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lauriegraham01 · 2 months

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you're still around | natasha romanoff

pairings: natasha romanoff x gn!reader (one instance where it can be interpreted as fem!reader)

summary: "i know better but i still feel you all around." you never envisioned a life spent with natasha, so what do you do now that the aftershocks of her death has uprooted your life?

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I cannot speak of my grief over natasha, so enjoy this instead! + this is me cleaning out my drafts so im sorry if quality is trash </3

You never loved the beach. You never loved the beach until you met her.

Having been assigned on a mission together in Los Angeles, you found yourself on the sand far more times than you cared for.

"Oh, you're being ridiculous it's not that bad."

"I'd rather die."

Even behind her tinted aviators, there was no denying that signature playful glint shinning in her eyes. She loved how you had a flair for the dramatics, always teasing how she's the only one who could ever put up with it.

"Look, it's only for a couple of hours until we make sure that Stavros meets his guys here."

"And not a second more."

Hours slipped away as you two soaked up the sun. You could live in this moment forever. The sound of waves crashing against the shore matched the ferocity of your heart beating in your chest. You were full of love, consumed by it. Yet how could you not.

The way her sun-kissed skin seemed to soak up the sun, how her hair danced in the gentle ocean breeze, and how peaceful she looked as she she slept in the sand.

You feared the inevitable- dreaded it even. Yet lying next to her, unable to look away, you knew it was too late.

Your bond only continued to grow, spending more time both on and off the clock. Using any excuse to be near each other in hopes of learning something new, even though that seemed impossible. Natasha was the first person you felt like you could be completely open and honest with. You were surprised yet relieved when she told you she felt the same way.

Things in those days were still fresh, you both were equally fully of worry and reservation. The fear of ruining an already incredible bond preventing either of you from pursuing something greater. There was a silent understanding of this- despite the circumstance, you and Natasha continued on as you knew best. Pushing each other to be greater, being each others cheerleader, and truly wanting the best for each other after seeing the potential you both possessed.

Each moment shared together played on repeat in your mind until you could see her again. Late nights spent sparring in the gym, pool games at dive bars, and endless romcom movie marathons that only were only respected by Wanda.

The endless messages exchanged during meeting whenever Steve would go on forever. The getaways spent upstate thanks to Natasha swiping the keys to one of Tony's many many cars. The late night spent revealing sins to each others, and the darkest memories and fears that haunted us. The comfort that lasted till morning when you awoke to another sunrise wrapped in each other's arms. Each moment spent with her was truly magical.

You felt yourself falling deeper in love with Natasha with each passing day. You had reached a point where you couldn't remember life without her by your side, and the thought of having to go back to that terrified you both.

"I don't want this to be what splits us." Running your hands over your face, a tired sigh escaped your lips. The stress of the Sokovia Accords had everyone on edge and you and Natasha were no exception.

"I don't see why it has to," Natasha exaggerated. Her patience growing thinner after the countless back and forth and still not seeing eye to eye.

"You know why," you objected sharply. "it's not right, Nat. You know that." Your eyes met her with an unwavering look of defiance. There was no swaying you to change your mind. She always knew you were so stubborn.

"I know," she admitted.

"Then why are you signing?!" Throwing your hands in frustration you don't immediately notice the boom in your voice as you spoke.

It wasn't until Natasha swallowed thickly before averting her gaze towards the ground that you realized your mistake. Your shoulders slump as you let out a tired sigh. You felt that you were at a crossroads, and there was no right answer in which way you moved.

"I want us to stay together, it doesn't matter how," she emphasized, the edge in her voice unmistaken as she enunciated each word. Green eyes looked up at me through silky lashes, behind a determined look I saw the sadness in the mist of green eyes.

In that moment you felt all your fears cement into reality. You knew there was no way both of you could win and your heart broke as you both pledged your allegiance to opposing sides of another mans war.

Looking up at her you saw the same exact heartbreak in her eyes. You reached your breaking point, as the room seemed to close in you bolted out of your seat and aimed for the door. As your hand squeezed the handle, you hesitated- for a brief second. You didn't want to walk out on her, it was the last thing you ever though of doing.

Sparing her a final look, you see the stoic expression on her face. You always knew she was stubborn, but the hardened expression on her face only further proved what you already knew. There was no changing her mind, just as much as there wasn't changing any yours.

"It does to me."

You fought on opposing sides of a pointless war. When the dust settled, there was no morning glory to be found in its aftermath. Just bitter resentment and heartache as the family you've fought beside for years was no more.

Now considered an enemy of the state, you fled the country, not knowing if you would ever come back. By the time Steve had told you how Natasha helped him and Bucky flee, it was already too late. You were thousands of miles away and burned too many bridges that could never be crossed over again.

You thought about writing, but what could you say? Too much was said and done last, you didn't think there was ever coming back from that. You spent the next two years trying to erase the memory of her. Proving quite difficult as you saw her in everything, her love still being the fire that kept you warm even miles away.

You dreamt of a time where you would come face to face with her again. You've rehearsed the apologies you would say and the confessions you would lay bare if you ever were to see her face again. Yet all that flew out of the window as she stood in front of you, finding you amidst the crowded market square.

"Natasha?" Despite her hair now blonde and much shorter, you still could recognize her face in any crowd.

"Just shut up." She said, catching you off guard.

Taken aback, you sighed deeply as you gave her your full attention. Taking in her full appearance, you note her lose tank and green skirt that flowed with the summers breeze. You don't think you've ever seen her in something that colorful. Despite all the changes, she's still Natasha. You still saw the girl you fell in love with all those years ago on that beach.

The crease between her eyebrow reveals how Natasha seemed deep in thought. Hesitant to speak what's on her mind as she darted between your eyes, weighing her options.

"I never wanted to rely on anyone for anything," she began. "I thought that if I could be independent and alone then I could avoid the pain that comes from losing people."

Fidgeting with her fingers and from the bite marks on her lip, you sensed the urgency behind her words.

"I don't wanna live like that anymore," she confessed urgently. As if she could no longer bear having such a brilliant truth hidden for a second longer. "I love you y/n. I think I have for a long time now but I was just too scared to admit it- and I know things are complicated but i'm ready for this. I want this. I want us-" Stopping suddenly, feeling breathless the longer she looked in your eyes. "You. I want you."

"I love you."

Time seemed to slow down in that moment. The sound of thousands of people packed in the Brazilian market faded to nothing as you looked at her, her words echoing in your head. If Nat had felt even an ounce of relief from getting the truth of her chest, her face didn't show it. She had this look on her face, you studied for it moment before you realized what it was- fear.

She thought you would walk away. That you would scoff at her confession, see through her for what she thought she was, flawed.

She couldn't have been farther from truth. Her eyebrows furrowed in mix of shock and confusion when she felt a finger tilting her chin upward. Swallowing thickly, she awaited cruel rejection. However, seeing the adoration behind your eyes, she let herself believe that maybe there was some room for redemption. The corner of her lip curled upwards before the both of broke into breathless laughs, the twinkle in her eyes making your heart soar as it sang Natasha's name.

"I love you too."

After that, you never knew a life without Natasha. Having fought in Wakanda and losing so much during The Blip, you two became each other's anchor.

Never wanting to be away from her again, you moved back to New York. You helped direct the remaining Avengers as missions were still executed and help was needed everywhere. Despite the darkness that the world was wrapped up in, you and Natasha were each other's lighthouse, guiding each other back to shore.

It wasn't until Scott came barging on the compounds door and the the rest of the team got together for the time heist that hope would shine for the first time in a long time.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come instead," you lowly ask as you and the rest of the team prepare for the time heist.

"I'm gonna pretend to not be offended by that." Clint chimed in as he made his way past us.

"Shut up Barty, please!" He throws his hands up in surrender as he's met by your annoyed gaze. You don't miss hearing Bruce chuckle as he typed away on the control panels.

Facing Natasha again, you're met with her amused smile as she looked up at you.

"I promise I'll be fine," she insisted. "Clint's got my back-right Barty?!"

Clint just grunts in acknowledgment.

"Trust me?" Raising her eyebrows as she lifted her open palm toward you.

Taking her hand and turning it over, you placed a chaste kiss onto it.

"Damn right I do," you say, never breaking eye contact.

Not missing the way her cheeks flushed at the sudden gesture you bring her in and capture her lips in a soft kiss. Earning a wolf-whistle from Tony in the process.

