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lure-of-writing · 5 months

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Little Sister: Are you going to tell her or should I?

Summary: Morrigan forces Azriel to make a choice. Either she is going to tell you or he is

Word count: 2.7k

part one, part two, part three, part four , part five

The rumbling ground beneath his feet was one indicator of what was about to come. The other indicator was the shaking paintings that were hung on the wall. Rhys may be the most powerful high lord to ever exist but your power easily rivaled his own. In anticipation of your arrival the quill pen that had just been in use was placed gently on the desk right next to the piece of paper it was just being used on. The force of the heavy wood doors being blown open almost sends the paper flying into his face, if not for his hand placed on top of it. “It’s always such a-” the words pleasure to see you died in his throat as you cut him off. “Ok what is the deal?” one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows raised slightly in questioning at your tired tone of voice. “Oh please let's not act like you don’t know what I am talking about.” the eyebrow didn’t lower even a centimeter. Marching over to the inviting seat in front of his desk you ungracefully plop yourself into the waiting chair. “Remember when Cassian accidentally knocked me out?” you watch as your brother wordlessly nodding in confusion. “Good.” you huff out letting the room fill with silence leaving your brother in a stronger state of confusion then before you started talking. At least before you came into his office Rhysand could have guessed about a thousand reasons as to what has you so upset but now he genuinely does not know where you are going with any of this. “ Go back like a week or two in time after me and Az returned from the summer court and both you and him were avoiding me. Why?”

Rhysand knew why he was avoiding you but as for Azriel he's not too sure. Obviously he could take a very educated guess but that was about all he could do without asking. “I was busy.” Now the high lord watched as his little sister copied his earlier action of raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow in questioning. “Busy doing what exactly.” Silence once again engulfed the room as Rhysand weighed the pros and cons of telling you his reasoning for avoiding his own sister. A heavy sigh left his lips as he decided to tell you the nicer reason for his absence in your life. “When I walked in your room and saw Az helping you get dressed, that was obviously not something that I, as your older brother, wanted to see.” the continue on motion of your hand forced him to continue. “And as your older brother I obviously never want you to get hurt. In any version of the word. But as your brother I also realize, very reluctantly, at that might I add, that you deserve to live your own life. That means including having a romantic partner. So I was attempting to convince myself that if you pursued a relationship with Azriel that I would be ok.”

A pregnant pause fell upon the room before you spoke up “That is why you’ve been avoiding me? Seriously?” The warm tone of your laughter brought a warm sensation dancing up Rhysands neck and cheeks. Nobody else had the ability to embarrass him like his little sister does. “Rhys you know Azriel one hundred percent does not see me like that right? I mean yeah I like to use him to irritate you but he only does that because I asked him to.” your shoulders moved up and down in a shrugging motion. “While you may think that is true you have to remember for all of your life I have banned both you and those to pea brains of trying anything with each other so I needed some time to process even the mere thought of that happening.” you watched from across the desk as your brother pretended to gag. “I guess I no longer have to worry about Cass now that he has Nesta.” he added as an afterthought more to himself than to you. “That explains why you have been avoiding me, even if it was because you were having a meltdown over nothing but what about Azriel? Why has he been avoiding me.?” Moments of Rhysands conversation with Azriel played out in his mind. “I can only guess it's because after you paraded around summer” the sound of you scoffing interrupted his story. “Are you done being offended or can I continue.” Rhys watched as you rolled your eyes, taking that as his sign to continue on. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. After you returned I talked to Az about the different times I have caught the two of you in interesting situations, to say the least, and asked him about your relationship with each other. And since I have always made it clear he was never to see you in any way other than platonically I would assume he took that as a sign to step back from being around you.”

The quill pen you summoned was quickly thrown across the desk at your brother “You big overprotective bat! How many times do I need to tell you that Azriel does not see me like that.” Rhys easily caught the pen giving a not so hidden sly smile at your turn to be embarrassed. “No wonder why he's avoiding me. You made it awkward. I’m just his friend's little sister and nothing more. Now I’m sure you’ve given him the wrong idea of me.” A big belly laugh erupted from within Rhysand quickly filling in the room. “After almost five hundred years I think it’s a little late for Az to just now get the wrong idea of you.” the words barely escaped in between the laughter “You are a menace!” Rhys just continued to laugh as you marched your way back out of his office “I love you too!” The echo of his shout follows you down the corridor as you make your way out of his house.

