#chapters: broken siren

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

LITTLE DEATHS (IX)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body image issues, food issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, hurt/comfort, soft!Nikto, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wake up the next morning in the silk sheets of your hotel bedroom, in nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear. Your mind is sluggish and, between flashes of electricity up your thighs, the entire night comes back in slow images as you groan into the pillow. 

A quick rush of a coat to cover ripped laces, the scream of sirens, Nikto arguing with authorities before you’re both released. 

It was a play of luck that you explained away the snapped wrist as a simple instance of Nikto being some white knight—he’d kept you safe, you’d said. The host had been forcing himself on you; it could be seen on the cameras. Paired with his service record and a call from your investigators, they’d let you go without any further trouble. 

Today, the small headache from the champagne was only a dull sting in the back of your skull; you hadn’t been drunk—hadn’t gotten to that point, anyway. 

Eyes starting at the far wall, a heat builds and builds on your face as the minutes pass. 

“Did we really…” you trail off in a whisper, hand coming up to your face as you roll onto your back and stifle a loud sound of exasperation, lips mouthing out, “Fuck.”

Nikto had left you shaking on his fingers in a damn storage room. Twice. 

Your lips thin, legs caught in the sheets. You weren’t even awake enough to understand the potential consequences—not only the intimate encounter, but the repercussions of not sleeping with Oriel would be swift and fierce. 

Never mind the broken bone. 

The sharp knife of that moment is a deadly thing, it digs deep into you until your eyes are watering. That desperation in the storage room—the things you said were true. You’d silenced your phone last night because you knew the reaction would be instant; undeniable. Even now, you shift over and slide your hand over it on the side table, only to pause and take a deep breath before turning it on. 

A sudden barrage of missed calls and texts slam into your ears before you slap the device back down and turn it off with fast fingers. 

Your eyes close tightly, flopping back down and covering your eyes. It was instinctual the way your heart started running from you—the fear seeping back in. 

They’re going to fire me, you think, hands shaking. They’re going to throw me out. 

Through the heavy understanding, through the ideas you have to try and salvage this, you pause only when something makes your nose twitch. Hesitating, your hands slip from your face slowly, eyelids peeling back a millimeter at a time. Staring at the gray ceiling, your brows pull back to their normal resting point as your face goes blank.

What is that? Palms going to the mattress, you sit up slowly and sniff. It was dough, maybe? Something sweet and toasted. 

Shifting, your feet connect with the cold floor, and you stand with a grunt, a tiny ache in the middle of your abdomen that makes your face heat and your hands rub at the back of your neck. A part of you was nervous more about what was outside of your door than what was in your phone—Nikto.

How would this go? Would he ignore the entire thing? Ignore you? 

“He doesn’t run from things,” you mutter aloud, walking and stepping on the torn laces of your dress at the foot of the bed. Your hands grasp one of the bags in your room, not caring to check the rest of the contents before you sift through and drag out a pair of dark sweatpants. 

Moving into them, the waistband is large, just as the legs are, but you’re too preoccupied to understand the way you’ve slipped into Nikto’s pants before you’re already at the door. Hands shaking over the handle, your fingers run the smooth metal before you shake your head and huff. 

Walking out, the scent of fresh pancakes makes itself known as you blink at the scene in front of you. Trying to understand if you were actually awake, or if this was still some dream in the airyness of your mind. The stuttering of your heart feels real.

Nikto was shirtless.

Shirtless, making breakfast. 

Your mouth is somewhat agape as you stare, struck down to a statue in the doorway as your eyelids flutter. Again, that bear tattoo writhes as the expansive muscle moves and twitches with work—Nikto’s front facing the pan that he works a spatula through. All of the ingredients are left on the counter, bought by him or already in the luxurious cabinets for your pleasure, you don’t know; flour, milk, among the others. Jams and honey. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, fighting between your desire to run your hands over his bare skin and the respectful sense you know you need to keep. It’s enough time for him to slap one more scoop of dough into the sizzling pan and pass the done pancake to the side where one more rests, steaming.

You hadn’t thought your words meant that much to him. 

Clearing your throat in shock, you see him glance over his shoulder swiftly. A bead of silence. 

“Come. Eat,” is what he says—no emotion heard in the voice, though you didn’t expect anything less. His pale eyes dart down you, and after a small break in the air, he chuckles. “Thief, yes?” 

“What?” Your brows crease. “I didn’t…” You look down and pause. It was fairly obvious that the pants didn’t belong to you. Your lips flattened, and your eyes flinched closed in embarrassment. “I must have gone through the wrong bag.”

Turning back, you hear a call from the Russian before you can disappear like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

“I don’t wear them. I do not mind.” There's low electricity in the air. He doesn’t know how to go about this either. 

Sighing, you shrug and nod, shifting back so you can walk to the kitchen counter and stuff your hands into your pockets. Leaning your hip to the corner, you fight the clamminess of your hands. The sweatpants pool at your ankles as your mouth opens. 

“Pancakes?” You ask lowly, glancing at him. 

He’s still in that balaclava, and his cargos are loose around his hips before being stuffed into dark boots that you’d never see him without.

“With jam,” Nikto grunts. “You will like them.”

You push out a tiny laugh. “I’ve had pancakes before, Nikto. I’m pretty sure most people have.”

“How would we know, hm?” Pale eyes narrow on yours, but it isn’t hostile. Nikto grumbles, moving the pan before he motions with a finger. “Those are done.”

You glance over at the pile and sigh, taking the plate with the two already done pancakes on it and padding over to grab the jam. Your eyes move down the label to find out which one it exactly is—gray isn’t exactly a large help—and open the sealed top with a tiny release of pressure. 

Getting fat.

You pause, one hand holding the top and the other the glass jar; eyes blank, you stare at the plate with a steadily sinking heart. Clearing your throat, you move a hand and twist the top back on, placing the jam down and shifting to grab a fork instead. 

“Do you think that the investigators will call with any updates—”

“Eat,” Nikto interrupts firmly from behind, back to back. 

Your face is tight, fingers tapping the counter. There’s a tension of something between you two, but you can’t name it. Not yet. But it’s there, like a blade cutting through a corset, it’s there. It’s what got you out of bed today, it’s what got Nikto to push himself to sleep shirtless for the first time in years. The possibility of…something. Unseen, you nod and take the food—moving away from the kitchen and sitting down on the couch, you carefully dig into breakfast and shift a dry forkful into your mouth. 

Eyes closed, your head slightly bows forward as you chew.

It was no secret that you were quiet today, and Nikto didn’t have to be as sharp-eyed as he was to notice. By now you would have teased him about the effort for the food, or even spoken about the mattress you slept on, Nikto had hypothesized. But it was just…silent. 

Nothing. 

In the kitchen, the Russian’s brows crease, lips pulling. He huffs, rolling his shoulders as his bones crack. 

He’d been up last night—for a long while—doing all the things he said he would until he had the clarity to understand hours later, that everything was a million times more complicated now that he knew the truth about this ‘trip’.

And he had to know all of it.

Nikto, truth be told, was a bit quiet himself; more than he usually was. He continued with breakfast in silence, listening to the sound of your fork tapping the plate as his brain fought with itself. The Russian’s mind told him to act like that hadn’t happened between the two of you—it was unprofessional, wrong down to the core. You were his charge, and he hadn’t hesitated for more than a second before he’d ripped open your dress and played with you like you were his own.

Why? Why was he so enamored by you? It didn’t make any sense. No one had ever mattered this much to him—it was absurd.

But whatever dead part of his heart that had come back to beat again said that ignoring this would be cruel to you; if all others in your life were, that was one thing he would not be. At least to you.

Nikto grunts under his breath and grabs his plate, stacked with six pancakes, before turning, grasping the jam with firm fingers, and heaping it on top. Blinking across to you, he pauses at your closed eyes—the dip of your head. Not only was there still food on your plate but it was set down on the coffee table, resting stationary. 

You couldn’t possibly be done already.

“Not good?” He asks, voice gruff.

You shake your head. “No, Nikto, they were perfect. I’m just not that hungry this morning.” Pale blue eyes stare, blinking slowly. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

Looking down at his breakfast, Nikto clenches his jaw. Grasping his plate and his utensil he walks over before he sits beside you, sinking the cushions and shuffling aside the blanket he’d had last night. When you look over at him, confused, he doesn’t utter a word, before his free hand sneaks up and hooks under his balaclava. 

It’s a moment, he knows, a moment of hesitation that instinctually tightens his muscles, stopping him with a shake of his fingers. And then, as he usually does, he forces himself through it. 

Slipping the fabric up to his nose, you stare openly at the strong jaw that comes to light, as well as the unspoken horror of scars. It isn’t even a minute before the Russian leans back with a grunt, and spreads his feet until his knee knocks yours before he shoves the first of his pancakes into his mouth with muffled chewing. 

Eyes darting away, you stare at your own feet tightly. 

Silence settles. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“Да,” his words are grumbled, even if you can’t see it, his face is beginning to burn. Heavy memories coming back. He won’t stay long like this—he can’t. It hurts. “I do not.”  

You sigh, hands moving up to rub along your face, cupping at it until all the whiteness of the hotel is hidden from your gaze. It wasn’t hard to feel him passing glances. 

Shaking your head, your hands fall, and you move to mirror his own position—back leaning and legs kicking out, except yours go to rest on the table next to your plate. 

“I think a part of me didn’t expect you to actually be here,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m not used to having to deal with…” your lips halt themselves, looking for words. “After.” 

No one ever stayed. Not anyone that mattered.

Nikto’s clinking fork pauses, stuttering on its course. He licks his lips, tasting the sweetness of jam. He continues to watch you as you continue on beside him, bare skin brushing—those large biceps caressing yours.

“I don’t want things to be awkward. If you can’t do your job without something feeling off anymore, I would understand if you wanted to leave. I’m sure my mother can get another operator from KorTac to take me on, she already had two from before that might still be available. I know last night was a lot. I don’t want you to feel…pressured, I guess. That was never my intention.”

He lets you finish, sensing you need to get some things off of your chest. When had he become so soft to this? To you? He was losing his backbone here—losing that edge that kept him…him.

Or was that ever him in the first place?

“I will not leave,” Nikto speaks slowly, lips moving every scar that lives there. “We are not ‘feeling off’. No one will look after you like us, and so no one will take our place until this stalker is either taken away or in ground.”

“And the awkward part?” You ask, glancing over, getting caught by long cuts and fissures. 

“We will deal,” Nikto’s chest rumbles, and you believe falling asleep to that sound would stop your nightmares altogether. “There are worse things than that, yes?” 

You huff a laugh. “I guess.” A second later, you lightly bump your elbow into his side. “You’re better at this kind of stuff than I’d thought you’d be.”

Dark brows furrow. 

“I am speaking truth. Nothing more.” 

“Mhm,” your lips carefully peel in a tiny smile. “Sure, Big Guy.”

Nikto scoffs, rolling his eyes before he takes down more of his breakfast. He glances over to see you peeking at his old insignia tattoo—the one on his shoulder. It was strange to him, how you took so much more interest in his ink than the scars; he’d been thinking about it last night.

It was against your nature to not ask about them, and yet…you had. No one had ever not asked about the scars. But, hm, Nikto’s eyes shimmer, it only made his chest swell when you chose not to. As if you understood the sanctity of them—the importance.

That was something that he just wasn’t ready to speak about yet.

“You like it?” He speaks.

You blink quickly, looking back up in an instant. There was no use hiding it. 

“What is it?” You ask him, glancing back down at the tattoo and tilting your head at it.

The image was of some sort of crest—a two-headed bird wearing crowns; holding items in their claws with a, smaller, image set into the middle. A man on horseback, spearing a dragon. 

“FSB crest.” Nikto’s voice goes lower, more under the breath than previously. “Reminder of service.” 

“Oh,” you mutter. “What are the colors?”

He hums. “Red, gold. Little silver. Mine is just black ink, though. Did not go back for second session.”

“I’ve thought of getting tattoos before,” you confess, moving out a slow hand to trace the outline in his flesh. You notice him still somewhat at your dragging nails, lips parting softly. “AMA would never go for it, but I’ve still wondered what it would be like.”

Nikto licks his lips, letting you feel him as he side-eyes you. His muscles soften as your heat seeps in, tingling blood under his epidermis. 

“What kind?”

“A bird, I suppose,” you hum. “I think they’re lovely.” 

Nikto tilts his head, but the questions can no longer sit in the back of his throat. “You continue to be their pawn. Why? I can make no sense of it, Seraph. You speak of yourself as if you are nothing.”

“I might not be anymore after last night,” you whisper, dropping your hand from Nikto’s flesh. Your eyes close; a heavy sigh on your lips. “I know it isn’t healthy, I know that. I know it’s wrong, and vile, and disgusting—but you have to hear me out when I tell you that the only thing I have is my looks—”

“That is a lie.” Nikto snarls, glaring over at your face as his plate hits the table. “Why do you say that? You are smart, Seraph, anyone with sense can see it. You are kind; good.” The Russian curses, repeating. “You are good.” 

“AMA needs investments,” your voice is muffled. “I’m not the only one that has to do things like this. I’m not special.”

The man grinds out, “It does not matter if a million go through it—you are here with us. It is our job to keep you safe now. It is special to me.”

“From a stalker,” you argue, body starting to go rigid at the intensity of the conversation. You didn’t like talking about this.

“From any threat,” Nikto barks. Face close to yours and his hard, crooked nose brushing skin. “Is this not a threat to you?”

You stare into his eyes, and it’s an expression he can’t recall you having. It makes him nervous—nervous for you in a way that was similar to when you’d disappeared from his sight. It was dead. Dead how his eyes would get on the bad days—when he couldn’t differentiate between himself and his body; what had really happened and what hadn’t. 

You were exhausted, and you didn’t even see it. 

“You need sleep,” he drops the hard tone immediately, eyes snapping over your face in fast jerks. “You need rest. Now.”

“I’m not tired.” Pale eyes bore through you, and you relent softly. “...I don’t want any more nightmares.” Your lips open and close. “They scare me because I can’t remember them, but I know something bad happened.”

Fingers come up and brush your cheek, leaving your lips flattening before the tears can make themselves known to him. 

There was just so much going on. 

The stalker, now AMA and potential repercussions? You thought if you had one thing, you had your job—trials and exploitations all, but you still had that. You still had something. Now you might not even have a home to go back to.

Bare arms shift, looping around you. With a roaming of skin on skin, Nikto bundles you in his arms and lifts, legs taking your weight. He moves you as your head rests burrowed into his neck—forehead to the long cut that loops around the side of his throat to the front. That one really made you shiver; the thought of it—the error he must have felt. Without thinking, you lay a tiny kiss on the skin, and Nikto’s legs only stutter once before he pushes open the bedroom door. 

Setting you down on the bed, he mumbles into your scalp before he pulls away, moving his balaclava back down with firm fingers. “What can I do?”

Your body shifts, clothed in borrowed pants and the weight of a million realities. You wished you could see the color of his eyes—those creased things that watch you so closely; the marring of the different shades of his scars. 

You wished you could pick up the courage to ask him if you were his soulmate, at the very least. The hunch was dimming, taking a backburner the longer it stayed in your mind. Surely he would say something by now? Right? With how he was, you expected Nikto to be reserved about it, but now…

Now your hope was drowning itself. 

You wished you weren’t damaged goods.

“Sit with me?” Your weak voice quivers, but no tears fall. 

Nikto stares, head tilting slowly as his now re-hidden face is a mystery. “Да. Yes.” It’s so tiny that the words are almost lost. 

So, he shifts into bed after placing his boots neatly near the bedframe, letting you scoot over as he grasps the end of the covers and moves to have his back connected to the headboard. With a large pull, the fabric slides over your body and levels at his abdomen, your head slightly above it, until scarred fingers grasp and push it down a bit.

For a bit, a heavy silence settles between the two of you. You don’t touch, you don’t talk. It’s the sound of beating hearts and rabid minds, thinking over thoughts that only serve to make things worse the longer their dark fingers are around both of your throats.

“Come,” Nikto murmurs. 

Your body instantly connects to his, hands grasping into his pants and head nuzzling his thigh. His grip finds your head, running itself over it until it ends at your shoulder and pulls you tighter to him. 

“Sleep. No nightmares, hm?” He glances down, trying to push a fractured joke. “We will scare them off.”

Your broken chuckle makes his chest tighten, and pale eyes avoid looking down at you for fear he’ll realize how addictive it is to have your flesh on his—the sensation of touch that was becoming a need. When was the last time he’d been relied on like this? Never, he thinks. 

To be protection in the barest sense. 

A boy keeping away nightmares for a girl that lays in his lap. 

No weapons, no orders. Only hands and sagging bodies, and a care that was infecting him like venom—injected into his bloodstream by white fangs. It leveled out, coating him. He wanted you to be safe, and it wasn’t just because it was his job. It was because he couldn’t imagine seeing you in pain like this—in a slow death of the mind until the body rotted away with it.  

It wasn’t right to him, and he couldn’t describe it as anything other than blasphemy. Sacrilege. Nikto didn’t have the words; maybe he never would. All that he knew was that he would kill millions to never see you harmed. He would rot in the deepest part of hell willingly, go through darkness and fire—but none of it could touch you. Not a wisp of flame; not an idea of torture. 

You were good. 

“Why do you care so much,” you whisper before you fall asleep, curious even as your eyelids are fighting to stay down.

Nikto has not taken his eyes off you. He was always honest, but this truth scares him more than any other. The nagging in the back of his skull.

“I…do not know.”

You were too good for this.

So even when he gets that text message on his phone when you’re fully sleeping, even when he shifts it out of his pocket and sees the unknown number, Nikto is not going to wake you. He’s not going to shake your head as he massages the scar that lives there, his thumb taking in the familiar bumps and dips—the trauma it caused so similar to his own. 

Nikto will not tell you of the sinking in his chest. 

The guard accepts that little death in his heart when he sees that image of the both of you in the storage room. He accepts the little death when he sees your tightly closed eyes from over his own shoulder, hands digging into his one-size-too-small suit. The obvious actions taking place that are still seared into his mind hours later. 

He accepts the little death of the caption, all in Russian but never more vile in his mind.

‘I know what you did.’

And he accepts that this stranger's death will not be so little if he ever gets his hands on him.

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#ravishing allure #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #mw2 2022 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 13

✩°｡ ⋆ seize your happiness

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, angst, hurt/comfort

notes: i know i said this chapter will be the last... but apparently i still have a lot to say so... :') don't worry. chapter 14 will be the last chapter for real. pls bear with the angst one more time! and this turned out as a whopping 5k too oops

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter twelve : the most twisted curse <- previous ✩ next -> last chapter : to the one i love

What does happiness mean to you now?

When you finally woke up from your long dream and saw Megumi, you thought you were the happiest because for so long, you defined being with him was enough to make you forget all the shit you had been through in this horrible life.

"Sena...?" You heard him before you saw him. His voice cut through the blur that veiled your vision and you could barely discern his figure.

Megumi immediately got a hold of your arm, eyes wildly focusing on yours as you fluttered your eyes open. And when you blinked, his voice almost broke― "Sena!"

You felt rigid, like a broken doll. Megumi grasped your left hand tightly in his, intertwining your fingers.

"You woke up..." he muttered with a strained, choked voice. He was still out of focus but you could hear him very well. "You really woke up... Thank god..."

And through his voice, you recognize pain. Several things ran through your mind then. Why is he here? Is he safe?

What about Kurusu Hana?

Yet then all of them didn't seem to matter. He is here. Whatever happened, he is really here. He didn't leave you after all.

Still, a part of you suddenly harbored suspicions that he might abandon you once again, and so you didn't dare to hope, and you were even convinced of it when you felt a lump in your throat—

You clawed on the skin of your neck in utter panic when you found that no sound came out of your vocal chords. Megumi obviously noticed your distress― "Hey, what is it? What do you feel―?"

But then you were gasping for air and Megumi didn't think anymore. He hit the nurses' call button and held you as you trashed on the bed. "Sena, hold on―hold on! I've called the doctor! You're going to be okay, you hear me?"

The heart monitor connected to you was blaring, your whole body was now shaking, and you turned to him helplessly like a fish out of water, mouth gaping to let out any sound but unable to. You couldn't speak― it felt as if someone had stolen your voice and tightened a vice around your throat.

In that moment, Megumi caught the sheer terror in your eyes, and he bent over to pull you in an embrace. "I'm here. I'm here. Focus on me. Let's take a deep breath together―"

He coached your breathing, and gradually, you started to calm down. The heart monitor in your room no longer blared like a siren, and your fingers clung to his shirt with a grip stronger than you intended.

"You're okay..." Megumi whispered in your ear, disregarding his own thundering heartbeat by reassuring you. "You hear me, Sena? You're going to be alright."

Right in this moment, nothing else mattered. You got him back. And he was here, with you. You were certain you had never felt such a profound mix of happiness and relief in your entire life.

The doctor and several nurses then swarmed the room and took over to check on you. Dizziness washed over you—their voices merging into a cacophony that made your feel exhausted, and before you knew it you fell back asleep.

. . .

"After experiencing trauma, it's not uncommon for a patient to develop a post-traumatic mutism," the doctor explained, and Megumi was listening intently. "In most cases, the patient will regain their ability to speak after attending several therapy sessions, so you don't need to worry, sir."

Megumi let out a long sigh. "Is there any long-term side effects from this?"

"No. If the patient made full recovery, then I'd say there's a low chance of any further complications."

Once the doctor left the room, Megumi resumed his post next to your bedside once again, observing your sleeping face.

His heart broke under the weight of the reality laid to him. You had endured a trauma so severe after your duel with Naoya it left you mute. Ultimately, he saw it as a reflection of his own failure to protect you too―he was supposed to be the one to go against him. And yet, you...

Seeing you struggle to breathe like that was terrifying. As your chest heaved with every breath, Megumi felt a slight relief wash over him.

At least you're now truly safe. At least... nothing more can harm you here.

Megumi is always here.

Days after you first regained consciousness were slow and idyllic, and Megumi was always ready to attend to your every need. Though you supposed that he had to, as your guardian, since you had no one left.

With your voice still not returning, communicating with him proved to be a little challenging.

"Do you want some water?" he inquired, approaching with a glass and the pitcher in hand. You shifted your gaze away from the boring magazine the hospital had supplied and nodded.

"Here." Megumi handed you the glass and you took slow sips, before fixing your eyes on him.

It's been days. But neither of you had talked about what happened. Before now, the last you'd seen Megumi was when he left you during Zen'in's last hearing, when every bit of your dirty secret was exposed before him.

The memory of that day still made you shiver. The absolute hopelessness you felt, the way Megumi looked at you, his cutting words―

"Hey, Sena―" Megumi's got a grip on your shoulders, face contorting in worry. "What's wrong?"

You looked right into his dark green eyes, and saw nothing but concern. None of the Megumi who was so ready to cut all ties with you back then.

You were flattered that he was here, but still, you needed answers.

Reaching out for the notebook and pen Megumi had gotten you for your temporary communication, you scribbled your burning question.

Why are you here?

Megumi wouldn't admit it, but his heart sank upon reading your inquiry. The fact that you felt the need to ask it was just heartbreaking.

"You were badly injured. How can I not be here?" he responded, shoulder sagged. "I should be the one asking you―how could you have gone to Zen'in Naoya in the first place?"

Then it dawned to you. Your letter. He dropped everything to get you.

I have to end him with my own hands.

"Still! That's not―!" Megumi almost raised his voice before he caught himself. "That's not any reason for you to face him in a duel!"

He would have gone after you if I didn't.

"That's what should have been. You should've let him gone after me." There was something inside him that was this close from bursting and he was trying his hardest so it wouldn't. "At any given chance, you should've prioritized your safety first. And back then, even I―!"

I've left you. Megumi let out a sharp breath and looked away. He couldn't bring himself to say it.

You blinked at him, getting a sense of what he meant, and reached for your pen again.

I also did it for myself. He murdered my mom. I just wanted to end it with him.

"What do you― why do you have to―?!"

In that moment, Megumi felt as if he had been slapped in the face. He made you think that way. It was dreadful that you chose that self-destructive path because these unfortunate chains of events.

He was still grappling with the overwhelming guilt when you presented him with your next question.

Aren't we getting a divorce?

"No." His response was swift and resolute, his gaze boring straight into you. "Never."

You looked at him questioningly because you could still vividly recall the divorce papers you tearfully signed and left with Kurusu Hana. And seeing your confusion, Megumi thought he had to set it straight.

"It's my fault," he began. "I shouldn't have― I shouldn't have left you back then. And I should've never left you with the divorce papers. I wasn't in the right mind."

You looked down, pondering his words. Sure, he wasn't in the right mind―but at one point, that was what he wanted.

It still made you a bit uncomfortable.

Megumi held your shoulders again, sincere eyes piercing into your heart. "I regret it all. I really do. If I could turn back the time, I wouldn't leave you as I did."

Your eyes widened, wonderstruck, when a tear trickled down his cheek.

"You stupid." He brought you into his arms then, voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry― I'm sorry for making you feel that you are alone. I'm sorry for leaving you. But even so, please, do not ever, ever put yourself in that kind of danger again. If something happens to you, I―"

His body was now trembling, and you put your hands around him. "How... could you scare me like that...? H-how could you just leave me with that letter... and tell me not to find you? Don't you know how frightened I was...?"

You didn't really know what you were feeling right now, feeling the dampness in your shoulder as he cried for you. Touched, sad, happy―all these emotions swirled within you at the same time. But still, the irrefutable truth was...

You are in love with this man. You were sure of it.

But...

"Me...gumi..."

Almost faint, but he heard it. Your voice that he had missed so much. Megumi pulled away from you, searching your face, and greeted by your soft smile.

You reached out for him and wiped his tears with your thumb. "Don't... cry..."

"Ah..." He pulled you into his embrace again, this time tighter. He buried his face in your neck, the ache in his chest almost made him burst as he shook with tears. "I'm so... so glad...! Sena, I―I'm really glad you're s-safe..."

And you are glad that he is too. That he is this concerned about you. That he loves you still.

. . .

And in the weeks that followed, you really thought you could sweep it under the rug and forget everything.

You thought that you wouldn't want nothing more now that he was back to you, as yours. You thought you'd be content with everything, even if you had to pick up the shattered remains.

But that wasn't the case. Not really.