As you all stood in a circle on the platform, ready to go back in time in hopes of bringing everyone back, your eyes meet Natasha's again. Heart fluttering as it did everytime you looked at her.

"See you in a minute." Her eyes glimmering as she smiled at you.

Those words replayed in your head in a constant loop for months. You never got to say goodbye, and that's what killed you the most.

You never were good with grief, and having lost so many people because of Thanos, you spiraled into a depression that lasted the better half of a year.

Yet when you were ready to face that grief, it was Yelena who was there for you. She was one of the few people around who understood what it meant to lose Natasha. To have known and loved her so intimately, and have that taken away.

Staring out into the same sea at the same beach where you first fell for your blue-jeaned baby, as comforting hand on your shoulder shakes you from your thoughts. Startled by the sudden presence your eyes look up frantically to meet with Yelena's concerning gaze.

"Hey," her voice soft, "you okay?"

"Hey-um, yeah, i'm fine really." You shake your head furiously as you blink away your tears. Meeting her eyes again, the love and sincerity that poured behind Yelena's eyes was enough to make the damn burst.

"No," you croak as a sob wracks itself out of your body. Engulfing you in her arms, you burrow your head in Yelena's shoulder as grief's uncharted weight washes over you.

"I know what she meant to you. She told me about a month after taking down the Red Room. I never would've taken her for a U-hual lesbian."

A laugh escapes your lips. Looking back on it, things did happen rather quickly. After taking down Dreykov, she felt a new found purpose in life, a need to reconnect with family and loved ones.

"Yeah, well it was a long time coming," you let out softly. You pull out of her arms, wiping away at your dried tears.

"Thank you, Yelena. I know what she meant to you too."

You don't miss the sadness that flickers in Yelena's eyes.

"She meant to look for you earlier. She told me about you while staying at one of Tony's safe house", you sigh reflecting on the confessions said that night. The fire and a shared bottle of whiskey having kept you both warm that night. "She never stopped thinking about you."

"I know," she affirms, voice shaky. "Thank you."

You offer her a soft smile, eyes crinkling as you giver her arm a reassuring squeeze. Yelena then locks arms with you, a sudden peace washing over you like the waves ashore you were watching.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Looking over at her, you note the blonde wisps of hair that moved with the wind.

"Are any of us?" She doubled back with a smirk, earning a chuckle from you.

A brief silence falls over you two. One full of reluctant acceptance as it is with sadness.

"I promised I wouldn't say goodbye." You barely heard her. You almost thought you hadn't from how low she spoke.

Looking back towards the water, if you didn't know any better you'd think she was still around. If you thought about it long enough, you could still make out Natasha's footprints scattered across the sand. Or how graceful she looked dancing in the sand.

You could hear the sweetness of her laughter as not even the call of the seagulls could sing a finer melody.

You can still feel the warmth of her pirate smile, shinning bright as she looked at you from over her shoulder.

As the wind picked up you closed your eyes and let the memories of your sweet summers spent with Natasha flash before you. If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was talking to you now. Through the way the wind echoed her whispers of "I love you."

Opening your eyes, the warmth and love of those memories still sprout inside you, even as your met with the sight of the beach's barren winter. She's still here, always with me.

"Maybe you don't have to."

You know better, but you still feel her all around.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha x gn!reader #natasha romonova

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gallifreyanwriter · 20 days

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Desolation

They were the ones that picked up their arms and their legs and carried on. And it’s a good job they did, because there was no one else left.

The oldest living human in the universe, and the oldest dead human in the universe, stranded together on an orange cliffside, overlooking a magenta ocean.

It wasn’t their first choice of real estate, but being the only survivors of the crash meant they didn’t have much of a choice. They could only drag their salvaged materials so far, after all. So they settled in for the long haul, and used their scraps and some white wood from a distant forest to build their home atop the great orange cliff.

There wasn’t anything they could really...do, about the wreckage of the Red Dwarf. Neither of them could swim to it, obviously, and there was something about the local ocean water that made Lister kind of itchy, anyway. So they left it alone, as a great, big reminder of everything, and everyone, they’d lost.

Sometimes pieces would break off, sometimes other pieces would wash ashore, and sometimes, those pieces would even be useful. Sometimes Lister, bleeding heart that he was, would just walk outside of their house, stare into the horizon, and weep.

Bloody tosser, Rimmer would think, with tears in his hologramatic eyes.

There’s a special kind of loneliness, being the only life you know of on a planet. It’s not the kind of loneliness when you’re in the corner of a party and no one will speak with you, oh no. It’s more like when you’re in the corner of a party and no one is speaking to you but all the people who aren’t speaking to you are at least a million light years away, and your only way to even have a hope of a drink thrown in your face is half-submerged in this strange pink ocean, hazy in the distance.

Ah well. They were probably a bunch of smegheads anyway.

But they carried on, with the slow acceptance that they were well and truly lost. No enemies, sure, but also no friends—except each other.

And then, erm. Perhaps a bit more than friends, actually. Not sure when that happened, honestly, but who was left to judge? That’s right, no one, so mind your business, please.

They would often look to the sky. The sky, color of fresh mango juice. The rings that surrounded the planet always bisecting the vast expanse, creating some truly interesting sunsets that Dave was always LOOKING THE OTHER WAY FOR, COME ON-

Oh, they had their moments. But neither of them would ever be the same. They walked slower, lived slower, sat quieter. They had both existed since three million years in the past, and something deep in their cellular DNA seemed to know it. Imagine if you were three million years old and got launched into a new planet that seemed to only have plants on it, and see how you fare, eh? You’d have to become a vegetarian.

And when they succumbed to the cold orange earth, and their house fell into disrepair, and every broken and rusted piece of the Red Dwarf had succumbed to the sands of time...the microbes that had set up shop in Lister’s dead bones had evolved to the point of arguing with each other over whether there was a God or not.

Wish I could tell you, dear reader, that their conception of religion was based on dear old Arnie and Davey, but it wasn’t. They lived on this planet, and died on this planet, without anything of sentience to even know their names. Both of them were well and truly forgotten, and there’s no coming back from that.

But hey. They had still mattered.

#red dwarf #rimmster #yknow ive only watched like four episodes of this show #but multiple of my loved ones have beamed knowledge about this show into my brain #and i hear you all like psychological damage...#the first line is from the title of that ace attorney red dwarf fic #i drew this at 1 in the morning and wrote it at 2 in the morning #i was unwell that night

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theblogofdavyjones · 1 year

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Treacherous seas

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Requested: @loner56

Request: Hi, can I have a scene. The reader received a serious wound and she fell unconscious. Davy Jones is very worried and he has no idea how he will live without her . Thanks in advance ;)

***

The last thing Davy Jones ever wanted to see in the world was to see you hurt.

Unbeknownst to the crew, you included, was that of not knowing or becoming aware of the fact that Davy had a soft spot for you, you were the only mate he truly cared for and had no plans in losing you.

However, those plans could very well change one stormy evening planted a what seemed like life threatening wounds. You’ve been hurt before, but not at all like this, Davy was watching over the crew to make sure that they were doing their tasks in hand when it happened, it was blindsiding. You being the only human onboard caused you to take extra safety precautions seriously in case anything like this ever come to pass. You had your life jacket on, the life jacket fastened along with the tether that was supposed to keep you from falling or slipping away. As you were working to keep the water levels drowning the Dutchman at bay, another giant wave crashed and smacked hard against the ship, the impact had enough force to send you flying across the wet floorboards.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t process the fact that your tether that was supposed to keep you from falling severed on impact and to make matters worse, you got an injury that would soon be discovered to be very serious. But thanks to the adrenaline rush, you didn’t feel it right away, nor did you know where on your body it was located. Thinking everything was fine, you got ready to stand back up and back to work only to crash down again. That was the moment not just you, but Davy Jones had realized something was wrong after all. You sit yourself up and begin to feel around your right leg, and it’s on the upper thigh of your right leg the wound has been left upon. Everything happened so fast that you almost didn’t have time to understand fully it was the ocean’s waters that caused your fall, it was your sheer panic that caused you to lose balance and become vulnerable enough to lose your somewhat steady balance maintained.

While you just beginning to put pieces together in mind, Bootstrap Bill was the first to rush over to aid you before Davy Jones himself. You were losing a lot of blood, quite quickly and if nothing were to be done about it, you could very easily slip away and even die. That was the one thought Davy couldn’t stand on thinking, he reached you right about the same time Bootstrap Bill was applying pressure to the serious wound. It wasn’t until you and Davy locked eyes a brief moment before yours rolled to the back of your head, you falling unconscious.

