing the towel that was once wrapped around my head somewhere else in the room.

“ma jolie fille” (my pretty girl)

Charles started placing sweet kisses over every inch of my body, whispering sweet nothings between each kiss.

“Do you realise, how absolutely gorgeous you are?” Now hovering above me, one arm supporting him up, the other tracing small circles on my inner thigh. Clouding my thoughts.

“Do you realise, that no matter if you was a worm-” pausing he rolled his eyes with a smile, reciting when I asked him a few weeks ago if he would still be with me if I was a worm.

“You do realise I would still love you with my whole entire heart and soul?”

Leaning down his lips brushed mine, hand now stopped moving- but gripping onto my thigh kneading it slowly.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles…” breathing hitched, not for holding back tears- better yet holding back a moan, Charles had me wrapped around his finger always, and the way his making me forget the such hate I have had, and the emotions I have shed. Made me love him.

“You right.” Like a shot to the chest- I started to close up.

“You more than perfect for me.” Sighing a breath of relief, my arms wrapped around his neck pulling him a little closer.

“Je t'aime Y/N.” (I love you Y/N)

Once again my breathing hitched, and my heart skipped a beat.

“I love your smile, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your ears, your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, yours legs, your feet, even your toes. I love you.”

Eyes welling up I sighed in a bliss.

“I don’t think I can ever stop the hate mon chéri… I wish I could protect you from the world truthfully. But I make you a promise that for every day I’m breathing I promise to love your heart- and fill it with pure utter happiness and love. Whatever them people are saying are wrong, and even if you looked like your little worm, I will still love that caring heart of yours.” (My darling)

Leaning down to my chest, he kisses just between my breast so gently, like if he didn’t my heart would break.

“je t'aime aussi Charles.” (I love you too Charles) Finally with a genuine smile on my face I rest my head back comfortably into the cushions.

“Now let me show you how much I love you.” Biting down on the middle of my bra he pulled at it teasingly. Causing me to giggle.

“let me welcome you home mon beau garçon.” (My pretty boy)

A/N: Okyyy it was very rushed but like I said I have a Charles x Fem!Reader series coming outttt and I wanna let you all have the first chalter as soon as possible!!!

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

[ghost-proofbaby]

you showed me colors (eddie munson x fem!reader)

"YOU SHOWED ME COLORS YOU KNOW I CAN'T SEE WITH ANYONE ELSE."

summary: the soulmate au based on "illicit affairs" by taylor swift that almost no one asked for.

warnings: ANGST, HURT/NO COMFORT, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, strategic use of pet names, allusions to sex but none described, reader is referred to as a girl a few times, no use of Y/N, canon compliant. not really edited (cause i'm not putting myself through this shit again).

wc: 15.1k+

a/n: im genuinely sorry for once. blame @abibliophobiaa and @breddiemunson for this. also, thank you @hellfire--cult for helping me with the header!!! please take all those warnings very seriously. please. (also shout out to ash who got her own divider sort of so she'd know when to stop reading because my baby doesn't like angst 😅)

The first thirteen years of your life, you only had second hand accounts to trust when it came to colors. 

The sky is blue, soft and dreamy, nearly translucent until grey wisps of clouds would overrun it on stormy days (although, the clouds, you could make out). Most grass is green, verdant and rich as it sprouts from the hard dirt. Even the yellowing strands are most likely gorgeous, a sign of life and death, a sign that someone once stood atop the green and held their ground. Roses come in a rainbow of shades, but everyone seems to adore the staunch red ones the best. The plush pink of a lover’s kiss-bitten lips, the warm brown fur of the dogs you passed by on the street, the deep violet of the plums your mother proclaimed as her favorite fruit. A range of colors you had only ever heard of, never experienced yourself. 

For thirteen years, all you had was stories. Nothing tangible, nothing solid in your palms. Mere crumbs of a promise of what you would have one day, when you met your soulmate.

When you met him. 

It wasn’t the most pleasant of circumstances in which you two met. You’d spent a lot of your childhood fascinated with the concept and lost in daydreams about it – maybe they’d be a stranger you caught the eye of on the train, or maybe they’d be the one making your coffee at a quaint cafe in a big city someday. Whoever they would be, you wanted them to be made of all the fairytales. You wanted a meeting to challenge every romantic story you’d been fed through your youth, you wanted a love that would shake the very Earth you wandered from the first time your eyes met theirs. 

Your reality seemed as far from earth-quake inducing as they could get, at the time. Looking back, though, you wish you could plead and change your youthful mind. Because the day wasn’t perfect, the situation was terrible shades of melancholy, but none of that really matters; what matters is that on that sunny Wednesday afternoon, you met him. 

Scraped knees. You had scraped knees, sitting embarrassed and frazzled beneath a tree as you tried to sink into the shade surrounding its base and erase the memory of what had just transpired. You could still hear all the other kids’ taunts echoing through your mind, cruel and unnecessary words that were suited to follow you the rest of your days. Comments on your looks and teases of things you couldn’t change. Seeds of insecurity that were hard to swallow at the beginning of your teen youth. 

You were still picking at the edges of your open wounds with slow drying tears still coating your cheeks when his shadow joined the tree’s. 

“Are you alright?” 

You looked up immediately to find a boy standing there. Your eyes had traveled slowly, taking in his baggy jeans with patchwork knees and his oversized faded t-shirt first. Even with the hand-me-down clothes, you could recognize his gangly limbs beneath it all. A frail frame and hunger-panged face. An overgrown buzz cut, no doubt prickly as the hairs stood to attention. Sunken in eyes brimming with concern for you. Whatever shade they were, they had to be dark; they were nearly black in the shades of grey your eyes could currently pick up on.

The thing about soulmates, is the colors don’t happen until you touch your soulmate. 

“I’m fine,” you stubbornly replied, wrapping your arms around your shins and tucking your knees beneath your chin despite the sting. 

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking.” 

He threw his hands up defensively, shrugging a bony shoulder, “Sorry.” 

He wasn’t sorry. Even with the wince that graced his face, he wasn’t sorry for checking in on you. You knew it the moment you caught the broken skin on his knuckles, nearly matching the cuts on your knees. You had fallen on the pavement as you’d tried to run away from the bullies, determined to not let them see you cry. The entire ordeal had been mortifying. You wished you would have just stood there and cried, let them hear your sobs and let them crown you the school’s newest crybaby. 

“What happened to your hands?” you sniffled, moving to wipe at your nose. Your cheeks were drier now, the skin nearly stiff where the tears marks remained. 

When you mentioned it, he suddenly shot his hands out before him, flexing each hand for emphasis as he looked down with boredom, “What? The cuts? Carver has sharp teeth, ‘s all.”

“Carver?” One of the kids who had just partaken in tormenting you. 

“Yeah,” the boy nodded, suddenly plopping himself onto the ground beside you. You flinched and he grimaced in a silent apology once more, “I think he was in the middle of saying something when I punched him, but that’s not surprising. He always has his big mouth open-” 

He was cut off mid-insult by a soft snort of laughter. Looking up, all of the previous annoyance at his injured knuckles melted away as he caught you fighting back your laughter. 

“What? I say somethin’ funny?” he was biting back his own grin, raising an eyebrow. 

You only laughed more, shoulders shaking now with entertainment rather than sobs. “I- Yeah, sorry, I just- God, you’re right. Carver does have a big mouth.” 

“The absolute biggest.”

“Bigger than the Atlantic ocean.”

His chuckling joined yours, along with a face splitting grin and eyes that you swore shone between the monotonous tones. “God, bigger than the fucking Pacific ocean. Every ocean, as a matter of fact.” 

You both leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, just close enough you could feel his heat through the summer air but not quite touching. Not yet. You let the back of your head thump against the trunk and tried to not think about any of the debris sure to end up in your hair. 

“So…” you sighed once the two of you composed yourself from your laughing fits, “I’m assuming you punched Carver?” 

He only nodded in answer.

“Can I ask why?”

Part of you wanted to assume that the two events were connected; Carver bullying you, and this boy punching him. But you didn’t want to make such a bold assumption about some stranger. Fellow peer or not. 

“Because he made fun of you.” 

The assumption wasn’t so bold. Your chest constricted, you remembered the sting of your knees, heard the echoes of the other students’ laughter at your fall once more. 

“You punched him just because he made fun of me?” you tried to force out a joking tone, as if it wasn’t a big deal, as if it wasn’t making your heart swell, “You don’t even know me.” 

“Doesn’t matter. He made fun of you,” the boy said with concrete decisiveness. There wasn’t a quiver of doubt to be seen, as if the logic made perfect sense to him. Your heart swelled more, painfully so. He looked down at one of his hands for a moment, before suddenly shrugging and rolling his head to look at you, sticking it out towards you, “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

A certain security blanketed the moment. This kid, Eddie, had punched a guy for making fun of you. You’d never even spoken to him before that day, much less would you have considered bruising your own knuckles for him. But he had for you. Without hesitation, apparently. Just some boy with a sliver of a gap still between his front teeth, a promise of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and blood on his hands as a reminder of your honor. 

Teachers were certainly going to be coming to find the two of you soon. There would be consequences, most likely more on Eddie’s part than yours, but that didn’t matter. There, in the shade of an oak tree of a middle school you’d soon be departing only to join the ranks of some awful high school with bigger and badder bullies, with larger and crueler problems than skinned knees, you had a friend. 

“I’m-” you started, reaching out your hand to meet his halfways. But you stopped, because the moment your palm met his, it happened. Suddenly, quickly, unexpectedly. It nearly gave you an instantaneous migraine; the flood of color was so overwhelming. 

The first color you saw was the soft, whiskey brown of his eyes. Two warm and comforting orbs, blown out to be as wide as your own, as his face echoed back the same shell-shock on your own. His eyes were brown. Not grey, not black, but something more, something russet. Brown. 

Colors. You were seeing colors for the first time. You both knew what it meant. 

“You,” he breathed out with a boyish grin, letting you catch the pink of the tip of his tongue as he finished your introduction for you, both of your excitement buzzing in the breeze, “are my soulmate.” 

—

Fifteen was the age of awkwardness. Thirteen had been awful, sure, full of changes and growth and such, but fifteen made it seem like a cake walk. 

You wouldn’t have survived it without Eddie. 

Two years into the friendship, the two of you were inseparable. You had always spent your entire childhood assuming that when you found your soulmate, it would all fall into place, romantically speaking. But then Eddie happened. Eddie, your soulmate, fell right into your lap and you realized all of your childish dreams were pale in comparison. 

He was your best friend first and foremost. Even if he hadn’t been revealed as your soulmate on that day, you have no doubt that the trajectory of your friendship would have stayed on this path. From the beginning, both of you decided to Hell with society’s expectations of soulmates. Sure, most people didn’t find their soulmates until later in life, when it made sense for the sparks of romance to fly instantly, but the adults still seemed to expect that when the news broke. Your parents had been concerned, Eddie’s Uncle Wayne had been weary, your teachers had been blatantly confused. 

It was fun for the two of you, though. The thrill of introducing each other as, “This is my best friend. Oh, also my soulmate, but, hey. Technicalities, am I right?” 

Most of the kids in your grade hadn’t met their soulmates quite yet, especially those first few years. A sense of superiority sprouted in both of you to be able to know, to experience, to lavish in a world of color. To have the weight of finding your better part lifted off your shoulders so soon in life. 

You and Eddie had an entire lifetime to figure out the romantic aspect of it all. For now, he was your best friend, and you were his, and that was enough. 

Once you two had entered high school, one thing did become very clear: the parading of being soulmates had to cease. 

Jason Carver had been enough of a menace in middle school, but grew into a fully formed monster once he joined your ranks in high school. People were not kind to Eddie – they hadn’t been in middle school, when he first moved to Hawkins, and they weren’t going to change their tune suddenly in high school. The bullying you had endured had begun to fade, but his age of torment had just begun. 

You never once left his side. It didn’t matter to you if the entire school knew you were soulmates or not. It didn’t even matter that you two were soulmates; he was your best friend, and you would be damned before you left him to battle the tides alone. 

“I hate this,” he mumbled as he sat on the toilet of his shared bathroom with Wayne in their trailer, you kneeling between his legs as you blotted at his split lip with an alcohol wipe, “I should have punched the asshole back.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you scowled, furrowing your brows even deeper in concentration, “And stop talking – you’re making it worse.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you quieted him with a glare. 

Just as you wouldn’t have survived the Age of Awkwardness without Eddie, he wouldn’t have survived it without you. 

You finished cleaning off the dried blood before tossing the wipe into the overfilled trash can, sighing heavily as you fell back onto the ground and supported yourself against the wall opposite of him. 

You leveled each other into a staring contest, eyes blankly boring into each other with emotionless expressions. 

“You’re lucky Wayne isn’t home, y’know,” you finally broke the silence, shooting a hand out to grab his ankle and give it a squeeze, “He’d probably be driving down to the school right now and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waved you off, shaking his head, “I know. Trust me, I know. I think Principal Higgins is starting to hate him more than he hates me.” 

“Principal Higgins doesn’t hate you.”

“You’re right – he loathes me.” 

The hand that was squeezing his ankle quickly traveled up to his knee to slap it, “Eddie.” 

He raised his hands up in the air, lifting his brows for emphasis as he exclaimed, “What? You know I’m right, kid.” 

Kid. The loving nickname Eddie had adorned you with the moment he found out he was a mere six months older than you. You hated it, and he loved that you hated it. 

“The day you’re right is the day pigs fly, old man.”

Old man. The nickname that served as your attempt at a rebuttal. It didn’t work, not as intended. 

He chuckled softly at that, as he usually does when you call him that, and only smacked his palms onto his thighs, “Well, doc, I must say – you’ve done an exquisite job. Am I free to go?” 

You tried to fight your smile, tried to linger in the anger sparked from seeing Eddie hurt. Your disdain wasn’t directed at him; it was always a loaded gun pointed at whoever dared to lay a hand on your boy. You probably could have had a spotless reputation without Eddie Munson in your life, but you’d found your fists quick to fly in his defense. 

Your parents hated it. Wayne secretly adored it, even when he’d still join in scolding you and Eddie alike on avoiding violence. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, before grabbing his calves through denim to stop him. Dark blue denim, a deep shade of navy that you still hadn’t grown used to seeing. You hadn’t even realized jeans came in so many different shades until you met Eddie, and you’d always chastised him when he’d opt for a boring black pair, “But first, a payment is required.”

“A payment?” Eddie tilted his head, looking down at you curiously.

“A payment.” 

“And what would this payment be?” 

“A movie night,” you grinned wildly, finally letting your grip on him go, taking in the chestnut highlights of his curls and the red font of his t-shirt, a band shirt you’d never heard of but that he had recently gotten into, “Snacks provided by my loving host, you, of course.” 

He exaggerated his pondering, bringing a hand to his chin, stroking dramatically. As if he was ever capable of saying no to you. 

“Hm,” he hummed, his voice echoing through the tiny space and encasing you in warmth. As serene as that first summer day when he’d taken the leap of sitting down next to you in the grass, back to a tree, palm in your palm as colors had swarmed your vision, “I suppose that can be arranged.” 

—

Movie nights were a frequent occurrence. A sanctuary from the shit show of your small town. Sometimes, they had been the illusion of a bargain like that night, and others, they were an unspoken agreement. You’d show up to Eddie’s trailer or he would end up on your doorstep, your favorite candies in hand, and the two of you would just know. No words needed as you’d situate yourself on whoever’s couch, legs intertwining and blankets shared across laps. A bowl of popcorn that usually ended up being spilled inevitably. 

Movies were more fun in color. Some of your friends didn’t get it, still living in a world of black and white, but Eddie loved to listen to your rambles about how the vivid shades appeared across the screen. He loved the way your eyes would light up passionately, he loved how you still smiled so widely at special effects that were made more poignant by this gift the two of you had been given. 

Time. You two had been given the time most soulmates weren’t allotted. A gift you always thanked the Universe for. 

The latest Slasher film that had been released was currently displayed on the small television in Eddie’s living room, the two of you practically molded to the worn cushions of his sofa. Wayne had left within the first ten minutes for his shift, bidding the two of you a farewell with the warning of behaving. Vibrant reds splashed across the screen as one of the protagonists takes a stabbing, and while you should be shying away from the gruesome scene, you can’t help but stare in awe.

Even after years of experiencing colors, they took away your breath.

“Jesus,” you sighed wistfully, “How do they even make the fake blood? It’s so… so…”

“Red?” Eddie laughed from the other side of the couch, prodding at your thigh with his sock clad foot, “Probably food dye. Maybe some corn syrup.”

“It’s just so bright,” you eagerly leaned in closer to the TV, squinting with a wide smile, unaware of his stare. 

He was quiet for a moment, simply enjoying your joy. Your awe and wonder at the world, the way it seemed as if you two had just met that day rather than years before. As if colors were still a fascinating color to you. Eddie had grown used to them, let them become a part of his daily routine, but you always seemed to shine a new light on them for him. 

Around you, all the colors seemed a little bit brighter. 

“How do you do that?” he whispered so softly, it nearly got lost in the noise of the movie’s climax.

You hummed in response, eyes never leaving the screen. You were watching the movie in fascination, and he was watching you in serenity. 

His miracle. His gift. His soulmate. 

“You just…” he trailed off, no longer caring about the movie, “You always treat them like they’re brand new.” 

It caught your attention. The way his tone was so… velvety, so caring, so affectionate. You looked at him, “I treat what like they’re brand new?” 

“The colors.”

“Because they are.” 

The same assuredness as he used that very first day. As if it were obvious, as if it were simply a matter of fact and not such an endearing trait. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and it only made his heart clench tighter. 

You were his soulmate. 

“We lived without them for thirteen years, old man-”

“Thirteen years and six months, in my case,” he piped up in interruption, wearing a Cheshire grin. 

You nodded and rolled your eyes, “Yes, in your case. Thirteen years, give or take. I just… I don’t know. They still… they still get to me. I don’t think I can ever get used to them. Are you?” 

“What? Used to them?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t know how to explain it to you, not at that moment. How could he articulate to you that after so many years, the colors had dulled ever so slightly? The novelty had worn off, had run its course. The only time they’d ever become as vivacious as the first time was when he looked at you. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t explain it to you, so he only shrugged, “I guess.” 

I guess, except when I see the color of your eyes, and I realize they’re my favorite color. Except when I notice the varied shades of your hair, and realize how lucky I am to see them in their full glory rather than shades of grey. Except when you wear that favorite mauve lipstick of yours, and I can’t get over the shape of your lips. Except when you wear that pretty red dress, and your confidence has my head spinning. 

I guess, except when it’s you. 

“Well, that’s just sad,” you huffed, focusing back on the movie after kicking gently at his shin. You lapsed into a comforting silence for a few more minutes, letting the movie fill the air. The same cycle; you watched the screen, he watched you, and the Universe watched both of you with a smile as it knew that the right choice had been made. The two of you were meant for each other. In this life. In the past lives. In the next lives. The two of you were the epitome of soulmates, even if the concept had never existed before. 

Thank the Universe it existed. Thank the Universe that he found you that day, below an oak tree, scraped knees and all. 

His voice shook as he quietly confessed, “I love you, you know that, right?” 

The movie faded in a blur for you instantly. Your neck could have snapped from how quickly you turned your attention to him. “What?”

“I love you,” his voice continued its waver, not from being unsure but from pure emotion. The flood of love that pulsed through his veins currently. 

You smiled, the apples of your cheeks punctuated and the chip in your tooth from your youth he hadn’t had the privilege of being apart of on showcase, “Well, yeah. Duh. I’m your soulmate. You kind of have to love me.” 

“Even if we weren’t soulmates,” he rushed to clarify, suddenly leaning forward and grabbing your knee beneath blankets that smelled of home, “Even if you weren’t my soulmate, I would love you.” 

Your face softened. He wished he would have kissed you in that moment. 

But the vulnerability was terrifying, and all that could echo through your mind is the fact that you two had time. So instead of matching his serious tone, you joked, “Well, it’s a good thing I am your soulmate, then. It might have been awkward for your hypothetically soulmate you would have had instead in that scenario, trying to explain why you love your best friend more than them.” 

“Shut up,” he laughed, squeezing your knee tighter, “I’m being serious, kid. I love you. I really, really fuckin’ love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“You’re only saying that because I’m the reason you see colors.”

“Fuck the colors,” he was quick to reply, “The Universe can take back the colors, as long as I still have you.” 

There it is. The earthquake you dreamt of as a little girl. The trailer’s across the park never felt it, the kids surely getting into trouble in the forest behind Eddie’s home didn’t notice it, but you felt it. A rumble through your chest, a groundbreaking discovery, a world-ending confession. Your world began, and your world ended, and your world restarted with Eddie Munson. 

“You don’t believe me,” he noted, suddenly shimmying out from beneath the blanket.

“Wait, hold on-”

“Stay here.” 

You stayed frozen in your seat, wide eyes following his broad back and the army green of his t-shirt. No longer a frail frame, face filling out with puberty. He was becoming a man. No longer the young boy who took punches and threw them back twice as hard. 

He was becoming a man, he was your soulmate, and he loved you. He loved you enough he would give up what everyone else considered the greatest gift, just for you. 

Eddie Munson didn’t need colors to love you so ardently. And you knew, at that moment, that the same could be said for you. You would have loved him no matter what. The moment his shadow had spread over you beneath wide leaves and simmering heat, he was destined to hole up in your heart, never to leave again. 

By the time he had returned to the living room, you had paused the movie, eyes locked on where he emerged from the hallway with a polaroid camera in hand and a mischievous grin gracing his features. The camera had been a joint gift from your parents and his uncle the previous Christmas. 

Your eyes weren’t on the camera. They were on him. His hair had grown over the years, wild auburn curls finally surpassing his ears. The awkward style made for ridiculous bed head, something you’d been witness to many mornings after impromptu sleepovers. 

You were fascinated with the way the sunlight caught each strand as they bounced with his eager steps. The trace of gold you could outline. Shades of autumn you loved to run your fingers through when he’d offer the opportunity.

He shook the camera into the air for emphasis, finally catching your eyes’ attention, before he propelled himself back down onto the couch across from you, both of you sitting up instead of being reclined now. “Let me show you something.” 

“O-Okay,” you stuttered out, unsure. 

He fiddled with the camera for a few moments before he brought it up to his face, resting against his cheek as his eye peered into the small peephole. You were so busy memorizing him like that, that the flash of the camera took you off guard and effectively blinded you for a few seconds. 

“What the-” you started with a scowl, hands flying up to rub your knuckles into your eyes in a sorry attempt to rush away the stars blocking your vision. 