Because every now and then, you still remembered how you betrayed him, and also the searing ache of heartbreak of when he left you.

...and so long as you still felt this way, you thought, it would be hard for you to be truly live the happy life your mother had wished for you.

Something about you had changed.

Megumi supposed it was the effect of the trauma you had experienced, and so he never brought it up―it wouldn't be fair to compare the current you with the you before the incident.

You two were back to living in his apartment after you were discharged. Your voice had come back, although sometimes you still experienced trouble in speaking. But despite it all, Megumi didn't really care, he was ready to weather it all with you.

His sense of guilt intensified whenever he caught you touching your throat. Thoughts like "I should've been there." or "I should have never let her so unprotected" popped up in his head more often than he would have liked.

Both of you had gone back to the way it was supposed to be. Neither of you should have any prolonged worries... After all, Zen'in fiasco, from the unethical mass massacre and Naoya's doing afterwards, had been sorted out by Gojo― both of you were essentially free of them now.

So... why do you still look like you are on edge?

"I'll make breakfast today," he said on one morning after waking up. "Stay on the bed longer. I'll call you when it's ready."

You still looked positively sleepy as you pulled up the covers to your face and it warmed his heart. You were adorable, yawning and mumbling, "Thank you, Megumi."

He openly smiled, and went to the kitchen. A simple breakfast of beef and bacon would do, he concluded, and that was what he did. Afterwards, he did call and lead you to have breakfast with him.

You were still rubbing sleep off your eyes when he said it―

"Look, it's done―"

Suddenly you stiffened. Perhaps you were hypersensitive because it was still morning, but the way he said it reminded you of his words from that day.

“It’s done. We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

You tried not to let it show, as you sat in front of him. You really did, because Megumi seemed particularly happy this morning, you couldn't bear to burst his bubble.

"I personally prefer scrambled eggs over sunny side up, so that's what I made," he explained, motioning towards the plate with two servings of scrambled eggs with hints of a grimace. "Are you okay with it? Do you want me to make something else for you?"

"Ah, no, no... it's fine," you replied almost instantly, forcing a smile. "Thank you."

His lips curved into a gentle smile as he said, "You're welcome. Let me get that for you."

And that was when it happened. His hand brushed against yours―and in response, you retracted your hand away too quickly as if scalded.

Megumi was stunned. "Sena...?"

He looked at you, and noticed the faint tremor that passed through your body. In that moment, everything around him crashed once again.

Why?

"Are you..." he was almost in disbelief saying it. "...afraid of me?"

"Megumi― sorry," you blurted out, not looking at him. "I―I don't feel too well. I'll have breakfast later... I'll go lie down for a bit."

Before Megumi could respond, you had already risen and exited the dining room. Adding to the weight on his already heavy heart, you didn't head to your shared bedroom but instead, to your old bedroom from before you moved in with him.

Suddenly he felt hollow. Memories of the past months flooded into his mind like a fast-paced train wreck.

Leaving you. No contact at all. Finding you in that pool of blood.

Everything that happened then, both of you couldn't possibly pretend that any of them didn't exist. At least, not anymore.

It has been awkward few days ever since then.

This gnawing feeling inside you― the ache, it's still there. The guilt. The nightmare. It's still there. You just want all of them to disappear.

You love Megumi and you want nothing more than being with him. But at the same time, you don't want to be with him― not like this.

They said let bygones be bygones, but it was impossible for you to pretend you were content and everything was fine while you were haunted by the nightmares of the day you made that deal with Gojo and Megumi leaving you with nothing to say for yourself.

To be happy, you need a clean slate. Or at least a time for yourself to think it over.

And so you reflected hard on yourself. What you wanted for yourself, what you thought was best for both of you.

You felt bad for Megumi too. He was visibly shaken ever since that day, and yet you were only there, feeling numb and at a loss for words, only able to mutter nothing more than apologies.

In the end, it boils down to this. You couldn't run from it any longer. Even though it'd most definitely bring both of you pain and sadness, you very well know that if you survived this, then...

"Megumi, I'm sorry for... the other day."

A week later, on that particular evening, he had just returned from headquarters and you met him at the living room.

Megumi looked startled, before flashing you a warm smile. "Ah, that again? Don't worry, Sena. It's fine." Glancing at the clock, he turned back to you. "Oh, have you eaten yet? I bought takeout on the way home."

His smile looked off. You tried to push the uncomfortable feeling in your chest away.

You steeled yourself and looked at him right in the eyes. "Megumi, I... I want to talk to you. Can you... sit here with me?"

It was hard to pull this on him. Really, really hard. But you swallowed the weight and bit down your lip when he took a seat in front of you.

"What is it?" he inquired with concern. "Don't be that tense... you can talk to me about it, alright?"

So be it then.

"I... think we should consider having a divorce."

Megumi never imagined he would find himself confronted with this very question a second time.

His first reaction was a blink. Then his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. And then a frown, before he exhaled sharply―

"Why?" his voice came out way harsher than he intended. For the life of him, he didn't understand why. He felt hurt. So hurt, in fact, you had no idea. "What is it that you're feeling this time? Why did you never tell me before this?"

"I―" Your voice faltered, caught off guard, yet your sincere eyes remained steady. "I'll tell you now."

Megumi could see how strained you were. You were clearly trying hard to keep yourself together. He wanted to hug you, but not before you explained yourself.

"Megumi, first of all... I want you to know that I love you." Your voice began to tremble. "I love you... and I'm sorry for using you and taking advantage of your feelings. And I'm happy being with you... That hasn't changed."

"I know it already." He clenched his fists tightly, wiling the pounding of his heart at bay. "Then why―"

"I feel like we've been avoiding this, I don't know―I'm sorry. In the end, it's more of a me thing―it's not your fault at all."

Megumi closed his eyes, suddenly he felt overwhelmed by it all.

"This guilt I've been carrying with me... and you..." you took a sharp intake of breath. "Maybe something is wrong with me― I kept telling myself that now you're with me and everything will be okay... I tried to convince myself, but then I can't forget the way you look on that day―"

"If it's that, then I'm sorry―"

"No," you quickly interjected. "You had every right to be angry. I don't blame you for that, Megumi. I'm not upset, not anymore... the problem is... it doesn't make it any less hurt."

Those words suddenly seemed to ring in his ears.

A sob broke finally through your lips. "And s-so long as I'm still not over all of this... then I-I don't think I... ―we... can be truly happy together."

God, why must your fate be this complicated?

Your unholy matrimony was not expected but falling in love was a blessing, and still, you ended up hurting each other. If you still feel hurt, then the same also goes for him―he too still carries the guilt for letting you face Naoya alone, regardless of how the circumstances justified his actions.

Megumi gritted his teeth in frustration. "And so, you suggest that we're better off having a divorce?"

You cried a little harder, unable to give him an answer.

“Can’t I do anything to make it better for you?” Megumi felt like a knife just lodged itself in his chest as he looked at your tear-streaked face. “I’ll do anything—everything you want me to do, just not this—Sena, please—”

“I… w-want to be happy, Megumi,” you managed to say amidst tears. “As much as I love you… I also want to love myself too… just the w-way my mother wanted me to.”

His heart was crushed, hearing you.

“I want us… to m-meet again in better circumstances,” you forced out the words. “With no one to force us or make us choose anything… a day w-when… we can freely choose each other…”

“I’ll always choose you.” Megumi’s voice wavered as he held back his own tears. “You don’t need to wait for that because I always will.”

A tearful smile formed in your lips in response. “Thank you, but I just… want more t-time… for myself, Megumi. To sort my life—my f-feelings... and everything else out.”

He let out a grunt, as the first of his tears slid down his cheek, before he squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hand. Pain throbbed in his head and chest. It was too much.

“Do you…” is this it? is this how it ends? “Can you… at least tell me… what you’re going to do from now on?”

Before, when he asked you this, you had no answer for yourself. But this time, you didn’t flinch.

“I want to go back to Kyoto,” you immediately replied. “I… want to start anew there. And honestly… I don't want to continue doing jujutsu any longer so... I think I’ll start a new business to get by.”

A new start. Leaving jujutsu sorcery behind. That life honestly sounds so nice to Megumi’s ears too he was tempted to follow your footsteps.

“That’s good.” His voice was thick and heavy, and you were on the verge of sobbing once again. “That’s… really neat..."

He didn't want this. He couldn't bear to let you go. He was desperate to find a way to make you stay with him.

"Is this... really, truly what you want, Sena?"

You sniffled. "...Yes."

It seemed as though the knife in his chest had been twisted and made his insides bleed. He still couldn't make sense of it. His vision kept blurring with tears.

But ultimately... you have to be happy. After all of shitshows in this screwed up life you two share... you deserve to be happy the most.

It was difficult for him, it pierced through the most tender part within him to utter these words—

"Then... let's do it. If it's want you want and you're sure of it... then I'm willing to let you go." Lies. All of them. "Just… —please just be well. Don’t get sick, don’t stay up too late, and don’t push yourself too hard—”

Your sniffles turned into sobs.

“And— know that…” Megumi willed himself so that he wouldn’t break down in front of you completely, taking a deep breath. “I want only the best for you. I love you— that’s why.”

You were sobbing again then, utterly heartbroken. You felt really bad, and yet you knew this was necessary.

As your parting words, you just wanted him to know—

"Megumi... f-for everything these past eight months… thank you," you managed to say, your voice choked with tears. "I’ve been happy with you… and I... I don’t regret meeting you even for a moment."

The knowledge that you did feel that way was like a consolation for him. Megumi was thankful too that he had met you.

. . .

. . .

. . .

And just like that, in that winter, your divorce was finalized, and you moved to Kyoto.

Six months later

The idea of a fresh start seemed appealing. Living in Tokyo had become suffocating. She reckoned it was finally time to move forward and put everything to rest.

“Oh, Hana-chan! Where are you going?”

Kurusu Hana put her duffel bag on the floor, looking back to find an elderly woman—her neighbor in this apartment building, as she locked the door to her unit one last time.

“Ah, granny,” she greeted with a friendly smile. “You aren’t usually awake this early.”

“Nevermind that— are you moving out, Hana-chan?”

“Oh yeah… Granny, haven’t you heard? The landlady is about to double the pay rent. It’s too much for this shabby place. I don’t want to live here anymore.”

“Really?! That conniving woman… I’ll talk to my husband and find another place soon too!”

“Hehe, please do.”

“Best of luck for you, Hana-chan.” The granny said. “I’ll miss having hotpots with you... You have been a really bright presence here.”

Something inside Hana lurched at her kind words. “Ah… me too, granny. Please take care of yourself too…”

Someone would miss her even when she was gone. This notion, simple as it was, once seemed impossible to Hana. Living all alone by herself all her life, she had grown accustomed to such thoughts.

And in her first time falling in love too… the man in question didn’t even return her feelings back.

But as they said… life goes on. Even when Megumi never looked at her way, then it just meant that they were never meant to be. She couldn’t wallow in this ridiculous one-sided love forever.

“Yosh! Hana, it’s okay! It’s going to be fine!”

As she stepped outside, she realized that summer was here already. And with that she was even convinced— with the new season came a new beginning, and this time, she was determined to find her own happiness.

“Ahh! It’s hot!”

Yuji stretched his arms in the air, scrunching up his face as he had a look around him. “Kugisaki, do you have any idea where we’re going next? Seriously, I can’t with all this temples.”

Nobara threw him a dirty look. “You are so useless. The very least you can do is look at the maps.”

“Well, it’s too hot here! And these view of temples and shrines are giving me goosebumps—”

“Hey! What you said counts as blasphemy you know! Kyoto is cultural heritage!”

Yuji then looked around. “Come to think about it… Where’s Fushiguro? Wasn’t he with us after checking in the hotel just now?”

“Ah, he said he wanted to go out a bit before we go to the exorcism site… He didn’t say where though.”

“Wha? Wait, we can’t go without him!”

[Nov 21] Megumi: Sena, have you arrived safely? I hope you’re not having a rough time. If you do, you can tell me

[Nov 23] You: hi megumi! sorry for not replying—i’ve been so busy with moving in here, it’s been hectic. and yes, i’m good here! :)

[Nov 24] Megumi: That’s good then. Well, take care

[Dec 10] Megumi: I’ve heard there’s an earthquake in Kyoto. Are you alright?

[Dec 10] Megumi: If you see this… Please answer me. I’m worried

[Dec 10] You got 8 missed calls from Megumi

[Dec 10] Megumi: Are you hurt? I’m trying to find a bullet train ticket to Kyoto but none are available

[Dec 13] You: gosh i’m so sorry for answering now! it’s been chaotic. internet and electricity are affected by the damage :(

[Dec 13] You: but no worries! you don’t have to come here, megumi! i’m fine! i evacuated safely and my building is still standing!

[Dec 13] Megumi: That’s a relief… Do you need anything? I can get you some things. Bullet trains to Kyoto will run again tomorrow, I can go there

[Dec 13] You: no no! really, thanks, i’m totally okay! most of buildings here are earthquake-resistant so don’t worry!

[Dec 13] You: still, thank you for worrying about me, i really… really appreciate it

[Mar 15] Megumi: It's been a while. Have you been well?

[Mar 16] You: hiii megumi! haha, you don’t have to be that formal, really. it’s been good here. cherry blossoms have bloomed, they’re so pretty!

[Mar 16] You: what about you? are you busy these days?

You had left everything behind in Tokyo—your life as jujutsu sorcerer, tears, nightmares, and sadness, or as much of it as you possibly could, at the very least.

Starting over was hard. You almost regretted it several times especially when the lonely nights were too much for you, or when earthquake shook Kyoto and left you reeling.

But at the same time, it brought you satisfaction. When you successfully opened your own small cafe just last week, it felt like all your efforts had finally paid off.

It felt good to stand on your own two feet. To do things you want. With no one to dictate what you should do. By all means, this is the dream life you've wanted... you just wished that your mother could’ve seen this too.

Spending time for yourself has been healing. And life is far better here, but still...

You miss Megumi. How could you not, especially when he occasionally sent you a text? You were touched that he was still trying to stay in touch at all, and also how he showed his concern for your well-being.

But it was now May... and he hadn't replied to your text since March.

You tried to brush it off. After all you got the divorce for this very reason. You wanted to regain your sense of normalcy again— "normal" as in before everything went down with Zen'in mess.

But perhaps someday, when you're ready, if he would still have you... then maybe...

Brushing off your thoughts and maybe, longing, you left your phone to attend new patrons when the bell to your cafe jingled.

Unbeknownst to you, after unconsciously waiting for him this long, your phone buzzed and its screen lit up with new notifications—

[May 3] Megumi: Today, I'm in Kyoto

[May 3] Megumi: I miss you, Sena. I really do

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> last chapter : to the one i love

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#fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x oc #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk angst #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi angst #megumi fushiguro x reader #arranged marriage au #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #series: unholy matrimony

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 1: Falling through the stars /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: When the four forces of nature are used at the same time in different places, their power resonates through the universe, connecting all of them together

Word Count: 3,1K

Warnings: Mentions of war, injuries and blood.

Notes: Welcome to the first official chapter of this weird crossover that came up in my mind, obviously this contains spoilers of both acotar and throne of glass, maybe a little crescent city spoilers but who cares? hehheheh

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Too much blood, so much that the metallic scent was making Nesta’s head spin. She watched the eerily silent baby in Morrigan’s arms, Rhysand’s pale face as he grasped his mate’s body. The silent plea in those violet eyes for someone to do something, anything to bring them back to him. 

All the wasted chances of apologising for years of abandonment, for letting her fourteen year old sister wander scared and alone in those cold woods, for letting her be taken to this world the first time, for allowing her back and for all the resentment Nesta felt towards herself crossed her mind. She never told Feyre how proud she was for everything she had become. A warrior, a High Lady, a mother. 

With a last glance towards the nephew she wanted to hold, the one she wanted to tell stories, the one she wanted to see grow and become a great leader just like his parents. The baby who had so much to live for, the baby who just needed a chance of a better life. 

It was for them and for them only that Nesta invoked that ancient power, prickling against her fingertips as she held the harp, the other two troves cold against her face and heavy against her head. And it was for them that she used them, no fear consuming her body, just the wish of saving her sister. And with that, Nesta stopped the time. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The universe felt as that wave of power crashed against the horn, and the other three troves sang in answer to that powerful call. A profane melody resonating throughout the stars, enveloping different worlds with its song. The females didn’t know what they had done, two strangers using the four items in unison, their power echoing, ripping the folds of space and time open.  

The gaps started to form, growing in places long forgotten, lands no one has ever heard about, all of them connected by the troves. Alluring and calling like a siren song, the most curious beings crossed it, falling in between the worlds, just small glimpses of the vastitude of the universe they never dared to study about. 

And it was through one of these gaps, staining the night sky of the Witch Kingdom in a bright light, that Y/N Blackbeak and Meraxes, her black wyvern fell. The winds roared, like an agonising screech trying to stop her, like they knew something she didn’t. Like they knew she would never return home. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

When she woke up that morning, rubbing her eyes and jumping out of the bed to start her day, she had no idea what was about to happen. After the war and all the centuries of damage in their home, the witches, both Ironteeth and Crochans working together, had a lot to do.

Everyday she would force her body out of the bed, keep going on autopilot ever since everything she loved was ripped away from her. She tried hard to keep going, like Asterin would’ve wanted her to, be there for Manon, like Asterin would. But Asterin wasn’t there anymore, she would never return with that grin of hers, never see the progress they made and the union of her people. Asterin was gone and she was left behind to try to mend her broken heart. 

She blinked the tears away, resting her forehead against the cold tiles of her bathroom, the hot water making the skin of her back turn red. The burning sensation grounding her when the memories flooded her mind like a river. The sadness in her heart was an unwanted guest.

 Asterin flew by her, a smirk on her face as her yellow eyes landed on her younger sister, Y/N atop Meraxes felt, deep within the heart that she didn’t even know she had. She looked in horror as the Thirteen aimed for the witch tower, their wyverns clearing the way for Asterin, she jumped from Narene, landing in the middle of the tower. 

Y/N couldn’t see, but she tried to reach for her sister, reach for the only person that ever loved her, reach for that sisterly bond that lied within her soul ever since Asterin chose to keep Y/N under her wing, to train her and teach her what her duty was. Asterin, who despite everything they have been taught, chose to love Y/N like she was family. 

Meraxes was tired, tired of fighting and flying, but she forced him to go to the Tower, to save Asterin. But she was too slow and too late, the light coming from the tower wasn’t dark, it was the purest shade of white, so bright that her vision got blurry, the impact sending her and the wyvern flying backwards, with such force that they hit the ground with a loud thud. Where the tower and the Thirteen once were, nothing stood. 

Y/N wiped the blue blood that streamed above her eyes, a loud roar forming in the back of her throat, rumbling through her bones, she threw her head up, her lips parting as she roared to the skies, Meraxes roaring with her. Crying it was a weakness,  witches didn’t cry, but Y/N braced herself, ignoring her arm bending in a wrong angle, the pain in her sliced face, thanks to a Yellowlegs that jumped on her and tried to slash her face open. 

And she cried, cried and cried on that battlefield, cried as she got back on her feet, cried as she ripped a part of her riding leathers, wrapping her broken arm tightly against her body, branding her sword and marching towards the battle again. She would be strong, Asterin wouldn’t want her to give up. She would fight to protect what Asterin believed. She would fight for a better world, and die for it if she had to. 

She fought until exhaustion, her body collapsing on the dirty ground. Claws caged her, lifting her from the ground, she gritted her teeth as pure agony flashed from her arm, her face was completely numb at this point and she fought to keep her eyes open. She blacked out when Meraxes reached the walls that kept Orynth intact, his claws letting her go, her body hitting the floor and rolling to the side.

Hafiza found her, ordering that other healers carry her bruised body inside. But her wounds were deeper than the ones marking her skin.

She allowed her tears to fall, mixing with the water, where no one could see her. An hour later she was wearing her riding gear, the red cloak hanging from her neck, part of the official uniform they had to use, to symbolise the union. 

The witches watched her as she walked towards the Queen’s council room, as her wingleader and responsible for the remaining wyverns, she was always present in the morning meetings. As everything the Valg made was destroyed after Erawan died, they wondered how the wyverns belonging to the witches that decided to fight for Aelin Galathynius still remained, concluding that they were tied to this land by the bonds shared between them and their riders, not by the Valgs anymore. 

“Good Morning.” Manon Blackbeak greeted, her commanders just nodded their heads in greetens to their queen. “How are the wyverns in the Ferian Gap?” The heads of the witches present turned to her, she held her head high at the sight of the eyes lingering in her scar. 

“They’re being trained, I shall fly there today to see their progress, but I'm sure that soon they will be big enough to bond witches.” The queen nodded, her red lips smiling warmly at her, Manon was trying hard to be the best version of herself, the one her Thirteen believed she was before they sacrificed themselves for her. 

“I’ll go with you. I want to see them too.” And Y/N wondered if that sudden interest of going too wasn’t because it was weeks since she saw a certain handsome King in Adarlan. 

“Yes, my queen.” She dipped her chin in a silent bow of her head. Turning her mind off as the meeting kept going. Playing with her claws, scraping slowly the surface of the table, watching as faint lines marked into the wood. The morning meetings were boring as fuck. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

“Good boy.” She scratched the wyvern’s chin, the animal shaking its tail like he was just a very big dog. No wonder Meraxes and Abraxos were really good friends, they were two gigantic puppies, with mortal claws and teeth, just like her. 

“You want to place a bet that these two will wait for us in a flower field?” Manon asked, the two females walked towards the entry of Ferian a few hours later. Y/N laughed, the skin of her scar pulling a bit as she did so.

“It’s not even something debatable anymore, those flowers sniffling addicts.” Manon smiled.

“You remind me of her.” The white haired witch blurted and Y/N came to a stop. 

“We do not even look alike.” She tried to joke, with shoulder length light brown hair, dark blue eyes and the slightly more tanned skin, she couldn’t be any more different from Asterin, but she knew what Manon meant and she didn’t wanted to think about it, even if the witch just felt the need to speak it outloud. 

“You could be twins.” She joked, but her expression turned to a serious one very quickly. “You have the heart just as good as hers was, and that’s where you two are equals to me.” She didn’t answer, the tears too heavy to carry. Manon didn’t demand a response when Y/N stopped, leaving the younger witch alone for a bit. 

The Ferian Gap was as it usually was, damp and smelling like wyvern shit. The animals roared and flew around in the pit. Witches trained them and fed them. Not a single one chained, all of them free to go but they chose to stay. The younglings were still learning how to fly while the elders tried to teach them how, it was honestly really cute. She was leaning against a wall, Manon’s words still replaying themselves in her head, when a different scent filled her nostrils. 

“Aelin’s delivery boy, what a pleasure to see you again.” She spoke, not even turning back to know that Fenrys Moonbeam was walking behind her, he let out a low chuckle. 

“And here I was thinking I was an ambassador.” He stopped by her side. Eying the witch up and down, recognizing the grief lacing her features. 

“Just a fancy name, I like to call it what it really is, delivery boy.” She snickered and Fenrys rolled his eyes. 

“I hate you.” He nudged her with his elbow, his braid moving behind his back as he did it. 

“Yeah yeah, mean witch and shit, I know that.” The male chuckled and she turned face to face with him. “What do you need?” After the war, she and Fenrys had grown really close, working together as Ambassadors for both of their queens. Wingleader her ass, Manon used her to gather resources and talk to important people. 

“Actually, Aelin sent me here cuz she apparently has a very important meeting with the ladies of her court.” She knew what this meant, it was Aelin’s way to gather her friends and make sure they were alive. 

“Am I invited this time?” She joked. 

“Unfortunately no, but can I invite you for some beers?” He was the closest friend she had now.

“I would love to. Are you free to have one in the Witch Kingdom?” The male nodded.

“Just need to do my job real quick.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Fenrys held her waist, she could feel his shaking body against her back, caging her between him and the saddle. She smirked as she turned slightly to him.

“Can’t I go by foot?” He asked and she giggled.

“Too far away. You’re stuck with us, Meraxes will behave.” She promised and Fenrys nodded. She could feel his tense body during the three hour flight, the male squeezed his eyes shut, if that’s what Rowan had to deal with in his animal form, he was glad to be stuck as a wolf. Being that far away from the ground was a big no for him.

The wyvern landed, and Fenrys more than happily slid down his leg, grounding himself and thanking the Gods he was still alive. 

“Are you alright?” She sounded genuinely concerned, but when he turned to her, he saw that smirk. “A certain Lord of Perranth would love to know about this.” Fenrys pretended to be hurt.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He started to follow her towards the tavern.

“Someone has to help that poor dude, with you and your queen constantly mocking him.” Fenrys held the door open for her, following her to a more secluded table. 

“He deserves it.” He defended himself. “The usual?” The witch nodded, and he went to the counter ordering their drinks. 

“How are you?” She asked, and Fenrys watched as a trickle of blood ran down her chin. 

“I’m better, really.” He sighed. “How are you?”

“I’ve seen better days.” She joked, downing the goblet of blood in one go. “But I will be fine.” And for her sake, Fenrys hoped that she was right.

“I don’t know how you do that.” He changed the subject and the witch raised an eyebrow, the scar going up too with the move. “The blood, I mean.” He scrunched his nose. 

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” She raised the goblet in his direction but he knew she was asking for another round. 

The two sat there, for hours, talking. The sky was pitch black and the stars shone bright in the sky. He was telling a story about some drunk fae wanting to pet him when a witch burst through the door. Her cheeks were red and her cloak followed her like a river of blood. 

“Bronwen needs you and your alliance to check something up, it’s important.” She stated, when Manon was away, it was her cousin that took care of things for her alongside Petrah Blueblood. Y/N turned to Fenrys, opening her mouth to apologise.

“Go do your duty, delivery girl.” He joked and she flipped him off, following the witch outside and whistling loudly to call Meraxes. 

She was in the air before the witch had the chance to get on top of her broom. Flying towards the castle, where her alliance waited for her. She slid down, her feet hitting the ground with a loud thud. She glanced at Shearah, her second in command.

“What’s wrong?” She demanded, the witch locked eyes with her.

“The witches saw a gap to the west, they don’t know what it is, but we can hear its call.” Y/N focused her hearing, like a faint whisper being carried by the wind, she could hear, calling, lulling, inviting them to see what was waiting for them on the other side. 