You were out for two days now, thanks to Bootstrap Bill’s fast thinking to aid you, you were going to make a full recovery. Davy had finally admitted his conflicted feelings for you, seeing you unconscious but not dead made him realized that he had to see what he had and what he had almost lost. Which was you, of course. While the rest of the crew would be working on task, Davy Jones never left your side, he waited there for you to wake up. When you finally had come to and woken up, you opened your eyes to see the captain himself sitting in a barnacle infested chair. You felt better, enough to make it seem like nothing had ever happened. It all came back to you when the light waves gently rocked the ship and it made you a little timid.

You refuse to go through anything like that ever again, that was your own personal hell. With Davy Jones still asleep beside you, you quietly reached over and gently placed your hand over Davy’s claw hand. Your touches were as light as a feather, softer than a cloud some might say. What you were willing to hold onto now for a strange source of comfort most would never even think of doing. Suddenly, it hit you that nothing else mattered now, all that mattered to you was who was by your side. While others may call you mad for this next thought, you couldn’t help the way you feel. What you don’t know, and probably will ever know is the thoughts that had Davy’s mind racing, thoughts on how he wasn’t sure if he could live on if you happened to die as a result of your wound. If it wasn’t that very thought, Davy’s mind would be jam packed with nothing but worry of your well-being, questioning himself if you were truly going to make a full recovery like Bootstrap Bill had promised.

Despite your wound still in the process of healing, you never felt any better then you do now. You felt great and sat by Davy’s side, still gently holding onto his claw hand. However, you grew tired and eventually fall back asleep, still holding onto his claw hand. So when he woke to your hand on his, he knew you were going to be okay after all. You’ve been awake, and now it was his turn to stay awake for when you wake once again. It was a relief for you both, everything was going to be okay. Davy Jones had planned on keeping you around for a long time if not for eternity.

Over the course of the next following days, you’ve never been better, you felt stronger with every breath you take. Having to survive a near life threatening wound was something you wouldn’t wish upon your enemy. You would often describe it as your own personal hell, remembering every feel it gave you before properly healing. You were just beginning a fresh chapter in your life, it was indescribable because of how wonderful a fresh start felt like. Nightmares come and go, but you never let them get in your way, you don’t take crap from things or just anyone.

During this time, Davy Jones eyed you like a hawk and you pretend to not take notice in it, but you both knew better. Ever since, you begin to piece together the fact Davy Jones felt different towards you in a good way. You never asked questions but whenever you walk by each other, you give him a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment, respect. Davy would return the nod before you both go separate ways. Though he felt different towards you, he acted as a front to keep his reputation the way it was in front of the whole crew.

You both cared for one another, but only showed when you have only each other for company. In the end, Davy Jones takes things in a different turn, giving you his heart while making promises.

“My heart will always belong to you.”

You couldn’t stop smiling as you give him your heart in return.

***

@theblogofdavyjones

Requests: open

Tags: @always-on-hiatus @marsswann @imalittleoutthere @personlovinganime @mypookiebeardavyjones @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @royisrandom @loner56

#davy jones #davy jones fanfic #davy jones headcanons #davy jones reblogs #davy jones imagine #davy jones x reader #request #reblogger #reblogging #reblogs

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princess-kk9 · 10 months

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Just some filler from the book I started writing🤷‍♀️

____________________

Life.

In the English dictionary, life can be defined as the existence of an individual, human being or animal.

In philosophy, life is the aspect of existence that processes, acts, reacts, evaluates, and evolves through growth.

It is the state of which an organism is still performing the acts that prevents passing.

Life is something that everyone on this earth experiences from the day conceived from within the womb.

Birth is the first breath, sound, step into life. Life is eternal.

—————————

Death.

The destruction or permanent end of something.

Or in philosophy, death is typically regarded as a great evil, especially if it strikes someone too soon.

It is the state of which an organism stops doing acts needed to survive completely.

Death is an inescapable goodbye.

Life may be eternal,

But death is even more so.

—————————

Life and death.

Two contrasting concepts used to signify the beginning and end of existence as we know it.

The start and finish of any scene. The white and black of any rainbow. Good, and bad, of every outcome.

Many think that they are complete opposites. That they have nothing in common. But what if I told you they have many similarities?

It sounds odd, doesn't it? But believe me when I say that life and death aren't entirely different.

One thing they have in common is that both are questions unanswered.

Many people ask what is life? What is the meaning of life? Or the most popular being: Who made life? What made life? Where did it come from?

Opinions worldwide differ from 'we evolved from apes' to 'the universe was created by the big bang'

Another theory would be we were made by gods. Supreme deity that had existed before existence itself. And different cultures have different gods.

I don't know the answer to that, nor do I choose to have an opinion.

On the opposing side, people ask, 'where do you go when you die?'

Some believe when you die, you go to heaven if you were good in your life, and hell if you were bad.

Others believe you will be reincarnated into another body without your memories.

Another lot says you will just be gone. No way to be aware of whom, where or what you are.

Again, I don't know which is right or wrong. All I do know is that people fear both concepts.

You see, we humans are incredibly cowardly creatures. We fear what we do not understand. Thus, we created theories to pretend to be brave and answer what we do not know

People debate which is scarier between the two. Most say death, I don't blame them, though. Only those who have experienced it can truly comprehend what it is.

A smaller amount, says life. I don't blame them, either. The longer we exist on this earth, the more we try to build our society to fit the different ideals of our vast majority.

Different motives and comments flowing and crashing in on each other like an ocean filled to the brim of waste and useless material.

Making it difficult for those with less like them to prosper. No, I don't blame them at all.

But at the same time, I don't agree with either of these options.

No, I think the both of them are incredibly terrifying.

That little space where one hangs in the balance between the both of them, and it only takes one action to tip the scale in favor of one.

That space where you're so close to death, but not quite there yet. So close that you can see your entire life flash before your eyes and then abruptly stop when you reach where you are at the time. Like a cliffhanger to a suspenseful blockbuster.

I tell you this, so you know this is my position right now.

The moment those words spilled from the vice principals mouth. I knew that my death was set in stone.

Because I knew that the moment they saw me, I was involved. My ghost was soon to walk the living realm.

And no, I don't believe in ghosts. In fact, their existence is an entirely different story, meant to be told by an entirely different person.

If I were to use them in this context, though. I would say, 'the ghosts of my past have come back to haunt me.'

An expression that means the actions you performed in the past left unfinished are still in effect.

What I mean by that is I wish I didn't go back for my notebook last night. Because now it's my problem.

There is nothing more terrifying than being alive knowing that you're going to die.

_______________________

If you have any advice or feedback than that would be appreciated 😁🙃

#writing #philosophy #philosophical quotes #philosophical questions #poetry #life quotes #death quotes #life and death #original story #literature

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sajirah · 2 months

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The Prison Chapter Six

Blood Sacrifice

-o0o-

One again, you can read this here or on AO3. Enjoy.

-o0o-

There was something wrong.

He knew there something wrong. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, lingering just out of reach.

He was so tired though. The sun was still up. Surely it could wait until nightfall…

-o0o-

She heard him long before she saw him.

It was hard not to what with him crashing through the underbrush for the last half hour.

So Feyre sat huddled underneath the skeleton of her long dead monster companion, clutching her knife in a death grip and hoping against hope he wouldn’t notice her.

This worked well right up until it didn’t.

“I can see you in there.”

She tensed up immediately.

“You might as well come out,” the man continued. “I promise not to hurt you.”

Shockingly, Feyre found that quite hard to believe all things considered.

“I think not,” she replied cooly. “You’re more than welcome to be on your way. Otherwise I won’t hesitate to stab you.”

She glared fiercely as the man crouched down into view, just out of reach. He wasn’t really anything to write home about. Middle aged, with the kind of graying hair and nondescript features that probably led to him floating through life mostly unnoticed. He wore the same blue shirt and canvas trousers all the prisoners were given before being shipped off and dumped here, though his were clearly newer and in better shape than hers (how long had she been here now? A week? A month?).

A new prisoner then.

“I’m warning you-”

“I won’t come closer. See?” He held his hands up in a non-threatening manner, as if that truly meant anything to her in a place like this. Feyre wasn’t stupid. She was very likely the only woman on this island. She was both prize and prey to any man stupid and bold enough to venture this far inland.