The very next morning you made your way to the top of the house ready to start training. “Ah ah ah.” Cassian's voice tuts from across the open roof top. Your eyes scan the room until they land on the wiggling finger that matched the owners equally as wiggly head. “You are not to be training until Madja says you can.” scrunching your face you look at Nesta before making eye contact with the general again “And who are you? My mother?” A bellowing laughter swallows up the words that just slipped past your lips. “When it comes to training I sure am.” his larger than most bicep wraps around your shoulders tucking your body into his. Leading you to the entrance that leads back to the lower level of the house. Cassian had almost gotten you to the threshold of the door when you spotted Azriel from the corner of your eye. Quickly you twirl out of your training mothers warmth and strut over to the one and only shadowsinger. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” the fact you had to tilt your head slightly upwards had never irritated you like it did in that moment. You watched as his hazel eyes shuffled across the room taking note of every person who showed up to training this morning. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” you could tell he was being extra quiet on purpose “Oh really is that why Rhys told me-” the words died in your throat as strong hands wrapped around your torso and lifted you from the ground. “Now young one I don’t think interrogating someone is something Madja said you were ok to do yet. Plus training starts in two minutes so you can do your questioning at a later time.” Gently Cassian once more places you on the outside of the training area. Glowering you said nothing as Cassian chuckled at your lack of response before making his way back to the center of the area.

You watched as Azriel gave Cassian an appreciative nod and Cassian just patted him on the back before starting training. Something was definitely going on, you just didn’t know what. For now at least.

If there was one thing that living this long has given you it was an endless supply of patience. So for almost three hours you stood leaning against the wall watching both warriors show off different techniques following up with critiquing each other's quote unquote weak spots for techniques. Finally after everything was said and done did Cassian allow you to step foot in the official training area. Azriel was stood by himself drinking water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” you could hear how hurt you sounded to your own ears and tried to not wince at the sound of the pathetic tone you displayed. You watched as the male's face fell before you. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like I was avoiding you. It’s just-” you observed as it appeared Azriel was having an internal debate with himself before sighing a reluctant sigh “ you know how Rhys gets when it comes to you. After we got back he asked if anything was going on between the two of us and I said no. I respect both you and Rhys. I never want to betray Rhysands trust so I haven’t been avoiding you per say but you know.” he ended with a hefty shoulder shrug.

“So what I’m hearing is that you don’t hate me?” the facade of the shadowsinger broke in front of you to reveal a gentle, kind hearted male who would do anything for his family. The chuckle that fell from his lips brought a giggle to your own. “No, I don't hate you. I don't even think that's possible.” Azriel opens his arms as an invite to share a hug. Even though he was covered in sweat from head to toe you wrapped your arms around his torso pressing your cheek against his chest where his heart was beating. “Well that's good to know because I was starting to get concerned.” Another chuckle made its way out of his throat and the vibrations of his laughter once again caused your own laughter. “So” you drag out the last vowel “Does that mean you will go shopping with me tomorrow?” you propped your chin against his chest and looked up at your closest friend. “If I must.” His gentle teasing was met with an equally if not gentler kiss on the hairline of your forehead.

Ever since your confrontation with Azriel things seemed to go back to normal but not completely back to normal. Something was off that you couldn’t put your finger on but it was without a doubt better than it used to be. The flow of the inner circle had almost returned back to completely normal. That would be until a few weeks later when at family dinner everything would change.

It was very well known that dinners amongst the inner circle were tradition but it was lesser known that having a dinner where each personal either cooked or brought something to contribute to the dinner was also a tradition.

This time around it was Feyre, Mor, Elain and yourself in the kitchen. Collectively as a good the three of you were trying your best not to destroy the High ladys kitchen. Elain had no such problems as she was often found making the best treats for the family on a daily basis. The oldest and youngest sister along with yourself had managed to make an edible dinner item, even though it was more challenging than the three of you would like to admit. While cooking was a neutral territory for yourself in terms of skills, it was cooking for three grown Illyrian bats and their accompanying companion along with the rest of the family that stretched your cooking abilities thin. It was a miracle the food was even edible on a good day. Let alone a day with nine hungry fae waiting to be fed.

After much work in the kitchen everyone had finally settled down around the table, only after much wrangling on both Feyres and yours behalf. Rhys was at the head of the table with your sister-in-law while you were seated in between Morrgian and Elain. Across from you was Amren, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta sitting in that order.

Dinner was going as well as it normally did. Cass was making stupid jokes poking at Amren. Feyre was playing mediator, just in case they decided they wanted to destroy each other. And in turn destroy her house. Your brother was assisting Feyre in keeping the family under control and also dotting on her the whole time. Nesta and you were talking about books and Mor along with Elain were discussing different clothing options.

The smell in the room was subtle at first but quickly you realized the brownies you had put in the oven prior to everyone sitting down were finally done. You just hopped they were burnt. With an abrupt “Oh! Crap!” you sent your chair sliding backwards and hurried off towards the hopefully unharmed cooked batter. After a few minutes of cutting and neatly placing the brownies on a platter you re-entered the dining room that was just as chaotic as when you had left. Cooking you may not be the best at but you were a pretty great baker. The Random desserts you make were always a hit amongst your family and you were sure these would be no different.