“Let’s go.” She adjusted her sword behind her back, hidden by the cloak, and the dagger resting against her thigh. Mounting Meraxes again, she was running towards the gap, following the melody.

 ⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The gap wasn’t that big, just a few inches, a slit like a snake eye looking at her, daylight peeked through it, interrupting the darkness in the sky. She had never seen something like this before. A chill ran down her spine. 

“Stay behind!” She warned, the alliance forming a wall behind her. 

She got closer, the thing looked like it was getting smaller by the second, she clicked her jaw, iron teeth covering her real ones, and her claws emerged from the tips of her fingers. Ready to attack in case something dared to cross. Just a closer look

The wind stopped its song, she couldn’t hear it anymore. The terrified faces of her alliance were the last thing she saw before she was sucked into the gap, watching with horror the night sky fading as it closed. She felt like she was falling, clutching the reins in the saddle with an iron grip. Her voice lost in the folds of space as she screamed. Falling, falling and falling. 

Until everything stopped, and she was dangling upside down, the parts of the saddle that held her in place caging her in, forcing against her skin, bruising the flash. Meraxes had fallen to the side, and she groaned as her head started to pound. She was struggling to get out of the saddle, but as she did, her body hit the floor. Pain started to appear from the point she had fallen on top of a rock and she huffed in annoyance.

She circled Meraxes, slapping its leathery nose, the wyvern was still breathing and she released the air she was holding, he opened its eyes, golden eyes meeting hers and she was never more thankful to see those big eyes curiously scanning her. 

The wyvern slowly got up, pulling her closer with a wing. She looked around, removing the pellicule that covered her eyes as she flew, a city was standing nearby, mountains surrounding it, the sight was quite beautiful but all she could wonder was. Where the FUCK she was? 

Things got even more confused when she heard the sound of steps against the fluff grass. Meraxes growled at the strangers approaching her. Stones shone in the two of them, one red and one blue. 

“What the fuck?” The male with the red stones yelled, his sword looking like a foolish attempt to protect himself from the really long teeth and sharp claws of the beast in front of him. She reached for her sword, armed and ready to attack. She was about to jump on them when they got closer and she could see their faces now.

The air was knocked out of her lungs and she wondered if she had gone insane, the achingly familiar face looked at her, the male was tall, beautiful big wings spread across his back, his hazel eyes studied her, trying to distinguish where to attack the threat. She felt like she knew him, her heart exclaiming that yes, she did know him, but her brain didn’t remember him, it wasn’t ready to remember him just yet. She shook her head and fixed her instance, the two stopped at the sight of her teeth glowing in the sun, ready to rip their skin apart.

“Where am I?” The female snarled and the beast behind her furiously stared at them, ready to rip them to shreds.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16

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#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #worlds apart fic #azriel x oc #azriel acotar

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (6/10)

Part Summary: It's three months after the attack on the compound and you lost your invincibility against bullets.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

-

The sound of the doorbell at “Café Lumière” reverberates around the room, your heart reacting before your head can even register it. It's the softest of sounds, but it pulls you like a siren's song. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of that door, with both trepidation and hope hinging on its every swing.

Steam curls up from the frothing milk, whispering past your fingertips as they work on a delicate latte art. Your focus is unwavering, yet as the door chimes again, your heart skips. You risk a glance, your hope suspended for that split second, only to crash back down when it's not her.

Louisa's eyes, which have been watching you mischievously for some time now, find yours. 

“Clock's ticking,” she teases, nodding toward the ornate clock hanging precariously on the wall. “Not 3pm yet.”

You feign confusion, but your playful smirk gives you away. “What are you going on about?”

She grins knowingly. “Your weekly muse isn't due for another... oh, ten minutes or so?”

An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips, the warm notes of roasted beans surrounding you like a comforting embrace. 

“I'm not waiting for her, you know,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

Louisa smirks and pats your shoulder, “Sure, sure. Just give it time. She's never missed a Thursday, has she?”

As you're about to come up with a clever retort, a sharp sting on your finger draws your attention. You wince, looking down to see a thin, red line forming across your finger. Tearing the receipt from the register to hand to the awaiting customer, you’re slightly taken aback at how much the cut bleeds.

“Everything alright?” the customer asks, noticing the blood.

"Yeah, just a small paper cut," you dismiss, trying to downplay it. Grabbing a napkin, you press it against the cut, soaking up the crimson liquid.

Louisa's sharp eyes don't miss a beat. "Careful there. Those can be nasty," she comments, retrieving the first-aid kit from under the counter.

Louisa holds out a bandage, but you shake your head, not wanting to make a fuss over something so minor. “Really, I'm good,” you assure her.

A few seconds later, you open the napkin to check the cut. To your surprise, the skin seems perfectly whole, as if it had never been broken in the first place. You flex your finger, the earlier sting now a distant memory. “See? I'm fine,” you declare, shrugging.

Louisa tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in astonishment. “That healed incredibly fast. You sure you're okay?”

You chuckle, deciding to make light of the situation. “What can I say? Maybe I have superpowers.”

A soft clearing of the throat interrupts the moment. The customer, who you hadn't realized was keenly observing the entire exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Can I get some napkins, please?”

Flustered, you quickly hand a bunch over. “Of course, sorry about that.”

Louisa grins at you mischievously as the customer leaves, “Superpowers, huh? That's a new one.”

The doorbell rings out, pulling your attention instantly. You lift your gaze, hope surging momentarily, only to see the same customer making her way out. The door gently shuts behind them, the anticipation that had built up inside you deflating.

Louisa, noticing the brief flicker of disappointment in your eyes, nudges you playfully. “Don't look so down,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “She’ll be here. You know how punctual she is. Maybe she's just running a bit late today.”

You give a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I wonder though why she never gives her name,” Louisa muses.

“Hm?”

“You know, for the cup,” she clarifies.

You shrug. “Some people love their privacy, I guess.”

Hours seem to stretch endlessly, the weight of the clock's hands growing heavier with each passing minute. The crowd in the café starts to thin as evening nears. Although the store is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, your shift only lasts until 8. And in the midst of the dwindling crowd, one spot remains unclaimed—the corner seat by the window, the one she always chooses. 

She is the sole reason you continue working here despite your persistent restlessness. Pouring coffee for hundreds of customers daily never truly satisfies you, even when some tip generously. There's an inexplicable nagging feeling, suggesting this isn't where you belong or what you should be doing.

Yet, what anchors you between the register and the espresso machine is the girl who comes in every Thursday, late in the afternoon, always punctually, sometimes a few minutes early. It's disconcerting and exhilarating, this sudden shift of your universe tilting on its axis. You've never been one to believe in love at first sight or fated connections, but there’s something in the way she holds herself, something in her gaze that tugs at strings you didn’t even know existed.

But even if you can write the sweetest song or the most evocative poem about every titillating thing about her, it’s just a crush.

A crush that will lead to nothing. Not because you've attempted to ask her out or because she's already spoken for.

It's because your very existence is shrouded in uncertainty.

The past few months have been a jumble of rehab appointments, therapy sessions, and sleepless nights trying to piece together fragments of memories that always seem just out of reach. Surviving that near-fatal crash was a miracle in itself, but the loss of your past—it took away a part of who you were. Or who you're supposed to be.

Every day, you grapple with an identity you don’t recognize, yearning for some semblance of the person you once were. A glance at the reflection in the coffee machine shows a face still unfamiliar. Eyes that hold stories you can’t read, a curve of a smile that feels out of place. When people share anecdotes from their past or talk about family and childhood, all you can offer is a nod, a practiced smile, and a tightness in your chest that never truly fades.

And how could you possibly burden her with this emptiness?

The small apartment you return to every evening, given by a private charity, is filled with borrowed things and a life that doesn't truly feel like yours. They said you had no family, no one waiting or weeping for your recovery. Your recovery was overseen by faceless benefactors who, for some reason, deemed you worthy of a second chance. Yet, every evening as you unlock your door, you wonder if you truly deserved it.

The beautiful woman who steps into the coffee shop every Thursday, with her air of confidence and those captivating eyes, deserves more than what you currently are. More than this fractured self, teetering on the edge of self-discovery and despair.

What could you possibly offer her? Nights filled with stories of... nothingness? Days shadowed by the fear of not knowing who stares back at you in the mirror? She deserves someone who is rooted in memories, with stories to tell. Not this fragmented existence you live. 

Perhaps it's safer this way, to admire her from a distance, to let her remain this source of hope and inspiration. A lighthouse guiding you through the stormiest nights. If you ever manage to find yourself again, then maybe, you'd take that chance. 

Glancing at the clock again, it's 7:45 PM. Still no sign of her.

Dejectedly, you remove your apron and prepare to leave.

-

Wanda Maximoff blends into the bustling streets, the hood of her jacket pulled low over her face and her boots echoing a muffled cadence on the pavement. Dressed in tight denim and a nondescript hooded jacket, she hardly resembled one of the most powerful Avengers.

She mumbles a silent curse under her breath, glancing at her watch. She's late—later than she's ever been—and she hates it. Thursdays at the cafe are her only remaining connection to you. 

She can see the cafe now, its warm light spilling out onto the street. She pushes the door and her eyes immediately scan the room, searching for that familiar face behind the counter. The disguise continues to work; to everyone, she’s just another customer. She doesn't draw the same attention here as she does in New York. 

It’s North Carolina after all, and the town they put you in cares more about art than superheroes.

Louisa's attempt at nonchalance is commendable but slightly betrayed by the quick tightening of her lips and the slight flutter in her eyes. “Good evening,” she begins, voice as steady as she can manage. “Can I get you the usual today?”

Wanda's gaze, sharp and unyielding, remains locked on Louisa's face. “Where's Y/N?” she asks tersely.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't share information about our staff's schedules.”

She pauses, letting the words settle before adding, “If you're looking to see Y/N, perhaps you can drop by tomorrow between 2 pm and 8 pm.”

“Oh,” Wanda mutters softly. 

Vision, in his human disguise, comes up behind her.  “Wanda, we should go,” he murmurs, attempting discretion, but Louisa catches his words nonetheless.

Wanda hesitates, her posture rigid. “I needed to see them, Vis,” her voice is laced with a quiet desperation, a yearning for something—or someone—lost.

“I know,” he replies softly. “But they aren’t here. And we can always go back tomorrow.”

“I just have a feeling,” Wanda says. “Maybe this time, they’ll—”

“You’ve had that feeling for weeks now, but nothing has changed.” 

They've lowered their voices to whispers, forcing Louisa to strain her ears to catch the exchange between the two. Vision soon catches on to Louisa's subtle eavesdropping. Their conversation abruptly stops, and Wanda, a bit lost, looks up at him for an explanation. Vision subtly nods toward Louisa, signaling her presence.

Clearing his throat, Vision steps forward, deciding to divert attention. “A hibiscus tea, please,” he says.

Louisa, embarrassed at being indirectly called out, fumbles slightly before regaining her composure. “Of course. Name for the cup?”

“Victor,” Vision replies smoothly. With a nod, Louisa gets to work, while Vision takes a few steps to the side with Wanda, resuming their conversation in even lower tones. 

Louisa sneaks occasional glances while pretending to be engrossed in her work. The two stand slightly apart, their conversation seeming both intimate and tense. Wanda's fingers fidget, wringing her hands, her lips moving quickly. Vision responds with a calming gesture, fingers grazing her forearm.

The steamer hisses as Louisa finishes the hibiscus tea, her curiosity deepening.

Setting the cup on the counter, she clears her throat. “Order for Victor!”

No reaction.

With a little more force, she calls again, “Hibiscus tea for Victor!”

Again, no response.

The cafe grows impatient, a soft buzz of conversation fills the air, and a few customers shoot curious glances at the duo.

“Victor!” Louisa exclaims, this time with a touch of impatience.

At this, Vision finally turns, the gentle hum of their conversation breaking. He approaches the counter, his blue eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. “Thank you, Louisa.”

Louisa simply nods, her gaze flitting between the pair. As they head towards the exit, she can't help but wonder about the nature of their relationship with you and what has them so concerned.

-

Three months ago

“You can’t do this to them.”

Wanda's voice crackles with anger and a hint of desperation, her collected demeanor fraying at the edges. The holographic projections of the globe, pinpointing potential locations and glimpses of Y/N's impending new life, bathe Wanda's face in a cold blue light, each flicker taunting her with the reality of your imminent departure.

Flashbacks flicker behind Wanda's eyes, pulling her into that harrowing moment. She feels you in her arms again, your life seeping away between her fingers. She's surrounded by dust-covered streets, crumbling buildings, and the deafening silence after the explosion. Your blood, vibrant and so, so red, pooling at the ground beneath you, staining Wanda’s shoes. She's paralyzed, every second stretching into an eternity, every breath a labor.

She was so slow, so clouded by fear. Why didn't she act faster? Why didn't she see the signs? Could she have saved you?

It was Steve's voice that brought her back to reality. “Wanda! We need to move!” She barely registered the panic in his voice, the way he swiftly and gently took you from her, laying you on a makeshift stretcher.

Every moment after that feels like an agonizing irony to Wanda. She knows grief and loss intimately, but this... this is an entirely different kind of pain. The trauma of watching you battle death is only overshadowed by the realization that while you might physically be here, mentally, the person who risked their life for her twice has disappeared.

In the quiet spaces of her heart, she acknowledges a truth she's been running from: she's spent so long building walls, so long pushing away the vulnerability that came with connecting deeply with someone, out of fear. Fear of loss, of pain, of being too raw and open. With you, those walls had started to crumble, brick by brick, but not fast enough.

She wishes she could go back, to relive those moments with the knowledge she has now. 

“You can't do this to them,” she murmurs again, the words more for herself than anyone else.

Steve stands across from her, hands on the table, his posture rigid yet his face betraying a deep sadness. “Wanda, it's not about what I want or what you want. It's protocol.”

Wanda's face contorts with anger, her voice rising, “Protocol? Y/N isn't some object to be managed! They have rights, feelings, memories—”

“Which they don't even remember!” Steve interjects, his rarely-seen frustration surfacing on this particular occasion.

“You can’t just... toss them into the world like they're yesterday's news, Steve,” Wanda hisses with barely-contained anger. They remain the lone figures in the meeting room after the team unanimously voted to craft a new identity for you, placing you in a secluded town, untouched by global news, let alone the cosmic battles waged galaxies away.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wanda, it’s not about 'disposing' anyone. The protocol is clear. If a super loses their powers, they reintegrate. Y/N can't live in the compound because they no longer belong in this world of chaos and danger.”

“Because they're powerless?” Wanda’s eyes blaze. “Or because they're no longer of any use to the cause?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve says, stepping closer to Wanda and meeting her gaze. “Y/N has lost their memory, they don’t remember any of this—any of us. Keeping them here would only confuse and possibly hurt them.”

“They just sacrificed everything for me. And now you want to push them aside because it's convenient?”

“No,” Steve replies, “Because they’ve done enough. They’ve given enough. Don’t you think they’ve earned the right to a peaceful life? The privilege of normalcy?”

Her green eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that they should have the choice. And right now, we’re taking that away from them.”

-

“Your girlfriend showed up last night.”

You whip your head around to look at Louisa so quickly, it feels like you might've given yourself whiplash.

“Come again?”

Louisa grins, tying her apron around her waist with a knowing smirk. “You heard me. Your Thursday regular? Gorgeous, and those piercing green eyes? She came by looking for you after you left.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “That doesn’t mean she’s my... girlfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa teases, leaning in closer. “She seemed pretty keen on finding you. Even asked for you by name. Speaking of which... guess who found out her name?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Y-You did?”

Louisa nods, a smirk on her lips. “Wanda. Her name’s Wanda.”

“Wanda,” you repeat, savoring the name as it slips from your lips.

Putting a name to such an unforgettable face changes everything. But like so many things that have recently unfolded, you just don’t know the significance of it yet.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers #vision

[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Nine

Fool's Fare: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Cursing, Sirens, Supernatural elements, Swords, Death, Guilt, Grief, Mentions of suicide, Broken hearts, Misplaced anger, Angst galore. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed somethign!

Word Count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes locking on to Jake’s hunched over form across the room. He took several steadying breaths before opening his eyes to glare at the woman, straightening up as he did so.

“That wasn’t my fault,” he murmured, swallowing thickly as he watched her. The woman chuckled, lips pulled back in that unnatural looking smile as she offered the captain a sympathetic look.

“Of course it wasn’t, dear,” she hummed, looking out the window, “love makes people do unspeakable things. My own son forfeited his life to avenge the one he loved, you know. Sought vengeance despite my warning him not to.”

“No, I don’t know,” Jake snapped, fingers curling into fists, “and I don’t care to know.”

“I begged him not to go,” she sighed, sadness clouding her eyes, and an uneasy feeling began to overwhelm you. “I begged him to wait until I returned with armor forged by the gods themselves, but he would not listen to me, his grief became too much. Struck by an arrow in the one place where he could be hurt.”

“Jake.”

All eyes of the crew flickered towards Javy, the first mate having silently crept his way up to stand next to the captain. The blond in question arched a brow at him, bidding him to continue.

“The sun is setting,” Javy whispered, eyes watching the old woman suspisciouly as she continued on with her story. Your eyes darted towards the window, noticing for the first time how the surrounding mist seemed darker than earlier.

“We should go while there’s still some light,” he continued, head gesturing towards the door. The woman let out a hiss, whirling around to slam her hands down on the old table as she glared at the two men.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” she screeched, lips curled back into a viscious snarl. You gripped onto Bradley’s hand with both of yours, feeling your heart lurch in your chest as you watched her. A strange energy filled the room, something unlike anything you had ever experienced before, even in the clearing earlier that day.

“You have something that belongs to me,” she purred, her anger dissolving into an unsettling smile as she leaned forward on the table, long, dark hair falling over her shoulder. Fingers twitched on the wooden surface as her dress fell enough to expose her cleavage, a sultry smile overtaking her features as she looked up at the captain in front of her.

“I’ve taken nothing from you,” Jake answered evenly, eyes hard set as he watched her. She giggled, batting her lashes at him as she slowly stood up straight to round the table.

“Not you, no,” she agreed, each step slow and deliberate. “Did you know that Davy Jones was a man once?”

“What?” Jake asked, brow furrowing in confusion as he took a hesitant step back. The woman nodded enthusiastically, taking another slow step.

“He was such a handsome man,” she sighed wistfully, “nothing like the monster he’s become. Although, I suppose deep down he was always that way. His face matches his insides now, don’t you agree?”

Not a word was spoken by those in the room, and the woman chuckled.

“I was so desperate for love back then,” she continued, taking another step. “I wanted to fall into a man’s embrace, and Davy was more than happy to provide that for me, of course. I loved him so very much, I thought my heart might burst right out of my chest.”

She pressed her chest forward to mimic the action, her dress slipping further down her chest in the process, a wicked smile on her face as she dropped back down.

“Of course, I didn’t know it at the time,” she sighed, a pout on her lips as she took another step forward, “but he never loved me. He was only using me for my power. Do you know what he asked me? He asked me to pluck a star straight from the sky for him, trapping it in a tiny, little stone. I told him that I couldn’t do such a thing, that the stars were meant to stay in the sky where they belonged, but he told me, ‘Thetis, I’ll never leave you if you do this one thing for me.’”

Her eyes fell closed, wistful smile slowly morphing in to fury as she opened her eyes to glare at the captain and the first mate.

“Of course I know now that he’s a liar,” she spat. “All men do is think of themselves, giving no regard to the ones they hurt along the way. I plucked that star out of the sky, sealing its soul within the gem, and what did he do? He left. Left without so much as a look back. He left me stranded here without a heart while he sailed off to conquer the seas.”

Another smile crept across her face as her intense, dark eyes peered up at the two men in front of her, her chest heaving with glee.

“But I had the last laugh, didn’t I?” She cackled. “I cursed him with the power he wanted, the immortality he wanted. Rule the seven seas he shall, but no glory to his name, only fear and disbelief follows him everywhere he goes. And now I’ll have what’s mine. I’ll take back the soul of Polaris, and he’ll be doomed to his wretched existence!”

She lunged for Jake, long, white fingers outstretched towards his chest where he kept the jewel hidden. He and Javy shouted as they dove out of the way, everyone scrambling to move out of the way as she crashed to the floor.

“Everyone out!” Jake shouted, shoving Javy forward as everyone sprinted for the door, Bradley practically hauling you out the door in his arms as you all stumbled down the stairs, Jake bringing up the rear.

“Get to the boats, now!” He hollered, casting a look over his shoulder. The men who stayed behind didn’t need to be told twice as they launched themselves through the trees, followed closely by the rest of your party. The foliage scratched at your hands and face, a pained hiss leaving your lips as the beach came into view. A few of the men began tossing the stones out of the boats, Bradley and Mickey already working to push them back towards the water. You stumbled as the brush behind you began to tremble and shake, Thetis slinking into view with a murderous look on her face as she watched everyone around her. The sleeves of her dress had fallen down to expose more of her chest, and you let out a gasp, your hands flying to your face at what you saw.

In the spot where her heart should be, a gaping, black hole sat instead. Her eyes landed on you, and a wicked smile pulled on her lips.

“Do you know the price one has to pay to steal a star from the sky?” She asked, voice sickly sweet as she walked closer towards you. “The price one has to pay is their own heart, and I paid it for him. I will get that gem back, and then I’ll trade it for my heart.”

The same overwhelming energy from the jungle beginning to pulsate around you. A wave of ice rushed through you, your hands clawing at your throat as you fought to gain control of your breathing. The men shouted behind you, and you were only vaguely aware of the sound of your name being called. Everything was too bright, too loud again, and your eyes darted around the beach, trying to find some way to calm the frantic beating of your heart as Thetis drew closer to where you stood. A curious expression crossed her face as she watched you, her head tilting to the side with a frown.

“What a strange little thing you are,” she muttered, eyes narrowing at you as she continued to study you. A jolt ran through you, and her eyes widened with a low hiss. “What are you?”

A hand wrapped around your bicep, pulling you backwards, and the sensations stopped as quickly as they started. You turned to see Jake hauling you towards the rowboats, still shouting orders at the men as he glanced over his shoulder at Thetis. A shudder ran through you that filled you with a sense of dread just before a keen filled the air, causing all movement to stop.

The air was so still, that for a moment you wondered if time itself had stopped. The sound of the water lapped at the shore, waves crashing against the calves of the two men who stood in the shallows, hands gripped tight onto the sides of the boats. All eyes scanned the area, but yours remained locked onto Thetis, whose eyes flashed wildly at you as her signature smile crept onto her face. Her lips were pulled so far back, you were surprised the skin didn’t rip to pieces. Her eyes flitted to the water, and it was then that you broke your trance, turning to see a monstrous fin peek out of the water behind one of the men. Another baleful keen sounded, breaking the silence, and you watched the man take a shuddering breath as his eyes landed on yours, just before he was ripped beneath the surface of the water, not a sound heard except for the rippling of displaced water where he once stood.

Your heart hammered in your chest, watching as the too still water now refused to move. The man beside the other boat stared, horrified, at where his companion once stood, his chest rising and falling more and more rapidly as panic seized him. Movement caught your eye, and you watched as the smooth surface of the water rippled leading up to the man just before he too was dragged beneath the surface. A third cry rang out, a song that caused a few of the men’s eyes to glaze over, one starting to walk towards the water in a trance-like state.

“Cover your ears!” Javy shouted, tearing off some of his shirt to quickly plug his ears before sprinting towards the water to try and grab the two row boats that were now slowly drifting away. You watched as the man waded into the water, a dreamy look on his face before he disappeared beneath the surface with a short cry. Several different songs filled the air now, all beautiful and tempting in their ways. Your eyes scanned the small beach, stopping as they rested on the forms of the different women.

They were all beautiful, eyes calculating as they took in the small party around them, their tails floating and swinging in the water as they lay on the rocks. A redhead with upturned, emerald eyes locked sight on Mickey, a sinister smile inching onto her lips as she cooed at him. Her song filled the air, and the curly haired sailor stopped his movements, the same hazy look on his face as the others as he turned to look at her. She smiled at him, reaching her arms out as if to embrace him, and a small smile inched its way onto his lips as he took a small step towards her.

“No!” You shouted, pulling out of Jake’s hold and launching yourself across the sand. Mickey took another step just as you reached him, colliding with him hard enough to almost knock him off his feet. You steadied him as he blinked down at you, confusion warping his features. The siren hissed, her tail splashing the water in anger as she fixed her glare on you.

“What…” He mumbled, brows furrowing down at you. You ripped two pieces off his shirt, shoving them into his ear canals as he balked.

“Don’t take those out!” You shouted at him, eyeing the siren warily. “We need to get everyone out of here. Go!”

Mickey glanced at the siren before looking back at you with a determined nod, turning on his heels to go and help Javy with the boats. You looked around, watching as several of the men slashed their swords through the water, trying desperately to keep the creatures at bay as Javy, Mickey, and Bradley wrestled with the boats. Bradley reached his hand out to help one of the men onto the boat, the vessel rocking violently for a moment before the men managed to steady it.

Your gaze turned to look further up the shore, stopping when they landed on Jake. His back was to you, facing Thetis as she smirked at him.

“Why don’t you just give it to me?” She crooned, head tilted mockingly. “If you give it here, I’ll call them off, and then you can all be on your merry, little way.”

“Even if I believed that,” Jake scoffed, taking a step back, “I wouldn’t give it to you anyway. This treasure is mine for the taking.”

“Jake! Guppy! Let’s go!”

You and Jake both turned to see Javy watching the two of you, distress coloring his handsome features. Your heart dropped at how few of you were left, and you turned back to lock eyes with Jake.

“Let’s go,” you echoed, eyes wide and imploring. He pressed his lips together, casting one last glance at Thetis before backing away towards you. She watched him, dark eyes intense as he reached where you stood. A wave of unease crawled up your spine. There was no way she was letting you leave that easily. Your suspicion was confirmed when a cry reached your ears, a slow smirk pulling on Thetis’s lips.

You turned to see one of the sirens perched on the rocks closest to your group, her tail half submerged in the water. Dark waves of chestnut rolled down her back, matching eyes set against sharp cheekbones and full lips that turned captivated on the man stood behind you. You heard Jake’s breath hitch, and you turned to see the color drain from his face as he stared at the siren with a look of horror. Looking back, you saw her lips pull into a sultry smile, her lips opening as her hand reached out to him.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid,

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing that can console me,

but my jolly sailor bold.”