“I see you’re new here,” she said eyes flicking over his far less bedraggled uniform. “Word of advice. Don’t harass a lady when she tells you she’s not interested.”

“Now what makes you think I’m new here? Perhaps I’ve always been here and we never crossed paths?”

Feyre snorted. “You must think I’m very dumb.”

“Alright, so I’m new,” he agreed smoothly. “Even more reason for us to be friends.”

“I don’t want any friends.”

“Allies then.”

“I don’t want those either.”

“Surely you need some help, pretty thing like you,” the man argued, though Feyre had a hard time believing she looked particularly ‘pretty’ under the layers of grime she’d accumulated in her time here. If anything she likely looked more animal than human these days. “After all, I know you’re the only female prisoner to have been sent to this island for the last 30 years. And the last one was an old woman who I doubt is still alive by now.”

She startled. “…How would you know that?”

“The same way I know there’s something on this island I’d very much like to avoid.” The man smiled blandly. “Ah yes, I see you know what I’m talking about. Good. Then we can help each other.”

“What makes you think I want to help you?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why we dump criminals on this island?”

“No.” Yes.

“You don’t think it’s strange to ship criminals off to a remote island and dump them there when we have a perfectly good prison system on the mainland?”

She had wondered that, but she also wasn’t about to let him know that so she just glared at the man and tightened the grip on her knife until her knuckles ached.

“You see,” he began, groaning as he shuffled out of his crouch to sit properly on the ground. “Oh yes, that’s better. You see, this island always was strange. People always lived here but it was mostly used as a waypoint for ships crossing the ocean. A refueling station if you will.”

Feyre didn’t bother to point out that she knew all this already, just letting him run his mouth as she eyed the horizon line and the sun slowly sinking towards it.

“But those port towns never lasted long. For a while everyone thought it was just the ravings of a bunch of superstitious locals. But then captains brought back stories of the strange behavior and disappearances of their crew who went ashore. Eventually it became such a hazard that ships stopped docking here, and with them went the local economy. The locals were forced to move inland and the few that stayed…well. No one is quite sure what happened to them. It was quite clear that there was something malicious on this island but no one was ever sure of what. Some locals claimed it was an angry ghost. Others were sure it was a monster prowling the woods…”

The man eyed Feyre’s skeleton home pointedly.

“Whatever it was, the government was quite aware of it. And then, oh just over 100 years ago, a new idea was floated amongst the elite. Why let the island go to waste? There were so many terrible people they would rather be rid of you see. And if there really were something hungry there, why not throw it a bone every now and then? A blood sacrifice, if you will.”

She felt a chill roll down her spine.

A blood sacrifice.

That’s what they were to the government. Meat. Something to keep Rhys fed and occupied.

“How do you even know all this?”

“Because I was one of the ones who put you people here.”

Feyre blanched. “What?! But then…why are you here?”

The man smiled self deprecatingly.

“Isn’t it obvious? I pissed off the wrong people.”

A politician then. A politician who knew too much and who was now being fed into the very meat grinder he had helped perpetuate. Well, she thought wryly, say what you will about them. They clearly have a sense of humor. A sick sense of humor, but a sense of humor nonetheless.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Simple. I want to know what you know. And I want to know how a sweet little thing like you has not only avoided capture but has seemingly survived out here alone. Unmolested by whatever keeps accepting our generous gifts.”

He didn’t know.

For all his regaling of the history of this island and the funneling of criminals onto it to feed some terrifying monster…he didn’t know what the monster was. He didn’t know about Rhys.

He didn’t know.

Feyre glanced back over his shoulder at the darkening sky.

And that was when he made his move.

Before she had any idea what was happening, the man lunged forward, grabbed her wrist and twisting. She cried out but still held onto her knife like her life depended on it.

Because it likely did.

He wasn’t a large man by any stretch of the imagination. But he was bigger than her and that was really all that he would need to overpower her. She gritted her teeth and snarled like an animal as she desperately tried to push him off with one hand while attempting to twist the other free.

“You know!” The man grunted. “You know something! Tell me!”

Feyre didn’t bother replying as she wriggled like an eel underneath him, trying to buck him off of her even though he had her hips pinned.

As the two struggled for control of the knife, the last rays of sunlight sank beneath the horizon.

And then everything went still.

Feyre felt a familiar sense of calm wash over her. Over her, the man who had just been trying to kill her had suddenly frozen in place. He blinked at her. Once. Twice. She couldn’t say when it was she knew it wasn’t him behind those eyes anymore, but she knew nonetheless.

Rhys grimaced at her with stolen lips.

“Are you alright?” He said with the man’s voice, though didn’t bother to wait for her reply before rifling through her head like he belonged there. When he seemed satisfied with what he found, she felt herself regain power over her own body again. She gasped. Her limbs shook with unused adrenaline. Rhys looked concerned until he saw Feyre’s face.

She was furious.

“What the fuck!” She yelled, shoving him off of her. He went easily, rolling back and letting her scramble out of his grasp to glare at him properly.

“That’s not a thank you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Well you got it regardless. Do you truly think I would’ve let him attack you? Hurt you?” The man’s features twisted with rage as he gritted, “Rape you?”

Feyre paled.

It was clear Rhys was not speaking in hypotheticals. He’d read this man’s mind after taking possession of his body. He’d seen exactly what he’d had planned for her. She’d known he likely planned to kill her when he’d gone for the knife, but for some reason rape hadn’t occurred to her. It should have. Lord knew every other man on this fucking island wanted a piece of her. But somehow he’d made her believe he was either too worried about saving his own skin or too distracted by his talk about blood sacrifices to have any interest in rape.

Well…she certainly wouldn’t be making that same mistake twice.

“No, you won’t, because you will not leave my side again.” Rhys chimed in, answering the thoughts in her head in that irritating way of his.

“What side?” She sniped. “You don’t have a side! I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but you’re fucking dead!”

“Oh, but I do.”

“What are you talking-” And then it hit her. “Oh…oh no.”

“Oh yes. We have all night for me to use this body. I might as well make good use of it.” He grabbed a hold of her arm and hauled her forward like she weighed as much as a loaf of bread. “Come along Feyre Darling.”

And then he hauled her in the direction of the shore.

#the prison #my fanfic #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #feysand

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savvythepirate · 2 years

Text

The way back home

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x reader Hector Barbossa x reader (platonic)

Warnings: None

Requested by: @hahajkjkmfs

The Request:

Soo I got this lil idea. If youre up to writing something Id like to request headcanons or however you wanna write it of how Barbossa, Jack etc would react to the future with the reader showing them around and explaining stuff because everything would be pretty modern to them. Since theyre basically living waaay in the past it would be pretty interesting if they suddenly were in the year 2022 XD. Thanks!

***

Jack Sparrow believed he was thrown back into Davy Jones locker, but when he saw that he wasn’t alone, it was at that point the realization hit, Jack Sparrow had no idea where they were or how they get back.

Jack Sparrow landed himself and Barbossa into a whole other world, a world they did not recognize in the slightest. As Jack and Barbossa stood up, they took a look at their surroundings to be exactly sure that’s something instantly confirmed, and when the surroundings proved it to be true, the confusion and conclusion settled in knowing they were both lost and had no idea how to get back. The Black Pearl wasn’t in sight, it set panic in them a little before they go search for the well known ship of the seas.

Just as they were about to say something about this strange occurrence, that’s when you step in after spotting the two men dressed in what you thought at the time were pirate costumes. Little did you know, they were actual pirates, they weren’t belonging as actors to some crazy play. What happened was as the Pearl was roaming the seas, it got hit by an unexpected tropical storm and at seventeen foot ocean waves until she could no longer take it, sinking before crashing down on the bottom of the ocean floor, as some might say. That was the last thing remembered before waking up on the shoreline of Hunnington Beach, California in modern day. When you first saw them, the two pair seemed to be lost and decided to go over and kindly offer them some help.

“Do you gentlemen need help?” You say.

Getting closer, Jack and Barbossa couldn’t help the resistance of allowing their eyes to examine your strange sense of fashion, modern day dress up.

Before either of them respond, they couldn’t pull away to make eye contact with you, having you to speak up once more.

“Are you lost? You seem like you are.”

“Sorry miss, it’s just that we had just been washed up on shore and we haven’t a clue where we are.” Barbossa explains.

“This might sound crazy but can you tell us of our location, exactly where we are?” Jack adds on.