“Just wait,” he insisted, snatching up the polaroid the moment it printed from the camera. When you flashed him an unconvinced look, he continued on, “Trust me.” 

He didn’t have to ask twice. You always trusted him with your entire being, whether for better or for worse. 

The polaroid was slow in developing. Eddie hummed to fill the silence, occasionally fanning around the small capture of you that was slowly filling out in color rather than blinding white. You spent your energy on trying to decipher what song was stuck in his head and not focus on how slow those damned photos always seemed to be in coming to fruition. 

It had only been a few minutes, but it had felt like an eternity when you finally gave up on figuring out the song and succumbing to your impatience with a sigh, “This is the world’s slowest magic trick ever.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but tossed you the camera. You thanked the Heavens for fast reflexes as you were able to catch it rather than let it fall to the ground. The two of you would have never heard the end of it if you managed to break such an expensive gift. 

“Hey!” you shouted as you clutched the camera tightly to your chest, “Be careful with this thing, Eddie. It’s fragile.”

His eyebrows raised from behind where he held up the polaroid he took of you to his face, “Is it? Can we really be sure that it’s that fragile if we don’t knock it around for good measure?” 

“We can,” you snappily replied, glaring down at the camera and fighting amusement, “If you want to throw it around, be my guest. But you’ll explain to Wayne why you broke it – not me.” 

“Of course, kid,” he grinned so wide that it spread to his cheeks peeking out either side of the photo still obnoxiously close to his face, “What else is a best friend good for? Basically signed up to be your permanent scapegoat until the end of time the moment I gave you the gift of colors.”

“And yet, I’m the one usually talking us out of trouble,” you dramatically called back, finally looking up at him and holding up the camera, “What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“I dunno. Break it, take a picture of me. The choice is yours, sweetheart.” 

He still hadn’t put the photo of you down, so you finally reached across the sea of blankets to yank on his forearms. Once you were faced once more with those warm doe eyes rather than the blank back of a photo, you narrowed your eyes at him in indecision. 

He was still smirking. Wide enough that his teeth just barely peeked out between his barely parted lips. You recalled the tales of kiss-bitten lips, the way you’d heard adults describe that deeper shade of pink, and for a second, you considered that it would look good on Eddie. Something about imagining him flushed and bruised by love and lust rather than malice made your gut twist stormily. 

“Picture it is,” you muttered, “Put that stupid polaroid down and smile for the camera, pretty boy.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

The camera went off mid-teasing, his dimples on full display and eyes shining wonderfully with the flash of the camera. 

“Nope,” you mumbled, “Just said it so you’d keep smiling.” 

It was a lie. A horrible, pathetic, and badly-veiled lie. 

The photos developed faster. Yours is finally in full color and detail by the time the two of you can make out the shape of Eddie in his, and he was quick to toss it to the side before he shoved yours into your lap. 

“There, look.” 

It wasn’t anything magnificent to look at. Just another photo. The same old color of your hair, baby hairs frizzing at the edges. Same old eyes fighting from crinkling in adornment at the boy before you. You weren’t anything special, not in your eyes. But Eddie’s expectant stare told you that there had to be something more there, something he was waiting for you to pick up on. You scoured the background of the photo for pops of color only to come up empty-handed. All you could find were the tired dark tones of the Munson’s furniture and living room behind yourself in the picture.

“Eddie, what am I supposed to be looking at?” you squinted, bringing the photo closer and trying to figure out the useless puzzle he had presented you with, “It’s just a picture of me-”

“Exactly,” he interrupted, “A picture of you. My soulmate. That right there,” he leaned over and plucked the photo from your hands, holding it up tauntingly just out of reach, “Is a picture of the girl I love. A picture of the one person who makes colors worth seeing, and makes colors worth losing.” 

The sentiment had you choked up. 

“You’re my favorite person,” his voice dropped to a whisper, and he held up his hand with his knuckles facing you as he put down the polaroid in his lap, “Have been since that very first day.” 

There was still a faint scar, right there, clear as day. It casted over the knuckles of his ring and middle finger as a permanent reminder of that fateful day. As if the colors weren’t enough, as if the swell of your heart inside your chest wasn’t enough reminder of the love and care you’d always felt pulsing from Eddie.

You reached out to the coffee table suddenly, picking up the photo of him, glad to see it finally developed. You didn’t even glance at it before you held it up to him, “And this is a photo of my favorite person.”

“You didn’t even look at the picture.”

“I don’t need to,” you breathed out, moving the picture out of your vision to look at him dead in the eyes, “He’s right here in front of me. In full color, treating me far kinder than I deserve.” 

His touch was ginger as he pinched the corner of the photo and took it from your grasp, placing it down atop the polaroid of you, “Don’t do that. You always deserve my kindness – you deserve the entire world’s kindness. I’ll kick the ass of anyone who argues otherwise.”

A soft and shy smile ripped at your lips, made the corners and your cheeks ache as you shrugged, “Whatever you say, old man.” 

He only looked at you, only wore the lovesick look of a man face-to-face with his soulmate.

The movie was long forgotten. All snacks carefully put on the table before Eddie threw the blanket off of the two of you and scooted backwards while leaving a space large enough for you between his legs.  

“C’mere,” he beckoned, motioning for you to crawl forward and fit your head to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed you impossibly close to him, until your cheek was tight to his t-shirt and your ear was thundering with his racing heartbeat. 

You melted into him easily, letting your own arms encase him to the best of their abilities in this position. You took a few selfish moments to just be there with him, to just let his words sink in beneath your skin and the reality of them weigh heavy on you. The heavier it weighed, the further into his embrace you pressed. 

The warmth of serenity and peacefulness of the picture perfect moment nearly lulled you to sleep. But even in the drowsiness, you felt the kiss he pressed to the crown of your head. 

“I love you, too,” you admitted, muffled by his chest. You hoped he felt the words and wouldn’t teasingly make you look him in his eyes as you confessed, “I love you so fucking much. I couldn’t do this without you.” 

“Sure you could-” he began, but was cut off but the abrupt lifting of your head, just as he fingertips had started on a path down your spine.

“I couldn’t,” you insisted, “I really, really couldn’t. I need you to stick around for a long time, Munson. I’m not in the business of losing my soulmate until we’re old and grey and gross. I want to keep you around until I lose count of all your wrinkles and weird moles.”

He chuckled, and the force vibrated against your shoulder digging into his torso. 

You retrieved those two polaroids before you resettled against him, your back now pressed to his chest as you held the two snapshots side by side for both of you to look out. 

He was right. You think you get it. 

When you look at the photo of yourself, you see nothing extraordinary. But when you look at the photo of Eddie, everything just… the world seemingly stops, all moving parts suddenly snapping into place. A boy vibrant with color and glee, a boy who tugged on every heartstring you’d hung in your chest throughout your lifetime. It sent warmth to every crevice of you, from the top of your head where the ghost of his lips still lingered to the tips of your toes wiggling beside his within thick socks. 

It’s more than an earthquake or the world stopping. Eddie doesn’t just stop or begin your world – he is your world. 

A world of wild hair, charming smiles, unfiltered laughter and fierce adoration. Even the brightest shades out there that you had yet to discover were dim compared to the boy photographed in time for you. 

His arms slide around your shoulders, tugging you in even closer,“Just out of curiosity, what is your cap on wrinkles you can count? Because I’ve seen Wayne, and some photos of my old man, and let me tell you – time is not kind to us Munson men.” 

You rolled your head and pressed a kiss to one of his forearms before smashing your cheek into it, breathing deeply as his fingertips drew random shapes over the spot on your chest that your heart rests beneath. 

“As many as it takes, old man.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

You brought a hand up to curl around the arm, right beside when you kept your cheek nuzzled. He finally laid his palm flat against your chest, and you wonder if he can feel the way each beat of your heart called out his name. It was okay if he didn’t – he had all the time in the world to figure it out. 

—

“I just don’t understand why you’re so mad!”

“I’m not mad, Eddie – I’m fucking pissed!” 

“Okay, then I don’t understand why you’re so pissed!” 

Seventeen is the age of being reckless and redundant. Of big feelings and reckless decisions. It is the time in your life for being an absolute idiot. 

Eddie Munson was proof of it as the two of you stood outside of his van, the whistle of the winds around you two from the impending storm lost on your current screaming match. 

“Figure it out,” you seethed, stomping your feet almost childishly as you began to turn away from him, “And while you do that, leave me the fuck alone.” 

“I- Hey!” he reached out for you, but you’re already quickening your pace and hopping up onto the sidewalk, “Hey! Don’t fucking walk away from me!” 

You didn’t reply, only widening your strides. 

He called out your name, and you heard his frustrated groan before he easily caught up with you. 

Damn him and his newfound height. 

“Would you just listen to me?” he shouted, latching onto your bicep and spinning you around harshly to face him.

You yanked yourself out of his touch quickly, eyes blazing, “Why should I? I’ve seen what I needed to see, Eddie. Just go back inside to your preppy girlfriend. Forget about me. Pretend like she’s never stood to the side while her boyfriend bullied you like- like- like some asshole.”

His hair was longer now. Ringlets that cascaded to brush over the top of his shoulders – shoulders that had broadened impressively as he neared the end of his youth. His newest clothing staple covered them; a denim vest you’d helped him distress and sew multitudes of patches onto, a display of his favorite bands that had only painted a new target onto his back. 

Satan worshiper. That’s what they called your soulmate in terrified whispers amongst the halls at school. That’s what all the PTO mothers’ eyes silently cursed when they’d see him with you at the grocery store. 

He’d made quite the image for himself. And you’d stayed by his side, defending his honor at every chance. Your best friend, your soulmate. 

Only to find him eating the face off of some cheerleader at that goddamned party. 

Yeah, you didn’t need to listen to him. You really had seen enough. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” he waved his arms wildly, the storm roaring loader with his increased volume.

“What is she then?” you insisted with venom, crossing your arms and effectively closing yourself off from him as you took another step back, “Just some one night stand? Some fun to have before you have to accept that you’re shackled to me for the rest of your life?” 

You hated the way your eyes burned. You cursed the tears gathering as you glared at him viciously, masking all the pain with as much rage as you could muster. 

He wouldn’t even kiss you, his soulmate. But he would kiss her. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” he warned lowly, tone no longer making a spectacle of the two of you, “You know that’s not how I see it.” 

“You won’t even kiss me.” 

He was stunned into silence. As you spat out the words, the first few tears slipped.

It was about more than the pretty blonde girl you’d found him with. It was about more than the fact he was kissing someone else. 

“I… What?” he whispered, his entire body going slack with defeat. 

The tears fell more rapidly now as you replayed the moment in your head. The two of you were only at the stupid party for Eddie to deal weed from some weird guy he’d met in the arcade, a way to make extra cash. Cash he claimed he was putting towards your future together. You had no idea how you’d gone from sitting on the couch together to tipsy, joining a circle of fellow peers who momentarily forgot their cruelness between shots of whiskey and pours of vodka. 

You were going to hate the game of Spin the Bottle for the rest of your life. You were sure of it. 

When Eddie’s turn had arrived, when the neck of that dingy beer bottle casted shades of ambers in your direction, you had been so excited. Your heart had been in your throat, your head dizzy with the excitement of him finally kissing you. Your soulmate by Nature, your best friend by choice, finally would be kissing you. You had been so sure it was an affirmation from the Universe that the right choice had been made when it came to the two of you. That it was all real, and the colors weren’t a product of your delusion. 

And then he said no. 

“You wouldn’t kiss me,” you choked out, pulling your arms around your torso tighter to fight back any shivers or shaking, “The bottle landed on me, on your soulmate, and you wouldn’t even fucking kiss me. The one person you should have kissed. And you didn’t.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock, a deer caught in your headlights, as he started to stutter out a sorry excuse. 

You didn’t want to hear it. You only threw your head back in bitter laughter, spinning on your heel and preparing to leave him behind once more.

“Wait,” he begged, grabbing your shoulder this time. 

You shrugged it off harshly, “For what? For you to make up some bullshit excuse for it? I don’t want to hear it, Eddie. I get it. I’m so sorry that I’m your soulmate. I’m so sorry you’re stuck with me. I’m so-” 

He cut you off by rounding in front of you, blocking your escape route and cradling each of your cheeks with determination as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze, “Stop putting words in my mouth! That’s not why I did it, okay? It’s not!” 

Your tears fell more rapidly, so quickly that his thumbs couldn’t have kept up with swiping them away if he tried. Instead, he let them puddle against his palms, focus solely on your eyes as he bore into them and whispered, “That’s not why I said no. And it’s not why I kissed that girl, okay? You’ve got to believe me, kid.” 

“Don’t-” you started, but he shook his head, determined.

“No, no. Hear me out. Please. You know I don’t see it that way. You- You’re- I’m not shackled to you. You aren’t some sort of damnation for me. Do you get that? You aren’t some life sentence or burden – you’re….” he trailed off, and you could see the tears gathering in his eyes. Constellations in his lashes to match your own. “I said no because I’m terrified. O-Okay? I said no to kissing you because… because… what if you’re the one shackled to me?” 

The crack in his voice reverberated through you. Aftershocks rattled your bones at his confession. 

“I- We haven’t crossed that line. And I just… if I crossed that line, and if you decided I wasn’t what you wanted…” his eyes searched yours for answers you couldn’t provide to him, not as your brows creased and your chest tightened, “If I kissed you and you decided that the Universe made a mistake, that I’m not actually your soulmate… I- Fuck, I couldn’t take that, kid. I couldn’t.” 

You’re no longer poised to run, to escape him and all the emotions drowning your lungs. You felt your shoulders drop, your defenses burned to ash as you stood with two solid feet on the quivering ground below you. 

There were a million reassurances on the tip of your tongue, but instead you only said, “Why did you kiss her?” 

The question that had pinned you as a flight risk. Because if what he told you was true, and you did believe him, then it didn’t make sense. Nothing that had happened that night made sense if what he said was true. 

“I don’t know,” he seemed even more confused than you, “And- God, I’m fucking sorry for such a shitty cop-out of an answer. But I just… I don’t know. I just did. She was there, and she kissed me, and I kissed back. I pretended she was you, like a fucking idiot.”

The honesty threatened to shatter you, but you decided it was better to hear his truth than risk being lied to. You could move past the anguish in both your eyes, the confusion and the hurt having brewed – you wouldn’t have been able to move past some half-assed lie in an attempt to save your feelings. 

“I regret it,” he whispered, “The moment I kissed her back, I regretted it.”

“Why?”

An opportunity to seal a bandage over the bleeding wound. A chance for him to make it all better. 

“Because she isn’t you. She isn’t my soulmate - she never could be. It’s you, and it was always going to be you, even if the Universe didn’t agree with me.” 

You took a moment to try and picture a world in which the man stood before you wasn’t your soulmate. A world where your palms touched, and your world hadn’t exploded in technicolor. Another Universe where the first color you had seen hadn’t been warm, brown, honey coated eyes. A twisted timeline where you hadn’t been awarded the gift of memorizing the red of his guitar, his sweetheart, or the calm blue tint his room bathed in every early morning. A world where you don’t know the shade his skin turns in during golden hour, or can’t see the way his few tattoos he’d gathered in the past year on his skin are actually a fading shade of blue-green rather than stark black. A world where you couldn’t pick up the Fruity Pebbles stuck between his teeth as he rushed to class late and you teased him mercilessly for it. A world without color - a world without the guarantee of Eddie Munson. 

A breeze roared by, and you could hear the Universe you were in whispering to stop it, to not do this. Because you weren’t living in a world without color. Your world had burst to life when your palm met his. You knew all the colors of his lifeline like the back of your hand. 

“It wasn’t worth it?” You knew the answer. You still needed to hear him say it.

And say it he did, nodding in confirmation, “It wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it.” 

He could have left it at that and you would have offered him your forgiveness anyways. Even if the bond formed between you two didn’t feel like a shackle of chains binding you two together, you knew that there would always be an invisible string wound around your soul and connected to his. You could have spent longer being mad, you could have still walked yourself home and left him broken in the middle of that neighborhood street. But even if you did, you would have eventually found your way back to him. Whether you left in anger, whether you left in sadness, whether you left in mourning – your final destination remained the same. Him.

You may have all the time in the world with Eddie, but even a second spent upset with him felt like a second wasted. 

Not even forever felt like long enough. You knew that now, glaringly obvious by the chain of events the night had followed. 

And so he could have left it at that. And all would be well. Wounds would heal and time would soothe the ache that echoed. But he didn’t. 

He took a step closer. Took a shaky, deep breath. And then another step. One foot after the other until he was toe-to-toe with you as he breathed out, “You’re my future. You’re everything to me. Soulmate or not, you’re all I want. I want to grow old with you until I lose count of your wrinkles, and then some.” 

His chin tilted down, lips daring closer and closer to yours as your stare into his eyes refused to waver. 

Deep, deep brown. Endless, molten, a kind of comforting that says you’re home, you can rest now. How fortunate you were to see the twisting of lively carob and umber rather than lifeless greys. 

Your eyes tried to flutter close, but you couldn’t let them, not yet. Not until he was close enough to feel his breath on your chin before he let out a raspy, “Baby.” 

You folded immediately, took the plunge as your eyes finally shut and you pressed forward with fervent. 

It wasn’t like the movies. It wasn’t fluid and instantaneous. There was hesitancy and there was awkwardness, and your noses bumped one anothers hard enough to make both of you chuckle into the rarity of space left between your mouths as you both gasped in waves of air before returning to one another. His hand took its time before it grabbed your waist, and it trembled the entire time. Your arms shook the entire way they lifted until they wrapped around his neck and shoulders, unsure of where exactly to lay comfortably. 

But none of that mattered. Because he was kissing you – your soulmate was finally kissing you. And you had never kissed another soul before that night, but you knew immediately you’d never want to kiss another soul. 

It wasn’t like the movies or fairy tales, but it was enough. 

And you knew he felt the same way when the kiss was broken by the grin that split his lips just as the sky began to spit out the beginning of its inevitable downpour. 

—

You hadn’t heard from Eddie in three days. Which, fair enough. Finals season was nearly upon you two and you knew he had been stressed. Since the night of that party nearly a year before, you two had become even more inseparable if possible. You two had finally crossed a line, had finally accepted your status of soulmates, and no one would dare to demand the two of you detach from each other’s sides once you made the announcement that you were officially together. 

Wayne had worn a knowing smile. Your parents had simply warned Eddie to not hurt you (as if that was even an option for him at this point). Even Principal Higgins had offered a polite smile when he caught you two holding hands in the hallway, surprisingly not commenting on the public display of affection. You two were officially dating, officially succumbing to the status quo of what soulmates should be. 

Everyone had already sort of known there was something there between you two, but making it official removed any sliver of doubt any of them may have harbored. 

And so it was fine if Eddie needed space. It had been that way before your first kiss, occasionally learning how to stand as your own entities rather than solely a joint force, and it could continue to be that way after your first kiss. 

But after three days, you had started to worry. 

Pacing your room, you told yourself you were being ridiculous. This was fine. Space was good – space was needed. 

Space didn’t help with all your what-ifs, though.

What if he was hurt? What if he was sick? What if he was mad at you? What if the longer you gave him that space, the starcher of a revelation he would have that he didn’t need you? What if the two of you had flown into all of this too fast, too quickly, too soon? It may have taken years to get there, but what if Eddie suddenly decided the last year had been too much? 

You were in your car, driving recklessly down the streets that would lead to his house, before you could even think of another what if. 

If it was that last thought that crossed your mind, if everything between the two of you had become simply overwhelming for him, you convinced yourself it would be okay. It would be just fine, you could handle it as long as he told you as much to your face rather than hiding behind distance put between you. It remained a mantra spinning through your storming mind the entire drive; it will be fine. It will be okay. As long as he says it, I can handle it. Anything for him.

You never considered that one of the other possibilities was more likely. Not until you had your car haphazardly parked in front of the Munson’s trailer, fist banging on their front door before Wayne threw it open with tired eyes and wrinkles bunched in concern. 

“Is he here?” you breathed out in lieu of a proper greeting, breathless from your jog up to the damn porch from your car that you hadn’t even bothered with locking up.

It will be fine. It will be okay. As long as he says it, I can handle it.

Wayne understood immediately, stepping to the side as he nodded and motioned for you to come in, “He’s in his room. But listen, he got some news, and he’s not do-”

You didn’t hear the rest of Wayne’s warning, too busy storming past him and flying to Eddie’s bedroom door. You didn’t even knock, bursting through the door and already fighting tears as you geared up to hear Eddie say that he needed time and space, that he had gotten sick of you, that he wanted to experience more life before you guys really gave any of this a fighting chance. 

“Eddie, can you please tell me why you’ve just up and disappeared-” you cut off your plead the moment you laid eyes on him. 

He wasn’t facing the door. He was curled up in bed, back to you, clad in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. You could see the stubborn knots that had built up in his hair, immediately keyed in on the way he was trying to collapse into himself. His knees were nearly buried in his chest, and if you squinted into the dark room, you’d see the outline of his spine beneath the flash of skin peaking out from where the back of his shirt had raised. 

It wasn’t just the state of him; the state of the room also immediately silenced you. 

Almost as if a war path had been torn through it days before, the bedroom was messier than normal. Eddie was never the most organized or pristine person, but he kept his living space well enough to… well, live. Kept the floor always within sight, tried to never let any collection of trash overflow on the tops of his dressers or desk. He even found himself emptying his ashtrays without your reminding most of the time. Usually, most of the clutter simply came from mountains of papers detailing campaigns or writing new songs, or different sets of dice being left out from planning said campaigns. A t-shirt here, a pair of ripped jeans there – sure. He was a teenage boy. It was expected.

It looked as though a level five hurricane had hit Eddie Munson’s room. 

Clothes strewn everywhere, dresser drawers thrown open and never closed. Beer cans collected across each surface and both ashtrays were overfilling with cigarette butts. You even spotted two half smoked joints on his bedside table. His sweetheart had been taken off of its wall mount and laid to rest on the floor. He would never have let his prized possession be discarded like that. Ever.

Your voice came out weak as you took a step closer to the bed, “Eddie?” 

You’re surprised he heard your whisper. He stirred, and your eyes followed the dust particles dancing in the single stream of sunlight that was bursting through a hole forgotten in his makeshift curtains. Navy blue sheets the two of you once used to make a pillow fort in the Munson living room, thinned to the illusion of a sky blue in some patches.

You’d always warned him they make shit curtains; he’d always shrugged and said it added to his feng shui. 