“Anyone want a brownie? Of course Cass was the first to raise his hand and thus started your journey around the table handing out freshly baked goods. You had just rounded the corner of the table when you noticed that one person didn’t take a treat. Azriel. “Az? You don’t want a brownie?” you scrunched your brows together as you gently raise the platter you were holding as in an invitation. “No I’m ok” without realizing your face fell. “But you always eat anything I bake. You always say that I make the best desserts and you’ve never turned them down.” Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of you, instead they shifted between the platter of food back to your eyes before they repeated the process a few more times. “It’s-” his stutter catches you off guard causing you to raise an eyebrow in both confusion and questioning.

“It’s just that I’m full right now and I-” once again you made a confused look and glanced down to his plate “That's only your second plate of food usually you eat three or four so I know you're not full. Why don’t you want one? Do you not like my baking?” Once again you found yourself feeling extra hurt about a choice Azriel had made. Usually you were never this emotional but lately you couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the hit to the head that was causing you to be so emotional. As it wasn’t fully healed yet. The male was certainly free to do what he wants but this was new and confusing. “Oh help the brother and the mother.” you looked down to Morr where she had propped her elbows on the table and rested her head upon her hands. “What?” Your confused tone causes a giggle to escape. “Do you really not understand why he won't eat the damn brownie?” Just as your cousin was about to explain, Azriel cut her off. “Morrigan don’t. It’s not your place to tell her.”

Now this had your attention. What exactly was there to tell? And Why was Azriel being so secretive about it? After what felt like forever of the two of them going back and forth with each other you intervened. “Will somebody please tell me what is going on?” you didn’t shout but your question definitely wasn’t quiet either. You just needed to get their attention and it worked. “Are you going to tell her or should I?” Silence engulfed the room but Morrigan didn’t let it last too long. “The reason he won't accept your food is because you're his mate.” and in that moment everything stopped.

Taglist:

@kemillyfreitas @lana08 @willowpains @username199945 @tothestarsandwhateverend

@kylaisra @lilah-asteria @nickishadow139 @br0klynbby @blacktreacle22

@amysangel @mp-littlebit @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #rhysand x sister!reader

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recuira · 1 year

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after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three

chapter four | suede. stalking. silly.

his pov;

"Your wanted poster."

Those three words settled in my mind as I stared at the distraught girl in front of me, watching as she fumbled with her hands, a nervous exterior brushing over her. She seemed to be so horrified with the fact that I was once a pirate sought after by thousands- wanted dead or alive, though much preferred dead. Many still wanted me dead but due to my brilliant idea of hiding out here, the chance of anyone getting my bounty was thin. I, however, didn't see it being as much of a big deal as she deemed it so. The real issue I found was tucked away in one of the books within the nightstand which I was so fucking thankful she didn't find. I'd rather her not have been looking around but if she were to find one of the two? I was glad she found the poster.

I tossed another slice of apple into my mouth then set the knife down on the cutting board. I approached Y/N but instantly halted when I noticed how nervous and uneasy she was. "What's wrong?"

"H-How many people did you kill?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Does that really matter?" I asked, waving my hands up in the air to hopefully exaggerate my point. "It was almost a year ago."

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened!"

"I know, I know." Despite her discomfort, I took a seat next to her anyway. She tightened her arms around herself, almost to make sure there was as much distance between us without her actually moving. Clenching my jaw, I patted my hands upon my thighs. "I know it's a terrible thing, and there's nothing I can do to change that. It's in the past and if I could go back and alter things, I would. Being a pirate was all I knew. My old friend was one, too. Then we separated onto different things and-"

"Did he kill people?"

"Lots of pirates kill people. It's part of the hype, ya know? It's very unlikely to raid another ship without there being any casualties. But I stopped because I got tired of it. I wanted something more."

"It's a pretty big bounty. I mean- come on, fifteen million berries?"

"Don't think about turning me in now," I chuckled, wanting to add a bit of lightheartedness to this unfortunate predicament.

"I'm not like that. I know I'm in need of money but-"

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N, come on. Give me some slack."

"Well, why exactly did you stop? Did you lose the thrill of stealing from others? O-Or did you get bored of killing innocent people?"

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "We've all done some shit we're ashamed of. We're humans. I did a lot of fucked up shit," I said as I pointed at myself. "But I changed that. I moved and let all that go. I left my crew, made someone else the captain, and abandoned ship. I left all of that shit behind and came here."

"But why?"