“Of course! Right now, you’re in Hunnington Beach, California.”

“How about the year?”

“Are you serious? You really don’t know the year? How is that possible?”

“It is possible, we come from a whole different world.”

“Well, if this all true, you’re in the year 2022.” You respond, leaving you with a questionable look.

Both men’s eyes widen of the information, hardly daring to believe it.

If this was truly they are, that could mean only one thing, which is that they’ve come from a long ways from home and it would take a lot of trouble of figuring out how to get back. Everyone was going to have no choice but to work together, Jack and Barbossa have times they can tolerate each other, but not enough to stay even friends. Unbeknownst to them, the non existent friendship is the only thing that will work, the only way to get back home. Feeling the same emotions about having to take all of this in, was a mix of emotions. But as they realize you’re appearance, you looked like a girl that can help them out, help them find the way back home.

After standing there in silence once more, you pipe up. As if you can read their minds, it the next thing you say, comes as a surprise to them, offering to show them around the area mad the modern day life they have no knowledge about. They put their heads together before they accept your offer, and you sought out your promise to them, showing them how the world you live in works and all sorts of things. During the tour, they now understood better then before of everything you show to the two men, the way how you live and all that.

Modern day to them, seemed to be the kind of life anyone would give anything to live.

Just for not themselves.

***

@savvythepirate

Requests: OPEN

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence

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baejax-the-great · 1 year

Note

"Aphrodite Hell" for the WIP game plz! Does it belong to "Sunset in Your Veins"?

It does not! Actually I think I started writing it before Sunset and to an extent stole the idea for Sunset from myself.

This is a ThanZag fic, and I wanted it to be more like a fairytale where Thanatos wishes for something that ends up basically being a curse, and Zagreus has to break that curse. Work has been going very, very slowly on it, but i do add a little bit to it each week 😅

Years ago, Thanatos had tried to bring back objects from the surface to show Zagreus. He very quickly learned that food rotted in his hand, flowers wilted, and it was a wretchedly unlucky rabbit who came along for Thanatos’s one and only attempt to transport a living being with him. Very few people made offerings to Thanatos, so there was little to bring back that would not be stolen from the mortals, and Thanatos had no interest in engaging in theft.

Thus, the only thing to bring back to the curious prince of the Underworld were experiences.

The moon is full in the sky, its light smeared across the lazy waves of the sea as Thanatos stands up to his ankles in the water, his toes digging into the sand. He closes his eyes to think more about the sensation, but the only descriptors he can come up with are “wet” and “cold.”

“Have you ever been in the ocean?” Zagreus had asked.

“Hermes generally picks up the souls of the drowned.”

“And you would fly above it anyway even if you did.” Zag had sighed, but he hadn’t seemed all that disappointed. “Achilles told me the one thing he misses from the surface is standing in the salt water and letting the waves wash over his feet, so I was wondering if you ever did that while you were up there.”

“You could go stand in the Styx if you want.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.”

The Styx would be warmer than this, the worn, stone steps smoother and more comfortable under his feet. But it would also be more crowded than this. It is difficult to find anywhere to be alone in the Underworld, populated as it is, and if Thanatos were to stand ankle-deep in the Styx concentrating on how to describe it to Zagreus, he would have many observers wondering what he was doing, and only one or two brave enough to actually ask.

He is not truly alone here, either. His mother covers the entirety of the sky in her deep purple darkness, but that is a welcome presence. And after weeks spent on the surface doing little more than traveling from dying mortal to dying mortal, Thanatos drinks in this moment of peace, the sound of the waves crashing in the distance, the clicks of crabs skittering along the shore, the wind fluffing up his hair after having already knocked his hood off to hang limply across his shoulders.

He will have to tell Zagreus about it, once he comes up with more to say than, “It was wet.” The only reason he has tarried here after such a long assignment was to have something, anything interesting to tell him. Thanatos does not dislike his job, but there is only so much to say about the reaping of souls. People die, he shepherds their shades to the Styx, sometimes he sees Hermes, often he sees Charon, and then he goes to collect more.

Tonight, he has visited the sea and stood with his ankles in the water under the moonlight, and watched a crab face off against another crab, and he will tell Zagreus about it.

Zagreus is gone.

#thanzazg #actually I had a good idea for this fic last night I should probably write it down

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second. It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful.

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase.

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.

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lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years

Text

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

#poseidon x reader #thor x reader #snv x reader #snv poseidon #snv thor #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv poseidon x reader #snv thor x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok thor x reader #poseidon x reader x thor #snv poseidon x reader x snv thor

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potter-imagines · 3 years

Text

A Worm? - Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Prompt: It’s three in the morning and Fred can’t sleep. Luckily for him, his girlfriend has to most random questions on her mind.

Notes: I've seen this on tiktok as trend to text your boyfriend so I made it into a write, hope you enjoy (:

Warnings: None (: (making out if that counts ???)

Word Count: 3.9k

You know that feeling of finally retreating to your room and crashing down on your bed after a strenuous day? Getting to snuggle into the warmth of the soft mattress and engulf your body in massive heaps of blankets, it was one of the greatest feelings in the world to Fred Weasley. Although what made it absolute perfection was the nights when his girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, would join him. Sleepovers were no rarity for the couple- nor for their roommates who had begrudgingly accepted the constant giggling and whispering throughout the night. Weekend sleepovers were his favorite as it meant neither of them were scrambling to get out of bed for class in the morning and he could lay with her for as long as they wanted.

Tonight was no different. Nearly every living soul occupying the lands of Hogwarts was fast asleep, lulled into a galaxy of dreams. Fred wondered if he was the only one awake at such an hour. The darkness from the nighttime sky poured into the room through the glass windows. The light casted shadows around the room making it difficult to make out the different shapes. Fred could barely make out the sleeping frame of his twin brother, George, who was tucked in his bed feet away. Similar was Lee, however his thunderous snores echoed off the walls giving confirmation that was in a deep sleep.

On Fred’s half of the room the silence was deafening. Lee’s snores had become second nature for Fred to block out and in all honesty, didn’t bother him much. Growing up in a home with eight other people, he had that keen ability to muffle out the noise around him. He had to in order to keep a piece of his sanity intact. No one in their sane mind could sit and listen to Ron and Ginny bicker for longer than five minutes before wanting to rip their hair out of their skull. In the same way, noise was comforting to Fred. Yeah, he ignored it for the most part, but it was a familiar feeling to be surrounded by loudness. It was discomforting in a way how still the world felt. Few and far between were the moments when Fred had time to himself. Now that he did, he didn’t want it.

Stealing a glance down to his chest Fred smiled at the sight. Y/n’s head was pressed against his sweatshirt covered chest and her hand was clenched around the material. Her body was cuddled close to him with a blanket draped over them. Fred watched as her stomach lightly rose and fell with every breath. He had lost track of time, not entirely sure how long he had been holding her. Seconds meshed into minutes which grew to hours. He was sure he’d been staring at the ceiling for almost three hours. His attention flipped back and forth, like the pages of a magazine. From the angle he laid, Fred wasn’t able to see if Y/n was awake like him or passed out like his roommates. In a cruel way he wanted to wake her on purpose just for the selfish purpose to hear her voice. He resisted the urge to ‘accidentally’ break her slumber.

Fred’s hand traced patterns on her back absentmindedly as his thoughts drifted like a sailboat floating along the ocean waves. The Quidditch match had taken a large toll on his muscles and all he wanted was to rest. Playing Slytherin was a sure guarantee someone would walk away with an injury- or be carried away. Although Fred knew he wasn’t injured, his arms ached with every slight move from the force he had exhilarated during the match. As much as he desired to switch positions and lay on his side, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the girl resting in his arms. From her steady breathing he figured she had fallen asleep, that was until her head suddenly popped up from his chest causing the warmth of her head to flee his body. Her quick movement took Fred by surprise as his hand halted and his eyes fixed on the girl. The feeling of sleepiness was fading as her large doe eyes glanced back up at him. Oddly enough, she appeared to be wide awake.

Arching a brow at her Fred looked utterly confused. If her alertness hadn’t startled him enough, her next actions would leave him mind boggled. Y/n perched herself up to a sitting position and wiggled over to place her legs over either side of Fred’s body so she sat in his lap as he laid. A childlike smile graced her lips at the small gasp of surprise from Fred. Tiredness vanished in her eyes as she tilted her head.

“Hey, Freddie?”