Her voice sounded of smooth honey, each word dripping from her lips with a promise of satisfaction, and your eyes widened in horror as you felt Jake grow lax, a far away look in his green eyes as he watched her.

“Come all you pretty, fair maids,

whoever you may be.

Who love a jolly sailor bold

who ploughs the raging sea.”

Jake stepped past you slowly, eyes trained on the woman ahead. Her smile grew triumphant as he began to cross the distance, and you lunged after him, grabbing his hand to stop him.

“Jake, stop,” you said firmly, frowning at him. He pulled away from you, too transfixed by the woman in front of him. You followed after him as he continued his pace, the woman coaxing him forward with small cries. You tugged on his shirt, trying to stop him as the crew shouted from the boat, but nothing broke his trance.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid,

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing that can console me

but my jolly sailor bold.”

You whirled forward, putting your body in between the siren and Jake, your hands pressed against his chest as you looked up at him.

“Jake, snap out of it,” you pleaded, tears stinging behind your eyes as you looked up at him. His gaze remained forward, but you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch as his brow furrowed slightly. He moved to keep walking forward, but you pressed back against him, burying your face in his chest as you cried out.

“Jake, come on!” You pleaded, fingers curling tightly into his shirt as you pressed back, stopping him from moving any further. The siren snarled behind you, letting out an impatient cry, and you pinched your eyes closed as an unexpected sob tore through you.

“Please,” you muttered, tears now streaming freely down your face. “Please stop. Stay with me.”

A gentle breeze blew past you, the only thing keeping you grounded in the waking nightmare. It cooled the tears that streamed down your face, and the sensation had you burrowing further into Jake. You inhaled, taking in the smell of the leather he wore mixed with the salt of the air that always clung to him.

“You can’t leave me,” you told him. “Please don’t leave me, Jake. I’m begging you. I need you here with me, you idiot.”

You took a steadying breath.

“I didn’t expect to care about you as much as I do, you know. Didn’t think I’d warm up to someone like you. I thought you were a scoundrel and a rake, but that’s just what you want people to think, isn’t it? Really, you’re smart, funny, and you care about the people who love you. I don’t know why you insist on acting like an asshole so often.”

You let out a light chuckle.

“Maybe it’s because you and I are a lot alike, huh? Birds of a feather or something like that. I cling to people so they never leave, and you? You push them away so they never get close enough to hurt you, but I see you, Captain Jake Seresin. I see the man that you are, and I know I’m mad at you right now, but that doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt, so snap out of it and get your pretty, dumb head out of your ass!”

A moment of silence passed before a hand came up to rest on the top of your head. You pulled back just enough to look up at where Jake smiled softly back down at you, a joyful cry falling from your lips.

“You think I’m pretty?” He teased. You rolled your eyes, a new wave of tears streaming down your face as you smiled up at him.

“I believe I said ‘pretty dumb,’” you shot back.

“This is all very touching,” Mickey hollered, and the two of you turned to look at where the others waited, “but if you two don’t mind, I’d like to get the hell out of here right about now.”

You grimaced as Jake snorted, the two of you moving to make a run for the boat. Jake paused, casting one last hesitant look back at the siren who watched him with rage brewing in her eyes. His lips pressed firmly together before he turned his back on her, eyes locking on where you stood just before him, your hand outstretched to him. He slid his hand into yours, allowing you to guide him towards the boat.

The two of you clambered in, wary of the surrounding water where several sirens still circled dangerously below, the only thing keeping them at bay being the swords drawn and ready to attack whatever may poke above the surface.

A strange feeling overcame you, a sense of warning, and you drew your sword, whirling around to point it at Thetis, whose throat now sat just at the tip of your sword, her chin turned up to avoid the blade. Her eyes danced with humor as she regarded you, your face twisted into a snarl.

“My, aren’t you just full of surprises?” She chortled. “You’ll be a fine addition to our little family one day.”

“That’s never going to happen,” you sneered, earning a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that,” she smiled, eyes flickering to look behind you. “That gem will be mine one day, you know. I’ll get it back one way or another.”

“One day, maybe,” Jake conceded from behind you, “but not today.”

Something dangerous flashed in her eyes, but Thetis took a step back away from the tip of your blade.

“We’ll be taking our leave now, if you don’t mind,” you said evenly, sword still pointed in her direction. She raised a brow at you, but dipped her head in surrender. Bradley and Mickey each used their oar to push off from the shallows, letting the boat float into open water and away from the isle, the siren songs following you all the way back to the ship.

“What happened?” Nat asked as what was left of your exploring party set foot on deck. Jake’s shoulders were slumped as the adrenaline wore off, weariness gripping him like a vice as he made his way towards the cabins with you close behind.

“Not now, Nat. Please,” he sighed. She looked like she wanted to argue, but stopped as Javy placed a gentle hand on her shoulder with a shake of his head. You placed a reassuring hand on Jake’s back as the two of you passed through the door and into the hallway, quickly making it into Jake’s quarters. You sat down on the bed, scooting back until your back hit the wall behind you. Jake collapsed beside you, and you opened your arms for him to make a home if he wanted. He gave you a grateful smile as he collapsed onto the bed, arranging himself so that his head rested on your chest, faced pressed into your neck. You wove your hands through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp as the two of you sat in silence.

“It was her, wasn’t it? The siren that sang to you?” You asked him, voice barely above a whisper. He stiffened in your hold before relaxing with a tired sigh.

“Yes,” he nodded, not pulling away from you. You nodded in understanding, feeling the exhaustion from the day start to settle in your bones. You hesitated for a moment before swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Jake didn’t say anything for a long moment, and for a second you wondered if he had fallen asleep.

“Her name was Kate,” he murmured into your neck, so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him. “She was the daughter of a blacksmith and a housemaid in Georgia. I met her just after I was given control of the Hangman by the previous captain. I thought she was so beautiful, but I was nineteen when we met, and I wasn’t looking to settle down, especially not after having just become a captain of my own ship. I wanted to explore the world first, and I told her that from the beginning. We had our fun, and she became a dear friend to me.”

He took a shuddering breath before continuing.

“I only knew her the one year, Guppy. She was funny, smart, and kind. I counted her as one of my closest friends for what it was worth. I only saw her a handful of times in that year, but I guess something changed for her. On my last visit, she confessed that she had fallen in love with me, and wanted me to stay with her to start a life together.”

You waited with bated breath for him to continue as his hold on you tightened slightly, like you might run away.

“I told her that I didn’t love her the same way, that she was just a friend in my heart. I was twenty years old, Guppy, I didn’t know that-”

A sob wracked through him, and you felt his tears dampen the material of your shirt as his shoulders shook. You held him a little tighter, still running your fingers through his hair as he cried. Finally, he calmed enough to continue.

“I knew she was upset, and I tried to comfort her, but she told me she needed time alone, needed time to think. I thought that was the least I could do for her seeing as I had just turned down a life with her. And then two night later she-”

Silence filled the cabin, the only sound to be heard was the crashing of the waves against the ship as it rocked side to side.

“You know the rest,” he muttered. “I understand if you hate me for it, hell, I hate me for it, and that’s why I didn’t tell you in the first place. I couldn’t bear the thought of you not being able to look at me or looking at me like I’m some kind of monster. If I had just stayed with her, she’d still be alive and none of this would be happening, and-”

You pushed him back, bringing your hands down to cup his face as he looked at you with sorrowful, red-rimmed eyes. He looked like a kicked puppy, eyes glossy with unshed tears and lips pressed tight like he was barely holding himself together. Your thumb stroked his cheek as you sighed, pressing your own lips into a thin line.

“Jake,” you cooed, “that wasn’t your fault. We can’t expect people to love us in the way that we want and then get upset when they don’t. Love isn’t transactional, it’s just freely given. You can’t force yourself to feel in a way that you don’t.”

A tear ran down his cheek and you leaned forward to kiss it away, his eyes falling shut as you did so.

“Kate made her choices,” you sighed, “however misguided they were. You have to learn to forgive yourself.”

Jake opened his eyes to look at you, lips parting as if he were going to say something before closing them once more. You offered him a sympathetic smile before hugging him closer to you.

Grief and guilt often went hand in hand, dancing together in a waltz of what-ifs and I-should-haves. Both were almost always illogical in how they made one feel or what they made one do. They didn’t care about what they consumed, only concerned with taking and overwhelming.

Forgiveness was the light at the end of the tunnel that promised salvation, and by forgiving Jake, perhaps you could start to forgive yourself for the things that happened. You sighed, once again running your fingers through Jake’s hair as exhaustion pulled him into the depths of sleep. Forgiveness was almost never easy, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.

A/N: Oof! What a chapter, huh? Anyway, I'll be putting a pin in this series for a second while I work on a writing challenge, but hopefully that won't take me too long to finish, and I can start updating this again! Also, gentle reminder that I no longer do tag lists! If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog: @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#fool's fare #ff #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts

Monster Tidbits: 3 & 4

Forgot to do this for some of them so I'm going back and getting the ones up through chapter 28

I read this tidbit and immediately went 'how close ARE squid and octopus phylogenetically?' And it turns out they're kinda close, but also. Vampire squids are closely related to octopods! Moreso than to other squids. That's neat!

Anyway.

The dungeon and its vast resources are really wasted on hack-n-slash adventurers. It feels like only Senshi really appreciates how much you can strip and use from such a large animal.

Though I suppose the ecosystem gets it in the end anyway so it's not a complete waste....

I'd forgotten Laios hates kraken lmao.

.................dude really pointed a sperm tube at his own face and shot a load at his forehead. Incredible. World's least sexy facial, confirmed. Congrats, Laios. That's the worst anyone's ever done it, buddy.

Chillchuck, you only live to be like, 40. Maybe stop trying to reinvent the wheel capitalism in your lifetime....

Meaning Chillchuck can live to be poor enough to travel with them another day! Hoorah!

...can this translator just not ever spell the word tentacles?

You don't need a brain to grow in good places. You just need to grow in good places and survive to have progeny that also favors good places to procreate and then-- ah, nevermind. Why am I explaining evolutionary pressure to a manga.

You did your best, buddy.

didn't you guys encounter mermaids? Or were those... sirens...?

hang on, what do you mean they die?!! Just from being the first one to hear it?!

Oh, wait, you mean like, they hear it and jump in first? Damn.

Ah, right, they're completely different species.

go, girl, get your calories.

.........how much mana can a dragon store, huh marcille. How much.

no need to brag....

need me that meme of a fat kitten that's full of milk, but make it Namari, full of mana.........

I was gonna say 'fluffy pitbull' but then I saw 'clever'.... ah, bully breeds. Braincells are in short supply.

GET. THAT. MAN. A. PUBBY.

Listen, you. Laios is a treasure, you hear me? He's a treasure. He's also way too much of a freak for you to reason with. Just leave him alone with his warg plans.

Bag of Holding MIGHT actually be the most broken thing there is. Hm.

THE BULLYING! WHO IS IT FOR?! WHY ARE YOU GANGING UP ON HIM

Laios: If I can't be THE MOST OBSESSED then what's even the point?

King shit. Absolutely pathetic meow meow. There is so much wrong with him.

#chekhov answers #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi liveblog #delicious in dungeon #chekhov reads dungeon meshi

[pillowspace]

NOTE: although I've now finished Ruin, this was written for fun when I had only seen the first half. Its relation is limited

(Wasn't) Worth Fixing by clutterspace

You find the Daycare Attendant of your childhood hidden behind your apartment building, severely damaged.

You... probably weren't intended to.

G | Words: 1,386 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

Your mother used to work as a technician at the pizza place half-way across town when you were little. It took some time for you really memorize the name—Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex—when all you did as a young child was raise your hands up high to your mother so tall and ask when you could go to pizza.

For every day she had gone to work, she brought you with her. You boundlessly scribbled in Freddy Fazbear themed colouring books with crayon on the near silent bumpy car ride there, as she had always requested the quiet before the cacophany of shouting noise the mall offered its full family guests. And much too young to be let loose among the older children, you had always been dropped off at the establishment's daycare before her shift.

The place had once held a charm to it, a brightly coloured wonder of dizzying family fun that evolved into a more thoughtful appreciation for the advanced robotics you eventually grew old enough to possess. Even the daycare had been attended to by a single machine, and to this day, you genuinely wondered sometimes if the bounciness of life its creaky frame held had really been there at all, a marvel of technological advancement, or if it was only the low standard magic that all little eyes saw the world through. Your memories were few and far between, but it had been a joyous place that looked upon you kindly, and much of that credit went to that very machine in place.

It was enough to make you feel a little bad for just how much you begged your mother to let you freely roam outside of the daycare later on, but life went on and on for little minds, and it wasn't a thought worth lingering upon.

When you blessedly just barely became old enough for it, you had gotten your wish granted to you by your exhausted mother, and stuck closely around the Glamrocks and their masses of crowds from then on. It was an endlessly exciting change from the norm, and the musical daycare of childish screams and brightly enthused words of encouragement that had welcomed you with open arms became an afterthought.

You had asked your mother one day where Bonnie went. The older kids had spoken in jokes that fell like cruelty upon your ears, and it was only your mother who might as well have been the CEO in your eyes who you could trust. Older now, you knew there was no harm in the jokes the other children had made among one another, but that a mind so easily swayed could only listen in horror.

Your mother had not sugar-coated it, much too used to the more grown-up side of her occupation to bother. You would have been fine to hear that he was on vacation, or off to bigger and better performances across the globe. You would have smiled, proud to hear of his accomplishments. But the words she told you had been without care.

He wasn't worth fixing, so they got rid of him.

It had been a nagging fear that crept over your spine for a year afterwards that the same could ever happen to you, childishly lacking in the understanding of your differences in value to the surrounding world.

And it was as you silently stared back into the wild, frozen, broken eyes dimly illuminating the dark, filthy alleyway between apartment buildings in vibrant yellow and red hues, with a right hand on your own open back door's handle and a left hand tightly gripped around a filled garbage bag at your side years later, that those very words rung back to you.

Police sirens blared in the distance, but that was the usual.

People talked, but knew little. There had been something off from the usual in town lately, police cars circling the area endlessly. They were looking for someone, or something. And your neighbours speculated, but they all speculated different topics amongst themselves, bringing all that mystery down to a he said, she said, who cares anymore. It all became naught but a backdrop with no follow-up.

Maybe no one wanted to hear a possibly dangerous animatronic was on the loose. Or- no. Maybe just no one wanted to admit to the potentially catastrophic failing, what with the previous rumours already spiralling out of control. A silent capture was in play.

The animatronic looked banged up, shattered holes all along its body. Fabric was littered with rips and tears, while not an inch of casing went uncracked. Its rays adorned with a familiar blue hat were broken, and its faceplace was almost entirely shattered in half. But despite all of the horrific damage it bore, you could recognize the animatronic for the daycare of your early childhood from anywhere, even though only an hour prior, you would not have recalled its form. It held itself still under your gaze, and you too did not move, for there was a shocked terror in the way it held itself firmly pressed against the bottom of the wall, too-thin metal fingers cracking the pavement beneath it.

It looked so scared for something (someone?) that could easily do to you what it was doing to the pavement. Though you doubted that it had any desire to do so.

You didn't know how long you two stared, until finally, you took the slowest step you could towards the garbage bin that stood only a couple feet away in the dim alleyway. The second you moved even an inch, a mechanical hum rose in volume from the wary animatronic's metal body that reminded you of the sounds your own computer makes. It didn't move, didn't talk, only watched you out of the corner of your eye as you ever so slowly made your way towards the bin. You lifted the garbage bag into it, and the clattering sound of its contents shifting within rung out much too loud for the careful silence you required. You internally recoiled from the noise, but outwardly showed not a reaction as you inched your way back towards your door as if nothing out of place had been seen at all.

Your hand fell upon the door as you stepped up across the threshold. You did not walk any further, and instead looked over your shoulder at the vulnerable state the broken, hiding animatronic you had unintentionally spotted was in. You inhaled, feeling doubtfully uncertain, but reminiscent for the sounds of shrieking laughter and the ever so foggy memory of a large sunshine grin poking into a play structure to announce that you had been found. As advanced as its facial recognition likely was, you sincerely doubted that it could connect you back to the toddler you had once been. It had no idea who you were, and therefore had no intentions of ever having been seen by you. But even if it did, would that matter at all? You couldn't be but a single file and a brief, fading memory to its systems.

(It seemed smaller like this, but you knew that you had only grown taller.)

He wasn't worth fixing, so they got rid of him.

"They check this alleyway," you whispered into the cool night air. A small clicking sound of an unknown origin sounded out from the animatronic at the sound of your voice. It did not respond, but you did not expect it to.

You turned away and walked inside of your home, intent on brushing your teeth and going to bed.

You did not close the door behind you. An unspoken invitation, because surely you would not be to blame if the ever so frightening machine found its way into your home all on its own.

You stayed in your bedroom for the rest of the night, and when the muffled sounds of police sirens finally circled back towards your street, you just barely heard the almost inaudible sound of your back door quietly clicking shut. You did not emerge, no matter what shuffling noises you heard afterwards, and instead rolled over in bed to play a song from your phone's lit screen into your newly pushed in earbuds.

If anyone asked, they had been in all night.

#pillowspace writing #i wrote this at 2am but it's fine. looking away #dca fandom #um im gonna use x reader tags but it's platonic #eclipse x reader #dca x reader #ruin eclipse #fnaf daycare attendant #ruin dlc #pillowspace art #ok bye i am making pasta rn

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [13]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: sick child, medical procedures, anxiety, reliving past traumas, panic and fear about losing a loved one

Word Count: 3,439

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

A/N: HEY MY DUDES. THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT INSPIRED IT ALL. I pictured the scenes in this chapter in my head, wanted to write it, but I knew in order to have the emotional impact I wanted it to have i had to build a full ass story around it and I did lolol.

Thanks to all who have shared their love! This is like my fourth update in four days but unfortunately that will slow a bit this weekend. I’m crazy busy this weekend so it might not be until next week that you get a real update.

Ch. #13: THE DANGER HAS PASSED, CYAR’IKA

Chapter Summary: You must relive your past in order to save your future.

“She was powerful,

not because she wasn’t scared

but because she went on so strongly,

despite the fear.”

-atticus

After deciding to go to the clinic, you paused only to tuck your blaster into the back of your waistband before sprinting out the door. It would take you at least fifteen minutes to get to the clinic, and that was if you ran the entire way. Hot wiring and stealing the neighbor’s speeder bike? That would take you two minutes top. A talent you had Tatooine to thank for. 

When you set Grogu in the speeder’s basket, so your hands would be free, he screamed. A mixture of unintelligible cries and ‘Ma’ over and over again. Hands trembling, you got the bike going and jumped on. It maybe wasn’t the safest to drive with Grogu in your arms, but you couldn’t bear to not hold him. The streets were bare of anyone and everyone. There had been no city wide siren for a warning, like Coruscant had, but the word about the pirates must have got around. 

Everyone was hiding.

As predicted, you got there in a quarter of the time on the speeder bike and when you reached the clinic you hopped off before it came to an actual stop. The bike ended up slamming into the clinic wall without someone to turn it away, but you were already halfway through the door. Just like the rest of Nevarro, it was bare. 

“Hey!” You screamed as you reached the empty front desk of the waiting room. “Daelar! Where the kriff are you!?” A woman, a young Twi’lek, poked her head out from around the corner. “You!” She jumped at your tone. “Get me Daelar right now.”

“He’s not here, ma’am.” She shook her head.

Whatever. You didn’t have time to chase that bastard. “Fine. Where’s the med droid!?”

“Broken.” She admitted. “If this is an emergency I can call a shuttle to take you off world.”

You felt the blood leave your face, your heart stopped in your chest, breath caught in your lungs. The words slipped from your mouth, aghast, “What did you just say?”

“Daelar left off world hours ago, and the droid has been malfunctioning since yesterday.” She repeated. “But I can…”

She was still talking. Her mouth was moving, but all you could hear was Grogu’s whimpering cries and a high pitched whine that filled your head⏤ as if a bomb had gone off and left you deaf to the world. Daelar left? He left off world knowing the droid was broken? Knowing that he’d be leaving all of this world without a healer? 

“How long for a shuttle?” You demanded. “How long to get to the⏤ How long!?”

“An hour tops, I would guess, but I cannot guarantee⏤”

“No, no, no.” You moaned. Even if that time estimate was accurate it was too long. Grogu was getting hotter and hotter, his cries getting weaker and weaker, and you hated the way his eyelids fluttered weakly. You shook your head. “Unlock the doors for me. I need to get back there.”

“I’m sorry. That’s for medical personnel only.” She replied. She set her hands on the desk.

“I don’t care.”

“Ma’am⏤”

Without blinking, you pulled the blaster out from the back of your waistband and leveled it at her. Her eyes widened in panic. Hands shot up in surrender. You chose to leave the safety on. You didn’t want to hurt this woman, but you weren’t going to let her stand in your way either.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” You seethed. “That door will be unlocked, I will have access to the medical supplies, and I am going to save my son. This is going to happen regardless of the decision you make right now, but it’ll be easier for all of us if you help.”

She nodded once and you lowered the blaster. The Twi’lek hurried to the side door and you followed her. She used her hand print to open the door into the emergency medical bay. The large room had four cots in total, and the side wall was made up entirely of glass cabinets where you could see supplies and ingredients. You quickly set Grogu on the closest cot and the fact that he didn’t even react to being set down sent a sharp strike of fear through you.

“Hey, what’s your name?” You shouted back at the girl while hooking up Grogu to the vitals machine.

“Aayla.”

“What’s your training?”

“I’m⏤I’m new to this. I’m a tech.”

No official medical training, but a tech would be helpful. You pointed to her, voice clear and loud, to get your order heard. “Aayla, get four ice packs. I want one under him, on top of him, and on either side. I need to cool him down quickly. Understand?”

She nodded and turned to the supplies to get the ice packs. The vitals machine began to blare, and your head snapped back to look at it. Heart rate was much too fast, even for Grogu who ran high naturally. His oxygen level was hovering on the lower end of normal. His temperature though⏤ Maker⏤ it was 102 degrees and you watched in horror as the decimal point next to it changed from 3 to 7. It was still steadily rising. 

The sound of his whimpers, the blaring of the machine, you felt stuck. You were trapped in that moment once more watching Soran die. You shouldn’t have been her physician. It was too personal.

This was so much worse.

Aayla returning with the ice packs was what snapped you back to reality. You were scared, terrified, but you couldn’t afford to be. You swallowed every ounce of it and forced yourself to move. You needed to act. 

You had told Din it was normal for parents to panic, but you couldn’t.

Your next movements were a blur of muscle memory. It didn’t matter that this clinic was unfamiliar to you. Training kicked in and you moved like a woman possessed. Fluids first. You grabbed a bag and set it in the cooler before returning to Grogu with IV gear.

“Aayla.” You sent her to the supplies and called out all the materials and supplies you would need to compound the medicine. While shouting them out, you began to attempt to start an IV on Grogu. It wasn’t easy. His arm was small, his veins smaller. It took you three tries before you finally got it in. Aayla had brought over all the items requested and you sent her for the fluids you set in the cooler. “Clip it in, and hang it.”

Aayla confirmed the order and you stepped aside to begin to work. You needed an antipyretic first. The rising fever was the most dangerous aspect of Grogu’s sickness right now. Any higher and he could start to have seizures⏤ any higher and his body could shut down. Anxiety crawled up your spine and latched to your mind. It had been so, so long since you compounded anything. What if you messed this up? No. You didn’t have time to doubt yourself. Go with your gut. Trust yourself. 

When you added the last ingredient the liquid turned from clear to an electric blue and relief flooded your body. Aayla watched intently as you hurried back over and connected the vial of antipyretics to a medigun. You pressed the clean needle to Grogu’s outer thigh and pulled the trigger. All of the liquid disappeared and you set the gun aside.

 “How do you know how to do all this?” Aayla gasped.

“I’m a doctor.” You answered mechanically. 

Now, you needed an antibiotic. Same process. Different ingredients. You wanted to cover as many bugs as possible, go as broad as you could, and then once Grogu was stable the coverage could narrow to something more specific. It took you about the same time to make the antibiotic and when the liquid turned the shade of purple it was supposed to be you rushed back to Grogu’s side.

Aayla held up the medigun when you went to search for it and you realized she had replaced the needle with a fresh one and sanitized the entire thing. You thanked her and injected this one into Grogu’s opposite thigh. Fluids. Antipyretics. Antibiotics. That was all you could do. 

Now, it was out of your hands.

Din’s entire body ached, and he was exhausted. The only reassuring thought being that the fight was over, and he could go home. Home to Grogu. Home to you. As much as he still wanted to have that talk, he wondered if he could convince you to hold off until tomorrow. All he wanted right now was to crawl into bed with you and his son in his arms. Granted, he might need to have the talk before inviting you into his bed again. Details, details. Din just needed to get home, and you’d have a plan⏤ you’d know what to do.

 Clearing the rest of the ex-Imperial base had gone very well. When only two pirates were left standing they both surrendered. Din figured this could be used to their advantage. Pirates were hardly the loyal kind. A little squeezing and they could possibly find where Gorian Shard liked to hide. Granted, that was more along the lines of a bounty hunter’s thoughts than a Marshal’s. Din chose to come back with Mayfeld and Cara to shove the two pirates into the cells. They could be dealt with in the morning. 

“Good job today.” Din grunted, already moving toward the door, “Stay home tomorrow. Rest. I’ll work the shifts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cara scoffed. “We can still come in.”

“Uh, speak for yourself.” Mayfeld chimed. Din was halfway down the hall when Mayfeld called out for him. Din’s feet came to a stop and he heaved an audible sigh. This really was the day that would not end. “Boss man! Seriously! Get in here now!”

Din jogged back, happy that his helmet wouldn’t show just how annoyed he was right now, and when he re-entered the room both Cara and Mayfeld were crowded around a holopad. Cara glanced up and the look on her face filled Din’s stomach with lead. “An intruder alarm was set off while we were out. From the clinic.” Din’s entire body stiffened. No. He was jumping to conclusions. You promised you’d stay in the house, he called Daelar to go to you. There was no way you and Grogu could’ve been there while someone broke in. “You should see this.”