“Eddie,” you whispered again, knees knocking against the edge of the mattress as you looked down at his broken form, “I… What happened? Are you… are you okay?” 

You hadn’t known how to approach it. Whatever happened was even worse than the first time he’d received a phone call from his dad in prison. 

He mumbled something against the pillow he has one arm curled under.

“What?” you questioned, nearly ready to climb into that damn bed and force him onto his back, force him to look at you if only so you could guarantee there were no tear tracks on his cheeks. 

You don’t have to, though. Eddie finally loosened his grip on that pillow and rolls ever so slightly, just enough for you to see half his face and feel your heart break at the confirmation of tears. Translucent pink eyes, glossy wet cheeks, the tip of his nose glowing as his gaze met yours. He looked tired.

“I’m getting held back,” he croaked, “I fucking- I flunked. I’m not graduating.” 

You nearly sighed in relief. For his sake, you don’t, but the weight on your shoulders lifted immediately. 

“Oh, sweet boy,” you murmured, giving into the need to crawl into the bed. You folded your knees as you situated yourself on the bed behind him, and the moment you’re situated, he wasted no time twisting himself to face you and bury his face into your side, “Why didn’t you call? You had me losing my goddamn mind-“ 

A strangled sob rattled against your side. One of his hands gripped your thigh, fingertips holding on for dear life, “Because your soulmate is a fucking loser.” 

Your chest cracked further, a valley beginning to form as a hand buried into the back of his head, holding him to you as the other hand moved to rub his back in soothing motions.

“My soulmate is not a fucking loser,” you tried to keep a gentle tone rather than scold him at the moment. He didn’t need scolding — he needed patience, he needed care, he just needed you to be there, “Keep talking about him that way, and I’ll have to get the fighting gloves.” 

He wetly laughed into your t-shirt, and you were sure that there would be tear stains when he finally lifted his head, “I’m the one who taught you how to throw a punch, baby.” 

“Exactly. Which means I’ll have you on your ass in ten seconds flat.” 

It was a few minutes of silence that followed; just you holding him, just him clinging onto you. His life line — his single ship of hope in what had been a terribly rocky sea the last few days. An irreplaceable peace settled across all the wounds and damage that had been done in private. You had been right. He should have called you immediately. He should have known that if anyone could make the situation feel less like his world was ending, it was you.

His soulmate.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you questioned in a soft, lulling tone. The endless patterns you’d drawn on his back had nearly put him to sleep, “Maybe be a bit kinder to yourself this time?”

“I just…” he started, finally removing his face from being buried against you, “I sort of had a hunch. O’Donnel wouldn’t round my grade, you know? And I’ve skipped a lot of classes, I know. But hearing Higgins say it just… just…”

“Made it real?” you offered a weary ending to his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Real. It made it really fucking real.” 

He didn’t feel judged at that moment. He felt seen as you continued on, “It is real, and it sucks. But it’ll be okay, Eds. I mean, I was already planning on the community college for my first year, maybe even taking a year off. If you need any help with classes, you just gotta ask me. Don’t forget I was one of O'Donnell's pets, as unfortunate as it was. I know how to work that woman into rounding up some grade.”

You rambled on a little more, all the while still stroking his hair and back, offering even more solutions. The longer you spoke, the better Eddie felt. You made it all sound so easy — like this was nothing, like it was the smallest of blips in plans that had been years in the making. You weren’t upset, you weren’t disappointed. He deserved your negativity, and instead only received your optimism.

You were with him for the long haul, he realized. Truly. It wasn’t just some one off promise or chain of the Universe holding you to him. He wasn’t dragging you down.

When you finally trailed off, his lids finally heavier than his heart, he sighed, “I love you. You know that?” 

“I love you,” you smiled, “That’s kind of part of the soulmate package, isn’t it?”

“Fuck the soulmate part,” he lifted out of your hold despite everything in him screaming to stay put, to let you to continue to coddle him, “I’ve seen plenty of people be shitty to their soulmates. I watched my dad-“ he cut himself off, throat tightening with memories of his parents. You don’t make him finish that sentence, only nodding in understanding, “The Universe doesn’t force you to be a good person. You choose to be that. Every single day, you choose to stand by my side. You always have. You could have made me feel shitty about this, could have let me see how bummed you really are about sticking out another year here, but…” 

But you didn’t. 

Your eyes softened, a stormy shade of his favorite color, “Do you remember the way you punched Carver that day, before you even knew me?” 

That very first day. The day two souls destined to intertwine had come in contact. The day the Universe had sighed in relief as your palm met his.

He nodded.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered, “You didn’t even know me. And yeah, whatever, maybe the Universe nudged you to do it, whatever. But there’s tons of people who know their soulmates for years and never realize it. Tons of people go to school and never interact with their soulmates. But that very first day… the first day you were at that school, the first day you saw me — we met. You defended me. And that counts for something. And I like to think it speaks more about us than it does about the grand scheme of things,” you brought a hand up, wiped away whatever tears were left on his cheeks with enough tenderness he almost started to sob again, “You didn’t know I was your soulmate. I was just some random classmate, and you defended me without even thinking about it. And I will always do the same for you. Always.” 

You always had, you always will. The two of you had proven, time and time again, that you will always choose one another. It was never about that inevitable bond. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he confessed, quickly moving to keep your palm there, resting on his stubbled cheek, “You deserve a soulmate who isn’t a fuck up. Someone good, someone who can give you the world and someone who… who isn’t repeating another year of fucking high school.”

“You still don’t get it,” you grinned sadly. Your fingertips press into that soft spanse right before his ear, cradling him more urgently on their own accord, “I don’t want or need someone else. You do give me the world- you are my world, you idiot.” 

Idiot sounded perfectly aligned with lover as he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck. Home — he was home as you wrapped your arms back around him, pulled him a little closer in your embrace, clung to him as tightly as he clung to you. 

All the colors in the world, and the only ones the two of you cared about were the ones confined to that small space for the time being, shades of you and shades of him, all overlapping perfectly in sync. 

—

You stay true to your word. The first time Eddie repeats his senior year, and the second time. 

Endless nights are spent studying, you forcing him to focus when he couldn’t, trying to invent new ways to learn that work for him rather than against him. He’s brilliant; you never let your boy forget that. 

It’s nice for a while. Sickly sweet kisses and teasing exchanges. Enough lovesickness to make even those around you two nauseous. Nights spent out by Lover’s Lake, exchanges of promises of a future to come and discussions of whether your kids will have his eyes or your eyes. Kids. You two were discussing fucking kids. And it had scared Eddie half to death to even bring it up, but you hadn’t been phased. You’d answered terrifying question after question with ease, had even joked about what color flowers the two of you would have at your wedding and listened to Eddie describe the house he’d want to grow old in with you in excruciating detail. Sometimes the two of you even brought up what kind of dog you’d have, fantasized about the big yard which would not have a white picket fence (because, according to Eddie, that shit was too cheesy even for him in all his adoration for you). It made Eddie realize that after all these years, maybe you had become the brave one.

You’d both succumbed to the stereotypical soulmate trope. Become exactly what society had expected from the two of you since the beginning. And honestly, you couldn’t even be mad about it. You get it – you got the allure as you had laid with a head pressed to Eddie’s chest, observing all the stars again, a night sky the vision of black and white as your vision went blurry with fatigue. 

“You know, that house sounds awfully expensive,” you yawned, curling a bit tighter into his side. You’re in nothing but his t-shirt, his chest still bare from the night’s activities.

Another new development. Even after all your time together, you two continued to find novelty to explore. New ways to learn each other, new ways to love each other, new ways to further tie your two souls together. An unbreakable knot. If anyone, the Universe included, tried to loosen it, you would spill blood without second thought. 

“Oh, it absolutely will be,” he chuckled, vibrations echoing in your eardrum, “But that’s fine. We’re going to tap into that rockstar money, baby.” 

In between talks of the future, more honest versions had arisen. Eddie and his band. You and your aspirations. Things that neither of you laughed at quite as much as the talk of children or houses with wraparound porches because they were in reach. 

“Do you think you’ll have groupies?” your voice was a murmur, mouth half pressed into his skin as you lazily traced circles on his pec you aren’t using as your own personal pillow. 

It made him chuckle once more, “Groupies? Sure. Don’t think any of them will be very successful, though.”

“Bold of you to assume I meant just you,” you’re able to snark back even half asleep, “Gareth deserves to be fawned over, too. Jeff is definitely a ladies killer.” 

Your hand moved just fast enough out of the way for Eddie to lazily mimic stabbing himself in the exact muscle you were painting invisible imagery across, “You wound me, sweetheart.” 

From this angle, you could catch the exact shade of brown that his faded freckles shone. You could see the differences in tan skin, see where he’d left a pair of sunglasses on his chest during a lake day over the summer and the tanline had remained stubborn. That had been a good day – Eddie had thrown you off the dark, wrapping his arms around you and turning the world to a blur of passing greens and blues before you’d been dunked beneath the lake’s surface. The cold water had stunned you, but him joining you seconds later hadn’t. Always by your side, even when he was being a little shit.

You’ve gone quiet on him, mind overcome with fond memories as the silence came naturally only for a few seconds before Eddie felt the need to fill it again. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, the hand that had mock-stabbed himself now curling around your forearm. 

Your hand against his chest turned to a fist, pressing deeper into the skin, just to feel him closer, before you teased him, “How do you even know I’m thinking? What if my mind is just blank right now?”

“Psychic-soulmate-telepathy powers,” he answered without hesitation. When you only huffed, clearly unimpressed, he pressed a kiss to your temple before whispering in honesty, “You were smiling.” 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. Usually, you loved memorizing all the colors of him. You loved taking in his doe brown eyes and the harsh blush of his swollen lips. You’d memorize the twinkling of pink staining his skin across his chest and up his neck. You’d pick at the vibrant cherry shade of his painted nails, a sharp contrast from the usual black or sharpie scribbles he’d wear on them instead. 

That silver glint of his rings. The forest green of his plaid boxers. All shades in the palette of Eddie Munson, your soulmate. 

You love him so much, your chest is ready to burst from it. And you told him as much, too.

“I’m just really glad I have you,” you said for only him and only the trees to hear, “I’m really happy you came after me that day.” 

There’s no rush to memorize all his colors and all his shades. You had all the time in the entire world, and then some. The only reason anyone had ever reported losing their colors was due to the death of their soulmate, and he wasn’t in any danger at the moment. He was there, sturdy beneath you, deep breaths syncing with your own. 

If you didn’t learn them in this life, you wouldn’t rest until you found him in the next to finish what you had started. 

“Yeah?” you could hear his grin as he held you a bit tighter. Another deep breath, another expansion of his ribs, and you feel all that time laid out at your feet. A lifetime of learning and memorizing Eddie Munson. A life well spent, “I’m glad, too.” 

“Did you have even a single moment where you…. I don’t know, hesitated coming after me?” your speech began to slur, and you knew you were one foot in unconsciousness at that point. 

“Never,” that same certainty he has always held since day one laced his tone, “Never. I just- I went for it. I made Jason Carver eat his words, and I ran after you. The only thing I’ll ever regret is not throwing a second punch at the asshole.”

Your smile widened, and you knew he felt it. Imagined the comfort he felt at the feeling. Imagined the peace that was washing over him just as it encased you, “But not about coming after me?” 

“I don’t regret coming after you,” he told you, not growing the slightest bit annoyed at your need for constant reassurance. His fingers and palm slowly spread across your lower back, the warmth of their weight carrying you into sleep, “I’ll always come back to you, baby.” 

—

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

Spring break was supposed to be nice. Time spent with friends, lazy mornings that you and Eddie slept through, night drives spent screaming out in relief to empty highways because he made it – you both made it. The college transfer was already put into motion, making it so you’d start the fall semester at a University in upstate Indiana. Eddie had taken a few roadtrips with you at his side, already having gotten on the good side of a boss at one of the car shops within range of where you’d be attending. You two had littered his floor with ads for apartments, the ones in your price range circled in brilliant and glaring red. Everything had been perfectly in line. Everything was set in place. Spring break was supposed to be a break to just be kids one last time – it was supposed to be nice. 

But then Chrissy Cunningham happened. And Jason Carver, and an entire town of people who had always hated your soulmate. Suddenly, your own plan for the future had been scrapped, and in its spot a line of new dominos had been placed. One falling down after the other, too quick for you to keep up with.

A group of strangers had banged down on your front door. Had demanded to know where Eddie was, claimed they were friends trying to help him. You hadn’t even seen the news yet. They’d tried to fill you in, but only confused you more in the process, because the words Eddie and murderer should have never been used together in a sentence in the way they claimed the entire town was currently spewing. 

You were his soulmate. They were sure you’d know where he was, but you didn’t. 

That didn’t matter, though. The young boy, Dustin, had been determined. You’d heard all about him from Eddie – about the brilliant mind hidden beneath baseball caps and unruly curls, about the smart mouth you witnessed mouthing off to Steve Harrington first hand as you’d been searching for your boy. 

It reminded you of Eddie. It made you ache. It made you only more voracious in your search. 

And you’d found him – terrified, alone, trembling and crying. A version of him you’d never been privy to had pinned Steve fucking Harrington to the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse with a broken bottle to his throat. Wild, scared eyes and hands that shook harder than the day his father had called him and he’d put a goddamn hole through his kitchen wall. More desperation on his face than the day he’d informed you he’d be repeating his senior year for the first time. Shoulders more tense than the night you’d nearly walked away from him over some silly kiss with a cheerleader. 

When he saw you, he’d shattered completely.

The sight of you had him collapsing into your arms, unable to explain himself in full sentences as he gasped and panicked and clung to you. And you had held him, had forced the others to give him time. You were like a feral animal, standing between him and them, friends or not. Your claws and teeth alike had been out, ready to mar anyone who would dare to lay a hand on your soulmate. 

He’d calmed down. He’d explained. And then they had explained and reassured Eddie that he wasn’t crazy. His eyes had found yours over and over, and not a single time did they hold a single doubt for him in them. You believed him; you would always believe him. The cries of the town had been nothing more than static noise. You knew the man before you, you loved the man before you. Your soul knew his intricately, intimately. It would always know him, no matter the circumstance and no matter the troubles to come. In this life and the next.

The colors were never the gift. The gift the Universe had offered you had always been him. 

You stayed with him those short few days. Ran from Carver and his posse, swam in the lake and had kept a level head as you formulated a plan. Find a walkie-talkie. Call for Dustin, call for help. 

When the rest of them had jumped into the lake after Steve, you’d put a selfish hand on his bicep. For a moment, the only thing you were thinking of was him. You couldn’t lose him. 

When he jumped in after Robin and Nancy anyways, you’d followed, no hesitation. 

A dreary, nightmarish world. You’d followed him into Hell – quite literally, it seemed. Except they didn’t call it Hell, they called it the Upside Down. A place made up of all the things children fear, of awful creatures that only served to attack, to kill, and terrible storms of flashing red lightning. A blue tint to the town you’d come to know. Shades of flesh and shades of grey – shades of death – flooded the place. And only you, Eddie, and Nancy could see them. 

Nancy’s soulmate was somewhere far away. Somewhere safe. But she understood that protective stance and the way you’d stuck staunchly at Eddie’s side. She got it. 

A stolen RV, shields made of trash can lids and nails rather than make believe, goddamn spears made at the hand of people all far too young to be handling these things. They were handling the end of the world, and you suddenly hadn’t felt as brave as Eddie always claimed you were. The plan was formulated, and the entire time, you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. You watched Eddie play fight with Dustin, real weapons discarded to the ground, and you listened to Robin whisper the same sentiment to Steve. 

“I just have this terrible, gnawing feeling that… it might not work out for us this time.”

You agreed with Robin. You hated that you agreed with Robin.

And so you stood like a watch dog at Eddie’s side, nearly lashed out when it was suggested you might be more helpful joining everyone else going after this Vecna rather than staying with Eddie. 

It was his turn to put a hesitant hand on your bicep. Brown, russet, umber eyes that flashed with the unspoken question of are you sure you want to do this? 

But he was sure. And just as quickly as you’d followed him into that lake, just as quickly as you had dismissed those awful claims against him, you’d nodded. Because if he was sure, if he was going through it, you would follow him. 

You should have insisted on staying with him and Dustin. 

Because your group of rag tags re-entered that Hellish landscape, and you flinched with each flash of red, not even soothed by Eddie’s hand in yours. And the people around you were now friends; you’d realized in a few short days that you would do almost anything to protect all of them as well, but you knew there was nothing that you wouldn’t do to keep Eddie alive. 

“Hey,” he insists once the two of you stand outside this alternate version of his trailer, somewhere that you should know all too well but that has morphed into something unfamiliar in this world. 

His hand holding yours spins you to face him, a few steps off to the side from the rest of everyone. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, trying to only focus on him. Not the bleak colors of the landscape around you two, but the vibrancy of his shades. You hate the weakness written all across your features, unable to offer him any reassurance in return for all that he had given you over the years. You were terrified. As Robin had said, a terrible gut feeling was gnawing at you from the inside out. You couldn’t help the tears gathering, couldn’t unravel the restriction of your throat. 

“It’s going to be okay, alright?” he does the talking, nodding and lowering his chin to stare right into your eyes. His favorite color now wet with emotion, shining even in the dullest of environments, “Can’t be worse than punching Jason Carver, right?” 

It could be. It could be much, much worse. Everything you two had endured together was children’s play compared to this. But you don’t say that; you nod in dishonesty, biting your lip to stop from letting a whimper escape. 

“I’ll always come back to you, I promise,” he swears so vehemently, voice spitting with determination. Those brows half hidden by the bandana atop his head furrow, his forehead nearly brushing yours.

That, you at the very least, believe. Just as you would find him every time, in this life and the next, he would find you. 

“You better,” you choke out, hands reaching up just to latch onto him one more time. To feel him, sturdy beneath your palms. Alive. Your gift from the Universe, the boy who let you see colors. You almost regret spending so long fascinated with the shades you’d discovered when you should have allotted more time to imprint the features of his face to memory. You should have cared more about that freckle beneath his right eye, the slight crook to his nose, the way each of his calluses feel against your bare shoulders. Shades of blue, red, green, violet, yellow – none of them matter as much as the boy before you. They only matter because they paint the picture of him for you fully. They only matter because he matters, “I still need your rockstar money to pay for that wraparound porch.” 

He laughs at that. And God, he’s gorgeous – his head thrown back, eyes crinkling with genuine joy for the first time in days. No one else catches the tear that slips from one of those pinched eyes, the hidden sadness for only you to catch onto. 

That gnawing feeling – the one you and Robin felt. He felt it, too. 

“Of course,” he finally sighs, opening his eyes back to yours and now holding so many words that neither of you have the time to exchange. It kills you – you don’t have time. You thought you’d always have more time. “Think of this as a test run for that rockstar money. See how a crowd of bats feel about my rockstar skills.” 

“Careful,” your voice cracks, a few tears slipping that he’s quick to swipe away, “I hear they’re a tough crowd.” 

He smiles at your joke, but doesn’t waste his breath on laughing. His lips find yours instead, pouring out every single thought and emotion possible. You feel a tug on that knot you’d tied between you two, everything in your being protesting from pulling back from the kiss. You try to move your lips in a response, to tell him it’ll be fine, to tell him you’ll both return to each other. To tell him you’ll have more time. 

When he pulls back, realizing you can’t, his hand falls from you only to reach into the pocket of his jeans. You don’t understand until suddenly, he’s thrusting a laminated square into your hand. 

You know what it is before you even turn it over. Your entire body strangles down the broken sob as you look down at a polaroid of a younger Eddie. Somewhere safe and somewhere that time is still yours. 

“Keep that safe for me, yeah?” his voice wavers as he produces his own polaroid – the picture of you, “I mean, I’ll have yours, obviously. But… but just… it’s gonna be worth a lot of money once I’m the next big thing in the Upside Down.” 

He’s trying so hard to make you laugh just one more time. It only surges more tears to burn your vision. 

“All I’ll have to show Vecna is this,” you start to joke back, letting more tears stain your cheeks, “And- and-” 

You can’t finish the joke. He gets it, putting a hand over yours, forcing you both to put away those polaroids. 

“I know,” he assures you, “I know. Show him my ugly mug, and he’ll go down without a fight. That’s exactly why I’m giving it to you, baby.” 

Another tear, only for you, slips. You trace it all the way down his cheek, memorize the way his skin looks in the horrid blue tint and try to remember the shade it glows during golden hour instead. 

“I love you,” you say. But once isn’t enough, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he takes your hands in his palms, finally presses his forehead to yours, shares his breath for a moment as he focuses on your sad eyes, “So fucking much. You always were prettier than all the colors combined. Better stay that way till I come back to you.” 

He releases you. Wipes away his tears, has to give you an encouraging shove on your shoulders to force you to join Nancy and Robin’s sides. 

Steve catches your eye, a look on his face telling you he’d been watching the entire interaction. Something yearning crosses his features, and then something clicks. As if this is the first time he’d ever witnessed soulmates. As if he’s the one seeing colors for the first time. 

Maybe that’s why he gives his little speech. Maybe that’s why he tries to plead your case and make sure that Eddie and Dustin don’t do anything stupid. 

After Eddie has made his final request to Steve, to make him pay, he looks at you one last time. A ghost of a grin, wearing his bravest mask to date as he mouths I love you. 

You echo the silent sentiment. A silent prayer. For the Universe to bring him back to you. To bring you back to him. 

—*ash, stop reading here*—

The only way to lose your colors is if your soulmate has died. It’s one of the first things you learn when school first broached the sensitive topic. Your soulmate dies, they take the colors with them. They never told you how the soulmate takes the colors with them – never discussed whether it would fast and sudden like the moment you first touched your soulmate, if the colors would drain from you in real time and leave a path of chromatic grey behind, or if you’d watch them flicker from sight, just as one might watch the life flicker from the eyes of the one they loved.

You’d always wondered how it happened.

You’d been morbidly curious that day in class despite finding it all a bit dramatic. Had looked around a black and white classroom and processed your classmates' different greyscale reactions. Some were forlorn, some were snickering beneath their breath. Some just looked plain bored. It made sense; you were all kids, none of you had ever seen the blue sky or the verdant grass. Only heard about it. Only listened to adults drone on and on about it wistfully. It was never something tangible, something to have and to hold and to lose. 

You wonder how younger you would have looked upon you now. As you faced down an alternate dimension’s fiercest villain, hand paused midair, prepared to launch a lit molotov cocktail with aim to kill, when you suddenly paused.

The shades of the fire burning brightly in front of you have dulled. Microscopically. The smallest of flickers in vibrancy. 