“Yes, angel?” He asked cautiously.

His hands reset to her waist to keep her steady as she sat. The stained glass window to the side of his bed allowed a glimpse of moonlight to create a beautiful gradient across her face. The moonlight, a glowing yellowy white, projected an ethereal glow around her. He swore he could see millions of tiny stars sprinkled along her skin, gleaming pin pricks of sparkles gleaming in her e/c eyes.

Y/n leaned forward to wrap her arms around Fred’s neck causing him to mimic her and sit up so his back was pressed to the bed frame. He grabbed the heavy cotton blanket from behind her and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled bashfully in gratitude. Peeking up to Fred, whose face was only a handful of inches from hers, she whispered,

“If I were a worm, would you still love me?”

Fred’s features scrunched in an instant at her question as he pulled back slightly. Half expecting for her to start giggling and the other half completely flabbergasted, Fred gaped at her in confusion. Yet Y/n’s face remained stoic in seriousness as she awaited his reply. He gave her a funny look, as if she’d grown an extra eye. Repeatedly his mouth fell open, then closed again as he failed to formulate a proper thought.

“I’m sorry- if you were a what?”

“A worm.” She repeated once again.

Fred forced himself to bite his tongue to hold his laughter in. As much as he wanted to chuckle at her randomness, she seemed so invested in his answer he didn’t know what to do. Fred averted his gaze to the window in search of an answer. His brain was stuck frozen, like the tracks in his mind were broken. Turning his attention once more to Y/n, Fred squinted his chocolate brown eyes as if examining her peculiarly.

“And why would you be a worm?”

Clearly annoyed by his constant string of questions Y/n let out a breathy huff as she rolled her eyes. Her hands waved up briefly, shooing his inquiry away without second thought. Shaking her head she pressed further. “Because I just am, now answer the question.”

Stillness entered the room while Fred pondered to himself. This time he didn’t hold back the teasing grin that spilled on his face.

“Well, am I worm too?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows to her suggestively. Y/n shoved his shoulder back playfully as she giggled softly. Fred always knew how to make her smile, even if the situation didn’t call for it. Even if it was three in the morning and the two of them should be flying through a dreamland of sleep.

Fred’s back leaned into the wood of the frame as he allowed his head to touch against it. Locks of ginger hair brushed against his face. Instinctively Y/n moved her hand out to skim them away from his eyes so she could see them. Fred fought a mental war against the shiver that threatened to escape his body from her gentle stroke. Shaking her head, Y/n shot down his interrogation. “No, you’re just a regular person.”

“So I would be a Muggle in love with a worm?” Fred chuckled at the bizarreness to her rules for her imaginary prompt. Although he hadn't a clue where this was heading, it was entertaining and he had every intention of paying into it, including teasing the girl a tad. There was something so adorable about the flashes of anger and frustration that snapped across her face at his procrastination to answer. Fred found it irresistible. The way her cute face knotted into uncomfortable glares and frowns while he continued to toy with her. He loved it.

Y/n sighed to herself, certainly growing exhausted then reiterated,

“No, no, you’re still you, I’m just a worm.”

“A magic worm?” His eyes widened in feign excitement while her’s narrowed. As much as she loved the childlike nature that was weaved into her boyfriend’s soul, it made it impossible at times to have a serious conversation- not that she truly considered this to be a serious conversation.

A deadpan mien was planted on her face. She turned for a moment to make sure George and Lee were still passed out. Then, she moved her head back to Fred before raising her voice a notch to ensure the message was received loud and clear.

“A worm, Fred.”

His fingers fiddled with the loose strings on her shorts as he pretended to debate his answer. Lips pursed into a thin line, Fred brought his pointer finger up to his chin and hummed.

“I mean… sure?”

Y/n’s grip around his neck loosened immediately at his answer. Her mouth skimmed the ground as genuine displeasure entered her veins. She pulled her arms back to cross them tightly against her chest. Fred’s hands found their previous position on her waist in order to keep her from falling off. She pouted over to Fred with her bottom lip poking out. She tried her absolute best to put everything she had into the over dramatic sad puppy look she had mastered. Fred only cooed at her and pinched the skin of her cheeks between his fingers lightly. Y/n grabbed his hand, pulling it away from her face with a scowl. Despite her glowering appearance, Fred felt a smug grin sneaking up.

“That isn't reassuring at all.” She said with a pointed tone.

Fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, Fred groaned dramatically as he ran his calloused hand against his skin. Peering up to Y/n he brought his hand up to occupy the warm skin on the back of her neck. He drew his hand closer, pulling her towards him, causing their foreheads connected in a tender touch. The bottom hem of his old tee that she now used as a nighttime shirt tickled his arm as she happily leaned in. With their faces barely an inch apart, Fred lifted his hips to place a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips.

“But angel, you’re not a worm.”

“Just pretend!” She grumbled. Although Fred smirked right at her and, in a very snarky manner, said ‘no’. Y/n clenched her jaw in annoyance at his stubbornness and just as she went to tell him again to play along, a light bulb of an idea sparked in her head.

Stealing a glance over either shoulder, Y/n checked to assure both George and Lee were still snoozing. George was practically laying off his bed in a sideways fashion while Lee was spreading starfish across the whole mattress. She swore she could see the drool dripping from his chin from across the room. Her focus swerved to Fred as she felt him adjust under her. Providing him with absolutely no leeway to her plan at all, Y/n locked her arms around Fred’s chest and shoved him down so he was forced to lay on the bed. His breath hitched as his head smacked into the fluffy pillow. The darkness obscured his view leaving him lost at the turn of events until he felt the pressure of her knees pinning his arms to his side. Just like a war attack, she ambushed him. Y/n danced her fingers at lightning speed across his chest and under his arms. Fred broke out into a booming fit of laughter at the abrupt tickle war imposed on him as he desperately fought to get her body off of his. His feet kicked wildly as he tried to free himself but she had too strong of a hold. Fred tried to hold his laughter back but it was all too much for his bdy to handle and the uncontrollable giggles wouldn’t stop.

Y/n laughed at him as she continued to tickle every inch of his upper body that he wasn’t successfully covering. His frantic squirms made it difficult for her to torture him to the best of her ability, however she put up a considerable fight until Fred managed to slip his hand out from between his waist and her knee. Once he did, Fred clamped his hand to her side and flipped the pair around so he was the one sitting on top of her. Both of their chests heaved rapidly as they attempted to catch their breath, both grinning like fools. Fred moved his body to sit in front of her as Y/n took over his previous spot. His hand still remained clenched around her side to keep her from attacking once more. Struggling to regain his composure, Fred gave the girl a teasing glare.

“Fine! Yes, I would still love you very much, even if you were a slimy little worm.”

A satisfied gleam adorned her face as she gave a small cheer. Her arms extended as a welcoming for him to enter. He bent towards her to allow her arms to be thrown around his shoulders. The hug encapsulated his body in a blanket of comfort and love from the feeling of her skin. Fred pressed his lips to her neck and just as he did, her voice broke the air.

“And you’d still give me kisses and cuddles?”

His loud sigh was audible to everyone in the room as his head fell to her chest.

“How in the bloody hell am I supposed to cuddle a freaking worm-” Before he could finish his sentence, Fred saw the look of sadness clouding over his lover’s features and stopped himself. That famous, moody pout had crept its way up and Fred fell victim like always. He reached his hand out to pick hers up from her lap and laced their fingers. Lifting her hand, his lips kissed each of her knuckles then set her hand down on his leg.

“You’re unbelievable… but yes, I would still give you kisses and cuddles. Just not in front of people-” Y/n snatched her hand away from his and threw it across her chest with an animated scoff.

“So you’d be ashamed of me?”

“I hate you so much right now, why the hell are you even asking me?”

The jokingness of the situation breezed out from the room as Y/n tensed. Fred watched her eyes flicker from over his shoulder, then up to his eyes. It was impossible to read the rambunctious ideas bouncing off the walls of her mind and Fred knew better than to speculate but rather give her the time to process. He always said that her mind ran faster than the Hogwarts Express. There was a small smile on her lips, though one he couldn’t read. The spark of glee still flashed through her yet at the same time she seemed uncertain. Her hand pushed loose strands of her hair away from her view, a nervous habit of her’s Fred had picked up on early in the relationship.

Swallowing her nerves, Y/n let her body sink into the plushness of Fred’s bed as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Just wanna make sure you’d love me no matter what.” She mumbled hushly.