Mayfeld flipped the holopad around at her words and Din’s eyes focused on a security feed. A young Twi’lek girl stood behind the front desk with her hands raised in surrender while a familiar figure wielding a familiar blaster aimed the end at her chest. Din would recognize your voice anywhere, in any setting, at any time. Even with the security feed adding in a garbled white noise under it all, he knew your voice.

“⏤supplies, and I am going to save my son. This is going to happen regardless of the decision you make right now, but it’ll be easier for all of us if you help.”

He lifted his gauntlet to check his communicator link. What was going on? Why hadn’t you called? His eyes widened when he realized the circuitry in his vambrace was dead. No, no, no. He slammed his other hand into it as if that would miraculously fix it, but it stayed dead. The taser. Dank farrik. He should’ve been paying attention. Din had lost contact with you hours ago and was only just now realizing it.

Din spun on his heel and took off down the hall in a sprint. Cara and Mayfeld were calling out to him, he could hear footsteps following, but he didn’t pause and wait. The clinic was right down the road. He needed to get there. Din needed to be there⏤ now.

You had pulled over a stool and sat by the cot’s side. One hand resting on the half melted ice pack on Grogu’s belly and the other holding his tiny hand. Then you waited on baited breath. Aayla was moving about the room, cleaning you thought, but all you could do was stare at the young boy who looked so small on such a large cot.

“Please, please. Oh, Maker, please.” You mumbled the pleas under your breath⏤ willing the universe to bend to your will. Grogu was your first patient since Soran. If anything happened to him you wouldn’t survive it. You barely survived losing Soran. Kriff, it could be argued that a part of you didn’t. You watched Grogu’s chest rise and fall. ‘Please, please, please.’ You were pleading⏤ begging. If you thought it would help you’d get on your knees and scream at the sky.

Finally, the machines chirped and when you looked up from Grogu to read the numbers you saw his temperature had fallen two full degrees. Your lower lip quivered, relief slamming into you, and it took all your strength to not crumple to the floor.

Din barreled through the clinic’s doors⏤ hard enough that he accidentally shattered the glass as it slammed into the wall. The Twi’lek he had seen on video popped her head around the corner with wide eyes. She held her hands out.

“You’re the Marshal.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I hit the alarm because a woman came in⏤”

“Where is she!?” He barked.

“This is a misunderstanding. I don’t want to press charges⏤ she’s actually a doctor and⏤”

“Where⏤”

Cara slid in behind him and blurted. “That’s his son and wife. Let him through.”

The girl nodded in understanding, and Din couldn’t even spare a thought toward the title Cara had given you. The clinic worker pointed through a set of double doors and Din stormed past her without another second of hesitation. The back room was filled with cots and shelves of medical supplies.

Sitting in the corner though, he saw Grogu lying on a cot with an IV in his arm and connected to the machine on the wall. Din didn’t recognize all the numbers and symbols, but they were all written in a neutral green rather than a dangerous red. Right by his bed, you were perched on a stool with your hands holding onto Grogu while your head rested on the cot. At the sound of his arrival into the room, you lifted your head and your eyes widened. Din rushed toward you and you stood up so fast the stool fell to the floor. 

“He’s okay now. He’s stable.” You blurted. “Daelar never brought me the⏤ the medicine. Grogu spiked a fever and got worse, I tried to call⏤”

“My communicator broke. I’m so sorry.” Din leaned over the cot and cautiously ran a hand over his son’s head. Grogu didn’t look sick right now. He just looked like he was sleeping. Snoring softly without a single cough. “The fever⏤”

You spoke up. “It broke maybe twenty minutes ago? It’s normal now. All his vitals are. I gave him antipyretics and antibiotics for whatever infection he has. He’s stable.” Din let out a sigh of relief and he bowed his head to lightly tap against Grogu’s. Your voice shook. “He’s stable.”

Din slowly lifted his gaze to look to you. You had never looked so small before. Panic and fear still shone bright in your eyes despite the air of confidence you were trying to push out. Your arms were wrapped around your own body. Din took a step toward you and you flinched. 

“Cyar’ika.” He whispered. “It’s okay.” You nodded once⏤ swallowed hard. “You said it yourself. Grogu is stable. He’s safe.” Your lower lips quivered and he watched you bite down on it. Din took another step and held his hand out to you. “You saved him. You. You did this⏤ you saved him.” Tears collected in your eyes and you lifted your gaze to the ceiling as if to avoid looking directly at him. Din knew you must have been a storm of genius confidence just like he saw you last night. He had seen the video of you holding a stranger at blaster’s end to get the supplies you needed. Din also knew that sometimes it was easy to take action, grab ahold of the danger, and let your body act while your mind took a backseat. Instinct took over. When that happened, it was hard to slip back into reality. To relax. “It’s over now. The danger has passed, Cyar’ika.” Din set his hands on your arms. “Talk to me.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his and those collected tears streamed down your face. You shook your head, voice shaky and pained, “I was so scared, Din.” 

He was already pulling you into his chest at the same time that you leaned into him. Din cupped the back of your neck, squeezing in reassurance, as you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. You sobbed into his neck⏤ tears soaking into his cloak. He whispered that everything was okay and his words slipped out in Mando’a out of habit. Din added in Basic. “You did so good, ner kar’ta.”

“I was so scared I was going to mess up.” You clung to him so tightly. As if he was the only thing anchoring you here. “He was so sick and I⏤I haven’t done this in so long. I was terrified⏤ He⏤If he⏤ If he died⏤” Din didn’t even like thinking along those lines. You suddenly pulled your face away from him, but Din wouldn’t let you get far. He kept you caged in his arms. You shook your head. “I⏤I didn’t want him to end up like Soran.” Your words came out between harsh sobs. “I didn’t want to be the reason somebody I loved died again.”

If Din wasn’t the kind to pay attention then your words would have been nonsensical. However, he knew you were hiding from something. He knew you had a past that led to a terrible injury. And he knew your name wasn’t Soran. The way you screamed it out that night he woke up. Plus, half the time when he called out to you using that name you never answered. Din got more response from calling you ‘Cyar’ika’. He knew all of this, he just didn’t care. Who you were didn’t matter to him. You mattered to him. You in this moment. You in his arms.

Din tore off his gloves, something he’d never do outside of the safety of his ship or home, but he needed to touch you. He needed you to feel the warmth. Din cupped your face tenderly, using his thumbs to swipe away the lingering tears. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead softly to rest against yours.

“I don’t know your history, I don’t know your past, but here’s what I do know.” Din spoke slowly, enunciated every single word so it would be seared into your mind. “You are an incredible woman. Smart, beautiful, brave⏤ You never cease to amaze me, and there is nobody in this galaxy that I would trust Grogu with over you.” The words rang true as they left his lips. It wasn’t a simple comfort. It was a declaration. “Every single day I leave my home, I know⏤ without a doubt⏤ that I am leaving Grogu in the most capable hands other than my own.”

“Din…” You breathed.

Maker, he wanted to kiss you. It wasn’t a desire born of lust. Not this time. Din wanted to press feather light kisses against every inch of your face. Use his lips to brush away your tears, to stop your lip from quivering, to chase away your fear. Never, in his entire life, had his helmet felt like such a restriction to him. A wall of beskar keeping him from bringing you the comfort you needed. The comfort he wanted to give.

“I trust you, and all tonight does is prove that I was right.” Din said. “You saved Grogu. Not me, not anyone else. You.” You took in a slow breath, the first steady one he had seen from you since he got here, and he felt his entire body relax at the sound. “Thank you. Just thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” You replied. “I’d do anything for him. Anything, Din.”

“I know.” 

“I’d…” You paused. Your eyes closed and Din found himself missing the color. Even for the brief moment it was missing. “I’d do anything for you too.” Your eyes opened once more and the panic and fear had faded. Leftover tears clung to your eyelashes, but he was staring into eyes he recognized⏤ eyes filled with so much kindness and care that his knees felt weak. “I love Grogu and I… You…”

Din nodded and pulled away from your face so he could tuck you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he set his head atop yours. Din needed to feel more of you. He ran a hand up and down your spine, “You’re important to me as well, ner kar’ta.”

For the first time since he left the house this morning, Din felt at peace.

mando’a translations

Cyar’ika: Darling, sweetheart

Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian and grogu #Female reader #reader insert #slow burn #cara dune #migs mayfeld

[neonghostlights]

Chapter Two: Spilled Wine, a Mosquito, and an Almost Reunion

A/N: Next chapter will be longer because that’s when we get some answers.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson left you behind to chase his dreams before suddenly disappearing. When he shows up 5 years later, will he be able to work his way back into your heart?

Warnings: Alcohol, Food/Eating, Flirty Annoying Coworker, Unwanted Touching, Mention of death (No one dies just mentioned), Cussing, Reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress and heels, 18+ only, minors DNI

Word count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist

Over the years, there had been times when you thought you had seen Eddie Munson. 

Whether it was the bagger at the grocery store who’s brown hair looked too familiar for a second. Or a stranger in a crowd who at a passing glance looked similar enough to get your heart pumping in surprise, just for it to plummet in disappointment when you got a better look. 

Each incident left you freshly wounded and questioning your sanity. 

There had been a point, probably a year after Eddie left, when it really set in that he probably wasn’t ever coming back. 

You felt like you had become a ghost hunter. Chasing any shadow or disembodied voice. Looking for any clue that Eddie was still out there somewhere. 

You never voiced your theory to Wayne that Eddie wasn’t out there anymore. You were too afraid to crush him anymore than Eddie already had. 

It’s funny how when you love someone, they can hurt you so much even when they aren’t around. 

You were convinced that Eddie had died out here in California, under the heat and glamor. He had become just another person lured out here with the promise of bright lights and fame just to end up lost and forgotten. He was like those lost sailors you would read about in fantasy books, led to their death by a beautiful siren. 

It wasn’t an unbelievable theory, it was the one that most made sense. The thought of Eddie’s demise was an elephant in the room. Something so obvious to you like a flashing neon sign in the darkness of night. The thought danced over your heads during you and Wayne’s monthly dinners like rain clouds. Both of you were aware of the potential storm that those words would bring, but neither of you moved to take cover. 

Your hands moved forward to blindly set the menu down as you stared at him in shock. The world was spinning. Had it always spun this fast? 

 Vance’s eyes pierced into the side of your face, you could feel the burning intensity but he didn’t matter right now. 

Things like this didn’t just happen.  

Eddie stared at you in shocked silence, his pen and notebook still posed to take your order. His wide brown eyes, that you had looked into so many times before, frozen on you as his breathing picked up.

“Eddie?” You repeated when he didn’t answer you. 

Your eyes caught on the golden name tag glistening on his chest that said ‘Edward’. 

“Shoot!” Vance exclaimed as you knocked over the glass full of red wine, staining the white marble floor like a crime scene in a cheap movie with poor special effects. 

The shatter of the glass broke Eddie out of his trance as he tore his eyes away from yours and zoned in on the spill instead. He made no move to protect himself from the broken glass when it fell.  A nearby server rushed over with a cloth and broom to clean it up apologizing profusely to you even though you had been the one to knock it over. 

Eddie’s eyes flicked back to yours, as if he was checking to see if you were still there. 

Over the dim intimate lighting of the restaurant he looked so beautiful. His hair was pulled back into a low bun on the back of his head with all of the fly aways smoothed away in a professional manner. He wore a white long sleeve button down shirt that was tucked into a pair of black slacks. The weirdest part of this, was not only seeing Eddie, but seeing him dressed like this. 

His face was mostly the same as you remembered. There were only slightly more lines around his eyes than the last time you had seen him. His jaw was a touch more defined and sharper.

Eddie had aged, just like you. A possibility that you thought he would never get to have. 

Something shifted in his gaze. You watched as the steel shutters came down, effectively blocking his emotions. 

“Are you ready to order?” He asked again, you couldn’t tell if your ears were failing you but his bored and distant tone sounded forced. Like those words were painful to come out of a mouth that once spun you fantastic stories.  He stepped slightly to  the side as the other servers finished cleaning your mess and brought you a fresh glass. 

You gaped at him with your mouth open still. You could feel Vance nudge your shoulder but you ignored him. Both of your eyes locked on Eddie with no possibility of words being formed any time soon. 

“She would like Bruschetta as a starter and a Ceasar Salad for her main,” Vance spoke up beside you. 

You didn’t even process the fact that Vance had ordered for you as you watched Eddie go around the table taking orders and politely answering questions. Your eyes followed and tracked his every movement. 

“What is going on with you?” Vance asked as you watched Eddie walk away without looking back at you. 

You pushed up from the table, your chair rocking slightly with how quickly you stood. 

Vance reached out to grab your arm in question but you waved him off as you stomped across the restaurant and followed Eddie into the hallway he disappeared down. 

You caught him as he was about to enter a door that read ‘Employees Only’. 

“Hey!” You yelled to stop him as you stomped towards him as fast as your heels would allow. Your dress swished around your thighs, making your movement look more dramatic. 

You watched as his shoulders raised and fell as he took a deep breath before he turned to face you.

“Please tell me it’s really you,” you said in an almost whisper, too afraid that if you yelled again he would turn to dust and blow away in the wind, leaving you questioning if this was still real life. 

His chin lifted in a slight wordless nod. His body still turned slightly towards the door with his hand pressed against it like he was going to walk away any second. He was wound up  prepared to run away from you. 

He didn’t leave though as the seconds ticked by. You watched as his eyes took in your face. His gaze bounced around between each feature before trailing down your body and then back up, like he was taking you in too. You suddenly felt self conscious under his stare. 

“Eddie. I don’t understand. I can’t believe you’re here,” you started softly before the anger came in, making your next words come out harder. “Where the hell have you been?” 

He flinched at your tone, but you didn’t care. You wanted to grab him and shake his shoulders to try to put some sense into him. You wanted to scream at him and tell him how stupid he was. You wanted to tell him everything that he’s missed in the past five years. You wanted to tell him about Wayne and the hurt that Eddie had caused by being so selfish. 

You wanted to tell him how much you missed him and how you haven’t been the same since he left. You wanted to tell him how he ripped your heart out and made it so you could never trust anyone else. 

You wanted to tell him that he had ruined you for everyone else. 

Instead of saying all of that, you just took another stumbling step towards him. 

“Can I help you?” A server asked from behind you, most likely thinking you were a disgruntled customer cornering Eddie. If only they knew.  

Before you could answer, Eddie spoke up, “Restrooms are that way, Ma’am.” He pointed towards the opposite side of the restaurant before turning away from you again and walking through the door. 

You stared at the door for a moment, not believing what just happened before the employee behind you cleared their throat. You scurried past them and walked to the table in a numb daze. Your ass landed in the cloth covered chair ungracefully, your mind racing too much to control your descent. 

Did you step off that airplane earlier and land in an alternate dimension or were you just dreaming? You pinched yourself on your thigh under the table, the sharp pain confirming that, unfortunately, you were awake. Jury was still out on the alternate dimension theory, though. 

“I was just about to come looking for you. Did you know that guy or something?” Vance asked. You knew he was beside you, but he sounded like could have been miles away. Vance tapped impatiently at your arm when you didn’t immediately answer. 

“I-No. He just looked familiar,” you spoke, finally. 

Feeling brave, you glanced down the table to see your boss enraptured in a conversation with one of your coworkers. Hopefully, she didn’t notice your little freak out. 

The red wine burned slightly as you chugged the whole glass in one swallow. Your coworker, Jenny, raised an eyebrow across from you and lifted her glass in solidarity before taking a sip. 

“Work trips are the best, right?” She said with a wink. 

“They really are,” Vance nodded along, not picking up on her sarcasm. 

Suddenly, a hand was beside you refilling your glass of wine. Your eyes met Eddie’s as he looked down at you. All too quickly, he backed away from the table and disappeared again. 

Seems like he has a habit of that now.  

“He’s cute,” Jenny announced to you. “You should totally go for it.”

“Go for what?” You asked as somehow the second glass of wine found its way down your throat. 

“The server. Someone might as well have fun while we’re here,” she fake whispered, shielding her mouth with her hand so your boss wouldn’t be able to see. 

Vance tensed and scoffed beside you. 

“I mean did you see the way he looked at you? Damn,” she sighed dreamily. 

“Didn’t take that as your type,” Vance commented. 

Little did he know. 

You whipped your head around, ready to defend Eddie and your type when a dish was set in front of you. Eddie and another server were making their way around the table with hot plates of food. 

“Would you like some more wine?” The server that was not Eddie asked you. 

“No. We have that conference at ten in the morning, remember?” Vance answered for you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. 

“Oh, give her a break. The conference is literally here at the hotel. It’s not like she’ll have to drive to get there,” Jenny said loudly. 

As annoying as it was that Vance answered for you, he was right. One more glass and you might not be able to peel yourself out of bed tomorrow. 

You declined the wine politely. Vance didn’t move his arm away, instead he squeezed you a little tighter. Looking up, you could see Eddie’s eyes on where Vance’s arm was wrapped around you while he worked. 

By the tense look in his eye and the tick in his jaw, you thought that maybe Eddie looked pissed for some reason. Something that he had no right to be. If anyone was going to be pissed here, it was you. 

The rest of dinner was awkward to say the least. 

Between Vance buzzing in your ear like a mosquito, Jenny drinking entirely too much wine to the point that another coworker had to lift her out of her chair and Eddie just treating you like you were a regular customer, you were ready to get to your room and crawl under the sheets. 

There was no point in denying the spark of joy it would bring when you saw Eddie noticing how close you and Vance were sitting or how Vance would lean in too close to whisper in your ear. You didn’t necessarily want to give Vance the wrong impression, but you had told him many times before you weren’t interested. If he didn’t want to listen then that was his own fault. 

You found yourself at the end of the table after the bill had been paid, waiting for Eddie to say something, anything to you. 

At this point you wondered if he remembered you. Really remembered who you were to him. But in the end were you really anything if he could take off so easily?

Disappointment cracked at your ribs when you realized he wasn’t going to say anything to you. You lingerd, even as the rest of your group wandered out of the restaurant with promises to see eachother bright and early for the conference. 

“Are you doing okay tonight? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Your boss commented from behind you. You hadn’t even realized she had stayed back waiting for you. 

You decided to admit defeat when Eddie didn’t return to the restaurant dining room after he had disappeared down the hallway where the kitchen was located. You just wished this time you’d be able to really say goodbye. 

“No ghosts here,” you replied in your best attempt to sound lighthearted. 

“Come on. Lets get some sleep before tomorrow,” your boss said with a wave of her hand. 

After one last check around the dining room left you disappointed again, you gathered your pride and left the restaurant without Eddie. 

It was getting later into the night and you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. 

The hotel bed, which was almost too comfortable, did nothing to lull you into a slumber. Instead, you tossed and turned back and forth. 

Your brain had finally caught up with the situation and wouldn’t allow you an ounce of peace. 

You wished you wouldn’t have left the restaurant. You wished you would have stayed until he had no choice but to face you. You wished that five years ago you wouldn’t have let Eddie leave.

You sat up on the side of the bed, pushing the silky sheets and blankets to the side. 

What would be the right thing to do here? Should you call Wayne and let him know that you saw Eddie tonight? Should you tell him that his nephew that he had been heartbroken over was alive and well? He had the right to know, of course. But you had to think of the repercussions of what this news would do to him. Wayne wasn’t fragile but you had to be careful not to stress him out too much.

You could always call Lissa, she had always been the one to talk you down when you got too in your head about Eddie. She had been with you for it all, and even had been the one to recommend therapy to you when things got really bad. 

Knowing Lissa though, if you called her tonight and told her what happened then she would pack your cat up and grab a flight tonight just to show up here, chase Eddie down, and give him a piece of her mind. Although you appreciated her dedication to being your best friend, that probably wouldn’t be the best thing in this situation. 

You would just have to talk her out of it. Right now you just needed your best friend. 

Your hand reached for the phone on the side table and dialed the familiar numbers. You cursed yourself for a moment when you realized the time in Indiana. You were about to hang up and go back to tossing and turning but she answered anyway. 

“Hello?” She sounded chipper. You sent a moment to thank whoever that you hadn’t woken her up. 

“Hey. It’s me.”

“You okay? How’s California? Been to the beach yet? Any cute surfer girls there that you can pass along my way?” She spat out her questions in rapid succession. 

“I’m fine. California's fine. No I haven’t been to the beach,” you answered. 

“You’re lying,” she said with a gasp. 

“No, I really haven’t been to the beach. I-”

“No. Everything’s not fine. I know when something’s up and you wouldn’t be calling right now if everything was fine. So spill.” This is why you loved and hated Lissa sometimes. She always knew when to call you out on your bullshit. 

“I know I’m going to sound crazy. I feel crazy. But Eddie’s here. In California.” Your voice wobbled slightly. It was the first time you had said it out loud since you saw him and it felt surreal. 

You heard Lissa’s deep breath through the phone before she went silent for a bit. You waited, letting her process the information you had given her. She didn’t know Eddie like you did. She had only been gifted the stories you had given her through the years. But she did know how much he meant to you and how much he affected your life.

“Listen,” she said softly. “I know you were worried about going to California because of what happened and I know that thinking about him probably worked up some unresolved issues. If it’s getting to be too much then you should come home. Maybe we can even call your thera-”

“No. Lissa, listen to me. He was our waiter at dinner. I talked to him. It was actually him,” you said defensively, realizing how crazy you sounded. 

You went into the story, telling Lissa how he showed up at the table and looked at you like he had seen a ghost. How you had followed him down the hallway and that he told you it was him  and then he talked to you like you were just a customer. How he didn’t acknowledge you for the rest of the night but had no problem giving Vance dirty looks for touching you. 

“Holy shit,” Lissa said finally after you finished telling her your story. 

“I know,” you agreed. 

“I’m coming down there,” she announced and then you could hear her shuffling around on her side of the phone. 

“No! Don’t do that. I’m just going to make it through the conference tomorrow and then come home. He didn’t want to talk to me. It was like I was a stranger.” You felt the first sign of tears as your eyes started to burn and it got harder to speak. You had fought so hard to hold off the tears that had been threatening to break since dinner because you knew once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop them. “Just stay there with the cat. I’ll be home in a couple of days and then…I don’t know.”

You could hear Lissa set something down on the other end, most likely her suitcase and then the squeaking of bed springs as she sat down. “Can I give you some advice?” She asked. 

When you didn’t answer she took that as confirmation to keep going. “I know this might sound a little cliche but if someone is continuously walking away from you then let them. You can’t force a person to want to be a part of your world. If he wanted to fix the mess he made in either you or Wayne’s lives then he would seek you out himself.You can look at this one of two ways, you can throw yourself into hunting him down and pouring salt into the wound or…”

“Or what?” You whispered. 

“Or this might be the final thing you needed to let him go. If seeing him at that restaurant was all of the closure you were going to get then that’s going to have to be okay.”

“Shit,” you said with a humorless laugh as you wiped at your face. “Can I call you tomorrow?” 

“Any time.”

After hanging up with Lissa you threw yourself back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

She was right. There was no way that you could force Eddie to be a part of your life again. If he wanted to forget everything and everyone back at home in Hawkins then that was his choice. He was an adult, even though his decisions sucked sometimes. You knew it was the right thing, and you knew it was what was best for you, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

You would have to respect his choice though. It was his life to live. As long as he was happy. 

The conference the next morning came too soon. 

Not only were you exhausted, but you also had a headache and an empty stomach from not eating the salad that Vance had ordered for you. If you hadn’t been distracted by Eddie then you would have been more pissed about that. 

Vance was entirely too excited to see you when you waited. Part of you wanted to snap at him for his enthusiastic greeting, but he did come bearing a hot cup of coffee as a gift so you decided to go easy on him. 

Jenny was trying and failing to hide her hangover from your boss, but her not so pleasant shade of green and the sunglasses that she was wearing indoors was giving her away. 

You could feel how swollen your eyes were everytime you blinked. The crying hadn’t stopped after you got off the phone with Lissa. After her words of wisdom, you could feel yourself come to terms with the situation, or at least try to. 

The multiple hours long conference was mind numbingly painful. You think around the two hour mark you started losing information instead of retaining. At around the three hour mark you considered pulling the fire alarm and using it as a distraction to flee. 

The coffee you had drank was long gone by the end of the event, only a few cold and bitter drops remained at the bottom of the soggy paper cups. 

Your boss pulled you all together, dismissing you for the rest of the day with a reminder to meet in the lobby the next morning to catch your flight home. With that, you all dispersed to leave the conference room before your boss could change her mind. 

Vance caught up to you, of course. No amount of speed walking on your account would have been fast enough. You kept your head down while you  maneuvered through clusters of people, chairs, and tables. You were on a mission to get out of this room so you could crawl into your hotel bed and order room service with no plans of getting out until you had to leave for your flight in the morning. 

“I was thinking, how about we go get lunch and maybe walk down by the beach for a bit? We can check out some of those shops and get some souvenirs? How about-” His talking ceased the second you made it out of the conference room. 

The abrupt silence was enough for you to stop walking and look up from the floor and to see Vance staring at something with intensity. Following his line of sight you realized that he wasn’t staring at something but instead someone. 

A certain someone with curly brown hair and big brown eyes that was awkwardly leaned up against the wall where the conference room hallway led into the hotel lobby. He had both hands in the pockets of his dark colored jeans in an image of perfect nonchalance, but you could tell by the way his shoulders tensed when he looked at you that he wasn’t as relaxed as he was trying to portray. 

You both stared at each other for a bit, you with shock and Eddie with intensity. Vance cleared his throat and motioned at you to keep walking with him as he picked the conversation back up again like there had been no disruption. “Or maybe I can take you out to dinner tonight. Just me and you? I saw this nice place down the street that looked promising.”

You only took a few steps before Eddie pushed off the wall and walked towards you, stepping in front of you and Vance to stop you from leaving. 

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” He asked with a hint of begging in his voice. 

You chewed the inside of your lip. This shouldn’t be an internal debate after you had spent all yesterday evening chasing Eddie throughout a restaurant with your eyes practically begging him to talk to you. 

“We really need to go,” Vance spoke up beside you. 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Eddie snapped at him. 

“It’s fine,” you said to Vance who at the moment looked the complete opposite of Eddie with his crisp iron shirt and loafers. “We can talk for a second.”