"If I say this, I'll probably make things worse but I don't want to lie anymore," I said as I laid back, folding my hands over my chest. I stared up at the ceiling. "You've obviously heard of the One Piece, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, I was one of those pirates absolutely obsessed with finding it. Fuck, I even dreamt about it. It was the only thing I truly desired in life. It was the only thing I thought about. Not riches, women, alcohol- just the One Piece. I was making somewhat decent progress but then I heard that a group of Straw Hats-" I grimaced at the thought. "-made off with the map which they stole from one of the Marine bases. I happened to track them down and I managed to steal the map from some kid named Monkey D. Luffy. But all good things must come to an end and I lost it. I was back to square one. And then I discovered his bounty was thirty million berries." I frowned then sat up, turning to face Y/N. "Can you believe that? Some newby pirate-wannabe received a bounty double my own! Seeing that brought me back to reality. So I dropped everything then came here."

"All because of him?"

I nodded my head. Just the thought of that kid irked me. There was no one, other than Shanks, who I despised more than my own self.

"So, yeah, I know what I did was fucked up. But there's a reason I'm here now. There's a reason I've given you so much. It's because I want to be a better person, maybe redeem myself for what I've done. And I can do that by helping you, by making your life a little less miserable."

"Do you pity me?" The girl asked, finally meeting my gaze.

"What?" I laughed, almost obnoxiously. "Of course not. If anything, I envy you."

"Me?" Y/N pointed at herself. "You envy me?"

"You have no bad conscience. You've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to make up for. You have a clean slate."

She shrugged, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "Thank you."

"So, uh, do you hate me now?" I asked, forcing a frown to mimic a pouting child. She giggled at this and shook her head. I sighed in relief, wiping 'sweat' from my forehead. "Thank god. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hated me."

"I knew you were a pirate but it's still shocking to learn about your past. It'll take me a bit to get used to it but I don't hate you."

"So, we're good?" I extended my hand.

"We're good." She shook it.

I felt as if a huge relief was lifted off my shoulders. And as long as she stayed out of the nightstand, there would be no more issues. But if I hid the book, then I would be even more safe. I pondered the possibilities before I watched as she rose from the confines of the bed and approached the counter. My eyes trailed down. The backs of her thighs were exposed and the shorts clung to her ass so divinely. I bit my lip and crossed my leg over my lap.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me," She mumbled as she started to chew on an apple, then began to cut into an orange. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Go ahead, shoot." As soon as she turned around, my eyes met hers and I smiled.

"Are devil fruits real? Or is that just an old tale? I've never seen one up close and I heard they cost a fortune, even for just one alone."

"They're real," I said with a small laugh. "I would know, I've eaten one."

Y/N nearly jumped before she darted over toward me, her hands grabbing at my shoulders. She still had a slice of half-chewed apple in her mouth which made her struggle to properly speak. "WHAT? You- NO! You didn't?!" She let go of my arms and instead planted her hands on my chest, shoving me back. I collapsed back against the bed, laughing. "You ate one?!"

"Years ago, when I was fifteen."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not. It was a mistake actually."

"What happened?"

I chuckled and pushed myself back up. "Give me an orange and I'll tell you."

If my reflexes weren't so quick, the fruit would've hit me in the face with how quick she threw it. But I caught it and began to pick apart the peel. "Easy, next time," I smirked and took a bite from it. "Well, when I was younger and was a pirate-in-training, the crew I was in raided this ginormous ship and hit the motherload. Not only gold and jewels and anything you could think of, but there was also a devil fruit. I found out how much they were worth and tried to steal it but I was caught in a predicament and I tried to hide it in my mouth."

"And?"

"I swallowed it whole."

She gasped, "And you're alive?"

"It doesn't kill you. It just takes your ability to swim when you're in the ocean, in salt water. It's like the sea turned its back on you."

"Did you get a power from it?"

I shrugged and winked at her, taking another bite. I licked the juices from my hand. "Guess."

"You can fly?"

"Ha! Nope."

"Read minds?"

"It's body-altering."

"Wait," The lovely maiden smirked, taking a seat on the bed. "Did it give you that red nose?" She snickered.

"Guess again," I said flatly, my expression turning cold as I stared at her. She gulped, clenching her jaw. I laughed and looked down at my lap, now using one hand to hold the orange. I continued to chew on it. But while she was distracted with her numerous attempts to guess what kind of body-altering power I had, I detached my left hand at the wrist. It floated behind the both of us and tapped on her right shoulder. Y/N jumped up, her head shooting to look at her side. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed together before she spotted my floating hand waving at her. She gasped and slapped it away. I broke out into a fit of laughter, my hand reconnecting to my wrist. "Impressive, huh?"

"You- what?" She was still flabbergasted.

"I ate the chop-chop fruit. It allows me to pretty much chop any part of my body. Like I can-" To avoid grossing her out, I chopped my left leg from my thigh instead of my head from my neck. She watched in amazement. I smiled at this. "I can disconnect anything from my body from my toes to my ears to my-"

"Even... ya know?"