Fred furrowed his eyebrows as he studied her in bewilderment. As silly as the conversation was, he could feel a tang of guilt budding in his gut from teasing her. The two had discussed some of the most random, weird topics out there and it was usually just that, a random discussion. Fred was a bit stunned there was a bubble floating around in her thoughts that there might be a time where he stops loving her, because for Fred, the idea of not loving her was simply implausible. Besides, he had fancied her since they met their first year and there was no chance Fred was willing to lose her.

“Okay, well,” Fred crawled to sit next to Y/n’s side as he went on, “I’ll entertain the thought. If you were a worm I would still love you more than any other living creature on this planet. I’d also protect you from all the birds who want to eat you for dinner.” Fred finished by placing a gentle peck to her nose. There was no sense in hiding the contagious grin

“So sweet, Freddie.” The scent of peppermint from her chapstick wafted to Fred’s nose drawing him closer in. Y/n snaked her hand to his cheek and dragged his face towards hers. Right before their lips connected, she paused for a moment. Her e/c orbs flickered to his plump lips, then in one swift motion, she closed the gap with a pucker of her lips and a collision with his. Fred had expected the kiss but was taken aback by the fire she brought to it. The sheer force of her lips caused Fred to sit up and take notice.

Y/n nudged at his side, a silent signal for him to get on top. Fred didn’t need her to ask him twice. He was quick to kick the blankets covering his legs and repositioned himself between hers. Fred leaned forward to spark the flint once again. His hands attached to her face immediately as he pulled her in tightly. This embrace nearly knocked Y/n right off the bed. She parted her lips and felt him washing over like a tsunami of passion, curling her toes, unfurling all her senses as the taste of him impaired her. Her whole body tingled, the pressure of his fram leaning on hers as his arms wrapped around her felt like an array of fireworks during the finale of a grand show. Her lips parted against his and the abrupt swipe of his tongue inside her cheeks sent a rush of shivers through her body. The intensity was overwhelming as she struggled to keep hold of his shoulders.

Y/n came to at the need for air and pulled away from Fred. A sharp breath filled her lungs as her hands pressed against his chest keeping him in place. However, Fred was growing impatient by the second and the need to be as close to her as possible was too strong of an urge for him to ignore.

Fred pulled her in, claiming her mouth again, hungry and intense, until her arms gave in and she was using his body to support herself. She was nearly slipping from the bed from the pure force of his kiss. Fred kept his free hand steady on the back of her neck to ensure she wouldn’t fall but in the moment, she really couldn’t care. Wasn’t like they hadn’t had a makeout session on the floor- come to think of it, George had walked in on them just last week.

Their hands roamed over each other as if it was their first time touching another. His fingertips grazed the side of her neck earning a muffled moan from the girl. She tugged at his red hair, which was a guarantee to keep his adrenaline pumping. A vibration buzzed in her mouth as Fred groaned into her from the lustful pain. His body was ever moving as his hips grinded into her. This was a familiar position yet the passion was what made the kiss so electrifying. His elbows were placed on either side of her head to hold himself up as he moved his lips against hers and continued to work his tongue with hers. Y/n trailed her hand down from his fiery locks to his sharp chin where she pressed his lips as deeply into hers as she could manage.

Softly as possible, Y/n slowly pulled herself away from Fred. His eyes cracked open at the lost of warmth against his skin and he glanced down at her. Both smiled at each other until Fred rolled over and slid under the covers. He fixed the blankets around until he felt satisfied then opened his arms, as if inviting Y/n to enter. She obeyed without question and coozied herself into his arms. He wrapped her in a loving cuddle as he pressed a quick kiss to her temple.

Y/n leaned into his body, resting her head against his arm that was linked under her. There was a comforting silence that replaced the steaming air. The clock on Fred’s night stand shone bright with the time, ‘4:08am’, meaning morning had practically arrived and Fred had yet to catch a wink of sleep.

Just as Fred was preparing himself to welcome his slumber, a notion came. Propping himself up on his elbow, Fred reached out to shake the girl’s shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n?”

Y/n gleaned over to him in curiosity. Twisting her body she set her gaze directly on Fred, as if to show him she was intune and listening.

“Yes?”

“If I were a worm, would you still love me?” Fred asked in a whisper. Y/n leered up at him in a disgusted fashion. It looked as if she had been force fed a full can of lima beans and sardines. Those sleepy eyes were replaced by saucer like eyes of revulsion. Poking her tongue out she pretended to gag as her eyes twisted shut.

“Ew, no, why would I be in love with a worm? You can’t even talk and if I kissed you, I might accidentally kiss your butt, gross!” Y/n covered her mouth to mask her fit of laughter that shook through her chest. Fred’s mouth dropped in shock at her words as she unwrapped herself from his hold to shift to her side. He stared at her in astonishment as she threw her legs over the side of his bed. His hand reached out to yank her back but she was already up on her feet smirking to him.

“Are you kidding me? Get back here!”

“I need to use the bathroom- I’ll be back in a flash, wormie.” She blew him a taunting kiss and a wave, then quietly shut the door as she journeyed down the hall to the restrooms. Fred still heard her unruly laughter from behind the large wooden door. As her footsteps grew shallower, Fred tossed his head into the pillow and rolled his eyes. Just like earlier, silence overtook the room and this time, Fred was overjoyed because it meant he no longer had to hear about worms. That was at least until she got back, then he’d surely be having a discussion.

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poguestvff · 3 years

Text

SERENE — John B. Routledge

in which John B knows that within the storm, there, eventually, comes the calm. He is to the storm as the love of his life is to the calm.

taglist | masterlist | 1.1k words

warning(s) : SEASON TWO SPOILERS !!! but very fluffy <33

John Booker Routledge couldn't help but stare at his girlfriend. She remained only a mere few feet away from him, arms swinging around her as she danced carelessly with Kiara in front of her. Music wasn't playing, nothing but the sound of a cackling fire and the crashing waves: He watched as she'd occasionally look over towards him, the glint of the fire within her eyes and a kind smile etched upon her face, the same face he believed to be sculpted by the gods. The smile that resided on his face everytime they'd make eye contact had been more sincere than any one he'd given ever before.

She was the love of his life, that part he was sure about. He didn’t need all those buzzfeed ‘Am I In Love’ quizzes he took when he was eleven to know that. She'd stuck by his side through more than she needed to, more than he'd ever expected her to. More than he’d ever expected any one to. Through his fathers death, through a treasure hunt for gold that left them empty handed, now sat on an island in the middle of nowhere, and somehow, not even the thought of leaving him had occurred to her. There were so many more reasons he could name as to how absolutely enamored he was with his girlfriend but he knew it would take ages for him to get them all out.

He didn't want to think about what awaits for him when he was inevitably going to have to go back to Outer Banks; And even if he did, he knew he only needed one thing there with him when they docked. "Y/n." He called, the girl looking at him almost abruptly. He ushered her over to him, seeing that he thought Kie and Sarah could dance without his girl. She took a moment, excusing herself from her friends to rush towards the bushy haired boy who had called upon her.

As she stood before him, staring down, all he could look at her with was so much admiration. His hands moved to rest at her hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth on the skin residing just above the drying shorts she wore. A short and airy laugh left her lips, her own hands placing themselves on his cheeks. "You okay?" She asked, her voice small under the conversation of Cleo and Pope near them and JJ yelling as he went to chase after Kie and Sarah, care free.

For a moment, he had to think about the question. Within the past few weeks, he'd been asked it so many times but no one asked more than Y/n, herself. She was always there, in every memory, every thought, every play in their book that they called life, she was there. Not a time he couldn't remember when she wasn't. And for a mere second, all the memories of these past few weeks flooding back into his mind, he couldve answered with no. He could've said no, he wasn't okay because he was previously wanted by the government. He could've said no, he wasn't okay because only a few hours previous, they'd been shot at by Rafe Cameron. He could've said no, he wasn't okay because he'd almost lost his y/n to a bullet wound. Even after everything they'd been through, and one misfire almost ended everything.

But then she pulled lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing him back to earth, back to the now. The hand that hadn't gently tangled itself in his messy curls now was pinching his chin, tilting his eyes upward for eye contact. Y/n stared at him, her eyes darting back and forth between his eyes as if searching for something. Searching for some sort of pathway into his mind, to see what he was thinking. To see why he'd become so dazed within a matter of seconds.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, realizing that whatever happened a month ago, a week ago, an hour ago. It mattered, sure, he knew he couldn’t set it aside and exactly forget it but it didn't matter right now because right now he was okay. His friends were okay. Y/n was okay. And that was all that mattered. So, he finally answered her question. "I'm great, actually." He told her, breaking out in a bright smile as she looked at him, almost confused. "No, baby, i promise. Everything's perfect."