“What are you doing?” Steve screams when he notices your hesitation, “Throw it! Jesus Christ, throw it before-”

Robin cut him off, being the closest to you and reaching over to snatch the ticking time bomb of a bottle, tossing it for you. 

As it explodes against the mangled being before you, another flicker occurs. You swear you feel a stabbing pain in your side, as if that gnawing has taken to ripping you apart.

You swear the bright flashes of yellow amongst the flames have turned to white. The orange has gone so faded, the dullest bits have shadowed over in grey. 

Nancy takes another shot, but you can’t move. You watch it all in slow motion: she doesn’t miss, her shot ricochets dead center, Vecna stumbles before crashing through the wall behind him. 

The world flickers a final time, and all the air leaves your lungs. 

It’s black and white. 

The floorboards, all of your sudden friends beside you, the walls of the old house, the lightning flashing amongst storm clouds in the sky outside.

It’s black and white. Shades of grey monotone. 

As everyone rushes to look out the hole, your knees collide with splintered wood. 

The colors are gone. It’s black and white. 

“Where’d he-” Steve starts to question before he turns and sees you. You’re folding into yourself, no longer breathing as you look down at your palms. Grey. Not a single sliver of flesh tone to be seen. “Are you okay?” 

The colors are gone. 

A cold washes over you like never before, and even if you wanted to take another breath, you couldn’t. It’s not ash burning your eyes – it’s tears, hot and vicious as your face begins to crumple in panic. 

Eddie. 

You don’t even hear them cross the room back to you. Can’t hone in on what’s happened, if the evil has been defeated and if you’d all won. It doesn’t matter; your colors are gone. 

Your hands finally fumble without thought, patting down your person until you catch the corner of the polaroid. You yank it free, breaths finally strangling into your throat without purchase, your shoulders shaking.

It’ll be in color. It has to be in color. He has to be in color. 

That familiar and well loved photo stares back at you. Your boy, curly hair wild and unruly, grin soft and fond. A twinkle captured in his eye and all that adoration that had been rolling off of him in waves somehow frozen in time. 

Frozen in time, frozen in black and white. 

Steve shakes your shoulders, Robin begins to pace and match your panic. They don’t understand. 

Gritted sobs leave your mouth, tears blinding you as you look at the shadow of what must be Nancy.

She understands.

Even through the strangled breaths, earth-shattering sobs that make you nearly incoherent, she knows. 

“Eddie,” you manage to gasp, fist curling around the photograph. 

The only way to lose your colors is if your soulmate has died.

“Eddie,” you manage a mangled sob as Steve pulls back, horror-stricken as he looks down at the polaroid, slowly piecing together what was happening.

Fast and sudden like the moment you first touched your soulmate. Draining from you in real time and leaving a path of chromatic grey behind. Flickering from sight, just as one might watch the life flicker from the eyes of the one they loved.

“Eddie!” 

You’d always wondered how it happened.

You finally had your answer. You wish you didn’t. 

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fanfic #gonna run and hide now sorry bye #Spotify

[azaleaniath]

~ NETEYAM X FEM! AVATAR! READER ~

Night Witch

summary: After waking up from a long coma after the war, you meet Jake's kids. While spending time with Neteyam especially, you develop more than just a great friendship with him.

includes: fluff, physical contact, kissing, falling in love, mentions of death, grief, blood, war, coma, jealousy

SFW

9k words

(Inspired by the Song 'Night Witches' fron Sabaton and the female heroes, the Night Witches themselves.)

_____________________

The massive bloodshed had begun.

Eywa had heard Jake's desperate call for aid. And yet, everything seemed so hopeless. Screams filled the air all around. Fire, as far as your vision went. The earth was ablaze. Machine guns and bombs almost ripped your ears apart. Blood and smoke blurred your sight. "Rogue 1 is hit. Sorry Jake."

Trudy's voice echoed from your headset through your brain. Your eyes widened at the sound. A loud shatter followed through her mic.

"Trudy?! Trudy! Where are you?! Trudy!" With a hesistant grip, you activated your mic as well.

Desperate cries for her didn't make her answer. Soon the connection broke.

"Trudy!" Your eyes filled with tears, they rolled over your cheeks and down your throat. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Your entire body froze, yet your grip around your weapon tightened so much it felt like your hand would fall off. As your vision blurred, your focus got lost in the massacre.

The winged creature beneath you cried out loud, it's shriek made you squint your eyes, even more as it lowered its height uncontrollably fast.

"Eluri! Stay with me!" you screamed, until you felt your tsaheylu fail. Your ikran had been shot, pulling you into certain death with itself. There was no way out.

A last grip to the unmute button of your headset. "Jake, we're going down..." you mumbled in tears, as your whole body started to tense up and shiver at the same time as you saw the distance of the earth and you shortening rapidly with each blink of your eye.

"So, that's it... Eywa, be with me... "

~~~

Your entire body felt so heavy. The voices around you caused your pointy ears to twitch. "She's awake! She's back guys!"

"(Y/N), can you hear me?"

"Let me through! Now!"

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Ma Jake, let her wake up at least!"

These voices were not just english, but also Na'vi.

Someone lifted your eyelid, you tried to squint lightly at the unpleasant touch.

"Mmh... Jake? Neytiri?"

The few words you mumbled were merely a whisper, but the people around you seemed to be cheering happily about it.

As some strength came back to you, you blinked a few times. Once your eyes focussed after a few seconds your weak gaze met the faces of Jake, Neytiri, Max, Norm and a few younger, unfamiliar Na'vi.

Jake pulled you into a tight hug right away. Neytiri knelt next to you, observing you with a wide smile. They all looked as if a ton of bricks had fallen off their chest.

As Jake lifted your upper body into his embrace, Norm placed some blankets and pillows behind your back. Once Jake had let go, you leaned into the soft supporting material, almost sitting up fully.

"You're safe. Everything is safe." Jake spoke softly. "Quaritch is dead, but the battle isn't over yet."

Neytiri touched your face gently, as you looked down at your hands and body; you were still inside of your Avatar.

"Your human body didn't make it, you had a heart attack when your avatar crashed down. However, for some reason, your Avatar made it. It survived your crash." Max announced in a low volume.

"Eywa watched out for you."

Neytiri said in a gentle voice while tucking some hair strands behind your ear.

"It's a miracle, truly... I'd say you guys haven't changed, but damn..."

They had certainly all aged.

"You have been in a coma for..." Norm didn't manage to bring it out completely.

"I've recorded some brain activity about two days ago. I called Jake immediately as I saw you twitching."

"It's been 13 years."

Jake finally spit out.

Realization hit you. 13 long years had passed. You had missed so much time yet nonetheless, seeing these people lightened your eyes up.

"I have to see Grace and Trudy! They'll be so happy to see me after all that time!"

The following silence in the room felt like thick air.

"(Y/N)... They both died. Don't you remember?"

The pictures flashed back into your head. It felt like a torn, distant memory. These were some of your last memories. All the blood, the sound of heavy machinery, the screams, Trudy's last words. It was all back in your head.

Neytiri was the one to embrace you now, trying to calm you with soft pats over your hair. "They are with Eywa now."

After Neytiri had let go of you, your eyes scanned the room. Just now you truly noticed these younger Na'vis.

You blinked a few times, shoving your memories far away to the back of your head. A joke would certainly lift the energy in the room.

The children looked at you, a bit confused and yet so interested. One of them wore a headgear you remembered from flying Ikrans.

"I see you already gave up on me, getting some new apprentices there to do my job, huh?"

They all chuckled and looked at the children again.

"I want to introduce you to our children. Hey kids, come a step closer and say hello to our good friend."

You tried to get closer and gathered some strength to sit on the edge of the bed, then reached a hand out to his children.

"I know I am not one from the sky people anymore, but back on earth, we used to shake hands as a greeting" you said in Na'vi with a friendly smile on your face.

One of the boys made the first approach. He was wearing a head gear. His ears twitched as he lowered his head a bit and stretched his hand out to you, shaking yours gently. "I'm Neteyam. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He seemed so mature for his age, it amazed you almost.

"Hello Neteyam. Your parents chose a beautiful name for their- hmm, eldest son, right?"

He nodded with a smile and stepped aside. "Well", you added, "if you're their son, you're going to be a strong warrior one day."

"He already is. He will be next Olo'yektan." Neytiri's words were filled with pride.

Next up was his brother. He also shook your hand with a light smirk on his face. "I'm Lo'ak. Your Na'vi is really good!" he even spoke english.

"My my Lo'ak," you answered in their mother language, "that's impressive! But so is your engli-"

"I'm Kiri!" A sweet girl chimed in. God, she looked so much like Grace. She could've been her reincarnation.

"You've known my mother?" she asked with a hopeful look.

You swallowed and shook her hand as well.

"It's a long story. But yes, this is Grace's daughter. I'll explain everything later." Jake interrupted as he noticed your surprised visage. You took a deep breath.

"Kiri, is it? Well Kiri, your mother was a good soul and a wonderful teacher. You look alike, a lot."

"I have so many questions-"

"Kiri." Neytiri called like a warning, so she stepped back frowning.

The youngest of them hid halfway behind Kiri.

"She doesn't bite, Tuk. She's our friend." Neytiri encouraged her, making you giggle.

She hesitantly came forward and shook your hand too. As she realized that you were not as scary as she thought, she even smiled.

"Tuk is your name?"

"Tuktirey." Neytiri explained.

"But my friends can call me Tuk!"

You tilted your head with a slight grin. "That means I can call you...?"

"...Tuk!" She answered after a second, her smile warming up even more by now.

Norm left to fetch you something to drink while Max checked the machines that were still attached to you.

"See? No reason to be scared." Neteyam threw in and Kiri patted her head.

"But mom and dad said she was a ruthless hunter?"

"Against sky people. Ironic, isn't it?" Neytiri nodded at your clarification.

Jake held one arm around your shoulders, then looked to Neteyam, as his oldest son leaned over to his brother. "What was her name again?" he mumbled, but everybody heard.

"Oh god, you all told me your names and I still haven't formerly introduced myself, hah!

I am (Y/N). Your father and I met here through the program. The humans tried to create avatars for younger people too since they adapt better. I was 16 during the great battle."

Everyone was thrilled about your biography. Even the older people around you still couldn't help but be amazed that a 16-year old human girl in her avatar was so skilled with weaponry or even getting used to the ways of the Na'vi. But here you were.

It was clearly visible how happy and relieved your friends were. Although it was Jake who looked the most relieved. Suddenly, Neteyam's eyes widened in both realization and shock.

"Wait, you're the unseen rider who took a rocket launcher onto her ikran and took out countless RDA units?!"

Jake nodded. "She took out more helicopters than me. Many Na'vi know her name."

Lo'ak gasped.

Neteyam grabbed his brother by his shoulder and turned Lo'ak to face him. He gulped as they looked at each other.

"Bro...", Lo'ak swallowed before they looked back at you again, as Neteyam, wide-eyed, almost whispered

"You're the Night Witch."

~~~

It didn't take long to for you to get used to living amongst the other Na'vi. The entire Sully family gathered for dinner. Neytiri had prepared the most delicious fruit bowls for everyone, including you since you were somehow a part of them again.

Since you've woken up from your coma almost a year ago you had decided to stay in the forest with the Sullys, eventually checking in on Max' laboratory for some health checks.

Hungry as everyone was, you all charged at the food, yet a pair of arms kept everyone away from the bowls.

"Uh-uh, no. Kids, what do we say before we eat?"

Jake said in an almost sarcastically calm tone.

Loak rolled his eyes, Tuk sighed.

As usually, you all formed a circle around the food, sat down and closed your eyes.

Each and everyone grabbed their neighbour's hand. On your right side was Tuk, who swung your hand rythmically. With a smile you peeked over to the other side too, seeing Neteyam sit next to you. He caught you peeking at him and copied your facial expression while fishing for your hand.

With a lovely smile you took his hand and his fingers firmly wrapped around yours.

Shortly after, Neytiri cleared her throat to speak. "Thank you, great mother, for this nourishing meal."

Once she was done with her short prayer, everyone finally dug into the food. "Man, I've been hungry all day!" Neteyam exclaimed while shoveling the food into his mouth.

"How many times have I told you to eat properly before spending all day on your ikran?" Jake sighed with a shaking head.

Lo'ak sight-eyed his brother a while, his full mouth turned into a grin. "One day you'll grow some wings on your own, bro." He spoke even before swallowing. There was no time to lose when it came to joking opportunities.

"Hey, no talking unless your mouth is empty!" Kiri brought herself into the conversation as well, but Lo'ak just rolled his eyes a bit.

"Kids, we can talk after eating."

Some time later, as everyone was done, you all stacked your bowls.

"It's Kiri's turn to do the dishes!" Tuk exclaimed, yet Kiri just crossed her arms. "Actually, Lo'ak owes me one."

"How come?" Jake asked, holding his youngest son by his wrist as he tried to sneak off.

"He lost a bet to Kiri." Neteyam explained with a grin.

"What bet?" Jake furrowed his brows.

You were the one to speak up now. "That I couldn't beat Neteyam's flight time of 6 minutes and 25 seconds."

Kiri gathered all infos for Jake at once while triumphantly smirking at the younger brother.

"I guessed she would beat him in a race. It took (Y/N) 10 seconds less."

Jake held out his hand to high-five you, which you did.

"Well done. Looks like it's really Lo'aks turn then." Neytiri watched the situation in awe. This was her family. This was all she ever needed.

"Your new ikran is very strong, (Y/N). Fast and agile. I see you two are training very hard."

Jake looked at you and Neteyam. He couldn't have wished for a better friend for him. Someone that was full of potential, someone worthy.

"So, uhm... Jake, can I talk to you?"

He expected that already, so he got up and gestured you to accompany him on a walk.

A bit deeper into the forest, you followed him with slow steps. The ground beneath your feet glowed brightly with every step.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, pacing through the bioluminescent plants slowly. They started to light up at his gentle touch as well.

You cleared your throat lightly before you spoke. "It's been a while since we've had time to sit down and have a few minutes to talk."

"That's your own fault if you're spending all day flying around with Neteyam. You know you can always come to me, alright? You're like a daughter to me."

His words made you smile.

Your eyes followed a couple of bearded dragons fly by before you answered.

"I know, but..."

"Yeah, you rather stay out there with Neteyam. Training your flying skills. You're a wonderful support to him and us, you teach him so much. And you're not as bad of an influence as Lo'ak."

Both of you giggled before Jake climbed up a tree with a few skilled movements, then he reached his hand out to you, so you followed. From up here, even if it was just a few meters above the ground, the wildlife seemed even more incredible.

"Lo'ak is trying hard to be like him, don't be so hard on him. They are your sons, Jake. Not Marines."

Jake huffed.

"I hope some of that good influence of yours does get into Lo'aks thick skull too. Maybe you should spend more time with him."

Somehow, the thought of spending less time with Neteyam felt unpleasant, and it showed in your face. The man noticed straight away, a grin appeared on his face.

"You don't have to spend less time with Neteyam. Maybe just take Lo'ak with you next time? Or do you want to be alone with him?"

Slightly perplexed, you blinked a few times, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

"What? No- huh? How do you even-"

"Hey, calm down, we don't have to talk about it."

"Good, good..."

Damn, this was embarrassing. Of course you liked spending time with his eldest son. The two of you were bonding extremely fast and well. You learned from each other and sometimes even stayed up late at night because he loved listening to your stories.

"But, do you like him in any specific way?"

"Eh? I-I..."

He just laughed it off as he saw how shy you got all of a sudden, unable to speak without stammering, ears twitching.

"Change of topics?"

"Y-yes, please."

"Alright, sorry, my dear."

A few seconds passed in silence before the man suddenly became all serious.

"Was it scary to be in the air again for the first time after...?"

A lump built up in your throat that made it almost even hard to breathe.

"The first time I flew alone, yeah. But luckily, Neteyam let me fly with him on his ikran before."

"Wait, what? I didn't know?"

"You weren't supposed to. I was pretty insecure about it."

"You, the famous Night Witch? Insecure about flying?"

It was hard to believe that even you could be weak. He had known you as a young but brave warrior.

"Jake, part of me died when my ikran was shot. Literally."

One of his hands rested on your shoulder.

"But you're back. In full power and with a new ikran. Have you chosen a name already?"

It took you a deep breath to answer without your eyes tearing up.

"Rogue One."

When he realized, it also made him very emotional. It was not a Na'vi name, but it had a special meaning.

"You named it after Trudy's helicopter?"

"Uhuh..."

He nodded approvingly, also taking a deep breath.

"She would be so proud of you."

"I think, this is the only thing I haven't come to terms with yet. All the other wounds healed."

"You'll get there too. If there is anything I can help you with, talk to me."

You and Jake both noticed someone coming closer, so you decided to cut the conversation here. It relieved you somehow to talk about everything that had happened.

The man grinned, hit your arm with his elbow gently.

"Look, your future husband~" Jake quietly mumbled as you both saw that it was Neteyam who came closer.

"Oh shut up, Marine." you growled while rolling your eyes before you climbed down from the tree.

Landing right next to Neteyam, you gestured a traditional greeting towards him, and he copied with a flashing smile.

"I've been looking for you already, you've been missing for longer than expected."

Ah, how much you loved the accent he had adapted from his mother. That alone made you feel warm around your heart. His voice was so pleasant to you and it calmed you down every single time.

"Been missing your (Y/N)?" Jake teased, still sitting in the tree.

The face you sent towards the man was deadly, but he just chuckled.

"Uhm..." Neteyam needed a moment to think of what to say, so he just chuckled awkwardly, trying hard to keep his tail calm.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you, dad."

"What a coincidence. Come up here, my son." Jake gestured him to climb up, but before he did so, the younger man looked back to you.

"Hey, you still wanna hang out later?"

The smile he gifted you was so genuine. You felt your cheeks burn everytime you looked at him.

He definitely had a special place in your heart.

"Sure thing."

"Great, I'll come to your place then after this."

While Neteyam then climbed up to his father, you shot a daring glare up to Jake. You hoped his son's english wasn't good enough for him to understand.

"I'll turn your wife into a widow if I should find out that you tell him about that awkward convo."

The man mimicked zipping his mouth and throwing the key away, so you gave a small nod before turning to leave.

~~~

While Neteyam and Jake were talking, you stayed in your tent and and went through some old pictures. Norm had brought them over after he had found them in your old RDA locker.

Completely drowned in your memories, you looked at them, tracing over the faces of your dead friends softly. "I miss you..." you mumbled with a cracked voice. Many times you would just look at them to keep them in your memory, especially since Trudy was human and you couldn't connect with her through Eywa.

As you skipped through further pictures, the corners of your lips curled up. One of them showed you in your RDA clothes. A white tank top and camouflage pants combined with some thick black boots.

Yet, it didn't show your avatar, but your human body.

"I can't even imagine you being so tiny and... not blue."

Neteyam's voice suddenly emerged from behind. He crouched next to you and carefully took the picture out of your hands to get a closer look.

"How did you know this was me?" You asked flustered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

The young man just looked at you with a deadpan face.

"Even if you are not in your original body anymore, you kept your features."

"Especially the eye color" you joked, bringing some more emotion into his face again.

"Your skin was so different then."

He sincerely took his time to observe every little detail about the picture over and over again.

"You don't like it?" you mumbled quietly, to which he clicked his tongue.

"Oish! It's just not like it is now but I still like it on you."

While he was busy taking in all these little details you took a look at the other pictures.

As he glanced over to the ones in your hand he stopped you for a moment.

"That's Kiri's mother, right?"

With one finger, he pointed at the ginger haired doctor. She leaned against her desk with a cigarette in her hand while you sat on her chair with a book about Na'vi language in your lap.

"Yeah that's her." You explained, pulling up the next picture.

Neteyam leaned a bit closer to get an even better look. While he inspected it closely, you noticed how near he actually was to you right now.

You swallowed as you watched his features glisten in the low light.

"How tall were you?" he asked and sat back up again, facing you. He himself noticed that your face was right in front of his so he pulled away with twitching ears. In awkwardness, he looked back at the photos, unable to hide a shy smile.

"Compared to now, I was a dwarf. I was probably smaller then Tuk is now" you explained, slightly flustered yourself.

"I could've just picked you up with one hand!" he giggled at the thought of you being so tiny in comparison.

"Can I see the other ones too?" Neteyam pointed at the photos, so you just handed them to him.

Once he got a hold of them, he got them close to his face to see them better.

"Is that your first ikran?" His index finger circled around the image of a beautiful, rather small ikran. He knew that these animals came in many colors, but he had rarely seen one this dark.

"Yes, this is Eluri. She fought with me, carried me safely, so many nights and days. It was so practical that she was smaller than most ikrans, so she carried less weight. It made her faster and more agile. Due to her dark color, it was impossible to spot us at night. That's when we mostly attacked."

Neteyam turned his head and listened to your explanation. There were only few things he preferred to do in his free time over listening to you.

His entire body relaxed, even his tail and ears stopped twitching around.

Another picture showed you in the home tree, when Grace had proudly snapped a few shots during your first time meeting the clan.

"There's dad! And mom, and grandmother too!"

"Mhm, exactly. That day was my first time visiting the home tree."

He huffed.

"Dad looks a bit scared, did he think grandmother wouldn't accept you?" "Take another look at it."

He tried to understand what you meant, until he noticed.

"You went in there with a fucking automatic weapon?! Are you crazy?"

"Hey man I forgot to take it off okay? Force of habit."

Once more he huffed, and it turned into a soundless giggle.

"Did you leave your brain in the connection station that day?"

"Hey, careful!" you laughed, picking on his ear for a moment.

"Argh, (Y/N)!" he tugged your tail with wide eyes and a grin, causing you to gasp.

Just as he leant in closer and was about to pull on your hair strands playfully, you heard someone getting closer to the tent. It was Lo'ak, who had been sent to pick up Neteyam. Their tent was merely a few meters away.

"Uh-hum..." Lo'ak tried to catch your attention. As you both looked up to see him, he could barely keep a straight face.

He crossed his arms, keeping one hand to his chin. You could see him biting his lip in order not to grin.

"Yo bro, you uh... you coming? Or are you like, busy?" It had cost him a lot of strength not to laugh seeing his brother falling for you with every passing second. The way he still was so close to you was painfully funny for him to see.

"'Cuz if you're staying with (Y/N) tonight, you better tell mom and dad personally. And maybe you should close the curtains." He rubbed his lips with one hand to hide his facial expression which got more and more hard, the longer he watched the two of you sit on your mat, hands on each other.

Neteyam got even more flustered at his brother's comments, yet it rather turned into anger. He pursed his lips while you sighed quietly.

"I'll deal with him... " he murmured beneath his breath but you shook it off and wished them both a good night. He tried to give you one last smile before he got up and stomped over to his brother, his tail whipped in fury.

Neteyam grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged him back to their tent while quietly hissing at Lo'ak, but you couldn't understand what exactly he said.

"These idiots..."