Eddie led you to the wall he was originally leaned against when you had walked out of the conference room. You were only a few steps away from Vance, who was waiting for you and not doing a very good job at pretending he wasn’t listening in to your conversation. 

“I should make this quick before your boyfriend has a breakdown,” Eddie said with a smirk. 

You didn’t bother correcting him. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Right,” he said as he straightened his spine and cracked his knuckles. “Can we meet up tonight? Just me and you,” he asked as he cut Vance a sideways glare. “I think there’s a lot we need to talk about and I don’t want to do it here.”

“Where then?” You asked. 

“Meet me in the hotel lobby tonight around nine? That way you have enough time for your date.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Five years without seeing each other and this is what he chose to focus on. 

“Fine. Are you actually going to show up or are you just going to pull another disappearing act?” You questioned with a humorless laugh. It was a little immature to throw that at him but based on the wince on his face when you said it, he knew he wasn’t getting into your good graces easily. 

“I promise I’ll meet you at the hotel lobby tonight at nine,” he pledged, holding a ringed hand up for extra effect. 

“Fine. I’ll see you then,” you said with a sigh. Your mind was torn, part of you dancing with joy at the opportunity you thought you’d never have. The other part of you was quickly putting up a brick wall around your mind and heart, warning you of the impending doom that was approaching. 

With your confirmation he backed away and left as quickly as he had appeared. You stood there, staring at his retreating form for a bit until he disappeared around the corner. By the way he was acting, you wondered if you were ready to hear what he had to say tonight or if he would just destroy you more than he already had.

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #waiter!eddie munson

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 7 - The Penultimate One

With no signs of sirens blaring towards them or the door being kicked in by the auxiliary units of the city, all Hunt could do was wrap the Horn in a towel and shove it under the desk out of sight. He’d figure out that headache in the morning.

Nesta kept glancing towards it when she thought he wasn’t looking; Hunt caught her often frowning or wrinkling her nose up in its direction.

He pulled out the chair to sit on it backwards. Nesta perched on the edge of the bed, tiredness nibbling at her expression.

‘Tell me what’s going on.’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied, lifting her chin in defiance.

His fingers grazed against her cheek. ‘I’m on your team, Nesta. I want to help you.’

Fluidly, Nesta rose then moved to stand beside the wide windows which looked out upon the city. ‘In my world there are objects from the Dread Trove. The Harp is one. It opens wards. I’ve also used a Mask. I wouldn’t wish it upon my enemy. The world went cold. I-’ Nesta paused a moment. ‘I was being attacked by a kelpie. I thought I was going to die. It was biting me, pressing its face to mine - and the Mask came to me. I didn’t need to breathe or think. An army of the dead rose when I wore the Mask to do my bidding.’

‘A kelpie. Why were you anywhere near one?’

Nesta said nothing, just kept a slight scowl upon her face.

‘I hope they tucked you into bed and fed you ice cream for days after that.’

A light went out in her eyes. ‘No. They did not.’

Hunt couldn’t take the fraught expression on Nesta’s face; couldn’t bear to see her clinging to the cracks to keep from breaking. He crossed the room to stand behind her, his wings cradling around her. A hand rested on her waist as he stood behind her, watching the city with her.

‘There is a queen who was mortal, but – like me – she entered the Cauldron. It was of her own volition, but after I had attacked it. It turned her fae but ancient. She wears the Crown which can gain control of another’s mind. She wants me dead. It is my fault that she was cursed. If I hadn’t sought vengeance on the Cauldron for Elain…’

His hand went tighter on her waist. Between the Asteri, Einar Danaan, and this queen, there seemed no place safe for Nesta.

‘And do you think the Horn is part of that trove?’

On her exhale, Nesta sank into him. ‘It keeps calling to me, Hunt. Its voice is weak and broken but it is communicating.’

As if his arms might protect her from everything that life could throw at them, Hunt wrapped them around Nesta and kissed her temple. ‘What does it say to you?’

‘To use it.’

‘I’m not an expert on fae objects, but do you not have to pay a toll to use them? You haven’t suffered from using them?’

Her fingers rested on his forearms and Hunt wished they could stay that way for an eternity. He had to overcome his shitty life to make hers better; she deserved that.

‘It is said that some have not been able to take the Mask off. I won’t make a habit of using them.’

‘We can ask Danaan what the Horn was fabled to do. The fae like secrecy. I don’t want you whizzing off and landing in a road somewhere else.’ Hunt kissed her temple again. ‘You might end up in a world without waffles.’

‘A true terror.’

Nesta prised herself free then turned to gaze at him. She had to raise her chin an inch or two to meet his eyes, but for a female she was tall. Those long, lean legs reminded him of a dancer. If she stayed in Lunathion and kept up her diet of pure sugar, the harshness of her face would soon soften.

‘You are very calm about this,’ she noted.

‘Four nights ago, a shooting star fell from the sky and changed my life for the better.’ Hunt bopped the end of her nose. ‘I’ll take whatever life can throw at me as long as you’re there too.’

‘You barely know me.’

Hunt laced his fingers through hers then brought them to his chest so she could feel the steady thud of the heart within. ‘My heart knows you. It recognised you the moment we met, like we’d met in another life.’

When Nesta’s lips parted, he thought she might laugh or call him embarrassing for his words. Instead, she rose up on her toes to kiss him.

***

It was late when they settled into the bed. Like the previous night, they moved in together, one body tracing the other’s path. It was Nesta who needed Hunt beside her that night. Despite his words, she could sense the undercurrent of worry within him regarding the Horn. She did not know how it had come to her even after he had returned it to Luna’s temple but she imagined it was similar to the Mask, with even wards being unable to hold it. The trove items seemed to have a consciousness or their own desires. For now, Nesta was a tool they wanted to use so she needed to remember that.

‘Stop overthinking and go to sleep,’ said Hunt, voice hazy with sleep.

‘How did you know?’

‘You stopped stroking my wing.’

Indeed, her fingers had stilled from their path. Once she had discovered that an angel’s wings were nothing at all like an Illyrians, she could not be stopped. Hunt had explained that whilst most didn’t make a habit of touching a malakim’s wings, it wasn’t forbidden. He’d likened it to stroking somebody’s hair and even shared that his mother would brush his wings with her knuckles to ease him into sleep as a child. She found it soothing to stroke the feathers, especially the soft downy ones on the inside.

‘Everything will be alright, Nesta.’ Hunt kissed the back of her neck which sent a shiver down her spine. ‘You’ll be home soon.’

If anything could have sent her spiralling, it was that. They were well and truly different worlds. In Prythian, she lived in Rhysand’s pocket. She was Cassian’s to parade. She had been willing to believe that it was love because she knew no better, had no other options. They had all been taken from her. She’d watched her mother and father’s stifled, loveless marriage that had been arranged by their parents and expected the same. These days with Hunt had shown her that life could be fun. It didn’t have to mean survival. There could be somebody who stood on your team and wanted to be there for every moment.

Hunt groaned and pulled his arm tighter around her. ‘Overthinking.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Do you want to talk?’

‘Let’s sleep,’ she offered.

Hunt kissed her skin once, twice, she couldn’t count the number of small kisses he peppered upon her. ‘Goodnight, waffle queen.’

‘Sleep well, Orion.’

It was Hunt who woke her in the morning. He spoke softly on his cellphone but the words were crass and aggressive; a threat to whoever he was talking to as he made the morning coffee. A shard of light was exposed by the curtains which promised another bright, sunny day in Crescent City. The dawning of each day was a countdown that Nesta didn’t want.

‘For once in your pampered life, stop being a fucking dick,’ Hunt whispered.

Nesta couldn’t make out the quiet voice on the other end as she lay in the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

‘Fae bullshit,’ replied Hunt. ‘Whatever. I’m heading to the Comitium soon. Your father can cry and scream all he wants, but it’s a fae item and it’s missing from Luna’s Temple so of course the finger will be pointed at your lot.’ A pause. ‘Fine. There’s still a warrant for your father’s address.’

He tossed the phone to the end of the bed then carried over the mugs.

‘What’s a warrant?’

As Hunt jumped, a dribble of coffee sloshed over the side of the mug. ‘Sorry. Did I wake you?’

‘No.’

‘A warrant is an official document meaning we can search a premise. In this case, Einar Danaan is being investigated. Apparently Luna’s Horn is missing. Can you believe it?’

‘Colour me shocked,’ Nesta replied drily.

‘It’s still where we left it. I’ve checked.’ Hunt settled the mugs down then flopped across the bed, covering her legs like an overgrown house cat.

‘What should we do?’

Hunt yawned carelessly. ‘Take a shower together. Find breakfast – there’s a nice little café not far from here – and then get as far away as we can. Pangera, maybe. Or the moon.’

Something about the way he’d said we as if they were in this mess together, like even if it was Nesta’s fault that a historical relic had turned up in the room, Hunt was still on her side and they’d figure it out.

She wiggled her feet out from beneath Hunt to draw her knees to her chest. ‘It’s really bad, isn’t it?’

Hunt gave a short smile. ‘I mean, it’s not great, but it is a little bit funny that Micah has managed to get a warrant from the other side of the world to have Einar Danaan’s home searched. I wish I could see the fae prick’s face.’

‘Is it a common theme across universes that the fae are disliked?’

‘They’re all stuck-up assholes. Except you, of course.’

‘I am not fae by choice,’ she reminded him.

Hunt rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Let’s get your Harp and find a nice corner of the universe where it’s warm and sunny and nobody knows us.’

‘I’d like that,’ Nesta admitted.

Despite what she had seen in Prythian, Nesta had never been convinced that fate was real. There was no such thing as destiny moving two pieces together across worlds. No force tethering souls. And yet, her heart so wanted to believe in it when she looked at Hunt. As a child, Nesta’s ideal husband had been one who left her alone; polite at best, neutral at worst. She had never dreamed of a man who was her equal because those sorts of mortal men did not exist. Her mother had instilled in her that she was an asset and that was all. Even in Prythian, a male was still worth more than a female. It was he who felt a bond, not a female. And Nesta, so stupid and lost, had stopped fighting for her freedom, for her choice, and gave in. She’d become her worst nightmare; her mother’s daughter. For months, she had told herself that beyond lust, it was only irritation that she felt for Cassian. There could be sparks of brilliance, of kindness, but it was extended to anybody – and more often than not, Nesta was the bottom of his priorities. The male she loved shouldn’t make her feel like a problem.

Hunt yawned his way through a sleepy morning, cuddling up to her legs beneath the duvet while Nesta drank her coffee. She couldn’t bear to tell him that she wasn’t a fan of it unless it had whipped cream on top and sugary syrups pumped into it; the fact he made her drinks in the morning was such a low expectation and yet nobody else ever had. Nesta alternated between running her fingers through his hair or his wings whilst prompting him to wake up and drink his own coffee. It appeared that burrowing against her was a more favourable way to spend his time.

Eventually, when Isaiah had called three times, Hunt dragged himself from the bed to shower.

He returned with a towel slung around his hips with damp wings.

‘Where’s the hairdryer?’

Nesta frowned. ‘The what?’

Hunt plucked a device from one of the drawers, careful not to disturb the Horn. It was red with a metal grid over the muzzle. A black cable was wrapped around the handle which he unwound before plugging it in.

‘Oh, you’ll love this,’ he said.

‘I thought it was a gun, like the one you have.’

Hunt tried his best not to laugh at her and failed quickly. ‘Nesta, in this world – probably any world that has guns – they don’t need to be plugged in. They’d not be effective. I mean, I can see why. It looks like one.’

The angel aimed it at her face then pressed a button.

Nesta screwed her eyes shut, bracing for pain, but was met with a loud noise and a burst of hot air.

When she dared open her eyes, Hunt was pointing it at himself, blowing the moisture from his hair. Nesta practically groaned at the sight of it. All of those nights carefully towelling her hair dry and still finding it damp in the morning.

‘What would happen if I used the gun on your wings?’

‘Hairdryer, Stargirl,’ he called over the noise. ‘I’d be all fluffy like a little chick.’

‘Oh, I’m very tempted,’ she said, grinning with a delight that she rarely felt.

Nesta lay back on the bed, watching Hunt dart about the room readying himself for a brief visit to the Comitium. She never thought she’d be the type to be so comfortable sharing such a small living space, but Hunt made everything easy. Nothing ruffled his feathers.

Perhaps because they were the same. Two lost souls searching for another’s hand to hold.

‘I have to go and play dumb about the Horn. I’ll look through Einar’s underwear for the sake of it.’

‘A strange way to spend your day.’

‘I’ve already rifled through yours,’ he shot back. ‘You’ll get a frequent shopper card from that lingerie boutique soon. When I come back, I have a day planned. A final day in Lunathion hitting up all the sights.’

She knew the final day was coming, but it felt a lot like a noose pulling tighter with each passing moment. There had been so many goodbyes that were stolen from her. Nesta didn’t want to say this one. Couldn’t say it.  

***

After putting on his best bored tone and acting as though it was as much a pain for Hunt as it was for the Autumn King to be searching every inch of his home for Luna’s Horn, Hunt allowed himself a little laugh when he got back to the barracks. The king had seethed, demanding to know which informant had planted the information that the Horn might be in his possession – and Hunt had shot him down with about thirty different city regulations about witness protection just to piss him off further.

‘Hunt, you still here?’

Vik called through the door as he was changing, ready for a day of adventure with his Stargirl.

‘One second.’

‘Meet me in my office when you’re done.’

It wasn’t like Viktoria to summon him so, warily, Hunt grabbed another change of clothes and hurried down to her basement dwelling. There were three monitors open and a computer that sounded like it might fly from the churning noise coming from the fan. Polystyrene coffee cups littered the desk.

‘Just the male,’ she said, spinning in her chair. ‘Micah asked me to pull the footage from Luna’s temple. There are no cameras inside which is so not helpful, but I’ve managed to get a picture of anybody who entered or departed the temple within a two-hour window of it disappearing. According to witnesses, it simply vanished before their eyes.’

‘Weird,’ Hunt said with a shrug.

‘Yeah. So, Declan Emmett is running additional tests on the footage and other teams are scraping the images to match them with IDs from our databases to question them. Isaiah’s got another team already speaking to the acolytes at the temple about what they saw.’

Hunt said nothing, just nodded along because this was information he already knew.

‘What’s really weird is like two hours after the Horn disappeared, there was a freak lightning storm that frazzled the cameras for a while.’ Viktoria threw an empty cup at him. ‘Hunt Athalar, I know your lightning.’

‘That’s not my lightning,’ he lied, voice pitching slightly too high.

Vik glared. ‘Oh, terribly sorry. It must have been the other Umbra Mortis who sent all the tech haywire last night.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Fuck, Hunt. What are you getting involved in?’

‘What? Nothing. Why the Hel do you think I’m involved?’

‘Uh, because you have a faerie girlfriend from outer space whose Harp went absolutely nuts last night.’

‘Nuts… how?’

Colour dotted her cheeks as she rolled up her long-sleeved top to reveal a painful-looking purple bruise wrapping around her elbow. ‘It shot me across the room when I was working on it. Literally nothing since it arrived. I’ve played every single string, ran every test, and nothing. Except last night. It was like it was excited. A burst of energy threw me into the wall and it was vibrating. Can you guess what time that happened? I’ll tell you, Hunt. A minute before the call came in that the Horn had disappeared.’

Hunt gave an innocent shrug. ‘A weird coincidence, huh.’

If looks could kill, he should be dead.

‘Sorry about your elbow,’ he said gingerly. He scratched the back of his neck. ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’

‘No, because tomorrow, I am handing that Harp and the sword back to Nesta Archeron and she’s going back to where she came from. Isn’t she, Hunt?’

‘Yeah, she is,’ he replied dejectedly.

When he tried to leave, Vik called out to him again and told him to shut the door.

‘Hunt, I’ve noticed a change this last week and I like it. I really do. But this isn’t her home. When Micah returns-’ she cut herself off. ‘Shit, if the Asteri even catch a whiff of her.’

‘I know. She’s going home.’

On the flight to her hotel, his plans for a day of excitement at the adventure park just on the outskirts of Lunathion plummeted to the ground. For a moment, Hunt debated not telling Nesta – but he couldn’t keep her in the dark. It wasn’t fair to do that. It was a thin line between scaring her or being honest, but surely with the reassurance that he was on her side, it would be alright. Hunt told himself that again: it would be alright. He glanced down at his phone as he landed. A text had been sent while he flew.

Dearest Orion,

I miss you.

Yours,

Nesta.

As he expected, Nesta was quiet as he told her. Her face was too guarded to pick up on much. No wonder Isaiah had such a hard time interrogating her when she landed.

The mood had soured so neither wanted to do much – except enjoy the other’s company.

With Tristan Flynn’s credit card still in Nesta’s possession, they walked to the supermarket. Nesta liked pushing the trolley although they only tossed snacks and a few fruits into it. Hunt let her scan it herself at the self-service even if it took ten times as long because she wouldn’t have the chance again.

‘I wanted to take you on a roller coaster today,’ he said as they walked hand in hand back to the hotel. He swung the plastic bag of groceries as they went.

‘I don’t know what that is.’

‘Like a big metal thing with a cart on it and it goes fast or upside down and everybody screams.’

‘A torture device?’ she hedged.

It sounded that way. ‘No, it’s fun. They have cotton candy. You’d love that. Hot donuts. Lots of rides.’

All of these stupid things that he wouldn’t get the chance to show her. He hated it. Hated that their time together had a fucking expiry date that was drawing closer.

‘I wish you could show me everything,’ she said, entering the elevator and jabbing the button with more force than it required.

Hunt heaved a sigh and slumped against the mirrored-back. ‘I wish you could have met my mother. She’d have loved you.’

Nesta did well to hide the few stray tears on the brief walk to the bedroom, but Hunt didn’t draw attention to it. His mother would have loved her. He wasn’t the Umbra Mortis when he was home, wasn’t the bottom-wrung malakh who was rising up the ranks with his brutality. He was just goofy Hunt who made his mother laugh. It wasn’t like Shahar who’d seen his value and concocted a way to use it while holding his heart. With Nesta, he could be just Hunt.   

‘What’s the plan then?’

‘The plan is,’ he said, tugging off her jacket to hang on the hook, ‘we see what crap is on the T.V. and eat our way through this. You can cuddle me, of course, or read your book. We’ll order dinner tonight or go out then back to here. Then I’m cuddling you.’

The smile on Nesta’s face was almost shy as she turned to him. ‘Before I leave, there is one request that I have.’

‘Anything.’

‘Can we wet your wings then fluff them up with the hairdryer?’

Hunt cupped her face then squeezed it. ‘It’s a good job that I like you.’

There's one chapter left then an epilogue. Where the story broke POVs in the first half is where there will also be a smut insert so either you can read it or not :-)

#hunt x nesta

[poraphia]

"if you look at me, i'll listen to you."

clinic!wilbur x hero!reader fanfiction

I watched with eyes full of tears as my first love slowly started to walk away from me. His footsteps were delayed, as if waiting for a plead that I was kidding, and that everything was okay.

But it wasn't.

I just couldn't look at him the same anymore after what he did.

He stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side so I was at least in eye’s view. “I fucking loved you.” He mumbled. “And I thought you did too.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

Siren, a villain that can control his victims with his honey voice.

Delusion, a hero that can cause their victims hallucinations with their eye projector.

Under the masks, two broken up high school sweethearts, now on completely different sides.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✧.* Chapter 01

"Crossed My Heart As You Crossed The Line."

Two young teenagers rule the night with a money heist. All was going according to plan, that is until blood was shed.

✧.* Chapter 02

"A High School Reunion."

After a few months of being back in L'manburg city, our hero is finally met with the opportunity to fight alongside the big-name heroes. Celebrating with a cup of coffee, they run into a familiar face.

✧.* Chapter 03

"A Siren's Tale."

Delusion is finally sick and tired of being patient and waiting around. After talking to 404, they decide to give Siren a little visit. Only to realize there are some instances where it's best to just stay curious.

✧.* Chapter 04

"Once A Soot, Always A Soot."

(y/n) finally finds out the identities of the syndicate, but can't break under pressure being under the care of Wil and Tommy. While heading back to the Soot household, (y/n) reminisces on their past with Wilbur.

#if you look at me ill listen to you #poraphiafanfics #siren wilbur soot #siren x reader #clinic!wilbur #clinic!wilbur x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you

[justporo]

Sinful strawberries and siren's song

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 6

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit shorter but I still couldn't decide on the banner picture for it - so you get two! And also two songs - yay! (Ik, no one asked)

Astarion gets fed a strawberry - and of course he is VERY normal about it - cheeky bastard...

Songs: Eat Your Young - Hozier / Siren - Kailee Morgue Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Rating: Explicit Warnings: implied drowning (not really tho), slight smut? (also not really tho, it's just a strawberry...)

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

Suddenly, with a lot of clattering pearls were rolling all around you – hadn’t dog lady been wearing several pearl necklaces? You carefully watched your step as the shimmering beads rolled around your feet.

Astarion stopped and bowed down while he gave a whistle and grabbed one of the shiny spheres. “Such a waste”, he whispered and clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

All around people gave exclamations of shock – one, because the fight that had broken out behind you seemed to be vicious judging by the continued sounds and two, because the many pearls had some people already stumbling and falling – not everyone had the same graceful step as you and the rogue.

You couldn’t help but starting to giggle. “Thank you, Astarion”, you whispered to him as the vampire turned the pearl around in his long fingers.

“Oh, for what, my love, defending your- our honour? I fear we didn’t have much of that to begin with, let us be frank with each other.” He sighed dramatically. But then he gave you a genuine concerned look and you saw that rage had started to rise up again in him. “But no one talks to my soulmate like this. I would have ripped their throats out had we not been in public”, he growled still staring at the pearl in his fingers. You could see the tension in this tiny gesture.

For a moment he seemed lost to his furious feelings. Only as you softly touched his arm did he snap out of it.

Astarion closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked directly at you again, his expression back to his usual smug and playful mood.

“But now you’ve experienced firsthand, my heart, how easily” – he quickly twisted the pearl in his fingers – “manners and social standing can disappear and mean nothing.” He opened his fingers again – the pearl had disappeared.

“Some people are vermin and will only ever be vermin no matter how many complicated words they use or how much gold they have dangling around their neck”, Astarion said with a snarl. “And then there are people that will always shine brightly, no matter what might be hurled at them”, he continued and lifted his hand to gently hook his thumb on your chin. You saw the warmth and the pride as you looked into his ruby eyes and felt your cheeks warm once more.

But what was that thing he had just did with the pearl?

“Was that a magic trick, Astarion? Gale would be so proud.” You grinned at your vampire. His face immediately dropped.

“Trust Tav to immediately ruin a romantic moment”, he sighed as if you were an indeed hopeless case. “Don’t make me regret I showed you”, he responded and softly shook your face with his hand that was still gently holding your chin.

You giggled and stood on your tiptoes to reach him for a kiss even though he moved away his face with a mockingly annoyed face – but he gave in in the end.

“Now, shall we explore the rest of this mansion and party? At least until they all finished clambering over each other trying to grab the pearls?”, Astarion proposed after your kiss. You nodded before he grabbed your hand and you made your way back indoors and straight towards the doors leading away from the ballroom.

“I’m certain this is only the most civilised layer of this grand event”, your partner said to you as he led you through the room. He threw you a glance with a promising sparkle in his eyes. But you found yourself making a painful face at him.

“If this is the most civilised how much worse can it possibly get?”, you asked him and scrunched up your nose.

“Oh my sweet Tav, have our adventures taught you nothing?”, the vampire teased. Your mouth pressed into a line – you didn’t even honour his mockery with a response.

“You’d be surprised, my love”, Astarion cheerfully went on when you kept silent, “of how quick people lose all their dignity when they have the money to pay for their morally rotten desires.”

You softly hummed in agreement as you passed the huge double doors and left the ballroom.

The room you entered was just as tall and dimly lit. A huge pyramid of crystal glasses filled with champagne dominated the middle of the room. Here, more people stood around and talked but the atmosphere was immediately more intimate than in the huge ballroom.

It was also considerably quieter which probably meant that magic had been worked to keep some of the noise from the rest of the party out of this room. Nothing else really was remarkable about it though, except that in the corners were one or two couples that also must feel that it felt more intimate in here. Astarion saw you noticing that and immediately wiggled his eyebrows at you before his eyes fell on the giant crystal peak dominating the room.

You were already looking ahead to go to the next room, but Astarion stood stock-still next to you, staring at the glittering tower of glasses. A mischievous light shone in his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion”, you scolded him and grabbed him by the sleeve of his doublet.

“What?”, the rogue replied and pouted at you. “I wasn’t going to do anything, love.”

You simply shook your head and dragged Astarion to the next room. And for extra safety made an extra big circle around the giant stack of glasses. “Spoilsport”, the vampire whispered sulkily under his breath as you entered the next room.

Seemingly, you were still in the gourmet area: here an enormous buffet was presented. Long tables with snow-white tablecloths were topped with platters and trays of delicacies of which you were sure you couldn’t even name a third and decorated with candelabra and vases full of flowers.

Lots of people were walking around the long tables, elegantly putting tiny portions on their tiny plates and eating tiny bites while shamefully covering their tiny mouths while chewing. Some though had huge piles of food on their small plates and basically just tipped whatever was on there into their open mouths. You were somehow appalled by both – as was Astarion, judging by the downturned corners of his mouths when you looked at him.

You were delighted though at the opportunity to eat something– you surely could feel the champagne starting to have an effect on you. So you walked over to the table closest to you and grabbed a small plate.

You walked along the platters, looking at pies, canapés, meats, vegetables – and were hopelessly lost. You indeed had no idea what most of these dishes were. Looking for help you threw a look at Astarion that you hoped would convey your cluelessness. And he didn’t miss a beat.

With a hand on your back for moral support he called out all the dishes and delicacies and gave his recommendations on what you might like and what better to leave sitting. You piled up your plate with what you felt like was a good compromise between the two portion sizes dominating the room and ate. Even Astarion grabbed a plate and eclectically chose a few certain things to try.

Of course, everything was delightfully tasty. Even the picky vampire seemed impressed and even motivated you to try some of the riskier stuff – involving some slimy and awful tasting seafood and some meats you were sure should actually by really anyone. But you still enjoyed the opportunity to try new things – and even Astarion’s laughter when you almost gagged after trying something especially vile. (You were sure he’d exactly pushed you to try it for this exact reaction – payback for that one time you had dared him to eat something utterly spicy without warning him.)