I winked. "Oh, yeah. That, too."

"That's so cool. How come you haven't done it before around me?"

"I don't know. I just never found a reason to." Shrugging my shoulders, I allowed my leg to snap back. I continued to chew on the orange before finishing it and tossing the peel into a small bin to the left of the bedside table. Y/N finished hers as well. She wiped her hands down on her shirt.

"So, uh," I chewed on my bottom lip. "Do you think you and your mother will be okay?"

"Yeah. We fight all the time. Her drinking doesn't help."

I cringed. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's one of the reasons I hate it so much."

I pursed my lips and nodded my head. I knew I needed to cut back on it but it was something I've done for well over more than half my life. Though, I was destined to do it. Not only for myself, but for her, too. I'd do anything for Y/N. "So," I began, "what do you want to do today?"

"I need to go make up with my mother. That's a big to-do. I can't stand her ever being upset with me." The girl said as she stood up, slipping her shoes back onto her feet. "We can have dinner tonight if you want. Maybe you could meet her."

"Meet your mom?"

"Yeah, why not? She was wondering where all that money came from. She thought I stole it."

"Hell, I don't know. I'm not good with meeting new people."

"Will you, at least, consider it?"

"Sure," I smirked.

"Thank you." Y/N reached for the doorknob, giving it a strong and firm tug before it yanked open. A gush of cold wind washed over her, almost knocking her back. I tossed her my coat to which she whispered another 'thank you' then slipped it on. "I'll see you, Buggy."

"Bye," I murmured with a smile.

As soon as the door shut, I jumped down from the bed and pulled the drawer out from the nightstand, dropping it on the stone floor. I sorted through the numerous books and grabbed the novel I was so fucking thankful she didn't look through. As I opened the cover, the hollowed book had contents that almost spilled out. Papers among papers, among sketches fell out, wafting along the floor. Several notes about Y/N puddled on the floor. One, which was my favorite, was a letter I wrote to her- well, I refused to send it. If I sent it, any last fiber of my confidence would be crushed like a scrambled egg. My fingers lined the rigid edges as I unfolded it.

Messy paragraphs lined both the front and back of the page.

I smiled. How long ago did I write this? I haven't looked at it in so long. I usually added a sentence to it each time I saw Y/N, which is why it was so long. But I stopped pouring my thoughts and desires into it when I actually had the pleasure of speaking to her.

If she saw this, I would kill myself.

I'd purposely jump into the ocean with two anchors attached to my feet.

I looked over the first paragraph,

'I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat.'

I grimaced, cringing at what I was reading. Thank god, she didn't see this. I didn't even want to see this.

I tucked the papers back into the hollowed-out book, closing it. I slipped the other novels into the drawer then slid it into the nightstand. With the book of secrets, I needed to hide it somewhere she could never find it- where even I struggled to find it. I didn't want to throw it out for I would be completely discarding all of those moments we had together, although she couldn't reconcile them with me because at that time, I was nonexistent to her.

Maybe I could follow my own idea and form my own message in a bottle. I never mentioned her name, nor my own. To an outsider's perspective, it was anonymous.

I shook my head and slipped the book back into the bedside table. She wouldn't be back anytime soon so I had enough time to properly execute a fool-proof plan.

But right now?

I needed to go get another coat.

-=-

her pov;

My mother and I resolved things, just like always. And when she caught wind of a pirate suddenly becoming very fond of me, she begged me to invite him over for dinner. I didn’t think that was the best of ideas. Going out to dinner? Sure! But to have him over? At our house? I cringed at the idea.

She fell ill months ago. Nothing too major, but ever since she’s gotten better, she despises leaving the house and even made me bring her bed downstairs so she could sleep next to the kitchen just in case she had a hankering for something to eat. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But I couldn’t just tell her no. She was my own mother. While I was old enough, I definitely wasn't going to willingly disobey her.

She persisted that I go and grab Buggy so we could have him over for dinner, while I insisted we all go out to eat. She hated the idea and told me that it was her house, her rules.

I grimaced at the thought.

Now, I was just outside Buggy's home, knocking on the stone door. I hoped he was home, though there was no possibility of me being able to ask him prior to my arrival. I knew he was busy. He was a very busy man. I was surprised he made time for me.

With another knock, another silence fell. I groaned and backed up.

My eyes trailing down, I stared at the doorknob and chewed on my bottom lip. He wouldn't care if I waited inside, right? We trusted each other. He knew where I lived and I knew where he lived. As far as I knew, he never crossed any of my boundaries and I definitely didn't cross any of his- well, except for maybe 'snooping' through his nightstand.

Without thinking too much more about it, I grabbed the rusted doorknob, gave it a firm twist, then shoved it open. I almost fell through the doorway.