~~~

The next morning you woke up around the same time as anyone else. The volume of the clan awakening, starting their days and chores always lifted you from your sleep. Yet you just shifted a bit and decided to stay down for a few more minutes.

"Good morning, (Y/N). "

Neteyams voice greeted you. Once you blinked and your eyes got used to the light, your sight landed on the future Olo'eyktan, sitting in one corner of your tent. "What are you doing here?" you asked in a hoarse, sleepy voice.

He held up your pictures with one hand. "I wanted to take another look at them again."

But his face told a different story.

As you sat up slowly he put the pictures aside, there was a violet, dark blueish tint across his face, from one ear to another.

"And I wanted to apologize for what my stupid brother said yesterday." You clearly remembered his words, and yes, they had made the situation as awkward as possibly imaginable.

"That is not your fault. It's alright."

"That was not okay though."

One of your hands went through your hair.

"Neteyam. Stop taking the blame for your brother. You don't have to apologize for anything."

He had a hard time looking you in the eyes, nonetheless you got up and pulled him onto his feet.

"Fuck it. Just don't bother. How about we go for a quick morning flight, huh? There's nothing that gets you out of bed like a fresh breeze of air."

Without hesitation, the Na'vi agreed, so you made your way over to the edge of the cave together, calling your ikran loudly. He copied and soon, they both arrived.

While making tsaheylu and mounting your ikran, you agreed on another race. Loser had to take on winner's chores for two days. Both of you took off at the same time, chasing each other down over and under the countless floating mountains.

The wind in your face, as promised, took all sleepiness away at once. You could feel your ikran's heartbeat, it's breath and every flap of their wings through your bond. With a roaring sound, the creature beneath you guided you over Neteyam and his companion and onto the other side of him.

A quick grin at him was enough to lighten another spark inside of him.

"Come on, is that all?" You laughed out loud, leading him to guide his ikran closer to yours rapidly so the wind would cast you away gently.

His expression showed how much he enjoyed riding with you, he looked more than happy to collect more shared memories.

You decided to show him another trick, so you guided your ikran above his and made your winged companion turn upside down. Neteyams eyes widened in adoration and surprise as you flew over him, still upside down, so close that you could even tip your hands on his head. Never before had he even seen such a thing.

Once your ikran turned again, Neteyam tried to get past you with a few skilled tricks. He was an amazing ikran rider, just like you.

The finish like was already in sight, so both of you gave another challenging look before heading down to the tree of souls.

"A tie!" You shouted once you both dismounted, still panting from the headwind.

"Damn, I was so ready go let you do my chores!"

His smile went over his full face.

"That move was crazy! Do mom and dad know you can do this?! It was unbelievable!"

His words made your stomach turn, in a good way.

"They sure do."

Neteyam watched you with an open mouthed smile, still being pretty mesmerized by your talent.

"I have never seen anything like this... It's hard to believe you once belonged to the sky people." The smile on your face just fed on his compliments.

With blushed cheeks you grabbed his hand and led him to the tree of souls, not far from where you had landed.

He intertwined his fingers with yours as he followed you, his heartbeat heavy in his chest.

As you gently guided him through the strings of the enormous tree, your free hand brushed against the glowy strings. Right now, it was just you and him here, nobody else was around.

Neteyam and you both lowered yourself onto the ground, sitting across each other. Your free hand reached out for your queue, and so did he.

"Who are you hoping to see?" he asked in a gentle voice.

"Grace, mostly."

With that, you connected your queue to the tree, breathing in deeply at the created bond. Neteyam did the same, all while still holding onto your hand.

Just hearing the voices of your old friends, people singing and dancing, children laughing and playing, it almost made your eyes tear up every time. It was always a special moment to do this.

Between these voices, you could also hear him. And as you guessed by his face, he could hear you too.

You got to hear and partially see too how he grew up into that young smart man he was now.

Neteyam could see into your avatar back then as well. "(Y/N)... I can hear and see you." he whispered with closed eyes.

A few more moments passed before you emded the connection. You had seen enough. Enough to make your eyes dwell.

As he noticed, he disconnected just like you. His big eyes met yours soon. It felt like they could see right into your soul.

In the light of the soul tree, he looked even more stunning than usual. The glowing spots on his face seemed more intense here.

His ears jerked when he noticed how you mustered him, completely taken away.

He squeezed your hand with a lovely smile while you thought back to the talk you had with Jake the day before.

There was a strong connection between you and him, it was easy to see. Was it friendship? A childhood crush? Or even Eywa's will?

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you watched his tail behind him whip around nervously.

As you noticed his sensitive ears tilt and turn as well, a giggle escaped your lips.

"What's so funny, huh?" he chuckled, giving your hand another squeeze.

Instead of pointing out his restless features, you just shook it off. His fangs flashed as he smiled from ear to ear.

"You're better not laughing about me! Do you know who I am?" he joked, trying to fake a serious face, but his smile triumphed.

"Do you know who I am?" you copied in a mocking voice.

He still mustered your face with a wide, yet shy smile.

"Who could have guessed that I would one day fly side by side with the Night Witch?"

"Who would've thought that I'd fly with the future Olo'ekytan one day?"

Neteyam came closer to you, his free hand reached out to trace over the glowy freckles on your cheek.

The moment he touched your skin felt  heavenly.

His voice got a bit softer and even more calm as you moved closer to one another.

"When I'm with you I can be more than that..."

It was nothing new to you that his parents, Jake especially, wanted him to be the perfect son. He had to do as told and was expected to make only right choices. Be strong, be brave, be smart. When could he ever just be himself? He knew his parents loved him and yet, sometimes all he seeked was some time off from clan leader duties, maybe a hug or someone who understood.

All of that, he had found within you.

You lost yourself in his amber eyes with each passing second.

"Neteyam... " you whispered softly.

His hand traveled down your neck and to your shoulders, then down your arm.

"I see you."

The grip around his fingers tightened ever so carefully before you placed your free hand over his heart, feeling it beat heavily.

"I see you, (Y/N)" he answered, guiding your hand he held up to his face. With closed eyes, he grazed his cheek against your hand a few times.

Anytime you two were alone, he turned into the biggest softie. He could finally be vulnerable without judgement.

The beat of his heart jumped as all of a sudden, Jake's voice appeared from his earpiece. "Neteyam? Wherever you and (Y/N) are, I need you back right now!"

The young man jerked at the sudden voice of his father, as did you.

"Thanks Jake, fucking mood killer... " you mumbled in english before taking a deep breath and detaching yourself from Neteyam.

His eyes looked truly apologizing for ruining the moment before he sighed and answered.

"What's going on? Did anything happen?"

"Humans. I need you for this mission, both of you, is that clear?"

"Yes sir." you two answered, before going back to your ikrans to fly home as soon as possible.

~~~

Much to your dislike, Jake had assigned you and Neteyam for different tasks apart from each other.

"We are a good team, why don't you let us work together?" you asked Jake while Kiri finished up your war paint.

Once she was done, you thanked her with a genuine smile and followed Jake to his ikran.

"I need you up there, as an active airforce unit. Neteyam and Lo'ak will be scouting. From afar. They only report to us."

"Neteyam can fight too! You want him to prove himself, then let him come with m-"

Jake turned to you abruptly.

His face was all serious.

"I'm not doubting Neteyam, I'm worried about Lo'ak doing some stupid shit if nobody takes care of him. And now, I don't need (Y/N) out there. I need the Night Witch. Do you understand?"

You understood what he wanted to tell you. Set the emotions aside and stay focussed. That was the only way to survive out there. Once you get carried away by emotions, you were most certainly dead. After all, this was what had caused your human body to die a long time ago.

"Alright, airforces; take-off in two minutes! Get ready!"

Jake yelled across the cave while you loaded your automatic weapon with a sigh.

"Where have you been earlier?" he asked with furrowed brows as he saw his kids coming up behind you so everyone could say goodbye.

When you noticed the others approaching you, you just waved it off.

"Lets talk later."

"Sure, once we're all home again."

Tuk hugged your leg tightly as she saw you in your fighting gear with the war paint on for the first time.

"Show them, (Y/N!)" she cheered.

"Right up their asses!"

You felt a cold stare in the back of your neck, coming straight from Neytiri for talking like this in front of her youngest daughter. She too called her ikran.

"Come back safely, will you all?" Kiri looked at her brothers and you with a worried face, so everyone agreed as Neteyam rubbed her head. "We will all be back soon."

"Yo, (Y/N)", Lo'ak started while holding a fist out for you to bump it,

"You better take good care. We don't want Neteyam to cry, would we?"

As you bumped his fist, Jake's voice echoed through the cave.

"One minute until take-off!"

You sighed at Lo'aks comment, so you just grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away gently.

"I'll be with you in a bit." Neteyam called out to his brother who already mounted his ikran.

Kiri gently led Tuk back to the tent, explaining that you and their eldest brother probably wanted to be alone for a second.

Together you both walked to the edge of the cave too and called upon your companions as well.

"You sure you know how to handle this thing?" Neteyam mockingly pointed at your machine gun, causing a huff to leave your lips. With a wide smile you tugged at his tail. Gasping, he stared at you, attacking our sides with tickles.

Neteyam's smile started to fade away.

"Alright big boy, once you're done scouting and reporting-"

"There is no need to worry about me. My task is far less risky than yours. You're in the middle of this shit."

His hands grabbed onto your shoulders. He pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours.

"Be careful out there, (Y/N)."

His voice was so quiet and yet so easy to determine in between all these noises from around.

"I will, I promise."

He pulled away to kiss your forehead gently, carefully holding your head in both hands.

Your heart raced at the gesture. While he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, you gifted him a warm smile and he copied right away.

There was not much time left, so you hugged him tightly for merely two seconds. His tail wrapped firmly around your wrist. He pressed your head against his chest before he finally had to let go. Even if it was just a short moment, it meant the world to you.

As you both went to mount your ikrans, you saw how Lo'ak stared at his brother wide-eyed.

"Bro, get a room!" he hissed in a low volume, before looking over to you as you mounted your ikran as well, weapon in hand.

"Shut up you little-"

"War party, take-off!"

The mission was fast and easy, only few people got hurt. You had helped to clean up the battlefield and get everything back to base before you actually returned home.

It filled your heart with joy to see everyone alive and back in their tent from afar, but as you also spotted Mo'at, you knew someone was hurt.

With fast steps you hurried towards the Sully tent only to see that is was Neteyam who got treated by his sister and his grandmother.

"How did this happen?" you asked worried as you knelt down in front of  Neytiris oldest son. While you checked his body for bruises and other injuries, Neteyam's eyes stuck to his brother.

"It was my fault..." Lo'aks cracked voice emerged from a dark corner where he sat. "Next time, you better listen to dad." Kiri said while seeing to Neteyam's back injury.

"I'm sorry okay?! I didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially not my brother!"

"Enough now!" Mo'at announced.

After Jake and Neytiri were done with their conversation, the clan leader came up to the tent, gesturing you to follow him, out of hearing range from the others.

Neteyam's eyes did not lose you out of his sight for a second. And Kiri too noticed that he was far less whiny about the process now that his eyes were all on you.

"Well done out there, (Y/N). I see, you're giving 100%. You haven't changed a bit."

While taking off your gear, you offered a light smile.

"No wonder my son can't take his eyes off you." he huffed, which urged your freckles to shine brighter instantly.

"So...", the man crossed his arms, "where did you go this morning?"

Your held your tail behind your back to keep it from twitching.

"The... the soul tree."

His eyebrows rose lightly as he heard your words. He blinked at you with wide eyes. The soul tree was a sacred place to all Na'vi.

"You should give him some time off. And you should be a bit less strict. Like this, you're only putting pressure on both your sons."

"Did he say that?"

Neytiri joined your conversation.

"More or less. Leave him some space to be vulnerable. You can't expect him to be strong all the time."

The woman understood.

"He is still our child after all. You're right. I'm happy my son feels comfortable to share this with you."

"I'm happy too he opens up to me."

Neytiri gave an approving nod.

"They've been to the soul tree this morning." Jake explained to her, getting the exact reaction from her that he had given to you.

"Our son is in good hands with you, (Y/N). It seemed like a very touching moment for you two when you said goodbye earlier. " Jake exclaimed, remembering the conversation you lately had.

"Jake, not this topic again..." you mumbled with dark violet cheeks, averting your gaze.

"Hmm, okay. He probably already told you everything about our father-son-talk anyway."

Your ears twiched at the sound of that. Did he know more than you?

Unable to react, you only stood there, completely perplexed.

With that, Neytiri patted your shoulder gently before she and Jake went back to their tent, leaving you there with tinted cheeks and an empty gaze.

~~~

"Close your eyes." Max said as he attached a few sensors on the temples of your head.

"Today will be the last check-up so far. Your body seems to be completely fine, even after all this time."

Norm sat next to you and tipped around on the display you were connected to. The three of you went through some basics before you layed down almost flat on the bed." I'm gonna let this run through twice. Just to make sure we're really not missing anything."

"How long does this take then?" You asked as Max took out your earpiece since it interfered with his systems. He took your communication collar off as well.

"Probably like 2 hours. I need these reviews to be over a longer period of time."

"Damn..." you mumbled and sighed.

"As long as I'm back for dinner, or Neytiri is gonna send my blue ass back to earth."

Max and Norm smiled at your comment before they got everything ready for the medical check.

You tried to relax, thinking of something pleasant so the time would pass by faster.

Immediately, Neteyam came to your mind. The way he held you close before the mission a few days ago. How he kissed your head gently.

"I think there's a mistake..." Norm turned to Max and pointed at the display besides you.

The scientist furrowed his eyebrows anf checked the system.

"Hmm, weird..." Max mumbled as he observed you, trying to figure out why it showed such a high blood pressure and a quick heart beat.

"(Y/N)?" Norm crossed his arms and you peeked at him with one eye. He had figured it out.

"Could you think of something else? It interrupts the studies."

With tinted cheeks, you looked up to him and swallowed. "Come on, get that guy off your thoughts for the check. It's important we get clear results."

You giggled shyly, have him a nod and closed your eyes again.

"Then get started."

Once you were done and Max gave green light, you returned to the village. There was something in the air, you could sense it clearly.

As you saw the Sully kids all crouched up next to their tent, you joined them silently.

"What's going on here?" You asked as you knelt down next to them. When Neteyam's eyes landed on you, he pulled you into a tight hug. He sighed in relief, happy to see you unharmed after what happened.

The young man pressed you against his body, thanking the great mother silently for being able to see you again. You did not understand what had happened, until you heard Jake and Neytiri argue inside of their tent.

Only hearing the name of Quaritch in their discussion sent shivers down your spine.

So it was all for nothing?

Neteyam released you, only to get up and lead you away to your tent.

Not knowing where to start, he decided to sit down with you first before he explained what had happened.

You cursed yourself for being absent during all of this. How much you desired to kill that man, especially now after he had almost killed your family.

Neteyam reached out for your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours. The coming words felt like stones in his chest.

"(Y/N), we're leaving. Tomorrow morning. And we cannot return..."

A lump formed in your throat.

"All I seek is your safety. I-"

"I'm coming with you. Wherever you go, I'll be by your side, Neteyam."

With wet eyes, he looked into yours, pulling you closer.

"The people here will need you. They will need the Night Witch."

He almost sounded like his father.

A weak smile formed on your face as you let go of his hands, instead cupping his face.

"And yet I know you need me the most. You can't change my mind. I'd go through hell and back with you."

Neteyam gifted you a relieved smile. It was almost unthinkable for him by now to live without you.

"I'm gonna keep you safe, ma (Y/N)."

Tired and exhausted, you leaned your upper body against your ikran's neck.

"We're almost there." Jake announced as he saw your posture.

All of you neared a group of isles, heading straight at them. You looked over to Neteyam who gave a reassuring smile. He was sure that as long as you all sticked together, you would find a way.

Before you landed, the reef tribe was already alerting your arrival with loud calls. They gathered along the shore once your ikrans met the sand.

While dismounting, some of the curious villagers took a closer look at your family.

You stayed close to Neteyam as one of the clan members circled you, making fun of your bodies which looked very strange to him. As he reached out to point at Neteyam's tail, you turned your face, sending a devilish glare and showing off your fangs without even intending to. The foreign boy just grinned back, entertained by your reaction.

While it was decided whether you could stay or not you felt all these icy stares in the back of your neck. It made your skin tense up in the worst way possible, so you reached out for Neteyam's arm, holding it ever so slightly. These looks were more than uncomfortable.

Tsireya, the chief's daughter, lead you to your pod once the permission was given. As you all got comfortable around your new home, you too picked a place to put your belongings to.

"Tsireya seems really pretty and sweet." you mentioned as Lo'ak passed by. He immediately blushed, his ears turned, but he didn't react immediately. Neteyam grinned at you and giggled in silence, as did you. You finally had something to tease him about since he was visibly attracted to her from the first moment he had layed eyes on her. But Lo'ak came back at you.

"I'm sure her brother would be enlightened to get to know you. You're not dating Neteyam, are you?"

It was true, you and Neteyam had never talked about it. By now it was obvious how much time you spent together, often close to each other. And still, neither of you had ever taken the word 'love' into their mouth.

"That ugly ass fish lip? Never. I'd rather die again."

Lo'ak chuckled at the image of you and Tonowari's son.

"Aw, you should give him a chance~"

His words didn't bother you that much, yet they had sparked something inside of Neteyam.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. Just the thought of his face wanted to make you puke.

"I'll fuck that bitch up if he keeps shit talking us."

"Ooh, I'm sure he'd love that~"

You punched his upper arm at the comment, which he just laughed off.

Neteyam knew that his brother was just joking, but he had seen how this guy had looked you up and down. It took him every fibre of his entire being not to charge at him and scratch his eyes out. You belonged to him. End of discussion.

"Fucking disgusting..." you made a choking sound. With that, Jake had heard enough and gave everyone a mini-briefing to behave.

It was late at night when you rolled around on your mat, restless and unable to sleep.

The sound of the waves combined with your homesickness made it almost impossible to sleep.

You decided to get up and sit on the edge of the woven pathway in front of the pod.

Merely a minute later, you heard someone else get up from their mat and join you. You've expected it to be Jake, telling you to try to sleep, but as you looked to the side you faced none other than Neteyam.

"Can't sleep either?"

"Hmm... The waves are just so damn loud."

He nodded slowly and leaned his head against your shoulder.

One of his hands rested on your thigh. The touch alone had your tail whipping in an instant.

He had apparently warmed up to physical touch.

Your head rested against his for a while, enjoying the closeness of each other. His tail wrapped around your waist while your hand traced up and down his arm softly.

His entire body started to vibrate at some point as you gently rubbed your head against his.

Was he... purring?

As you listened closely, your guess got confirmed. Slowly but surely his head  turned slightly, his lips traced your skin gently until his head sunk into the crook of your neck. He listened to your quickened heartbeat while his arm wrapped around your hips.

"Ma Neteyam..." you whispered into the dark night as your hand moved to rest on his shoulder.

You felt him huff ever so softly, then he inhaled your scent deeply.

His soft touches and purring was far more valuable than any answer.

While you placed a soft kiss onto his hair, his fingers traced along your waist.

You completely lost track of time. You could've been sitting here for a few minutes, maybe an hour even, you didn't know. Around Neteyam, time did not feel the same.

As he rubbed his head against the crook of your neck, you cupped his head carefully.

He pressed his face against your skin, you could feel his lips nibbling on your neck.

Spreading gentle, barely noticeable kisses along your skin, you felt your ears twitching and turning from his gentle affections.

Seeing the chief's son grin at you, making fun of you, it was the last tiny bit that sent him over the edge. A weird feeling had spread in his gut just at the thought of someone else eyeing his precious (Y/N).

He had to make his move, it was long overdue already.

The trail of kisses along your neck set your skin on fire. It burned  passionately. Neteyam's hands traveled to your neck as well, his fingers tracing ever so gently over each spot he had kissed.

As he finally found the courage to meet your eyes you have him the sweetest smile.

Your heart nearly exploded through its own heavy beating. Seeing that his affections did not make you shy away helped his confidence a lot.

His eyes fell onto your lips, just the thought of kissing you tilted his ears in shyness.

"(Y/N), can I kiss you?" he finally managed to whisper, his eyes half-lidded.

The smallest nod was enough for him to claim your lips into a loving kiss. His body shivered, it felt even better than both of you had imagined.

He captured you in a soft hug while taking in the full magic of your lips on his. Your hands rested against his chest, rising and sinking with his deep breaths.

The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity. With burning lungs, you backed up a bit, catching your breath quietly.

Both of you got pulled out of your trance by Jake who cleared his throat like a warning.

"Go to sleep. Now."

Neteyam's eyes almost shot open at the voice of his father.

"Yes sir." he answered with tinted cheeks before getting up, reaching a hand out to you to help you get up as well.

Soon you both layed down on your mats again. Neteyam silently tried to sneak up closer to continue cuddling with you. His breath hit your  shoulder before you felt him hugging your waist to pull himself closer to you.

Goosebumps covered your entire body as he nuzzled his face into your hair. "Ma (Y/N)..." he whispered as quiet as possible before he soundlessly got comfortable against your back.

#avatar x reader #avatar way of water #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar fic #avatar headcanons #avatar 2009 #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #avatar movie #avatar neteyam #avatar twow #avatar x you #neteyam avatar #avatar loak #jake sully #atwow neteyam #neteyam #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #neteyam fluff #neteyam headcanons #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you

[gay-dorito-dust]

omg can i request enid pushing Wednesday to confess her feelings for an ace reader ? maybe Wednesday thinks she and Xavier have a thing but enid tries to make her keep an open mind and make her move

You were out of breath by the time Xavier and yourself made it back to school grounds and never had you ever felt as close to death then you did in that moment. Your calves ached in repentance for skipping stretching and your lungs burned with a thirst for oxygen and a break; Xavier on the other hand was better off then you were with just barely out of breath with a thin film of sweat breaking out across his brow, sticking the loose strands of hair against it.