Afterwards you went back to grab some of the stuff you had already deemed delicious. You happily munched and chatted with Astarion until you saw the giant chocolate fountain in the far corner of the room. Surely this had to be fuelled by magic. It seemed like from the top corner of the room a true chocolate spring had originated, the streams of the sweet treat dripping down several levels as if it were a very slow – and sugary – waterfall seemingly dripping into nothingness before it hit the floor.

Servants handed out chocolate covered fruits and desserts to the guests while delicious goodness slowly streamed behind them. Your jaw dropped as the thought of just holding your open mouth underneath the chocolatey stream crossed your mind.

And Astarion must have seen the exact thought on your face as he looked at what you were staring at. “Don’t even think about it, darling!”, he mockingly repeated the words you had only spoken a few minutes ago and moved his head sassily.

You grinned at him. “What?”, you played along with his charades. “I was only about to get some dessert!”

“Then do that but leave some room for more dessert later, eh?”, Astarion replied quickly enough while already guiding you to the chocolate spring and you were once again flustered by how easy this man pulled out lewd comments.

You grabbed a bowl full of chocolate covered strawberries and tried one. Your eyes almost rolled back in delight by how sweet and tasty they were.

“Care to share, my sweet? This must be good if you make that face”, Astarion commented, tongue in cheek and eyes half-lidded. Ah yes, he was also very good at making seemingly innocent things not so innocent anymore.

You held up a strawberry for him to try. He grabbed your hand holding the fruit firmly and very slowly leaned in close to you while not breaking eye contact with you and – of course – licking his lips before taking a bite. Then he bit into it, taking his sweet time while letting his thumb wander over your hand, involuntarily making you gasp. You immediately felt electrified.

Astarion licked up the red juice from the strawberry and the chocolate from his lips and teeth, showing his fangs as he unwaveringly kept looking in your eyes and holding your hand.

“So sweet, my dear darling, almost as sweet as you”, he whispered hauntingly while you felt drips from the delicious fruit run over your fingers and hand and waves of arousal ran through your body.

Then he leaned in again, taking the rest of the strawberry out of your hand, his soft lips closing around your fingers, sucking for a short moment and his tongue flicking over your fingers. Astarion’s sparkling ruby eyes were still on you, patiently observing your reaction, one eyebrow twitching playfully.

Your lips parted slightly and your eyes widened as the vampire then lifted your hand up farther and just licked the remaining strawberry juice off the palm of your hand, his fingers steadily around your wrist.

“Gods, Astarion, love making you eat out of the palm of my hand, but you got to stop making everything so sensual!”, you whisper-screamed at him when he finished the job by sucking up a speck of chocolate from the top of your index finger. You stared at him in silent panic – desperate to not find out how far he would make you go in this very public space if he kept going.

But Astarion simply pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand before he finally let go with a wink and a smirk: “That’s what you get for not letting me have some fun with the mountain of crystal glasses.”

“We’re in public!”, you replied and whacked his arm. He simply laughed, shrugged and stole another strawberry from your bowl with roguish quickness.

“Hey!”, you exclaimed and turned away from him to put your fruity treasure out of his reach. He grabbed you by the waist then and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek from behind. “Alright, I leave the rest of the sweets for my sweet”, he chuckled and then put a hand on your back again to make you start walking again.

“As for the rest: I’m not going to apologise to make you flustered in public – it’s too much of a delight to see your cheeks blush when you think of something naughty, my love”, he whispered into your pointy ear and you tried to elbow him. But the vampire just laughed again and elegantly moved over to your other side. “And smell it too.” You tried with your other elbow but he was again way too quick and only laughed when you threw him some lustrous insults for his cheeky behaviour.

You kept snacking on your dessert as you explored more of the mansion and the party. Many rooms were just filled with people talking – the rooms merely only discernible by other colours and themes: forest green with paintings and statues of nymphs and other mythical creatures of the wild, red and gold underlined with motives of embracing lovers and tasteful depictions of naked bodies, lavender being represented with lots of floral patterns - and as you noticed – depictions of highly poisonous flowers and plants.

A blue room, filled with artworks of sea creatures and merfolk then gave you both the feeling of being in the deep sea all of a sudden. Doors were leading outside again, opening up to what you could only describe as a round open-air grotto. It was lined with columns forming an arcade around the small space despite most of the walls looking like an island cave had sprouted from the ground right there. Under the arcs of the columns springs and shallow pools were placed and everything was decorated with statues and shells and fountains.

The two of you walked over to the glass doors thrown open to the outside and watched the spectacle there that had attracted quite a huge group of partygoers.

Lots of guests were pressed into the small outside space, some standing, many sitting on the edges of the pools and springs. And in the middle under the biggest arc a huge rock was placed in the midst of the basin. On top of it sat what you immediately thought must be a siren. She was incredibly beautiful, shiny black hair was covering up her naked upper body and her long, scaled tail was lazily draped over the rock, the end of it hanging in the shallow water. The silver moonlight reflected off her oily long hair and the shiny scales on her lower body.

She was singing – of course she was. Her hauntingly beautiful face filled with sorrow as her pitch-black eyes seemed miles away and her ballad filled the space with her longing and yearning song. Her hands slowly combing through her slick hair with her fingers or reaching out to grab something that wasn’t there then shying back when realising.  The forked fin of the siren seemingly absent-mindedly kept splashing the closest on-lookers.

Around her basin some people had already crept closer, eyes wide and mouths open, completely enthralled by her voice. Parts of skirts and several hands were already dipping into the water as the audience was bewitched by her performance. A sturdy dwarf was on his hands and knees crawling closer, his expression mindless as he got his trousers and doublet wet.

You felt the draw of the enchantment she was weaving. A feeling of intense grief and longing overcame you and made your chest hurt. Tears welled up in your eyes and when you looked over to Astarion you saw his eyes also seemed dangerously wet. But his tone was flat while he looked over the spectators that kept closing in on the creature and it’s deadly lure and whispered: “Like critters getting caught by a glue trap.”

At least your elven heritage meant you had more resistance to the pull of her song than most of her audience. The two of you kept watching the performance but you found yourself sucking your cheek in and biting into it – a reminder that you were here and not there. Not in this unearthly and dark place the siren kept singing about.

You grabbed Astarion’s hand and dragged on it as a new feeling of uneasiness settled in your stomach. The remainder of strawberries suddenly tasted sour in your mouth.

Astarion wrapped an arm around your shoulder and affectionately rubbed your arm, throwing you worried glances. You quickly went on to other parts of the mansion as you found yourself hoping that the pools weren’t deep enough to drown in or at least that the bewitched spectators wouldn’t lose more than their dignity and maybe some of their gold.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque @worryknotdear

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies #tav #bg3

[sourwolf-sterek32]

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

Or

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, death, blood, injury

Previous Chapter

Chapter 9- The Accident

Slowly, your eyes began to flutter open, but everything was blurry and smoky. The sharp tang of gasoline and burnt rubber filled the air as you blinked trying to clear your vision only to be blinded by bright red and blue flashing lights.

In the stretched-out seconds that followed, every detail was becoming horrifyingly clear.

Vince crashed the car.

Shock ripped through you, icy and paralysing. Your hearing suddenly came back all at once like a switch had been flicked. Sirens wailed loudly in the distance, and you found yourself shaking, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away allowing the pain to seep through.

The entire right side of your body felt like it was on fire. Blood was plastered to the side of your face, matting in your hair and trickling down your neck, warm and sticky. Your right arm was cut open in various places, blood and glass covering your skin.

Your thoughts tumbled over each other in a frantic whirl as you tried to comprehend what just happened.

Ignoring your throbbing body, you pushed yourself up from where you had fallen between the seats and surveyed your surroundings. Cold fear wrapped around you, constricting your breath as you took in the sight of your destroyed truck. The impact had crumpled the entire passenger side of the car like a piece of paper. The spiderweb of cracks sprawled across the windshield obscured your vision of the outside, but it wasn't the outside you were worried about.

It was Vince.

Was he okay? Was Razzle okay?

Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild drum, each beat echoing your rising panic.

"V-Vince?" You tried to call out, but your voice was nothing but a cracked whimper.

Suddenly the back of your brother's head popped up from the driver's seat as he slowly looked around taking in the carnage around him. The radio continued to play cheerfully in the background, a stark contrast to the scene of destruction.

"Y/N? Are you- fuck. Are you okay?" Your brother groaned glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

Your eyes met Vince's, his face ashen and terrified, mirroring your own fear.

"I... I don't know." You mumbled wincing as you reached up and touched your face, your fingertips coming away stained bright crimson.

Blood trickled down from your forehead blinding your vision momentarily as you blinked away the sudden redness in your eyes. Pieces of shattered glass lodged in your right arm twinkled menacingly in the streetlights. The spilled alcohol over the backseat now seeping into the old leather seemed absurdly irrelevant in the face of destruction as you dipped your head back and closed your eyes trying to get your breathing under control.

"Wake up, man. Raz, wake up." Vince's broken voice spoke through the deafening silence. "Hey. Wake up, man!"

Your eyes snapped open at your brother's voice. His head was down looking at something and you forced yourself to shift in the backseat despite your aching body screaming at you in protest. You leant over the front seat with a wince and what you saw had your entire body freezing like ice.

Razzle was dead in Vince's lap.

He was dead.

In a blur of motion, police, paramedics and firefighters swarmed over the crash scene.

It all happened so fast.

Razzle was pulled out through the side window of the wreck. His body lifeless and unmoving in the arms of the paramedics. Vince was helped out through the same window and the firefighters managed to cut away the broken backdoor to get to you.

Once a paramedic had extracted you from the mangled vehicle and bought you to the ambulance, you took a look back at the horrific site you had been rescued from. The wreck was a gruesome sight, and it was one that you knew you would not be able to forget anytime soon.

The world around you was a swirl of chaos and confusion, fear wrapping around you like a stifling cloak. Police Officers asked a thousand questions while the paramedic pulled shards of glass from the right side of your body. That arm was now wrapped in a thick white bandage that already had bright red blood seeping through the material, but the paramedic was more focused and concerned about the cuts across the side of your face to do anything about it.

It should hurt.

You knew it should be hurting more than it did. Your arm was covered in gashes and in desperate need of stitches and you knew your face was probably worse, but you could barely feel anything.

You just felt numb.

A small voice in the back of your head was telling you that you were in shock, but that little piece of information did not help in the slightest.

The paramedic was speaking to you. Her lips were moving, but you could barely hear a word she was saying over the loud ringing in your ears. You stared at the mangled wreck that had once been your truck, a lump forming in your throat.

There was another car nearby that was totally destroyed, but you had no idea who was inside or if they had survived.

"Where... where's Vince?" You questioned, speaking up for the first time. "Is he okay? Where is he?"

"He's fine. The police are speaking with him." The paramedic answered nodding over her shoulder.

You looked in that direction and spotted Vince sitting on the curb, his arms wrapped around his ankles while he rocked back and forth. A Police Officer stood beside him writing stuff down in a notebook while watching your brother.

"I-I need- I need to see him." You stuttered, stumbling out the back of the ambulance.

"Ma'am, I need you to sit down. You'll be taken to the hospital shortly because the head wounds-"

You drained out the paramedic's words when you saw Tommy, Nikki and a few other familiar faces from the party suddenly rushing towards the crash scene on foot. The mansion was just down the road from here, they must have seen all the lights and sirens.

Police suddenly blocked their path from getting to Vince just as another Police Officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed your brother's arm.

They were arresting him.

"No!" You shouted, shoving past the paramedic and rushing across the street just as the cop locked the cuffs around your brothers' wrists. "No! You can't take him! You can't!"

Vince glanced over at you briefly, his face pale and drained of all emotion as his tear-filled eyes locked with yours and he shook his head silently at you.

"No!" You screamed, hot tears rising in your eyes.

This had to be a dream. This had to be some fucked up sick nightmare. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.

Suddenly, Tommy and Nikki were in front of you. They held you back to stop you from doing anything stupid while you watched on helplessly as your brother got thrown into the back of a police car.

"Vince..." You sobbed, tears now falling down your face mixing in with the blood.

Then, all at once, your adrenaline subsided, and the pain started.

Your body crumbled, but Nikki was still holding you, saving you from crashing to the ground. He slowly lowered you down to the bitumen, pulling you into his lap as you cried, head pounding and arm aching.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." Tommy frantically repeated kneeling in front of you but you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or you more. "It's going to be okay. Vince is fine. It's all okay."

That was a lie though. Vince wasn't fine. You weren't fine, and Razzle was dead.

Nikki tightened his hold around you as if sensing your internal thoughts and you buried your bloodied face into the crook of his neck and cried.

-

Vince ended up getting arrested for drunk driving and vehicular manslaughter. He refused to let you visit him in jail. The few times you had gone there, he made the guards turn you away and when you tried to call, he didn't answer.

The people in the other car involved in the accident were both critically injured.

You hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. You shouldn't be alive, but you were. And in a cruel twist of fate's knife, Razzle was the one that was dead.

How was that fair?

Nikki and Tommy went with you to the hospital and refused to leave your side. After getting over 50 staples and stitches on your face and arm, you were allowed to go home.

Tommy remained by your side the whole time Vince was behind bars despite now having a new girlfriend, Heather Locklear, and should be spending time with her and not you. Nikki was the one who drove you home from the hospital and helped you get settled in but then he disappeared, not that you blamed him. What was he meant to do? You were fine, well, not really, but you didn't need a babysitter.

Once your brother was released from jail, you gave him a few days to see if he would try and contact you, but after a week of radio silence, you walked to his mansion to confront him.

He only lived a few houses down and you hadn't bought a new car yet. Not that you wanted too anyway. The thought of being inside a car again made you feel uneasy, so you stuck to walking.

Sherise answered the door when you knocked, and her face visibly flinched seeing you for the first time since the accident.

The stitches had been taken out, but the healing scars were now a permanent reminder of that horrible night. Your right upper arm was covered in various scars, but the worst was the thick jagged one that snaked down your right shoulder to your elbow that looked as sharp as the glass shard that had caused it. The raw scar made you wince whenever touched, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain you felt inside whenever you thought about the accident.

By some small miracle the scar ran perfectly down between your tattoo, splitting 'Mötley' and 'Crüe' in half without ruining the ink.

It was easy enough to cover your arm with long sleeves, but the scars on your face were not so easy to hide. Those discoloured scars that ran across your face served as a constant reminder of the accident. A reminder that you didn't want.

Tommy kept telling you not to hide them -not that you really could anyway- he said they looked badass, but all you saw was ugliness when you looked in the mirror.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." Sharise whispered, her eyes shifting over each scar before settling on your eyes.

You smiled sadly at her, "how's Vince?"

"Not good." She admitted biting her lip. "I don't know how to help him with his guilt. He keeps pushing me away."

You sighed, "let me talk to him."

"He's out the back."

You nodded and made your way through the mansion before stepping out the backdoor to find your brother leaning against the railing staring out at the ocean.

"Why are you avoiding me?" You asked gently as if you were speaking to a terrified child not wanting to spook him.

Vinces shoulders tensed at your voice, but he refused to turn to face you. He kept staring out at the water, so you slowly walked over and leant against the railing beside him looking out at the golden sand stretching for miles down the beach.

There were a few dog walkers wandering along the shoreline. A young couple were sitting by a picnic further down the beach, but it was the two young kids out in the water on surfboards that caught your attention.

They couldn't have been older than 12, and it seemed like the little boy was teaching his sibling how to surf. Vince was watching them too and you smiled softly at the kids thinking back to when Vince had taught you how to surf at the same age.

"Did you see that?" Young Vince called out, running along the shore with his surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Yeah, I saw that!" His mother answered enthusiastically.

Her long white dress blew in the wind, sand covering her sandals as she smiled brightly behind her beautiful blonde hair.

"That wave was like seven feet!" You shouted, pointing at the waves in awe after watching Vince surf.

"10 more minutes? I want to teach Y/N." Vince pleaded, looking up at his mother with begging brown eyes.

Your stepmother looked out at the ocean worriedly before glancing between you and Vince with a small nod, "alright, 10 more minutes. But any longer than that, dad's going to be mad, okay?"

"Come on, Y/N." Vince encouraged, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the water. "You're going to love surfing!"

Nearly 10 minutes ticked by of silence while you watched the mini versions of yourselves out in the surf, but you weren't going to push your brother to speak.

Vince had just done jailtime. You knew without a doubt that he was blaming himself for Razzle's death which, yeah, okay, it was his fault for driving drunk, but it was a mistake and he owned up to that mistake.

"You don't have to talk about it. But I'm here if you want to." You offered, glancing over at him.

Vince sucked in a shallow shaky breath before he turned his head and his gleaming, tear-filled brown eyes met yours. Your heart shattered into a million pieces seeing your older brother look so utterly destroyed and without saying anything you held your arms out and he instantly stepped into your embrace.

His body trembled in your arms while you hugged him fighting back tears of your own as your brother cried softly in your arms. He needed you to be the strong one right now. You could cry about this later, right now, you had to be strong for him.

"I-I killed him." Vince whimpered. "I-I... I killed Razzle."

You squeezed your eyes shut trying to force your own tears at bay as you hugged your brother tighter.

"It's not your fault." You whispered, but he shook his head against you.

"It is. It is. I- I fucking killed him."

"No. It could have happened to any one of us. It's not on you. Raz made his choice to get in the truck. It was an accident." You insisted, pulling away and grabbing your brothers' shoulders holding him in front of you, but he kept his head lowered with his hair covering his face. "Vince, look at me. Please, look at me."

Reluctantly, Vince lifted his head exposing his tear-streaked face as he stared at you from behind his blonde locks, but his eyes flashed up to the harrowing scars that painted the side of your face.

One bloodied scar ran down through your eyebrow narrowly missing your eye and slicing your cheek below it in a perfect line. The other was engraved along your jaw, half hidden by your hair, but Vince could still see it and his expression dropped into instant guilt.

"Fuck. Y/N-"

"It's not on you." You insisted, shaking your head. "It is not on you."

"Your face..."

"They're just scars." You reassured, but your brother looked ready to start crying all over again. "It's fine, Vin. I look kinda badass with them." You added with a gentle chuckle causing Vince's mouth to tick up into a small smile which you were going to call a win.

In truth, you hated the scars.

They took away your hopes and dreams because backup singers were meant to be beautiful, and the scars were not. How could you possibly stand on stage while looking like this? You couldn't.

But were you going to admit all that to your brother? Absolutely not. He already felt guilty enough as it was. He didn't need to hear or worry about your new insecurities. 

-

Next Chapter

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#motley crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you #tommy lee #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee x reader #vince neil #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue x reader #80s rock #80s metal #pov

[30-3am]

𝙱.𝙰.𝚁.𝙴.𝙵.𝙾.𝙾.𝚃

⋆ ★ 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍

" 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒 𝚊𝚖, 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 " ⋆ ★

part five of multiple

𝙱.𝙰.𝚁.𝙴.𝙵.𝙾.𝙾.𝚃 • 𝙲.𝙾.𝙽.𝚃.𝙴.𝙽.𝚃.𝚂

⋆ ★ warnings: none

⋆ ★ word count: 5.0k

the contents of this story will not be for everyone. if you aren't comfortable with unethical and/or age-gap relationships, then do not read.

»»———-　story by 30-3am　———-««

Chapter Five - Slipping

 

10:48, 27th June

Downey, CA

Somehow, James had ended up with a clean house, a girl coming over, and twenty-four cans of Coke in the fridge. He had been preparing for Heather’s arrival all Saturday, making sure his house was presentable and that there was food in the cupboards and drinks in the fridge. He wasn’t particularly nervous about her coming around; he was fifty-eight, so there was no need to be anxious but he wanted to make her comfortable. He had an inkling that she was not the one who broke that ashtray, and he wanted to help. Anger consumed him at the treatment she was subjected to, an anger he had tried to suppress for many years. In the current situation, however, he supposed his reactions were deserved. If James was younger and a little more stupid, Robert Palmer would have a black eye and a broken arm by now, but he had outgrown his irrationality long ago and knew that hostility was not the answer.  

More so irrational than his aggression was his infatuation; his interest. He had pushed the idea of Heather from his head many times over, reducing his unconventional thoughts to mere attraction. She was pretty. That wasn’t wrong to think, and James did not see her or imagine her in any perverse manner. It was more of an intrigue, a desire to crack her open and understand who she was. It was friendly and normal - he would not jeopardise the relationship because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. It wasn’t worth it. She was only just becoming comfortable, starting to reveal herself through the music and finally starting to look him in the eye when speaking to him. It would be wrong to scare her off, to step on a twig whilst hunting a deer and have its grazing stop, head flicking up and waiting, before scampering off in the other direction. 

James believed it was his duty, his responsibility, to rip her from that house. She had no one else, and she looked at him with such joy and admiration that he couldn’t bring himself to leave it alone. Maybe it was self-righteousness, some sanctimonious need to prove himself good, but there was this girl. This girl. A girl who had gripped him by the neck and dragged him through tangles of brambles until he was scratched, bloody, and at her mercy. The perpetual sadness in her eyes, the petulant pout, and the mirage of innocence had pulled him in like a siren's call, and he was trapped within her life. The moment he pulled into her drive, the moment she stepped into his truck, the entrance of his cage locked behind him and she swallowed down the key; he would have to go searching in the depths of her stomach if he wanted to get it back. 

In a way, he didn’t want it back. He was content being trapped within her and spending his days filling in the cracks spreading like spiderwebs along her skin. It wasn’t difficult to see how much she valued him; the reluctance to get out of his truck every morning and night, the smiles that had slowly become genuine, and the urge to please him at every turn. He noticed. It was hard not to. 

Another thing he noticed was the fear that settled and turned stagnant in her mind. The look she had given him when they came home and Rob was on the porch stabbed and stabbed him until his only urge was to speed out of the driveway and take her far away. How he hated Robert Palmer for giving that sweet girl a reason to be afraid, and how dare he blame her for being disobedient instead of him. James wanted to take the fall for her. He would let Robert bruise and break him if it meant she would be safe. 

James had watched her shuffle inside, her hands working at the straps of her bag, her steps unstable and entirely ready to give up on supporting her altogether. He’d seethed when Rob walked over, all welcoming with his arms outstretched and feigning politeness with a toothy grin. The casual manner in which he spoke to James was wearing away at his civility; Robert fucking Palmer was lucky James was not the same man anymore, otherwise his jaw would’ve been hanging from its hinges. The only thing that stopped him from aggression was the knowledge that it would only ricochet onto Heather. 

James had stayed in that driveway for longer than necessary, wishing that some entity would open the curtains so he could see she wasn’t in danger. Only after a long moral battle between sense and blind heroism did he reverse and head on home. If she did not call, he would call her. And he waited the appropriate amount of time, driving aimlessly, his stomach roiling until he couldn’t stay in the dark anymore. He’d clicked on her name, puffed on his cigar whilst his knee bounced, and physically suppressed an audible sigh of relief when he heard her on the other end.  

Then she’d asked him about the superglue that he didn’t have and once she’d gone, he’d scribbled it down onto his shopping list, Diet Coke following it. 

He waited patiently for her on the couch, flicking through the Sunday daytime TV that didn’t interest him. He would’ve picked her up, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate it given the circumstances. He had not dropped her off Friday night or picked her up Saturday. 

Admittedly it was a little lonely, sitting in the house he hadn’t figured out how to decorate yet. He missed the music he now associated with her wafting from the shitty speakers; how the breeze glided in through the windows, her voice muffled as she hums along. It was the only glimpse of her vocal ability she had granted him; he was still trying to get her to sing to him. She hummed so sweetly that it was only fair to assume she sang just as pleasantly. 

Three careful knocks. The TV was flicked off, his cigar placed in the ashtray, and he wiped his hands on his jeans before he took long strides from the couch to the front door. 

“You alright?” were the first words that he uttered when he opened it. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, too busy scanning her face for any marks. If he fucking touched her…James was good at controlling his emotions. He was amiable when it was required of him to be amiable, he was calm when years ago he would’ve unleashed his rage upon any unfortunate fucker who dared touch him, and most importantly, he was empathetic. Fortunately for Heather, all his empathy was entirely directed at her. Unfortunately for James, the empathy was turning into an amalgamation of anger and a strange protectiveness that he hadn’t quite figured out yet. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He stepped aside to let her in, holding the door open and smiling softly.

Over his many years and many relationships, he could tell when a woman was putting in the effort. When they were out to impress. Hair clean, legs smooth, the prettiest goddamn dress they could find on. She was the spit of that. It was endearing. It was cute. And he hadn’t seen her in a dress that wasn’t her uniform before. It was wrong to look given the circumstances, but his body betrayed his sense as his eyes flicked downward while she walked past. Her legs. Always on display. Always so tempting. 

“Are you?” she said. 

The sweet timbre of her voice entered his ears, bathing him in satisfaction. 

She stood in the hallway, her eyes darting around despite her best efforts to stay focused on him. She lingered on the buck head mounted on the wall. “I’m fine, kid.” 

“Good.” She flicked her eyes away from the animal, watching as he approached her. The last thing he wanted was for this to be awkward - every single urge he had only kicked him whilst screaming, “Make her comfortable.” 

“You want a drink?” He stood tall in front of her, his palm pressed to the soft skin of her forearm. “I got you Coke.” 

She succumbed to eye contact, her gaze flicking from her feet to his. The corner of her lips twitched, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip to stop from smiling. 

“Diet?” 

He squeezed her arm, a chuckle passing his lips. 

“Diet,” he consolidated, sending her a wink before letting go of her and making his way into the kitchen. Heather’s footsteps were light behind his, the sound of her shoes against the floor changing as it turned from wood to tile. He opened the fridge, overwhelmed by a mixture of silver and red cans; there was more in the cupboard that he couldn’t fit in the fridge. He would never forget the look on the cashier's face when he hauled the crates of soda up onto the conveyor belt. 

“I’m tryna lose weight, you know?” he’d said to her, and once he was out of there, he’d snickered at his own joke, smiling all the way home as he remembered the forced smile on the employee's face. 

“You prefer it outta the can or do you want a glass?” He shut the fridge, turning around and leaning against his counter. 