I caught my balance and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Without the lantern being lit, it was rather dark, but the bright blue sky helped to illuminate the small room. He must've not been home since I left.

I looked around, admiring everything.

As I took a seat on the edge of the bed, I noticed a piece of paper laying on the floor. It wasn't there before.

I raised an eyebrow and reached to grab it but before I could, the door flung open, a certain blue-haired pirate standing in the entrance. When he noticed me, he smirked. I gulped.

"So, we're breaking and entering, are we?" The man grinned as he took a few paces forward.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, scratching the back of my neck. "I came over to ask you about dinner but you weren't here so I figured I would wait."

"No worries, I'm only teasing."

"So?" I folded my arms, leaning forwards.

"So what?" Buggy questioned as he slipped his coat off. Since when did he get a new coat? And why? I was only borrowing the one he lent me. I didn't plan on keeping it. But I guess now it was okay if I did.

"Dinner? Are you available?"

"Hmm, it depends. What time?"

"I don't know, sometime tonight? Only for two hours or so. My mother wanted to meet you. I told her about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That you've been a friend of mine for a few weeks now and you've been fortunate enough to treat me and help me out," I said with a smile. "She thought you were my boyfriend." I chuckled.

"Heh, that's rich," Buggy said as he turned around to close the door.

"So? Can you?"

"I guess so. Just don't leave me alone with her. I really don't want to be bombarded with questions." The man said as he folded the jacket over his arm then slung it on the countertop. "Did you tell her about my nose?"

I laughed, confused. "No? Why would I?"

"It's my defining feature. It's hard not to notice it when you see me."

"I didn't tell her. I didn't think it was important. I even forget it's there."

The clown burst out in laughter, his eyes closing as he clutched his stomach and nearly fell back with his fit of giggles. I pursed my lips. "What's so funny?" I asked as I crossed my arms.

"It's cute how you're trying to be nice to me. With a nose like mine, how can you forget it's there?" He replied while wiping a tear from his eye.

I felt flustered with the first part of his monologue but I ignored it and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I just do. It's not all I see whenever I look at you, ya know. It's not my main focus point when we speak. I look at your eyes, not your nose."

"And yet again, you prove to me that you're different than others."

I smiled. "Hope that's a good thing."

Buggy smirked, winking his left eye. "Of course it is."

The pirated approached me before he knelt down and picked up the piece of paper. He examined it for a moment then laughed to himself. "Grocery list," He explained as he shoved the paper into his pocket.

I paid no attention to the paper. It wasn't any of my business. "Speaking of groceries, want to go help me get food for dinner?"

"What's on the menu?"

"No idea, but let's just grab something so she won't be bitching later."

"Guess I'll be needing this again," The blue-haired man said as he reached to grab his jacket. He slipped his arms through and adjusted the collar. "We match now."

"Mine's more vintage than yours." I winked.

"Oh, so it's yours now?"

"No?" I gulped.

Buggy giggled. "It is. I got my own now so no worries about giving it back. Unless you'd like to trade from time to time."

"No, I like this one."

The man looked at me, an eyebrow cocked upward.

I paid his look no attention and instead looked down at the tattered suede coat I wore. I inhaled softly. It smelled like him.

A soft odor mixed with whiskey, coconut, and cinnamon. And while I hated the stench of alcohol, it worked for him.

I couldn't imagine him without it.

#buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy x reader #captain buggy #one piece live action #buggy smut #buggy one piece #op buggy #buggy #x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #one piece buggy #buggy opla

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orshii · 5 months

Text

The Night We Met (forget me not)

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

Warnings: cursing, violence, blood, lots of angst

Word count: 8,7 k

Trope: strangers to lovers

Summary: Kim Hongjoong lived anything but a normal life, his enigmatic presence shrouded in mystery. You were drawn to him when you met him on a strange, rainy night, soaked and with nowhere to go. Despite his guarded nature, a connection formed between you, fueled by curiosity and the allure of the unknown. What will happen when one night he comes home bleeding? Will you unravel the truth behind Hongjoong's enigmatic existence, or will the dangers lurking in the shadows consume you both?

A/N: Since I am very obsessed with red-haired Hongjoong because, he killed me at Coachella bfr, I just felt the urge to write something with him, so this happened. It ended up a little angsty, sorry not sorry, I love writing angst tbh lol. So enjoy the ride, I guess. xoxo, orshii. (also, sorry if there are mistakes :'( ) (divider) horanghae tho

The swaying bodies around me tortured me, I felt like I couldn't breathe as all I could see was him, speaking, and shouting over the loud music, that made my heart break with every strong beat. I couldn't hear the music, all I could hear was the words that came out of his mouth. 'You are sick', 'I'm tired of your shit', 'You'll never be good enough' and it went on and on, these words were the only thing I could hear, I breathed them in and it went straight into my heart, breaking it into thousands of pieces, as nothing remained there only little powerless specks of dust.