She went to speak, lips parting but words were unable to make their way out. Seeing her stunned figure, John B took the moment to tug her into his lap as she clumsily fell into him. She yelped, turning it into a laugh as she adjusted herself more comfortably. His hands linked themselves behind her back as she rested her arms around his neck. "Everything's perfect, huh?" She asked, crinkling one side of her nose.

He hummed, sounding content as he moved to place his forehead against hers. “Yup.” he said, popping the p as the two stared at one another for a small second. They hadn’t noticed that Cleo and Pope had moved to join the other three until they heard the collective screams that echoed in the empty air that surrounded them. They truly were in their own world, a world John B felt he could live in forever. One, in which, only held love and adoration between the two of them. One that felt like they were isolated from the rest of the world, where in each of their eyes not a single thing matter other than the opposing person.

Y/n went to look over her shoulder towards them but John B gripped her chin lightly, keeping her vision on him. The glossed gaze John B held moments previously had returned though Y/n had learned her lesson this time, allowing him to debrief his own thoughts. “You know I love you, right?” He asked after a few seconds. Her head cocked slightly to the side before releasing a soft laugh.

“I kinda figured.” She joked. “I mean, how many guys do you know that would become a felon and somehow still make time for their girlfriend?”

He pursed his lips, looking towards the sky in fake thought. “Actually, i’m pretty sure Anthony who lives a block away was able to manage with his girlfriend when he got out.” He said, going along with their similar antics as they shared a laugh. “No, no, i’m serious. You know i love you, yes?”

“Yes. And I love you, my lovely boyfriend.” She replied, her voice as calm as the ocean waves behind them. It was comforting, quite possibly the only thing reminding him of what he’d been fighting so hard to return to within the days of being in jail and several other times when he’d seperated from her. She’d only ever set him up for comfort since forever. It hadn’t changed now even as they sat near a fire within a piece of land to which they couldn’t even attempt to place on a map. “So freaking much.” She added in, her voice falling short but still with everlasting emotion of love. She quickly pulled his face towards hers, a short but intimate kiss shared between the two of them.

“Hey, lovebirds!” JJ yelled, causing them to pull apart as they looked towards them. “Stop being sappy and come join us.”

“One second!” Y/n yelled back before putting her attention back to John B, hands falling down his shoulders to rest against his chest. “Can’t even get one moment together without them.”

“Gotta get used to it, my love.” He told her, kissing the edge of her nose. Y/n’s name was called once again by Kie as she rolled her eyes, getting up from John B’s lap, the boy soon following as he stood to his feet. She quickly raised to her toes, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth before taking off after their friends.

As John B watched his girlfriend run off in the direction of his other friends, watching her collide with Sarah in a hug, tossing her head back in a laugh, he knew everything was going to be okay. Even if it wasn’t, even if no one knew of their whereabouts, even if they were nearly stranded in the middle of nowhere, he would be able to ignore it. Be able to pretend everything was okay. He just had to make sure Y/n didn’t disappear on him and he thought he could be content for a while.

#john b x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #obx imagine #obx #jj maybank #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge x reader #john b fluff

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ayamturd · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing color requests, I'd love to see your take with Techno and #005370! Even if you don't, I hope you're doing well :)

prussian storm│technoblade

warnings: self doubt, hurt/comfort, fluff (unedited)

pairing: in-game romantic!techno

a/n: so sorry this has taken so long to get out, i loved the color concept but just didn't have the time to execute it fully

ty for being so kind, i hope you enjoy <3

‘colors’ m.list

“Cold?”

Without turning to face him, you watched as the condensed breath escaped you, the heat leaving your lips vulnerable in the burning cold.

“Of course not.”

The day, bright by the reflected sun cast in the blinding snow, greeted you in an icy chill. No words could express the environment you lived in besides cold, the constant chill an adjustment you have yet to normalize towards.

Though you tried to play off your severe vulnerability to the dangerous temperatures of the Artic, it was difficult to complain regardless considering Technoblade’s effortless acclimation; his biology and hybrid genealogy played greatly into his comfort in his isolated home, something you envied and simultaneously enjoyed.

While you would never experience the same level of mobility or solace, it only added more to how much you relied on your nightly cuddles. By the gods and their mercy, there were moments in your continuous torture where you were granted such luxury in easement, and they were always in given affections by your lover.

Technoblade, both warm from the heat of the Nether and large in promised security, was your saving grace beyond declaration. It was near ironic how you viewed him as the eye within the hurricane when he faired reason to why you entered the storm in the first place.

“Are you sure? You’re shiverin’.”

Pride was a deadly sin, one frowned upon yet easily enticing to give in towards, especially when the price of dignity held reason. You could say yes, accept your weakened state, and be happily received in warmth and care; yet there was something so damning about admitting defeat to mother nature in her cruel weather.

There was the fear that in admitting defeat, you were acknowledging the case that you couldn’t remain strong in the presence of your lover. A warrior who faced no obstacles in daily excursions.

A fighter who shouldn’t stop to fret over the cold.

“I’m fine,” you scowled, voice tight in irritation. Whether that be by his probing or the freezing temperatures remained lost to you. Technoblade raised his hands up in surrender to appease as you continued. “How far are we from the shore anyway?”

With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he watched the horizon from where the sun slowly rose. Eyes narrowed with wisps of hair to boarder, he was radiant in his moment of concentration. Small murmurs could be heard as he calculated your path by the sky, the trade winds and sun’s position aiding the quick journey’s timetable and where the destination laid at hand.

He was in his element, and looked heavenly as the winter wind brushed his features softly.

“Not far,” he concluded. “Just over this last mound should do it.”

Nodding, you moved wordlessly ahead of him, anxious to meet him there.

The previous day, in the late evening over a pleasant stew for dinner, Technoblade had suggested taking you on a short walk in the morning, something to do with winter soon breaking into spring. Had you known in future times and looked beyond your devotion for him, you would have said no because this now was nothing resembling short.

You were miserable as you hiked in the thick snow, fingers numb under the gloves that engulfed your hands and boots stiff from the ache that weighed your feet down.

More often than not, you chose to reside in your shared cabin home, biding minuscule tasks or assisting Phil in his projects. Even then, if you were to leave the house, you were always accompanied by Carl or your own horse.

It was to your surprise when you approached the makeshift stable morning of that you wouldn’t be taking either horses, the destination’s ground too uneven for the strong steeds.

That should have been your first warning.

The walk was treacherous, and although Technoblade was nothing short of considerate throughout the ways of the journey, your patience was as thin as the recent snow fall’s gathering.

With a large huff, you centered your balance in the final push up the stiff hill. The harsh inhale of cool air scorched your lungs, and as you eventually gathered your breath, you only looked up to be speechless once more.

You had seen the ocean before, having crossed the precarious trip originally to live by Technoblade’s side, yet it was something so different now compared to past view.

The waves, large in each fold and height, were dangerously alluring in all beauty and sight. It was, truly, magnificent by each and every curvature that crashed and melded into a newfound wave against the frozen landscape.

Color shifted in hue to the dull water's break, the deep blue endless at far as you could see beyond the horizon. Though the swell fell into a foamed white, the contrast was so striking to observe and added more to the depths of the sea.

Enamored, you failed to notice Technoblade arrive shortly behind you until a sudden weight enveloped your form.

You glanced up to meet his adored gaze, eyes soft as he regarded you currently wrapped in his own winter coat, now dressed on your shoulders.

A hand came to cup your face gently, and you instinctively lead in towards the warmth.

“Lie if you must, but I know you better than you care to admit.”

His voice was light, as if anything louder than the tides before you would threaten the moment his love forged.

Collapsing under his careful stare, you buried yourself into his arms, allowing the heat of his heart melt the frosted chill you subjected yourself to. He took you in immediately, a hand to hold your head against him as he rested his cheek to your crown

“Shut up,” you mumbled, bite nonexistent and quiet within the fabric of his shirt. His laugh resonated in your ear as you laid, and you refused to show the smile which grew from his pure delight.

“Of course, darlin’. Whatever you what.”

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt imagine #technoblade imagines #yams' colors

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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