“I don’t mind. Just in the can will be fine.” Some part of James wanted her to stop pleasing the others around her. She was always so compliant, doing the things she thought her peers wanted her to and saying things she thought should be said. It had become apparent when he started picking her up and she shivered when he had the windows down. How, when he asked her if she was cold, she would vehemently deny it and go so red in the face that she must’ve warmed up by then. He wanted her, more than anything, to just say “Fuck you, James, put the goddamn windows up.” 

Instead, she remained silent, defying her needs and denying her comfort. 

“You sure?” He felt like he always had to double-check, to keep asking until she did what she wanted. 

“Yeah, I usually drink out the can anyway. Saves washing more dishes.” 

“Well, that’s why I got a dishwasher.” The laugh falling from her lips was sickly sweet, her disgustingly American teeth that did not get that perfect without help, on display as she smiled.

“I’ll have a glass please.”                 “Atta girl.”

A small victory but it made him smile all the same as he turned around to procure a glass. 

“You didn’t have to buy me Coke, you know?” 

He poured the soda into the glass, tilting it to avoid foam and instinctually crushing the can before throwing it in the trash.

“I wanted you to have something to drink.” He passed the beverage to her before she could protest or say that water was fine and that he didn’t have to go to the trouble. It also saved him from having to tell her that he wanted to go to the trouble, that if he wasn’t willing to help her, he wouldn’t have offered to drive her to work the very first night they met. The night he’d become so enamoured with her it was painful. 

She took it gratefully, sipping on it with a hint of a smile in approval. 

“About that ashtray then.” 

“Oh, yeah…” She placed the glass down on the counter, slipping off a strap of her bag - a bag that was not her usual for work - and rummaging through it. She pulled out the major pieces of ceramic, small bits following it, placed them next to her soda and then pushed her bag back up onto her shoulder. “Like I said, I was emptying it and dropped it. I didn’t think it would smash but it all broke into chunks and…you know.” 

He couldn’t help the smile at her rambling, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he leaned back and observed, legs crossed over one another. 

“I don’t…can you fix it?” She let out an exasperated sigh, almost looking disappointed in herself. James was mildly amused, happy to listen to her speak no matter the situation. 

“Don’t worry, kid.” He pushed off the counter, lifting the broken pieces of ceramic and picking at them. “It won’t be perfect but it’ll still work.” 

“I don’t mind,” she said abruptly, eyes flicking between the ashtray and him, hands always playing with something.

He gave her a slight nod before averting his attention back to the shards, picking them up and seeing where each piece fit. Luckily for her, it was salvageable and, luckily for him, it’d take him a while if she wanted it at least presentable. 

“Give me a minute while I get the glue.” He touched her shoulder as he passed, feeling her eyes fixed on the back of his head.

He needed to calm the fuck down. For some reason, he was so unbelievably worked up. It took all his mental stability to not look down at her legs, to not cast his gaze upon her chest, where the dress didn’t leave much to the imagination. He felt gross. His mind kept wandering, thinking, wondering…it made him feel like some dirty old man, no better than some sixty-year-old pervert who spent his days groping and catcalling young girls. Thirty-six years. They were miles apart. They were on opposite ends of life, so far apart from one another that he would have to sail around the world ten times over before it was acceptable. The worst of it all was that she trusted him implicitly. It would rip her apart if she knew half of the unorthodox thoughts he had about her. So, he kept those thoughts to himself, however strong the impulses were.

It was wrong, and that was that. 

He grabbed the superglue from the dining room table and breathed deeply, frustrated that he had to prepare himself before seeing her again.

Fifty fucking nine in August, he had to remind himself as he returned to her, both of her hands clutched around her glass as she sipped, clearly not sure what to do with herself. It shouldn’t have made him as hot as it did but, he swatted away the thoughts intruding his mind and smiled as he approached. 

“It won’t take me long to fix.” He passed by her, returning to the shattered pieces of ceramic and throwing the glue down next to it. “It’ll take a while to dry though.” 

“How long?” Even her voice was pulling reactions from him, and he was almost becoming too frustrated to be nice. 

“Usually a day.” He preoccupied himself by picking up his glasses he’d left on the side, opening them up and placing them on his face. 

“A whole day?” There was panic in her voice and, although he wasn’t looking, he could just imagine how adorable she looked with her wide eyes and shock-parted mouth. 

“It’s okay, you can leave it overnight, and I’ll get it to you tomorrow.” 

“How?” 

He stifled his smile, hunching over the counter and pretending to glaze over the pattern of the cracks. 

“When I pick you up, kid.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to. I can keep walking.” 

James allowed himself to look at her, her insistent refusal of his kindness forcing more frustration to cloud his judgment. It wasn’t her fault. She’d caught him on a bad day. His vexations with himself and the lack of progress he’d made with her called for an unpleasant mood. They’d actually gone backwards in regards to progress. She hadn’t been in his truck for two fucking days, and he could no longer smell her perfume that lingered, strong and taunting until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Taking a metaphorical deep breath, he stood up straight and shot her a strained smile. 

“I’ll pick you up and drop you off a street down,” he said knowingly, not missing the grateful glint in her eye as she nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, gaze flicking between her face and her chest but his mental flagellation forced him from going lower. Heather’s cheeks flushed under his observation, and she shifted her glass from her left to her right, swaying in her spot as she waited for him to speak. 

“You’re welcome, kid.” The words came out unintentionally strained, and he turned away from her with a clear of his throat, sighing a little too loudly and forcing himself to start on the ashtray. 

James felt her staring at him, firmly rooted in the same spot she’d stood since she arrived. He couldn’t focus with her there, his thoughts running wild, his body growing hot. He was goddamn frustrated - frustrated with her, with fucking Robert Palmer who had fucked his daughter up so terribly that James’ morality refused to leave her alone, and he was frustrated with himself. The angel and the devil on his shoulders were fighting with one another, the sinner plaguing his mind with thoughts that slandered his righteousness, and the virtuous forcing sense down his throat. 

“You can wait in the living room if you want.” He unscrewed the cap of the glue, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Watch some TV while you wait.” 

“Oh.” Why did one syllable make him feel so guilty? “Okay, thank you.” 

James let her go, concerning himself with the first chunk of ashtray, her footfalls dying out as she retreated to the living room. 

As soon as she was gone, he dropped everything in his hand, muttering expletives as he pinched the bridge of his nose. A tension headache formed, his whole body aching with the heated debate he’d found himself in the middle of. 

He wanted to help. And he couldn’t help if he couldn’t help himself. It was pathetic, really, the lack of control he had. At times, he chalked it down to the divorce, his right hand being his only friend for months and leading to some pent-up sexual frustration that couldn’t be remedied without a woman. It had only been a little over a week. Mere attraction. That was it. He would not pursue anything with the poor girl. She had enough on her plate, she didn’t need some old pervert taking advantage of her sadness, of her vulnerability and dependency. It was wrong. Plain and simple. Wrong. 

He forced her out of his mind as he picked up the superglue again and started fixing what Robert Palmer had broken.

11:36

It took him longer to put the ashtray back together than anticipated. Between figuring out where the pieces went and glue getting on his fingers, his exasperation and annoyance caused him to stop and take a breath whenever it didn't go his way.

But he was finally done, giving the stupid goddamn object the cold shoulder as he settled into a new cigar and sat down on one of the barstools that lined the island. 

He hadn’t heard a peep from her the entire time, the sound of the TV muffled by the thick walls. The only reason he could hear it in the first place was because the door was wide open, her refusing to shut it. He supposed he should’ve gone and checked on her; ask her if she wanted another drink, tell her that he’d fixed it so she should kindly fuck off while she waited for it to dry. Be a gracious host. He knew he was being irrationally abrasive, but his mood was particularly off today, a combination of anger, sexual deprivation, and self-disgust fueling his saturnine state.

Years ago, he would’ve settled it with a drink but he didn’t do that anymore. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to do that anymore. Another option he couldn’t pursue was sex. He could try. There was no lack of women out there, but none of them appealed. Only one did and, unfortunately, it was too inappropriate to even imagine a situation in which it would work.

It would be nice if he was mean enough to fuck her and leave her to the dust, but he was not that guy anymore. Even if he was, not even the worst of men would think to leave her. She was fucking perfect. 

He placed the cigar in his ashtray, standing tall and deciding to bite the bullet, to engage in small talk until he ushered her out of the house and could feel fresh oxygen enter his lungs once again. The sound of the TV was faint, growing as he got closer to the living room door. 

“Hey, kid it’s-” He stopped when he passed the threshold, eyes landing on her, asleep, on his couch. Soft breaths bordering on snores passed her lips, her head resting uncomfortably on her shoulder, neck at the wrong angle. A few strands of hair were in her eyes, her chest rising and falling with her breaths. 

It was not helping his situation. Not one bit.

However, he found himself softening at the sight, his previous irritation dissipating - diffusing into the air. 

He tucked his glasses into the neck of his shirt, letting them hang as he gazed at her. Truthfully, she looked exhausted the moment he’d seen her. No amount of makeup could expel the fatigue etched into her features, and he most certainly didn’t study her sleep schedule, but he knew as soon as she got home, she went to bed to sleep off her shift. Friday morning he had called her up over an hour after the fact, hoping she wouldn’t answer - for her sake - but she’d picked up the phone, clearly not asleep. He worried about her, hoping that she at least got a couple of hours. 

From her clear weariness, she had not caught up on her sleep. So, he would let her rest. On his couch. Under his…watchful gaze. 

The TV was shut off with a press of the remote, her bag moved from under her feet and onto the armchair off to the right. He took her empty glass from the coffee table, smiling at the coaster under it and traipsing into the kitchen to put it in the dishwasher. He hastily made his way back to the living room to make her more comfortable.

There was something so intimate about watching her sleep, seeing her in her most vulnerable state. There had been times in the truck when he thought she had been asleep, only to find out she had been drifting in and out of inertia, still aware of her surroundings but blissfully ignorant as to the happenings. Now, however, as he studied her, she was well and truly asleep. And, God, if she didn’t look perfect. 

When her eyes were shut, there was no sadness to penetrate his soul, making him just as despondent as she. There was no furrow to her brow, no constant state of stress on her face. Just calm. It made him calm too. 

With that calm came clouded judgement, no rectitude to make him believe he was a bad person for even thinking such things. He reached out a hand to her, thumb experimentally hovering over her cheekbone as he brushed her jaw with his palm. She didn’t stir. He seized the opportunity and covered the left side of her face with his hand. 

To take her away. To shield her from the world. In this moment, he’d do anything she asked. He’d take her back to Vail if she let him. He’d sedate Robert by handing him a healthy sum, bundle her up into his truck, and drive her far away. His stomach grew hot as he ran his thumb back and forth over her cheekbone, mesmerised by her sleeping face, enamoured with the softness of her skin - the warmth of her cheek. 

He stilled as she unconsciously nuzzled into his palm, her mouth closing as she sighed through her nose. With a swallow, he peeled away the hair that covered the right side of her face, brushing it from her eyes and settling it behind her ear. She began shifting, her body aware of his touch but her brain unaware. At her movement, he snatched his hand back, breathing out and looking away. 

Running his thumb and index finger over his moustache, he stole another look, her body still again and her breaths soft through her nose. She looked so uncomfortable with her neck on her shoulder that the urge to run was overpowered by the desire to make sure she slept well. It must have been difficult to get a good night's sleep in that house - always on edge, listening for the sound of the front door and footsteps on wood. 

With hesitation, he leaned down to grab her calves, wrapping around the smooth skin and lifting. He checked once to make sure she was still soundly asleep and with the confirmation she would not wake, placed her legs down on the couch, her body slanting awkwardly to the side. He took care of that afterwards, arranging the pillows and guiding her head down onto them. 

He dusted his hands off once he was done, scanning the room for a blanket. Pinpointing the one on the back of the chair, he plucked it from its resting place and unfolded it, draping it over her. 

He hovered over her for a while, watching the rise and fall of her chest, her hair splayed out beneath her and his hand was twitching at his side - wanting and needing. He’d got a taste for what her skin felt like against his palm, her hair beneath his fingers, and his body screamed for that sensation back. 

It was biting at him, begging him to reach out again, to feel her beneath him.

It didn’t seem so bad when she was asleep. He didn’t have her judgement, her rejection of him. His knuckles stroked her temples before he could think twice about his decision. 

He was weak and he knew it. In every other aspect, he was secure. He was secure in his life, in his mind. He was figuring all his goddamn shit out. But she had been sent to him. Someone had challenged him. She was no longer his vocation, she was an obstacle - an obstacle that he would either jump over without difficulty or would fall into and break his neck. As his knuckles brushed over her skin, her hair tickling him, he knew he was already falling into the hurdle. He had jumped too early. He would not land.

“Mhm.” She shifted under his touch, groaning as her eyes fluttered open. His heart hurtled to his throat and stopped beating there, his hand stopping its movement and staying stubbornly against her. “James?” 

She grumbled his name sleepily and shame washed through him at the reaction his body granted him. He cleared his throat in an attempt to rid of the discomfort, gazing down at her. She was barely awake, her eyes half-open, disoriented and struggling to stay up.

“Go back to sleep, angel.” 

It seemed a fitting nickname, something he had thought about calling her before but deemed it too personal, too romantic to use on a twenty-two-year-old girl. She was an angel though, and he was fallen. If he continued, he’d drag her down with him. He’d ruin her. 

And with a small, muttered “okay” from her, he removed his hand, his skin burning with the feel of her, the softness of her skin branded into him for eternity. She fell back to sleep quickly after his permission, and his stomach churned in mortification. He’d let himself slip. And she’d caught him. 

He had no idea if she’d remember the interaction when she woke up, but he hoped, as he exited the living room and closed the door behind him, that she would have no recollection. 

He returned to his cigar, letting the familiar taste fill his mouth and calm him just slightly. If he was younger, if she was older, he would’ve fucked her by now. But, alas, she was not. The harsh reality was that it was inappropriate and wildly immoral. He had said to himself when he got the divorce that young girls were off the table. He’d always frowned upon such relationships, an old man freshly free of his “dried up” wife preying on young girls; it disgusted him. And he was doing exactly what he was repulsed by. 

After everything she had gone through, everything she had seen, had been subjected to, it was not fair to manipulate her into some strange and unethical relationship that would not work after two months of trying. 

But he’d touched her, he’d felt her. Her warmth. Her soft skin. Everything from her head to her toes he was entirely infatuated with. Not only that, but she sang and she played guitar. She had the music taste of a woman his age, but it only added to the attraction. She worked hard, she was beautiful, and she was her. Heather. Even her name was pretty. And he was slipping. Someone had poured liquid soap on the floor, lathering it until it was impossible to walk without falling flat on his face. He had challenged it, thinking that he was better than the contenders before him but was rudely awakened as he slid and smashed his nose on the ground. 

He had slipped, and he would inevitably continue to.

The devil on his shoulder was overpowering the angel with a harsh thwack to the face, beating it until it was a bloody pulp on the sidewalk. 

⋆ ★

A/N: god, this was difficult to write and i'm still not entirely happy with it. writing from james' pov is really hard, especially for a full chapter. but the slow burn is starting to burn.

i promised there'd be some action this chapter. i just appreciate accuracy and you all know james would not jump into a relationship with someone as young as heather straight away.

also, i only went over this once so if there are any typos or sentences that don't make sense, please please don't be afraid to tell me. unless you write you won't understand the absolute mortification upon reading over something you wrote months ago and finding typos. i'd be forever grateful if you sent me what you found :))

alana.

#james hetfield #metallica #barefoot #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #james hetfield x oc

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web

Chapter 1

Felicia Hardy! Reader x Miguel O’Hara

Series Masterlist 🕸 Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Sexual Tension, she/her pronouns

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Felicia Hardy, Black Cat, endures a nasty breakup with Peter Parker, and now with her new Spider-Powers, she must navigate the Spider society and meet their esteemed leader.

Co-writer: @stclairesplace

A/N: This a Felecia Hardy Self Insert, beyond her classic platinum hair color, no descriptive terms are used! Insert yourselves, loves! This is my first Miguel fic, enjoy!

New York, Earth-194

“No, Peter! I- I can’t keep fighting for us if you’re just gonna run back to MJ every time!” Felicia sobbed. 

“We were just talking about our relationship!” Peter yells in defense. 

Felicia's hands come up to her forehead, smoothing out her platinum hair back in frustration. “You said it was over, Peter! You don’t need to continue to talk to her, especially not at 8:30 on a Friday in a restaurant! The same restaurant you took me to last week, by the way, for our 6 month anniversary!” 

“It doesn’t matter, Felicia! Nothing happened!” Peter runs his fingers through his hair pacing back and forth in frustration. 

“No! You- you lied to me, you told me you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.” Felicia breaks out into more tears, blinding her. “I don’t want to be ‘the other woman’ anymore, Peter. I won’t be. I can’t keep waiting for you, hoping you’ll finally look at me the way you look at MJ. I’m done.” 

Before Peter could say another word, the sound of Felicia’s grappling hook cut him off. In an instant, Felicia goes back into her Black Cat persona, swinging through the New York Skyline. 

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

It had been 3 weeks since the breakup. 3 weeks of crying, ice cream, and pajamas. Felicia had never taken a breakup hard, she’d always known her worth, but something about Peter Parker was different. It made no sense as to why it hurt so much. She’s been cheated on before, she’s watched partners come and go, but she was able to brush it off like it was nothing. Then stupid Peter Parker had to come and along, turn her into a hero, and break her heart. 

By habit, the sound of sirens outside her apartment causes her to pause her show, and look at the Black Cat suit hidden behind the painting next to the window. 

Felicia sighs, unable to decide if she should cry or scream. Ultimately, she decided to continue eating her ice cream, pushing the images of Spider-Man somewhere out there fighting crime. 

Despite pushing her feelings away, a tear escapes her, sliding down her cheek. Suddenly, chills go down Felicia’s spine. She looks around the quiet apartment trying to figure out what was happening when her tear begins to slide back up her cheek and into the air. The empty pint and spoon along with various items follow suit, prompting Felicia to grab the gun and knife hidden under the couch. 

A bright light emits in the middle of the living room, transforming into a colorful circular object. Felicia’s guard falls, recognizing the multi-dimensional portal. 

“Woah! What’s with the guns?” Jessica Drew, questions as she emerges. 

“You could have given me a heads up instead of scaring the shit out of me.” Felicia rolls her eyes before putting her weapons away. 

“I told you, I’d come pick you up in a month.” 

Felicia’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’s been a month since I’ve last seen you?!” 

“Ahuh,” Jessica responds as she inspects the apartment. “Has it been a month since you’ve cleaned too?”

“Uh- 3 weeks, actually.” 

Jessica whips her head around. “3 weeks?! What the fuck happened, girl!”

Felicia rolls her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Honestly, she didn’t have to. Jessica could see right through the broken-hearted girl. “You ready to go then?”

“I don’t think I can meet the boss man like this.” Felicia frowns, looking down at her oversized tee shirt stained with ice cream and various mysterious stains from her wallowing sessions. 

Jessica nods, “Shower and change. I’ll help you clean up this shit.” 

It took about an hour for Felicia to clean up and feel like herself again. After putting on her Black Catsuit, she looks into the mirror, smiling for the first time in 3 weeks, feeling like herself again. 

Felicia emerges from her bedroom, finding Jessica standing in the middle of her cleaned-up apartment. “Holy shit, Jess!” She feels like she could cry.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, hon, let’s go or I'll get a lecture.” Jessica hastily as she creates the portal.

Felicia’s been through multi-dimensional portals a few times before, but it’s still something she can barely get used to. 

~~~~~~

Nueva York, Earth 838

Nueva York was bustling with life as heroes of the spider society swung and walked around. Felicia felt both excited and overwhelmed. It was hard walking into a world full of people who dressed, talked, and looked like her ex. 

“Cat!” Jessica shouted across the hall to the distracted woman, pulling her out of her trance. “Move!”

Felicia scurried across the main hall, doing her best to weave between spider people. Once she caught up to Jessica, they made their way to the ‘big man’s office’ as Jessica puts it. 

The two women entered the dark, grand office. Felicia spots a platform about 20 feet in the air with dozens of holographic screens filled with information and statistics. In the center stood the back of a blue and red man. 

“Ahem!” LYLA appeared next to the tall man. “Your newest recruit is here.” 

The platform slowly lowers but the man doesn't move. Instead, he touches the holographic screens, causing Felicia’s profile to appear. 

“Felicia Hardy?” 

Felicia was taken aback by his voice. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t that. It’s a low, resonant tone that fills the air and commands respect and attention. It has a subtle vibration that conveys confidence and strength, and it's a sound that Felicia finds attractive and comforting. His voice has the power to evoke emotion and stir feelings of comfort and security. 

Jessica nudges the woman beside her, yanking Felicia from her thoughts. “Yes, Sir.” She purrs, easing back into the Felicia Hardy she knows and loves. 

“According to my data, you’re the first spider woman.” The platform touches the ground prompting the man to turn to look at Felicia. 

She couldn’t help but admire the man’s build and height, thinking that the elevated perspective had made him appear bigger. “The one and only.” She smirks. 

“Hmm…” The man thinks for a moment, admiring the beautiful woman in front of him. He’s seen and read about plenty of Felicia’s as they have been a big part in some Spider-Man’s lives. Yet, this Felicia seemed different. Her eyes sparkled and the way she carried herself radiated confidence. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Spider-man 2099, my name is Miguel O’Hara.” Miguel closes some distance, letting his mask retract to reveal his messy wavy head and stunning brown eyes.  

“Felica.” She replies, making intense eye contact with the man. 

Miguel slowly walks closer and begins to circle her like a vulture, studying his prey. “ According to your file, you only got your powers several months ago. Explain.”

“Long story short, my… Spider-Man and I infiltrated Oscorp. They were trying to replicate the serum and I ended up getting accidentally bit by one of their patients during the fight, but they’re all dead now, don’t worry.”

“Hmmm..” Miguel hummed as he inspected her suit. “Is this your spider suit?” 

“I don’t need one.” Felicia crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at the Spider-Man. 

“If you want to join the spider society you do. What’s your call sign?”

“Black Cat.” Felicia side-eyes Miguel, predicting his thoughts. 

“Jess,” Miguel looks over to the woman, now sitting in the corner. “Why waste my time?” 

“Waste your time?!” Felicia snaps, turning to look at Miguel. “You need me!” 

“Ahuh.” He rolls his eyes as his mask covers his face, unleashing Felicia's three weeks of pent-up rage. 

“Listen here Spider-Man! I spent 4 months training my ass off, learning my powers, and proving to your little spider society that I’m worthy. I am not going to let you circle me and make assumptions about me based on my outfit and variants! I’ll fight you right now, and I’ll kick your ass!” 

Miguel can’t help but make a small smirk at Felicia’s personality. Miguel steps closer tilting his head down so that his chin practically grazes his collarbone and lets his mask fade. Felica stands her ground looking directly up into his chocolate eyes with fiery determination. She wasn’t going to let some self-appointed leader tell her she wasn’t good enough. 

Meanwhile, in the corner of the office, Jessica and LYLA watch the interaction with confusion. “What the fuck is happening?” 

“I- I really can’t tell you.” LYLA replies. “There’s something there though.” LYLA pulls out her phone taking a picture of the two for future evidence or blackmail before glitching away. 

Still withholding their gazes on each other Miguel eventually snaps out of it only to grumble.  “LYLA, take Felicia to the tailor to make a suit.”. A short smirk makes it’s way on Felicia’s face, silently congratulating herself that she got her way. “We’ll start your training with the other spiders tomorrow morning. Bright and early. As for you ‘Black Cat’ let’s get one thing straight here…” Felicia raises her eyebrow in anticipation, her arms crossed over her chest, her cleavage poking through just enough in the black skin-tight suit adorning her body. “You may be used to playing by your own rules and whatnot but here, this is my playground. And what I say, goes.” He leans back against the small table behind him, his arms now also crossed over his chest, making it hard for Felicia not to notice the way his biceps and arms moved with each breath he took. “Do I make myself clear, gata?”

Felicia unfolds her arms and takes a step closer to Miguel, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “Yes, Araña.” 

“And start thinking of new names,” Miguel said before walking back to his desk with a smirk. 

Chapter 2

A/N: Its good to be back! Please let me know what you think💕

#miguel ohara x felicia hardy reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #felicia hardy #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara smut #Miguel Ohara x female reader #jedi jesi #miguel ohara

[sailor-aviator]

Jake "Hangman" Seresin Series

Hi! Here is a list of the series I'm writing for Jake "Hangman" Seresin! Each series has multiple chapters and you can find their brief summaries underneath the titles! If you would like to read more you can head on over to my Masterlist! If you enjoy my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Masterlist

Don't Hang'em Til Noon (Complete)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you? (Western AU)

Hanging By a Moment (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. A drought has hit the town of Maverick, resulting in that year's crops dying. With little food to go around, the Dagger Posse must turn to unsavory means in order to provide for their friends and family. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Meet Me at the Sea (Complete)

Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you. (Mermaid!Siren!AU)

Fool's Fare (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it. (Pirate!AU)

Two Birds (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)

Road to Perdition (Coming Soon)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

By Its Cover (Incomplete, Ongoing)

The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Fortune & Glory (Coming Soon)

Jake Seresin was a well respected archeologist in the field, colleagues and strangers coming from far and wide to seek his expertise on various subjects. However, when an old friend barges into his lecture rambling on about the ten plagues and the Nazis, Jake finds himself thrust into an adventure he's not sure he's necessarily equipped for. He doesn't know much of anything when it comes to pre-Christian artifacts...but he knows someone who does. Will Jake swallow his pride and ask for her help, or will he try to go this one alone? (Indiana Jones!AU)

The Yawning Grave (Coming Soon)

You had always loved the stories your grandfather had told you about the "cunning folk," as he called them. You dreamed of a world beyond our own, but as you grew older, those stories faded into memory. Now, you're freshly graduated from college and on a trip to Scotland with your best friends. What you don't expect, however, is to gain the attention of a mysterious man or the wrath of the woman seemingly with him. You especially don't expect to find yourself in the middle of one of the old stories your grandfather had told you - one where you end up in a world that's not your own and with very few ways out. (Fairy!AU)

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #dhtn #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun hangman #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin smut #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #hangman #mmats #ff #don't hang'em til noon #fool's fare #meet me at the sea #masterlist #two birds #tb #bic #by its cover