He kept on going, glaring at me like I was a wet stray dog on the street. His eyes were full of hatred, the man with whom I fell in love, made me feel special and made me feel good enough, now did the whole opposite of these things, and made me believe I was a fucking nobody. After a little time, as he still spat the most hurtful words out of his mouth, I could see everything in slow motion, the way he spoke and he was angrily shouting at me, his spit landing on my face as he spoke, the dancing bodies around us pushing closer to him, even tho I wanted the opposite. No one really noticed that I was on the verge of breaking down right there, as I barely could breathe. My brain closed him out, I was just staring at him and wondered, where that sweet guy that I fell in love with had gone. Suddenly I felt empty, nothing was on my mind, all I knew was that I wanted to disappear from the world, especially I wanted to get away from him as far as possible. So, whilst he was speaking, suddenly I turned my back without a word and started to somehow push myself out from the bodies that surrounded me.

I felt weak as I bumped into random people, they pushed me from left to right as I barely had any strength. It felt like ages until somehow I could fight myself through the strange bodies. I stepped out of the club into the cold night. I was just standing in front of the exit and closed my eyes shut, I just needed some fresh air, but it couldn't reach my lungs for some reason.

Suddenly I felt something wet and cold landing on my face, followed by a lot of cold drops. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky, as it started to rain very strongly, immediately wetting my face, and my hair as I suddenly could breathe. It felt like the rain was caressing my face, that felt like invisible hands, cupping my cheeks, wetting my lips, the wet drops dropping down to my chest that melted right into my heart, giving some reassuring feeling. I closed my eyes again holding my head up against the sky, letting the raindrops wet my brain as it kind of brought me back to life and made me realize what just happened, I breathed in as I felt the cold air getting into my lungs slowly, making my body tremble.

That was the exact moment when I broke down. I couldn't hold it any longer, as all the emotions that I cut off when I was in front of him, not letting him see me break, now shuttered into pieces, my breathing got heavy, as I hunched over my knees, and tears suddenly blinding me as I was staring at the wet ground. I was sobbing, tears fell into the wet ground disappearing like it wasn't even there, now I looked like a wet stray dog, that had nowhere to go.

"Everything's alright?" Suddenly I heard a strange voice behind me. After a few deep breaths I tried to calm down, I straightened up and turned around. Just to see a man leaning against the club's brick wall, one of his legs propped on the wall. His clothes were soaked just like mine, as he was holding a cigarette between his thin pierced lips, which were long burned out from the rain, his wet hair that strangely looked like the shade of a deep red that looked like fresh blood, his wet hair would've fallen into his forehead if it wasn't for the black sunglasses that were pushed up to the top of his head, making his forehead free from his hair. He looked at me curiously, eyeing me up and down with a look I couldn't entirely read. Maybe he seemed a little concerned. But that thought immediately made me forget that, when I saw the confident smirk on his face. Just another asshole in this world, that looked at me like I was a nobody.

"Yeah," I said after what felt like an eternity, somehow I almost forgot why I was standing in the rain and cried myself almost to death. I locked my eyes with him, he really didn't seem bothered by the rain pouring at us unstoppably. I wasn't in the mood to chit-chat with a stranger so I turned to get the hell out of there. I did not know where I could go, but I knew that I needed to go somewhere, far away from here.

"It didn't seem like it, sweetheart." He shouted after me, his voice melting with the rain that was falling on us.

"It's none of your business." I turned around to look at him as I shrugged.

Then he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards me, throwing the wet cigarette to the wet floor. I barely saw him because of the rain, but as he closed the distance suddenly all I could see was his face being close to mine. I could see as raindrops dropped from his hair, the water on his veiny neck flew down in red strings, as I assume he died his hair red recently, the wet drops fell from his thin lips as he looked down at me.

"My heart can't take as little girls like you cry in the rain." He slowly reached his hand towards my head and tugged my hair behind my ear. My eyes unconsciously fell on his pierced lips that were so close to mine, that if I had leaned in a little, it could meet his.

I snapped his hands away from my face, and my sanity came back, I couldn't believe there weren't any normal people on earth that couldn't deal with their fucking problems.

He chuckled at my movement. "Why are you so mean, sweetheart?" His smirk still did not disappear.

"Do I look like someone who would let a stranger touch me? And don't call me sweetheart!” I said to him getting angrier. “Oh my God, what did I do to the world." I cried out in disbelief looking up to the sky. I was so soaked, but at that point, I didn’t really feel that I was all wet.