“You did well, for your first morning run.” He said, flashing you his pearly whites in a smile, secretly amused of the glare you sent his way whilst wheezing for breath. “I hate you. I fucking hate you Xavier, I just wanted you to know that.” Xavier only pouted as he placed a hand over his heart whilst his free hand grasped your shoulder and drew you into his side, squeezing you tight. “I hate you too y/n. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for awhile now, ever since you stole my fucking sketchbook and threaten to dump it into the lake if you wanted to get into specifics.” He sighs, “I’m just so glad you reciprocated my feelings.”

Whilst you and Xavier had your back and fourth, him chasing after you when you got out of his grasp only to be caught once more. Wednesday was internally seething from the terrace of Ophelia Hall. Her jaw clenched at the sounds of happiness that emitted from the both of you; It sickened her to see you happily content within the arms of another, laughing with another, staring intently at another and yet she couldn’t help but feel envious of Xavier for getting to you before she could be given the opportunity to prove herself a worthy candidate for your heart.

Now she was forced to suffer the unbearable torment of seeing Xavier parade you around from the shadows as you passed her by. Wednesday had to admit, you and Xavier looked perfect together. Upon your first day of Nevermore it seemed as though to her that she and Xavier held the same thoughts about you, seeing firsthand of his eagerness when he approached you and much to her dismay you and Xavier got along like a house on fire. So in order to not feel outdone before she could even make an attempt, Wednesday would go out of her way to purposefully seek you out under the pretences that she needed some peace and quite away from Enid.

Looking back at it now, Wednesday believed she didn’t do enough to earn your favour but now she felt she was too late to change that. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear Enid join her until her voice reached her ears, “are you done sulking about the what ifs and the could have beens and ready to turn them into thoughts of the here and now?” Her optimistic chirping was the cause of countless headaches for Wednesday but right now she couldn’t help but question her perception of reality in that moment. “I can’t.” She responded blankly. “Why?” Enid questions, head tilted to the side in confusion as her lips formed into a pout.

“Y/n is dating Xavier.” Wednesday summarised without going into much depth of the situation. Enid made a face at this, “No they’re not. Where did you get that from?” As far as Enid was aware, you and Xavier were merely just friends who were comfortable being physically affectionate with one another. You had playful competitions between yourselves and had moments where it felt as though neither one of you could be seen without the other being spotted nearby. However none of those instances struck Enid as anything besides serving as examples of a strong platonic bond.

“Just look at them.” Wednesday said, now pointing at the pair of you using a bench as a shield to protect yourselves from being soaked from the others water bottle, laughing and exchanging halfhearted insults as the battle raged on. Wednesday couldn’t begin to describe the feelings welling within her chest without leading back to a word she knew best; torture. Enid looked over at you two and couldn’t help but smile softly at the two of you having fun, considering how bleak and morbid Nevermore may get sometimes; it was refreshing to hear the sounds of two people having a blast now and then.

“That’s just how friends are,” Enid explains, seeing as her dorm mate was foreign to the concept, “some friends prefer to spend time in solitude together, others go out to explore cities and try new things together and then there are those like Xavier and y/n-.” “XAVIER I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU GOT MY SHIRT WET!” Your screech interrupts the werewolf, making her chuckled at your outburst. “DON’T BLAME ME! WE DIDN’T SET UP ANY SORT OF RULES SO IT WAS UNDER MY ASSUMPTION THAT ANYTHING GOES!” Xavier exclaimed though it was obvious he found your frustrations hilarious.

“They’re just friends who wanna have fun as though they’re running out of time.” Enid explained to Wednesday, who still had her digressions about the depth of which your friendship with Xavier went but felt a slight shift within the air that maybe, maybe she’ll be given a chance. The blonde smiled at her dorm mate before nudging her with her shoulder, cussing her to stiffen like a corpse at the contact. “Why don’t you take this as your opportunity to ask her out? After all, it won’t belong until schools out for the holidays and since you don’t want to be a ‘slave to technology.’” Enid spoke the last of her sentence in an poor attempt in mimicking Wednesday which only made the girl look at her unimpressed.

“This is quite literally your only chance to talk to them because someone like y/n,” both Enid and Wednesday looked at you as you crept up behind Xavier, only for him to turn and grab you in his arms as he carried you off back to your dorms, “she won’t be single forever Wednesday. So please, just act upon what you want before it’s too late.” Enid finished as she patted Wednesday on the shoulder before leaving her to her own devise, knowing deep down that she would make the right decision.

#wednesday addams x reader #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #Wednesday Addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #Wednesday imagines #Wednesday x you #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday fic

[samiibami]

HIS GAZE // Death God! Blade AU

CW: Yandere themes, Death God! Blade, nature lovers dni, he calls you "blossom", he kidnapped you, stalker behavior

Wherever you went, to the temple you were forcibly taken to, the nearby forest surrounded by beautiful flowers, he was always there.

Ever since you managed to get the attention and affection of the Death God himself, Blade, he never let you stray from his sight.

Even when going outside to take a nice breath of air from his temple, he followed you closely, grasping your hand in his to make sure you would never ever leave him. It happened once or twice, but he learned to be careful. He could never risk his blossom to leave him now, could he?

This happened when you go out to the forest he made for you just recently, filled with the most high-quality flower beds and beautiful land.

He followed you there too, and whenever you went on your lovely explorations, he unintentionally made the nature that surrounded her decay due to his gaze.

"Blade..you do know that all the nature here is dying because of you right?" You looked at him in concern because of the once area, filled with the greenest of leaves, now becoming the darkest of green. He looked rather apologetic because of that, he was dead aware that no amount of life, aside from living humans, could be within his presence.

"My dear blossom, I apologize, don't look at me that way" He brushed a falling hair strand from your face and behind your ear, it was only natural of him to worry if his beloved was dejected.

You tried to interact with a lovely flower bed that was just your size to lay down on, but once again, he set his gaze on it, and everything decayed in mere seconds.

The petals lost its beautiful white color, now mixed in with a dark shade and slowly ripping away, and the stems snapped. You were clearly upset at the outcome and turned to look at Blade, who seemed extremely guilty.

"They tried to be beautiful for you" He could only make up for it with the simplest of flattery that he could process at the time, looking at her poor face.

You picked up the flower, fingers tracing the rough edges of the petal before the flower flew away when you hold it up. What a miserable ending for a mere flower that you only came across.

"Isn't it beautiful?" He pointed to the decayed flower bed that furthermore became unbearable to look at because of his gaze. The Death God tried to console you in the best ways he could manage as he wasn't used to human emotions yet.

"I can always just make you a new forest, I'm a god after all" He had a faint smile on his face and pulled you into a soothing hug, your back pressed against his chest and his head resting on your shoulder.

"If you want, I can even make you a whole new Earth if you'd like" The Death God's gentle touch on your head was rather comforting in a way, and it made you feel a bit better.

They both continued walking around, the god still holding you in his arms gently as you strolled around, the more you did, the more the forest started to rot and decay because of his continued gaze.

The aftermath of the forest after your walk with him was a depressing thing to witness, but you'd have to get used to it since he will be with you for the rest of eternity. He could always make you a new one after all, and a whole new world if you'd want. Everything's all for you.

(Note: Hi! i made this while i was walking on the road and nearly got hit by a truck so i'm sorry if it's kinda bad)

#hsr blade #honkai star rail #blade x reader #yandere hsr #blade honkai #saranghae

[honestsycrets]

HELLO, HELLO! Okay, so this drabble prompt/idea is kinda sorta in the vein of Querido (I only think about Old Western Miguel now I cannot help it pls forgive me head empty only man and hörse), so pls skip if you're not inspired or in the mood for more in this genre!

Still, I offer you this: Sheriff Miguel.

He's someone all the women have their eyes on, and he'd have his eyes on them, too, if he were younger. But he has a baby girl to worry about, a runaway wife to forget, and a town to keep an eye on, especially when a woman from the big city pays the little down a visit.

He meets her when he loses Gabriella in the market's crowd, only to find her tugging on a fine dress belonging to a fine woman.

(P.S. reading your writing has inspired me to get back into writing my own reader insert stuff 💖 really love your work, keep it up!!)

bumblebee | sheriff!miguel x dressmaker!reader

❛ pairing | sheriff-singleparent!miguel o'hara x dressmaker!reader

❛ type | extended drabble, not-explicit, wc: 2600ish

❛ summary | miguel loses his daughter-- and finds a part of himself he thought was long past dead.

❛ tags | self-edited, querido au, f!reader, sheriff!miguel, dressmaker!reader, implied parental abandonment, some mention of thievery, widowed!reader, mostly fluff, some mention of death, spanish not translated.

❛ sy's notes | i intended this to be a drabble but... it's quite a bit longer. anon, i hope you end up writing to your heart's content.

Miguel ain’t the kinda man women really need. He’s the kinda man they think they want. A big man with a big name, sure, but he’s saddled with what their fathers colloquially call baggage. A little three-year-old girl with ambitions of rolling on out of this little town by rolling on out of his fingertips. 

“Oye, Gwen,” he catches the arm of his deputy. She’s out on the town just as he was, making rounds about the grassy plain where the market was booming. With too few stalls, the marketgoers visit full wooden wagons chock-full of goods. This year, there were new boxes of small circular chocolates. Once every year, his quiet little town became a bustling fuck fest with foreigners running a muck of it all. As sheriff, he just had to deal with it. 

“What’s it, sheriff?” she asks. “Something wrong?” 

“You seen my littlin anywhere? Swore she was right here.”

This is his penance for fooling around with the hearts of pretty women: chasing him his own little girl and minding the crowd. His long, slicked-back hair was all kinds of out of place, whirling over his wrinkled forehead. He shoves a strand of grey hair back in place out of his dark eyes and scans his little town. She could’ve slipped into any creaky old building that wasn't locked up or hitched a ride on a wagon she didn’t belong on. Or, alternatively…

“Miguel! Rio saw her by the sweets.” Former Sherriff Morales tells him, standing by his son’s stall of sweet roasted corn. Ordinarily, he’d give it a begrudging visit. Miguel whirls around on his muddy leather boots, throwing him a nod of thanks with Gwen short on his tail. 

“Sounds promisin’,” she says. “Could be searchin’ for Lyla or Peter.” 

“Thank you for the help, Sheriff,” he grumbled, shoving his way past a sea of cream, brown, and black dresses. Gwen could spider her way through the groups of people with her comparatively slender frame. As a consequence of Miguel’s hulking frame, he’s markedly slower in his search.

“Ain’t here either,” Gwen hops back to his side. “You sure she wandered off?” 

"She had to."

The alternative was… well, he didn't want to think about it. Out of his periphery, he caught the glimmer of polished metal. He spots his daughter’s peachy dress, bundled up with a fat white bow complete with a bell. He put the thing on thinking that, ideally, his little girl would jingle up some hell of noise if she got lost. Some good that bell did. 

“You lost mi amor?” 

Lost. The word stands out to him first, all dressed up in a sugar cube of a voice. His Gabriella tugs on a stranger’s long gown, eyes pricked with tears streaming down her cheeks. Of all the people-- she couldn’t just pick on someone she knew? Head to Rio’s hostel, find Deputy Gwen stalking around, or even Hobie’s bum ass strumming a tune on the old stage. No, she’s with a strange woman. 

“Now don’t you cry,” you dab away the stray tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’ll find you home.” 

You’re not from here because you’re all done up like a buttercup in spring when the women here only broke out color for church. Corset sucking in the finest assets, a buttercream bustle underneath that buttercup yellow skirt. Hair up in a waterfall of curls and covered by a small slouched hat of flowers. You held a parasol for the evening sun, keeping it off your tanned skin. 

“There,” Miguel set his hands on his hips, catching his head in a shake. Gwen leans over on the ball of her feet and stares straight down the barrel of a path. 

“My my,” she says. “Ain’t she a looker. Why are you-- You look good, Miguel.” 

She’s caught on his frantic fiddling. The way Miguel straightens his tie into his waistcoat and checks the chain that drapes along his side. He checks the time on his cracked pocketwatch and spins it between his fingers. Gwen leans up to flick a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“Think so?” 

“Entirely presentable.” 

"¿De veras?" Miguel clears his throat, “Best be on my way to get her.” Miguel loops his fingers on his fine leather belt and waltzes right on up to your stall of hand-sewn dresses. 

For once in his life, he feels underdressed. A man sets some coins in your hand, plucking up a small communion dress for his daughter. With ruffles, lace, and the occasional ribbon. He’s not sure how much luck you’d have selling more than scraps of ribbon in this little town. You set the coins aside, turning your attention back to his daughter who-- somehow, got a brand new ribbon bundled in her ponytail between his fiddling and the walk over.

“Buenas tardes,” he clears his throat, whipping out his metal badge. “I’m Sherriff O’Hara.” 

“Encantada, Sheriff O’Hara. You’re looking as pretty as a penny this fine afternoon. Can’t be wanting any of my dresses. My name is… well, how can I help you?” 

“Papa,” Gabriella coos as if this whole mess wasn’t on her tiny little shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, not yet.

“Yes, mami, Sheriff O’Hara. Do you know old Sheriff O’Hara?” Miguel suppresses his delight as you lift her up onto your hip. Most days, he didn’t notice his own melancholy. Coming home to his little girl soothed all that like a good helping of booze after a bad wound. “She likes you.” 

You sure talk pretty. He clears his throat, pulling on the sloppy tie that feels a whole lot hotter all of a sudden. He shouldn't be acting like this. Has it really been that long since he’s been with a girl? He couldn't go to the saloon and pick any one of those lovesick girls. The town wouldn’t continually elect a loose man. Miguel’s eyes catch the flickering gold of a bumblebee locket on your chest. He traces the curve of its wings, wrapping around a crusted gem.

“‘Course she does, she’s my girl. I lost Gabi up in the crowd flow.” 

“You lost her? You can’t tell me you’re the kinda man that does it all. Where is your wife?”

Where is your wife? The question tormented him. He could do it all. Managing the sloppy, slow thieves and putting down the occasional drunken brawl. At the end of the night, he came home to his empty home and saw his little girl. Miguel’s gaze danced along the puffy clouds in the sky. The fluffy clouds drift the same as usual, the same old slow draw, unknowledgeable about the change in his life. He suppresses the distant melancholy in his voice in surfacing old memories. 

“Ain’t got a wife. She ran off on me with some wolf. Usually, I got a sitter for my girl but, she came down with a fever.”

“A wolf?” you repeat after him, “Why, you mean a gentleman?” 

A gentleman, he scoffs under his breath.

“If you wanna call him that. He was an outlaw.” 

“I’m mighty sorry, Sheriff.”  You looked at the little girl in your arms. Gabriella’s small fingers fiddle with the glimmering gold pendant on your chest. He throws her a look-- behave. She’s not paying attention one bit. You set your parasol down, freeing the necklace and setting it in her tiny fist. “I’m a whole widow myself. Lost my man in the war and never got the chance to have one’a my own.” 

“You don’t say. You on the market?”

“On the market like cattle?” you teased. If he’s not mistaken, that shy smile of yours was all his. Maybe you like him. It's a signal that he could keep going. 

“Coño, no. You’re too fine for that,” the words are buttery smooth, but upon discovering how the words may come off, he realizes he might be sliding into a trap on the back of those words. Your lips are slightly agape, half in shock. “Pretty. You’re too pretty.” 

“Oh, Sheriff, don’t worry your head,” you adjust Gabriella on your hip, swaying in place like it was natural. “I ain’t one to take offense to pretty words. Suppose you want your niña back?” 

There went his chance.

"That'd be best," he slides his hands underneath Gabriella’s tiny arms to pick her up. The pendant she held clattered free from her grip, nestled in the deep grass. You were about to pick it up when a scrawny thing of a man swiped it from the grass. For an instant, Miguel thought it might be Pavi, who loved to be helpful in the most annoying ways. Catching doors even when it's men, dropping his scarf on mud for girls, a charming and shy kid. It isn’t, though, it’s that weasel he seems to be throwing in the pin every damn week, bolting off in a full-on run. 

“Ay, not my locket!” you gasped, plucking your skirts over your boots. 

“Maldito niño--” Miguel stops you, sliding Gabriella back into your arms. Not that she was complaining, tiny hands slapping together in a rendition of applause as Miguel darted after him, his booming steps beating the ground. “Get back here, kid!”  

“Dios, you sure have a busy papa. I'm sure he’ll back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” You looked between the little girl nestled comfortably in your arms and the parting sea of the crowd. Gwen zooms past, eliciting another round of jovial laughter from Gabriella O’Hara. She does love a good game.

It ain’t that Miguel wants to leave his girl with any old fool that waltzed on into his town. But he knows his community, knows they’d not leave him out to dry, and knows that taking his daughter on a town-wide chase with a skinny little weasel around town is not the move. Especially not if he has a gun, which he did, because of course he did. Now, the man has a jail cell and Miguel has a crook in his neck from where the buffoon fell through the crooked second floor of the post office.

He works the sore muscle the whole way back to your wagon. It’s high time for eating. His stomach was raging after the scent of someone’s pulled pork, the roasted sweetness of corn. If we wanted to be presentable then, he sure wasn’t now. Dust was a second skin on his pants and aged boots. He walks past the platform where Hobie plays a tune with his banda. Most vendors were wrapping right on up for some proper debauchery.

He finds you there, swaying to the beat of the music with Gabriella hanging in your arms. Her tiny hands were around an ear of elote already. Guess she extorted a snack out of you. 

“One gold locket,” Miguel heaves out the words as he digs in his pocket, whirling the golden chain into your small hand. You flip it over once, then twice, examining it for any defects. “Better to keep that tucked away out here. Puts a target on your back right quick.”

“Muchísimas gracias, sheriff. You're a sweetheart,” you reach out, grazing his scratchy cheek with your supple lips. Gabriella is flatly squished between his sweaty chest and yours. She’s fallen asleep flat against your chest. “You don’t know how much this necklace means to me.” 

There are whispers from the women he’s turned down. The viejitas who have been trying to set him up for a full-on year now, those who told him he needed to find a girl as soon as possible to marry. He didn’t want to. Not unless it made sense. 

“Yes, well, you could tell me,” Miguel finally picks his daughter from your arms. She’s out like a light. “If you want.” 

“It was my mami's, once upon a time. She gave it to me on my wedding day," you explain. "It's all I got left of her. I wonder what she'd think of me these days, travelin' town to town like I got secrets."

"You ever think of settlin' down again?" He turns his gaze past Hobie’s banda, to the yellowing sky. The sun is setting out over the horizon, casting warm orange and soft pink into the air. The road is full of wagons. The clip-clop of horses running their way to the next town, some checked in to the hostel.

"A veces," you explain. "If it feels right, I think I will."

"Yeah?" He settles on the bed of your wagon. The dresses were packaged and kept in locked chests, kept away from the bed of the wagon where your blanket was. Most of the foreigners have left, but you. He doesn’t have to guess to know that it was his fault. “You off to Rio’s hostel?” 

“‘fraid I’m out of town,” you smiled at him. “She ain’t got any rooms. Next city over might.” 

“Stay with me,” he says. “The night. Bit too late to get robbed on the road with all them pretty dresses you make. Wouldn’t be right to be sheriff and let a young thing out there without company. Some'a them outlaws take wives that way, y'know.” 

“Oh, Sheriff O’Hara, ain’t no one care about widows on the road,” your hand finds your chest. It’s said with a laugh, as though someone, somewhere, made you feel less than. It wasn’t going to be Miguel.

"Ain't a widow if you're carried off." He reclines, watching the figures of couples dancing to whatever the hell Hobie was playing on his guitar. His eyes track over Hobie’s gloved fingers that prance across the strings, waiting for you to walk back on that stupid comment. You do, snapping out a fan in the waist of your heavy dress to fan yourself.

“You really sure? I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sure you got better to do than take care of company.” 

“You took care of my girl. Least I could do. Long as you go to church in the morning.” 

“Oh, now he’s askin’ me to church. When’s the wedding, Sherriff?” 

“Miguel. Soon as you want it,” he returns, half a smile pulling at a normally closed-off face. Miguel turns to set his Gabi down on your blanket, throwing you a look for permission. You nod, watching her roll on the wool thing, setting her hands under her cheek until she gets into a position that isn’t as bad as laying on her back. He tucks her hair back over the shell of her ear, exhaling a breath. Somewhere between his ex-wife’s flight from the town and today, she began to look more and more like him. He’s thankful for that. He doesn’t need more memories of her. Only needed to get through each day, and make the next better than the one before.

“She’s tuckered out,” you lean down, just by his face. “All that escapin’ papa work.” 

“Si,” Miguel hums as he massages his sore shoulder. “Tell me about it. I’m getting too old for this.” 

He lifts his head from his daughter’s tiny body, reminded of all the times someone told him to get married. If not the women chasing him around his jail at all hours of the day, then the women at church who, at the moment, were gossiping away. He could hear the prattle already: sheriff likes rich girls. The type to have a golden locket and French silk. The luxury of hopping from town to town like some no-good woman. He’d wager, your husband ain’t had the money to take care of you but for these light luxuries. Traveling town to town wasn't no small feat.

Tch. He’d deal with it tomorrow when he took you to church. Scandalous as that was.

“Fancy a dance?” he offered up his hand. 

You remove your gloves, skin is soft and supple against his, only marred by the pricks of a needle. Your gloved fingers grazed his scarred palm, tracing the long strike that marred his open palm. There’s a thought there, just behind the reach of your playful eyes. He couldn’t quite reach it. 

“I’d love to, Miguel.” 

Something tells him he has time to.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miggy x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman 2099 x reader

[devilat-thedoor]

Hands to Yourself Pt9

Hi, my loves🤍

I know this one took awhile and i'm sorrryyyyy, but she’s here now! I hope it was worth the wait(even if only for the spicy scene)💖

Part 8

Word Count: 10.7k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI. Smut(oral[f!rec], fingering, unprotected sex). Pregnancy talk. only a lil angst in the form of an argument. Mentions of death/accidents. Let me know if I missed anything!

“Babe, help…” You whined at Jake, holding your towel up to him. When he took it from your hand, you peeled the plastic cover from your left arm that kept the cast dry during your shower. “Dry my hair a little first, please?” You turned around and leaned your head back, letting your hair dangle down your spine.

Jake moved closer, scrunching your dripping strands in the towel to remove the excess water, “You’re getting awfully needy, my love…” You smiled at his sarcastic tone, “It’s one thing to sponge bathe you, but this? I bet I’ll have to help you get dressed too, huh?” He pulled the towel around your body, securing it in the front as he turned you to face him.

Your hands found his waist, just above his own towel, “I’d hardly call that a sponge bath, Jacob. All you had to do was scrub my back.” You gave a pout as you looked up at him, “Make you a deal?” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I’ll get myself dressed if you make dinner? I’m so hungry, baby.” You watched his lip curl..

“Deal.” He punctuated the word with a peck to your nose before breaking away and heading out of the bathroom.

Moving to the sink, you stared at yourself in the mirror. The bruise on your cheek was faded to a yellow, only a few purplish specks sprinkled throughout. The cut in the center was healed enough that you didn’t need the medical tape to seal it together anymore, but there was definitely going to be a scar left behind. Picking up your brush from the sink top, you began pulling it through your hair. After successfully detangling, you made your way out and into your bedroom. Jake’s towel was discarded on the bed, left to soak into the duvet. You shook your head with a chuckle, going to your dresser and pulling out some comfy clothes to wear. You could hear music playing from the living room, signaling that Jake had fired up the turntable, and you felt a cozy warmth wash over you, picturing him digging through the cabinets while he hummed along quietly. You pulled a t-shirt over your head, only struggling to get your left arm through the sleeve because of the pain in your collarbone. You wondered what Jake was going to cook as you shook your sweatpants out, your stomach growling viciously. After getting your right leg into the pants, you were having a hard time with the left and lost your balance, falling into your dresser with a thud. A frustrated sigh left your mouth as you straightened back up, muttering curses under your breath.

Jake came into the room at the commotion, “Hey, are you okay?” You didn’t answer and he watched you continue to struggle with the pants, “Alright, let me help.” He came closer and tried to grab the waistband to help you step into them.

“No, I got it.” You stubbornly pushed his hands away, insisting you could do it. He refused to give up, moving in to help again. “Jake, I said I got it!” You stomped your foot as you yelled, causing you to stumble once more, but Jake caught you before you could hit the floor.

He made sure you were steady and knelt down, holding the sweats for you to step into, “Why do you keep trying to fight me on everything, Y/N?” You held onto his shoulders, finally accepting his assistance as you let him pull the pants up. “Everytime I try to help you the past few days, you lash out…”

You brought your hand up, rubbing it over your collarbone, “Because I don’t need your help with everything, Jake. I need to be able to do these basic things by myself.” Moving past him, you stalked out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Jake was following right behind you, “Y/N, you were in a bad accident, it’s okay to need help.” He watched you roll your shoulder back with a grimace as you rounded the corner to the kitchen, “And you should really put the sling back on… You’re supposed to be limiting your arm movement.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you threw your head back with an eye roll, “I don’t need you to play doctor. I just spent more than enough time surrounded by plenty of them and that damn sling hurts my neck!”  Taking a deep, calming breath, you turned to face him, “I’m sorry. I just…can’t be dependent on you for everything. I refuse to be that kind of burden on you, Jake.”

“You’re not a burden on me, love. You could never be.” He took a few steps, closing the distance between you. “I want to help you. I want you to want my help, so please stop arguing.” His hands grasped your waist gently, pulling you into him. You surrendered, laying your head over his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“I do want your help, Jakey… But I also need to be independent.” You gazed up at him through your lashes, cheek flat against his heart, “You’re not gonna be around 24/7. You’ll be back on tour soon enough and when I go back to work, I-“

He pulled back, staring down at you as he cut you off, “You’re not going back to work for a while, Y/N… Why are you thinking about that right now?”

You stared back at him with the same confused expression, “A while? No.” You broke away from him, shaking your head, “I’m going back as soon as I can. I’ll go back next week if it’s possible.”

“Well, it’s not going to be possible.” He stated matter-of-factly before turning around and leaving the kitchen. You went after him, ready for the ensuing argument. Jake was at the record player, removing the vinyl and tucking it back into its sleeve. He could feel your eyes boring into his back and, as if he knew you were about to open your mouth, he shut down your thoughts before you had a chance to voice them. “You can give me that angry stare all you want.” He whipped around to be met with the exact look he was suspecting, “What are you not understanding about the fact that you almost died? I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate it, but I’ll say it until it gets through to you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, “Your body needs to heal. You went through something traumatic and I know you don’t want to admit to yourself or anyone, for that matter, but you are not at 100%, Y/N!” The loud tone of his voice had you glaring at him, “The only thing you should be focusing on is your recovery.”

“I’m healing just fine, Jake. If I wasn’t, Dr. Brooks wouldn’t have signed the fucking release papers!” Your voice was rising, matching the level of his, “You’re the only person who thinks I need to be put in a fucking bubble, I don’t get it!”

He released an angry huff through his nose, “Because you’re not the only one that I have to worry about anymore!” He turned his back to you, dragging his hands over his face. “I know you hate this, love, I do. I don’t want to keep you locked up in the house anymore than you want to be...” His voice was quiet now, laced with defeat, “But if you try to jump straight into everything without giving yourself adequate time to really recover…you’re not just risking hurting yourself.” You hugged your arms around yourself, completely speechless. When you didn’t say anything for several moments, Jake turned back to see your eyes cast to the floor. “Baby, come here.” He held his hand out as an offering but you remained in place, letting his words sink in. Maybe you were being selfish? It hadn’t occurred to you that your body wasn’t just your body anymore and the thought was overwhelming. Were you being careless? “Okay, get out of your head.” He stood in front of you, taking your face in his hands to make you look at him. He waited for your eyes to meet his, “You’ll be able to get back into your routine, love. It’s just gonna take time.” Jake lured you in, resting his chin on your head, while you kept your arms around yourself, “Can you give me that? Just a little time?”

You dropped your arms to your sides, relaxing into him with a deep sigh. It wasn’t an unreasonable request at all, but it was only a matter of time before the cabin fever would set in and drive you crazy. Sure, you could still get out of the house and do small things, but without a car, there weren’t many options. You knew that Jake would happily drop everything to do anything for you and you were grateful for that. For him. Still, deep down, you couldn’t help but feel like part of him would get sick of it. You pushed the negative thoughts away and pressed your nose into his shirt, breathing him in and mumbling against his chest, “Okay. Time… I can give you that if you make dinner like you promised.”

His chest shook with a laugh, “I didn’t promise! We made a deal!” Jake stepped back, holding you at arms length as he continued to laugh, “And you didn’t even get dressed by yourself.” You flattened your palm against his chest, pushing him away with a forced scowl. He grabbed your arm before you could disconnect from him and yanked you back into his hold, “I’m kidding, baby.” Brushing your damp hair from your face, he smiled down at you, “We don’t have anything here to make, I have to go to the store. What do you wanna eat, my love?”

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment, “Blueberry pancakes and bacon.” He began to nod his head, but you weren’t finished, “A burger would be good too… with fresh cut fries!” Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of it, “Oooh and a strawberry milkshake. No! Mint chocolate chip!”

“Jesus, Y/N… Okay.” Jake was trying to reason with you, “How about we do burgers and fries for dinner and I’ll get stuff to do breakfast tomorrow? Sound good?” 

“And a milkshake?” You were batting your eyelashes at him, smiling sweetly.

“Yes, love, ‘and a milkshake.’” He mimicked you, pinching your side with a giant grin. You yelped and swatted at him, trying to break away from him, but Jake had you encased in his arms, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled and squirmed in his grip. “I’ll give you whatever you want as long as I get to hear that laugh every day.”

Gazing up at him, you ran your index finger over his bottom lip, “One laugh a day seems like a reasonable request.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his as a need you hadn’t felt in a couple of weeks started to bloom. Your hand traveled over his cheek to curl around the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his hair as you guided his lips to yours. He kissed you back, allowing your tongue to roll against his own, and your left hand snaked under the hem of his t-shirt. Your fingertips grazed over his warm skin as your thumb brushed through the trail of hair below his belly button, ghosting across the waistline of his jeans. It was a subtle way of telling Jake that you wanted him and normally he would pick up on that right away and give in, but you were surprised when he stepped back, detaching your hand from his body. “Baby…” You whined, grasping his hips and nuzzling into his neck as you nipped at his collarbone.

Your hand went back to his waistband, toying with the button while your lips danced over his neck. He swallowed hard, his fingers circling around your cast to stop you, “Not right now, love.” 

“What? Why not?” Your eyes dropped to his crotch, the denim now tight over his obvious erection, “We can be quick, Jakey.” You smiled as you reached for him again but he dodged your hand, turning away from you. “Are you seri-.”

“When I get back, Y/N.” Jake was standing in the front hall, slipping his vans on, now. You stared at him, brows pinched, trying to decipher his rigid body language. He looked up, catching your expression and gave a tight, forced smile, “I’m gonna go get the food… so we can eat.” He shifted on his feet as he pulled his keys from their hook and opened the door, “I’ll be back in an hour, love you.” The door clicked shut and you gawked in disbelief at the empty spot that Jake was standing in just seconds prior. What just happened?

Deciding that hunger was the cause of his odd behavior, you turned and walked back to the kitchen, in need of something to settle your own growling stomach. Heading into the pantry, you rummaged through the shelves, searching for anything to snack on, but came up short. He was right when he said there was nothing in the house. You closed the pantry door and walked to the counter where the fruit bowl sat, it was empty. Pulling the french doors of the fridge open, you dug through the drawers but they were devoid of anything appetizing. In a last ditch effort, you pulled the freezer drawer open and began sifting through the bags of frozen veggies and packaged proteins. Tucked away in the very back, as though they were deliberately hidden, you found a box of frozen fruit bars and yanked them out, inspecting the box. You didn’t remember buying them or even seeing them, so Jake was clearly keeping them to himself. Making a mental note to scold him about it later, you flipped the box open and looked over the remaining flavors before settling on a mango one, but just as you went to put the box back into the freezer, you stopped to pull out a strawberry one as well. Straightening back up, you took your fruit bars and padded into the living room to settle into the sofa and wait for your boy to return.

___________________________________________________

Jake had been gone for over an hour now and as you sat on the couch, watching an old rerun of Law & Order SVU, your phone began to ring from the coffee table, vibrating beside your discarded popsicle sticks. You looked down to see your brother’s picture across the screen and quickly answered it, placing it to your ear. “Hey.”

His deep voice came through, “Hey, how was it getting home today? Are you settled in?” You smiled at his concern. He’d made the drive down as soon as he received Josh’s voicemail and got a hotel room. He was at the hospital everyday for 4 days straight, making sure you were comfortable and taken care of. Everybody was so attentive and caring while you were there and you would never be able to thank them enough. 

“It was good! I’m just so happy to finally be back home. It’s nice to have my own space without a nurse or a tech coming in every half hour.” Not that you didn’t appreciate everything the hospital staff did for you, but you were thankful to have your privacy back. “So… what’s up?” The question came with a bit of hesitation. After you had told him about the call you’d gotten from someone alleging to be the garage owner, he promised to get it figured out but you were admittedly a bit scared to know the truth.

When your brother set you up with the new truck before your move, he sorted out all the fine details so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, knowing the state of mind you were in. He found farms and vendors in the area to order ingredients from, compiling a list for you to decide which ones you’d prefer to work with. He’d made sure you’d have a safe place to park the truck at the end of your work days, and that was where the garage came in. Matt was a friend of his that he met in college who happened to call your new city home. He bought the apartment building that the garage space was tucked underneath as an investment property and when your brother mentioned that you were going to be moving to the area, Matt was quick to offer up the garage for a generously low price. You’d only ever met the man once when he gave you the keys. Your brother was the one who handled the rent payments and there was never any other reason for you to be in contact with Matt about anything, so you never needed his number. “Uhh, So don’t freak out or anything…” The tone of his voice made your stomach flip but you stayed silent, waiting on him to deliver what could only be bad news. “I called Matt when I got home yesterday afternoon and he didn’t know anything about the alleged fire.” He let out a breath, clearly unsure of how to tell you what he’d called for, “Y/N, listen…He told me that a couple of weeks ago, he had a girl put a rental application in for one of the apartments and when she showed up for a tour, she kept asking him about the garage.”

You had a pretty good feeling about who the girl may have been, “Did he umm- did he say what she was asking? Anything specific?” A wave of nausea rippled through your stomach at his response.

“Yeah, actually…It was weird shit, like creepy. Said he got a weird vibe from her.” The sound of the front door opening took your attention away from the phone call. Jake came down the front hall, grocery bags lining his arms and a styrofoam cup in his hand, greeting you with your favorite smile. “She was asking who he leased the space to, how long they’ve been using it…” 

Your focus went back to the call, “He didn’t tell- What did he say?” You were chewing on your fingernails as Jake passed you, walking into the kitchen.

You could hear your brother release a sigh, “All he said was that he rented the space out to a friend of his. Your name wasn’t mentioned at all, but it’s still a sketchy situation, Y/N. You need to be careful.” He paused for a moment and your anxiety grew with each passing second of silence, “This girl is obviously willing to go to pretty extreme lengths… I think you should come back home for a while, until she’s dealt with, at least. I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“I’m not leaving my home, I’m not scared of Sage and I’m not alone.” You were defensive and he tried to protest but you cut him off, not wanting to argue with him, “Jake just got home, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” You didn’t wait for him to say it back before hanging up and heading for the kitchen.

Jake had the groceries put away already and you found him standing at the island, seasoning the raw burger patties. His face fell when he saw your expression, “Oh don’t tell me you’re not craving burgers anymore…” It was his attempt at a joke to lighten your mood and when he saw a smile tug at the corner of your lip, he turned around to wash his hands before coming around the island to you, “What’s got’ya down, love?” You shook your head at his british accent, mumbling that you’d tell him later as you looked around the kitchen. “Y’looking for something?”

“I saw you carry a cup in, Jake.” You gave him a pointed stare, “Where is it? I”m sad and I just need a frosty milkshake to make everything better.” You pouted your lip, “Pretty please, baby.”

His hand flattened on the small of your back and he pulled you closer to him, tilting your chin up to leave a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “It’s in the freezer, my love.” 

You broke away from him, rushing to the fridge, while he went back to pick up the burgers, “Is it mint chocolate?” You pulled the cup from the freezer, turning to face him as he was going out the back door.

“It’s not, but I think you’ll like that one better.” He slipped through the doorway and out onto the patio to grill the patties as you brought the straw to your mouth, taking a sip. You practically moaned as it hit your tastebuds, birthday cake. “Thank you, baby!” You yelled towards the open door before retreating back into the living room to finish your episode before your dinner was done.

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You finished the last bite of your burger and put your plate down on the coffee table, only a few fries remaining on the dish as you picked up your milkshake, taking a few sips through the straw. You looked at Jake, sitting to your left with his attention on the movie he’d chosen for the two of you to watch. Your focus was on his mouth as he plucked a fry from his plate and chomped down on it. His jaw flexed as he chewed and your gaze dropped to his adam’s apple, bobbing as he swallowed the food and the sudden need to have him was back. Sitting up, you placed your cup on the table and when you leaned back, you made sure you pressed right up against Jake’s side. Entirely oblivious to what you were planning, he turned to you with a warm smile, slinging his arm around your shoulders to hold you close before turning back to the movie. You waited for him to finish eating and put his plate on the table to make your next move. He sat back again, pulling you back into his side and you brought your hand up to his chest, just an innocent touch as you laid your head on his shoulder. You let a few moments pass before sliding your hand down to his tummy, leaving it to rest there while you angled your head just enough for your breath to fan over the skin of his neck. He glanced down at your hand, running his tongue over his teeth, but he didn’t say anything, just returned his gaze to the television. You released a soft sigh, blowing the cool air directly against his skin, “Baby, can I stretch my legs out? My hip kind of hurts.”

“Of course, my love.” He answered without hesitation, pulling your legs over his lap. “Watch your arm.” You lifted your casted arm in the air to avoid Jake hitting it as he maneuvered your legs into a comfortable position over him. His hands laid over your thighs as he turned his attention back to the movie. You made restless moves, shifting your legs and twisting your torso, pretending like you just couldn’t get comfortable, anything to make him look at you. You caught him clenching his jaw as he picked the remote up and paused the movie before turning to you, “What is wrong with you?” There was an edge to his tone and you could tell he was growing agitated, so you worked to remedy the situation while still finding a way to get what you wanted.

You drew your brows together with a slight pout, “I’m sorry, lover. I’m just having trouble getting comfortable.” Looking away from him, you removed your legs from his lap with an exaggerated sigh, “I’ll just go lay in bed, I don’t want to bother you, baby.” You stood from the couch, waiting for him to stop you.

“Hey, wait…” Jake curled his fingers around your thigh with a gentle squeeze, “We can lay here, you’re not bothering me.” You turned around to face him, watching as he fluffed out one of the square throw pillows and rested it against the arm of the couch. “Come here, baby.” He laid across the cushions, opening his arms for you to crawl into. You couldn’t conceal your smile as you laid down, rolling onto your right side to press your back into his chest. He waited for you to be still before lifting the remote towards the TV and hitting the play button. Jake left the remote to sit on his hip and draped his arm over you, resting his palm on your abdomen. Placing your hand over the back of his, careful not to let the cast scratch him, you laced your fingers through his own brought his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm. You waited for any kind of reaction to determine your next move. A smirk graced your face as his lips found the spot behind your ear, leaving a soft, wet kiss. The gesture had you tossing your plans out the window and grinding your ass against him, making it blatantly obvious that you were desperate for him. Pulling his hand from yours, he grasped your hip, “Y/N…” He whispered your name in warning.

You scooted over enough to roll to your back and look at him, “Jake, please…” You whined at him, giving him the lost puppy stare, “It’s been so long since you’ve really touched me.”

He leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours as his hand traveled over your belly where your t-shirt had lifted. Just as you convinced yourself that he was finally giving in, he pulled away, “You’ve been in the hospital, love. What was I supposed to do? Sneak you and the I.V. stand into a janitor’s closet?” His chest shook as he laughed, “It hasn’t even been two full weeks.” He left it at that, eyes returning to the screen while his hand remained on your stomach, his fingers lightly pressing into your flesh.

You could feel his growing bulge pressing into your hip, telling you that he wanted you too, but he was ignoring it and you didn’t know why. Flipping onto your left side to face him completely, you tapped your fingers on his chest, “Why are you acting like you don’t want this?” Your hand traveled down his torso as you locked eyes with him, “Baby, are you afraid to touch me?” Just as your hand ghosted over his erection, he caught it, pulling it back up to his chest. You’re sure the look of defeat on your face was clear as you took your hand back, pushing yourself to stand from the couch, “I uhh… I’m gonna go lay down in the bedroom.” You shuffled around the sofa, avoiding his stare as you headed for your room.

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Jake POV

“Love, don’t-” You sat up, calling after her, but she quickly disappeared down the hallway. Slouching against the back cushions, you dragged a hand down your face with a heavy exhale. The last thing you wanted was to hurt her feelings but you failed miserably and the look on her face as she got up and left the room was proof of that. Of course you wanted her; to feel her hands on you, to taste her, wanted her body draped over yours, fitting around you in the way only she could. Your perfect fitting puzzle piece. She had it wrong, though. You weren’t afraid to touch her, you were afraid to hurt her. Scared that once things got started, they would escalate quickly and, knowing how feral the two of you could easily get, you would get a little too rough. It had been too long since you had her; 11 days since she graced you with the heavenly warmth of her mouth, 12 days since the last time you buried yourself inside of her and got to listen to the angelic noises she made as you spoiled all the secret spots that only you knew. After years of having her to yourself, the freedom of being able to explore all the hills and valleys of her body, you knew her better than anyone else, better even than she knew herself. You could pull desperate whimpers from her with a simple curl of your fingers, leave her sweaty and panting with a swipe of your tongue. But the sweetest sound to leave her lips was always your name, spoken through a gasp while her fingers dug into your skin, every time she came apart.

You forced the thoughts from your head as you palmed your painfully hard cock, willing it to soften. Deciding that you would wait long enough for her to fall asleep before going to bed, you relaxed into the cushions to finish the last hour of the movie. After 30 minutes, your erection was gone and your eyelids were drooping. You stood up, hitting the power button on the remote to shut the TV off, and headed for the bathroom to brush your teeth. Halfway down the hall, you were passing the bedroom, expecting to hear her soft, breathy snores, but you were instead greeted by a quiet, drawn out whine. A sound you recognized too well. She left a small crack in the door and you were careful not to make a peep as you peered through it, getting a perfect view of the bed. There she was, body stretched down the length of your side, bathed in the warm, yellow glow of the lamp and wearing your favorite black shirt over her torso with nothing else. The buttons were left undone, leaving the shirt to fall open and expose her full, round breasts. All the blood in your body was rushing back to your dick in an instant as your eyes raked down her frame to find her hand, tucked between her legs that lay spread wide. You watched as her fingers slid through her folds, petting at her clit before she dipped two of them into her pussy. She was so wet, you could hear her touching herself, pushing her fingers in only to pull them back out and reveal her glistening arousal coating them. You felt like you were intruding, like you shouldn’t be watching her in such a personal, intimate moment and you almost tore away from the door until she brought her hand up, licking and sucking her fingers into her mouth with a lewd moan. Your feet were glued to the floor as you remained entranced in the show she was putting on, unaware of the one man audience. Her hand traveled back down, stopping to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple before slipping back into her dripping cunt. You rubbed your palm over yourself, searching for any kind of relief you could get. She was working her fingers deeper, her chest rising rapidly as her thumb flicked over her swollen clit. A shuddering breath escaped her and her body tensed up for a few seconds, signaling that she was right at the tipping point of her orgasm and you were ready to watch her fall into that blissful moment. But then your name was cascading from her lips, a steady mantra as she twisted her head, burying her face in your pillow with a deep inhale, and you suddenly couldn’t fathom the thought of her cumming if it wasn’t at your hands. “Stop!” You barked the order a little more aggressively than you intended. Your t-shirt was already gone as you pushed the door open and popped the button on your jeans.

She ripped her fingers from herself with a slight jump, her eyes wide. “Jake, I-.” She sat up on her elbows as you silenced her and kicked your pants from your ankles.

“Shhh. Open.” You watched her swallow hard and wet her lips before complying. She stared up at you with large doe eyes, letting her mouth fall open. You slid your middle and ring fingers over her tongue and she took the hint, closing her lips around them as she licked at them. “That’s good, love.” Pulling your fingers from her mouth, you gently pushed on her chest until she laid flat on the bed. You grazed your hand down, tickling over her skin while she writhed from your touch. She was incredibly sensitive, still at the edge of a climax and you were here to throw her in head first, “Look at the mess you made…” Your fingers passed over her clit, causing her to jolt with a sharp breath, but you went lower, teasing her dripping entrance. She was following your hand, watching every movement you made as her hips bucked, begging for you. “You’ve got yourself so worked up, sweet girl.” You pushed the two digits into her, “But I’ll take care of you now…”

She was instantly clenching around you, her head thrown back into the pillow as her eyes started rolling, “Hmmm. Baby, p-please.” Her legs were already shaking, but you pushed your fingers deeper, curling them upwards to put pressure on her g-spot, if only to hear what sound she would make. You smiled to yourself as her back arched off of the bed and a low, guttural groan ripped through her throat. That was a new sound, but not quite what you were looking for. Removing your fingers, you crawled onto the mattress, laying on your chest to settle between her thighs and hooking your hands around them to pull her closer. “Ohh fuck, pleeeease.” She was whining loud, raising her hips to meet your mouth as you blew cool air over her heat.

You couldn’t resist tasting her anymore, finally dragging your tongue through her folds, starting at the pooling wetness and traveling up to her clit. You repeated the gesture before closing your lips around the bud, earning a piercing cry as her fingers knotted into your hair, scratching your scalp with every pull. The melodic sounds she was making, coupled with the mere sight of her, were enough to make you cum in your boxers. She was completely at your mercy as you devoured her, lapping at her sweet pussy, “Can’t believe I’ve been depriving myself of this… Tastes fucking divine, baby…” You bit down on her inner thigh before putting your focus back on her clit, rapidly flicking your tongue over it.

She was holding your head in place, rolling her hips to ride your tongue. You brought a hand down to push a finger back into her, “No- fuck… Baby, it- I can’t-.” Words were mindlessly pouring from her mouth, but none of them mattered, you were still waiting on a specific one. Pulling your finger out, you added two more and slid them back in, angling them just enough to brush over that sweet spot with every stroke. She was falling apart in seconds, her legs clamping shut around your head as she finally erupted into a fit of tears from the snapping tension. Her grip on your hair was borderline painful as her voice echoed through the room, “Oh God, Jake. Fuckfuckfuck, Jaaaake.” A grin spread over your face at the one thing you’d been silently begging to hear. She let your name drag out into a breathless whimper, her brows knitted as her eyes fluttered. Her thighs were still clenching your face as you held her body down, slowing your licks as she violently trembled beneath you.

When her body eventually relaxed, her legs fell open, releasing you from their grip and you crawled up to lay beside her as you both caught your breath, “Think you got one more in you?” You half-joked, turning your head to look at her. She gave you a questioning look with the raise of her eyebrow. You nodded to the tent in your boxers and watched her eyes flick down, a smirk curling the corner of her lips. There was something mischievous about the way she was eyeing you, “What?”

She let out a giggle, rolling into your side and letting her hand coast down the length of your torso, “Nothing… I just-. No, nevermind. It’s nothing.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to conceal the giant grin that threatened to give away the secret she was keeping. She sat up, hooking her fingers into your waistband and changing the subject, “You want my mouth, baby?” You sat up as well, grabbing her hands before she could pull your boxers down. The smile fell from her face, “What the fuck, Jake?” She ripped her hands from yours, resting them in her lap.

You shook your head, “You had that devious little grin on your face, I wanna know why.” Her eyes were searching your face and you knew she was waiting for you to just drop it and give in to her, but you couldn’t. “Tell me what you’re hiding, love.” She remained silent, fidgeting with her fingers. “Okay.” You released a sigh and swung your legs off of the bed, “I’ll take care of myself in the shower.” Standing up, you walked towards the door slowly, knowing there wasn’t any way she was going to let you leave the room.

“Ugggh. Fine…” She was scowling as you turned back to her, fighting to keep your face straight while you awaited her explanation. She dramatically rolled her eyes, slapping her hands down on the mattress with a huff, “I knew you would come back to the bedroom after me…” Her eyes roamed over the bed, avoiding your own, “I put the shirt on and I laid here, waiting for you, edging myself… When I heard the TV shut off, I knew it was game time.” She pulled your shirt around herself, covering her body like she was embarrassed by her admission. 

“Game time?”

Her gaze finally met yours as she bit her cheek, “You’ve refused to touch me, wouldn’t let me touch you… I didn’t want to force it, I know you’re scared that you’ll hurt me, Jake.” She knew? You listened intently, inching closer as she continued, “I knew that if I put on a good enough show, that it might just draw you in. And I’ll admit, I got a little lost in myself at the end there, forgot that you were watching altogether.” She chuckled softly and you climbed back onto the bed, sitting in front of her. “If you hadn’t come through the door when you did… God, Jake…”

You grabbed her hand, pulling her in to straddle your lap, and brushed the sweaty strands of hair from her face, “What would've happened if I didn’t come in here, baby?” She was seated directly atop of your covered dick and you could feel her soaking through the fabric. “Would you have made a mess all over my side of the bed?” She nodded, a smile forming on her face as she rolled her hips over you. You reached down between your bodies, lifting her from your lap to pull your boxers down a bit. Her eyes went to your cock as it landed against your stomach, “I was gonna let you do it. Just watching you fuck yourself in my shirt, laying on my pillow…” A rasped breath caught in your throat as she slid her pussy against you, coating your length in her slick. “Fuck, Y/N… I would’ve watched forever if you didn’t start chanting my name.” You squeezed your eyes shut as she continued to slide over you, holding onto your shoulders for leverage.

“You like when I say your name, baby?” You gave a slow nod, grasping her hips, “You’re the only thing left in my mind when I come, you know that?” Your eyes were still closed, but you could feel her shifting in your lap, “When everything gets cloudy and I can’t form any thoughts, there’s always one single thing left on the tip of my tongue…” She paused and you felt her chest pressing into your face, “Jake…” She gasped it into your ear while sinking onto your cock at the same time and you shivered from the sensation. Your eyes snapped open as she started moving, rising and dropping slowly with a slight twirl to her hips.

Your fingers were digging into her flesh as you fought the urge to toss her down and ravage her, “Say it again, baby.” She leaned close, her lips right against your ear again as she whispered it, Jake, followed by a dulcet hum. You moved one hand from her hip, snaking it around to cop a handful of her ass, “Again, Y/N. Don’t stop.” You saw her smirk before pressing a kiss to your cheek, murmuring your name. Then the other cheek, your forehead, chin, nose. Every wet peck was accompanied by your name, spoken through soft, breathy moans. Just as her mouth floated over your own and she parted her lips to speak, you bucked up into her, rendering her silent as her jaw hung agape, eyelids flitting. Her nails dug into your shoulders as she threw her head back, arching her tits into your face.

“Ahh. Fuck, baby.” Her head flew up at the feeling of your teeth sinking into the plush skin around her nipple. She dropped her forehead to yours, gazing deep into your eyes, “It’s been weeks, Jakey…Fuck me like you really missed me.” You did miss her. Fuck, you missed her so bad and you were going to show her.

Hooking your arm around her back to lock her in, you shifted onto your knees and carefully laid her down on the mattress while remaining sheathed inside of her. You grabbed a pillow, lifting her hips from the bed to tuck it underneath them, “Promise you’ll tell me if anything hurts?” You waited for her to give you a confirming nod before drawing yourself from her cunt until only your tip was left. Taking her right ankle in your hand, you lifted it to your shoulder to rest and held her thigh in a tight grasp as you slammed back into her. Her eyes went wide as you did it again, pulling out just to plunge back in with a hard snap of your hips, a deafening cry ringing out of her throat. “You gonna give me another one, love?” She was fighting to answer you, her mouth opening and closing as the words failed her.

Her face began to contort as though she was in pain and you were about to stop when she grabbed at your hand that was holding her leg. “I’m s- Need you… c-come” She was stuttering through her ragged breaths, but you knew what she wanted.

You let her leg fall to the side and yanked the pillow from beneath her, “I will, my love. I’m right there, I promise.” You laced your fingers through her right hand, pushing it above her head as you crawled over her and began rolling your hips, to give her slow, deep strokes. You could’ve spent an eternity just like this as long as it would always be her below you. Her eyes were screwed shut, face twisting into different expressions, as she rolled her hips in tune with yours. The sounds leaving her mouth were sublime, floating through your ears and filling the bedroom, it was dragging you to the edge and you fought to hold it together, to wait for her. Suddenly her eyes flew open, locking directly on yours as she clenched around your cock, gripping you so impossibly tight, soaking you while your name dripped from her tongue one last time. The climax ripped through you, all your muscles seizing up as the first string of release shot out. Your body trembled as you emptied inside of her and you couldn’t hold your weight up anymore. When she finally relaxed from her own orgasm, her pussy releasing its hold on you, you pulled out and collapsed to the bed pulling your boxers up. She was snuggling against you in an instant, looking up at you with droopy eyes and a lazy, satisfied smile. You’re sure that your face probably mimicked hers as you placed a kiss on her forehead.

She gave a delighted hum, draping her arm over you and curling into your body, “That was perfect, baby.” You could feel her body go limp as her breathing went even and quiet.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep.” You tapped your fingers on her back only to be answered by a groan. “Baby, get up. Let me get you cleaned up and then we can go to sleep.” She remained motionless, forcing out light snores in the hopes that you would think she’s already sleeping. Chuckling at her theatrics, you pushed yourself to sit up, taking her with you, “C’mon, love… to the bathroom.”

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Her POV

You sounded like a toddler, whining while Jake dragged you out of the bed. “Baby, I’m so tired.” He just shook his head with a laugh, pulling you down the hallway and into the bathroom while you attempted to fasten a few buttons on the shirt. You could feel him beginning to leak out of you and you broke away from him to go pee. Jake turned around, giving you some privacy as he pulled his toothbrush and yours from the holder and applied a dot of toothpaste to each. Finishing up your business, you made your way over to him and he held the toothbrush out to you, his own hanging from his mouth that was lined with foam. Once you took yours from him, he hooked his hands below your arms to lift you, sitting you on the sink top. You began brushing, watching him scrub his perfect teeth before spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth.

He opened a drawer, retrieving a clean washcloth and ran it under the stream of warm water before wringing out the excess. Your eyes followed his hands, pushing your knees apart so he could wipe you down, “Is it warm enough?” You gave a soft nod as he slid the cloth along your thigh, cleaning up the sticky mess. After he got done with the opposite leg, his hand moved further and your body jolted as he coasted the fabric over your center. “I’m sorry, love. I know you’re sensitive, I’m trying to be easy.” You focused on brushing your teeth, ignoring the tingling nerves with every swipe of the cloth. “Okay, bedtime, beautiful.” He dropped the rag on the sink to help you off of the countertop, waiting for you to rinse your mouth before leading you back to bed.

Jake stepped into the room and went straight to his dresser for a clean pair of boxers and you turned the opposite direction to grab yourself underwear from your own dresser. You padded towards the bed, pulling the duvet back and climbing underneath. He turned around to find you tucked into the middle of the bed, your hair splayed out over his pillow and your eyes already closing, “Come hold me, baby.” You held your hand out with a grabby motion, beckoning him, and watched as his eyes crinkled with a wide grin, shuffling towards you. He clicked the lamp off, cloaking the room in darkness, before crawling in behind you and hauling you against his chest, muttering a ‘goodnight’ as he buried his nose in your hair. “Goodnight, Jakey.”

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The music was playing quietly, a lilting melody, as you drove through the city. Your phone was propped in the holder that suctioned to the dashboard, Jake’s name displayed at the top as he spoke from the other end. You tried to focus on what he was saying, but there was loud noise invading your ears, drowning out the sound of his voice. A cry echoed through the car, and you took a hand from the wheel to reach behind the passenger seat, pulling a bottle from the diaper bag. Popping the cap off, you leaned over enough to reach back into the car seat, using the fresh milk that you had pumped that morning to pacify the cries. “Is he fussy today?” Jake’s voice was clear now that the space was calm again. ‘I think he’s just mad because I turned the music down so I could hear his daddy.’ He chuckled softly and released a sad sigh, “I wish I was home with you guys, where are you?” You felt a pang, wishing the same thing, but you knew he loved being out there and playing music with his brothers for millions of fans. ‘I know, baby. We miss you so much. But we’re headed to the park. The leaves are starting to change and I thought it would be nice to just walk before the weather got too cold.’ The cry was back, interrupting Jake’s reply. The piercing wail started to distort, morphing into a howling siren. You whipped your head around, searching for the source as a sharp pain radiated through the left side of your face. You brought your hand up to your cheek, a hiss pushing through your teeth at the sting you felt. When you pulled your hand back to look at it, your fingertips were smeared with blood. Jake was calling your name, over and over, screaming it, but you couldn’t answer him. Then the crying stopped. All of the noise stopped, leaving nothing but pure silence to remain. You twisted to look behind you, seeing his little feet kicking about against the backseat. A smile formed on your lips as relief washed over you. “Are you guys okay, love?” Your eyes went back to your fingers, no longer covered in blood. ‘Yeah, baby. We’re-’ A screeching sound cut you off as you whipped your head around to look out your window. The headlights were blinding, barrelling towards you at full speed and there was nothing you could do. ‘Jake…’

You flew up into a sitting position, your hand grasping at your chest as you fought to get a single breath. Your heart was beating against your ribcage with so much force that you thought it might burst right through the bones. As the disorientation began to melt away, you brought your hand up to the healing cut on your cheek and felt the hot tears that were streaming down your face. It was a dream. You pressed your palm over your belly, looking down at Jake as you tried to fight the sobs wracking your chest. He was laying on his stomach, completely undisturbed and sound asleep. Afraid to lay back down out of fear that the dream would start over, you carefully climbed out of the bed, leaving Jake to sleep as you slipped out of the room after grabbing your phone from the charger. You tiptoed into the bathroom, closing the door behind you, and went to the sink to splash cold water over your face. It all felt so real. You had a son, half you/half Jake, and you didn’t even get to see his face. The only glimpse you were haunted with was his tiny toes and his chubby little feet, kicking freely in the car seat. Thankfully you woke up when you did; No way would you have been able to stomach the scene that would have played out. You shook the thoughts from your mind, checking the time on your phone. 4:51am. After drying your face with a hand towel, you exited the bathroom and went straight into the kitchen for a bottle of water before settling into the couch. You clicked the TV on and wrapped the throw blanket around yourself, hoping that the bright light from the screen would keep you awake for a little while. You wanted to wake Jake up, wanted his comfort, for him to hold you close and tell you that everything was fine and that you were safe… But you didn’t have the energy or the emotional capacity to explain why you were a mess, so you just sat on the couch, staring at the television without actually watching it. Eventually your eyelids started to flutter, you fought to keep them open, checking the time again and again. You lost the battle sometime after 6am, stretching across the cushions and dozing off.

Something woke you up, but it wasn’t another dream. At first you thought it was bright sunlight that poured through the window and directly over your face, then you heard a few knocks landing on the front door. You groaned as you stretched your limbs out, wincing at the mild pain in your body. Maybe you should’ve taken it a little easier with Jake last night because you were going to be aching today as a result and falling asleep on the couch didn’t help. You sat up, checking the time as the knocking came again. It was almost 9am, who could be at your door this early? You padded towards the door, holding your hand over your mouth to cover your yawn as you unlocked it and pulled it open. The porch was empty, prompting you to step outside and look around, and you saw a man in a suit, walking down the path towards the street. “Detective Walsh?” Holding your hand above your eyes to shield the sun, you stood at the top of the steps as he turned around.

He started coming back your way with a friendly smile, “Good morning, Ms Y/L/N.” He jogged up the few steps, holding his hand out to you, “I’m sorry to bother you so early, but-.” He paused, clearing his throat as eyes flicked down to your bare legs before looking anywhere else.

You looked down, realizing why his demeanor had changed. You were still wearing Jake’s shirt that you’d gone to bed in; it fell just below your ass, but only four buttons were fastened to cover half of your torso, leaving everything from your belly button down exposed. You quickly worked to hook the remaining buttons at the bottom to hide your bright panties. “Do you, umm. D’you wanna come in and I’ll just need a minute to get dressed?” You could feel the red hot blush spreading over your face as he gave an awkward nod and followed you through the door, keeping his eyes trained to the floor. “You can wait in the kitchen, I’ll be right back.” You pointed to the kitchen doorway before trekking down the hallway. Pushing through the bedroom door, your gaze locked onto your boyfriend, sprawled over the mattress and snoring peacefully. “Jake…” You poked at his chest and shook him a little, “Baby, wake up.” He peeked an eye open as you whisper-yelled at him, “Detective Walsh is here and he just saw me in my fucking thong! Get up, Jacob!”

Now he was becoming alert, “He saw…Wait, why is he here?” His voice was groggy, but he pulled himself up and out of bed as you threw a pair of pants at him.

“I don’t know. Get dressed and we’ll find out. He’s waiting in the kitchen.” You pulled on a pair of lounge shorts and replaced the button up with an oversized sweatshirt before leaving Jake to get himself dressed. “I’m so sorry about that, I’m truly embarrassed.” You gave the detective a sheepish smile as you entered the kitchen, “I had a rough night and I just was not all there when I got up to answer the door.”

He was seated on a stool at the island, scanning over his notepad, “No need for sorrys, ma’am. I’m the one that showed up unannounced.” His smile was back as his eyes flashed behind you, “Good morning, Mr. Kiszka.” He stood up to greet your boyfriend with a handshake. Jake accepted his hand, offering a ‘good morning’ in return, “I was just saying that I’m sorry for beatin’ on your door this early… But there’s something you both need to know and I wanted it to come from me.”

You were starting the coffee pot as both men came back to the island to perch on the stools. “Is it bad news?” There wasn’t much you could do to conceal your anxiety as you grabbed a few mugs from the cabinet. Your trembling hands were forcing the ceramic pieces to clink against one another while you placed them on the counter.

Jake stayed quiet, waiting for Walsh to answer, “Well… Yes and no, I suppose.” He paused for a moment, looking down at the page his notepad was opened to, “I’m sure you recall my partner, Dawson.” He didn’t need the confirmation after seeing Jake clench his jaw, “Again, I’m sorry for how things went down in the hospital, but after his outburst and the behavior he was displaying towards your case, my Captain started digging into it.”

“Did you figure out what his issue was?” You poured the coffee into the three mugs as Jake asked the question and passed one off to him before offering one to the other man. They both accepted them graciously, drinking them black, while you went to the fridge for your creamer.

Detective Walsh was nodding as you turned back. “We did.”  He placed his cup down, pulling his top lip in to rid of the coffee left on his mustache, “Turns out that he was in a sort of affair with this Sage.” This was something you couldn’t have imagined. “Captain was threatening to take his shield and he let the truth come out… He met her at a bar and they were hooking up casually for a month or two. Said she had him believing that she didn’t do anything wrong, pleaded for him to get her out of the mess.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe the things he was saying.

You leaned back against the counter, mulling over everything he said, “So what happens now? Was that the good news or the bad news?” You were fidgeting with your sleeve and he gave you an apologetic look.

“You won’t have to talk to Dawson again, he’s been suspended indefinitely… But now we have this girl saying that he was forcing her to do all of this and those accusations have opened up a whole other can of worms, so to speak.” He sipped his coffee, leaving the floor open for you or Jake to ask questions, but you were both at a loss for words. “I want to assure you kids that I’m not letting this rest. I will do what I can to make sure this woman gets what is just.”

You were chewing on your lip, caught up in your thoughts while the two of them carried on. How did she manage to get herself out of everything and avoid consequences? It wasn’t fair and you were ready to take everything into your own hands. “...Yeah, thank you for letting us know.” You looked up at the sound of Jake’s voice to see them standing up now, hands clasped, “We trust that you’ll put this all to rest.” They were walking out of the kitchen and you followed behind them. Jake’s eyes flicked to the couch for a moment as he walked Walsh to the door.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” He stopped to give you a farewell shake and you slid your hand into his, “I’m glad to see you up and doing better, really. I’m going to work hard to make sure this turns out in your favor.” He squeezed your hand in a gesture of reassurance before slinking out the door and off of the porch.

You turned and began walking back to the kitchen as Jake closed the front door but his voice stopped you, “Did you sleep on the couch?” 

It was too early and you didn’t get nearly enough sleep to talk to him about this. “What do you mean?” You figured playing dumb would be good enough to get out of it, but he knew too well.

“When did you come out here, Y/N?” He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, waiting for a response.

You moved around, gathering the ingredients for breakfast to avoid eye contact, “I just woke up in the middle of the night, couldn’t go back to sleep.” You disappeared into the pantry only to reemerge seconds later, “I didn’t want to wake you up, so I just came out and watched some TV.”

His brow furrowed and you knew he was about to call your bluff. “You had a bad dream.” He tried to catch your eyes but you wouldn’t look at him.

“What? No. I just couldn’t sleep, I said that.” You could feel him staring at you as you bent to pull the large mixing bowl from a cabinet below the counter. “Can you just let it go? It was nothing, Jake.”

He was beside you now, “You only turn the TV on after a nightmare when you don’t want to go back to sleep.” His hands were on your waist, gently turning you to face him, “And judging by the way you’re trying to avoid the topic altogether, I’m assuming it was pretty bad. Tell me, love.”

It was still so vivid in your head but so confusing, you didn’t completely understand it but you didn’t want to talk about it. The crying, the bottle, the blood; It all seemed too real. “Jake, I can’t.” Your voice shook as a single tear spilled from your lashes, “It was so real…” He pulled you into his chest, telling you that you didn’t have to talk about it, but the soft thumping of his heart in your ear provided you with the safe feeling you desperately needed after the dream. “I was driving and you were on the phone, but the baby…he was crying…” The tears fell in a steady flow as you explained it all to him, reliving it for a second time. “His feet were so tiny, Jake. I- There was nothing I could do to protect him.” You were full on sobbing now and all Jake could do was stroke your hair and tell you that it was alright. Reassuring you that it was just a dream.

“Baby, it’s just residual trauma from the wreck. It was your first night back home and there were no interruptions while you slept.” He kissed the top of your head, “There was no room for dreams when you were in the hospital because they had you awake every hour during the night. It just all caught up to you last night and that’s normal.” You were sniffling into his shirt, holding onto him as though he was the only thing keeping gravity from thrusting you into space. “If it happens again, wake me up. I don’t want you to deal with these kinds of things by yourself.” You nodded your head and closed your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat bring peace and clarity to your clouded mind.

When tears finally stopped, you broke away from him without a word and went back to preparing breakfast. You could feel him watching you as you moved about the kitchen, tossing things into the mixing bowl. You dumped the blueberries into the batter and looked up to see a wide grin over his face that he tried to hide, “What are you smiling about?” He bit his lips together like he had a secret he was dying to share. “Jake, what?” You whipped a whisk through pancake batter, staring at him expectantly.

He rubbed his hand over his chin, something he always did when he talked about things that brought him joy, and his smile grew ten times bigger, “So, a boy, huh?”

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