Then suddenly I was sitting in the stranger's car, -whose name was Hongjoong apparently- all soaked, wetting the luxurious car's seating, which was a beautiful raven-black Maserati. I looked at my left side, Hongjoong's side profile on the sight, his undercut showing with the sunglass still being pushed back, which highlighted his sharp jawline. The dye on his neck now dried leaving red marks there. He was a very handsome and apparently a rich stranger. I have no idea why was I even in his car, as we were heading toward his apartment. Because I had nowhere to go.

Long story short, I kind of told him everything about what happened on this tragic night with my life. My ex dumped me because he thought I was cheating on him, the reality was that he was cheating on me and he just blamed it all on me, saying I was the problem as I couldn't keep him excited so he needed to try if someone else could. What kind of bullshit is that?

I was living with him, my parents were far away on another continent, I moved here because of my, well, now ex, and started to work at a random café, just so that I could start a painting course, as my biggest dream to achieve was to be a known painter. I wanted to organize exhibitions where I could put my paintings out, to show them to the world, to show my emotions through the paintings, so other people might feel the same, and share common feelings.

Painting was the only thing that understood me. When I was painting I felt like it was my therapy, the way I traced the brush on the canvas, with different kinds of colors. I always painted my emotions on the white canvas, which in the end, always ended dark, full of black and red colors. As those were the representations of my emotions. I felt pain, just as the word painting symbolized my whole being. But there were times, very rarely, when I painted a whole rainbow on the canvas, as something good happened that day. It was always personal, I wasn't the kind of person, who painted lands and random vases with fruits next to them. I just painted what I felt, it always came out like a mess, like chaos, but there was something beautiful in it, something special.

I always felt vulnerable when I showed it to people, but in the end, it's only me who knows what it is about. People only see random colors and shapes, that are a little grotesque, some of them are amazed by, how artistic it is, but some of them are just looking at it frowning, as they only see a splash of colors, saying 'I could do that easily, it's only a bunch of colors poured right there'. It is hurtful hearing things like that when it's my emotions that are painted there in a physical form. But I think it is only you, yourself, who can understand the struggles you are going through.

So as I was dumped by my ex, I remained alone. I was kind of new in the town and I didn't know anyone besides him and a bunch of his ass friends. I had nowhere to go, as I didn’t want to see his face anymore.

Hongjoong…kind of made me tell him these things, and he offered I can stay at his place, while I figure out what can I do in the future. The rain stopped after a while as we sat in his car and I told him all these things like I had known him for ages, he was listening to me and I could see on his face he cared for some questionable reasons. I had no idea why he offered this in the first place, and I had no idea why the hell did I agree. Even tho he seemed like an asshole for the first seeing, when he genuinely asked me what was the problem, I kind of felt like I can tell him anything I want and I kind of blame it on my fucked up day and on the fact that I was tired, I was tired of people, whom I always wanted to be good enough, but I just failed all the time. And now, it seemed I could trust in a stranger more than everybody.

As soon as we arrived at his apartment, which was a penthouse, my jaw was on the floor when I looked around. Everything was luxurious, most of the furniture was surprisingly black, with a hint of dark red, just like his car and his hair. It really did suit him. I had no idea who this man was, but I am sure he was rich as hell.

After Hongjoong showed me the guest room and gave me clothes that I could change into, he left me alone so I could shower. In the bathroom, I still couldn’t comprehend where I was and what exactly happened. It only came in a big flow when I managed to lay down into the big king-sized bed, that was so soft I felt like I was going to disappear into it.

I was laying on my right side and hugged my knees to my chest, just so I could hug something, something that gave me enough comfort, whispering to myself everything is going to be alright, as I finally managed to fall asleep with tears flowing down my face.

The next few weeks went by just like seconds, my only escape was work and painting as it mostly occupied my mind. Hoshi, my ex, tried to talk to me a few times after work when I was closing up, but Hongjoong always came to pick me up, after the first time he heard my ex was there.

It was really odd, the way he was acting, acting like he wanted to protect me from the world, even tho he didn't know me. And I didn't know him either, but as we spent these few days together, we kind of grew closer to each other, I felt like he became a person whom I could rely on.

I needed to figure out what to do next, because I did not want to bother Hongjoong with my poor ass, living in his penthouse like a princess, as he did not accept any money for the rent. Even tho I barely had money, I still wanted to make it up to him, so instead of money, I decided to clean the flat when I had the time and to cook for him some delicious meals, like a freaking maid, but quid pro quo.

I'm not going to say that Hongjoong didn’t act suspiciously from time to time. Because that would be a lie. The times when he suddenly came into the apartment with blood on his face and slight stabs on his body, painting his body red here and there, made me realize he was into some dangerous games. Luckily I learned how to stitch wounds when I was in high school, as back then I wanted to be a doctor, not until I found painting.

It was again a rainy dark night when the front door closed with a loud thump. I ran out to the living room, where the storm outside lightened it up in slow-motion, just to see a collapsed Hongjoong on the floor. The white carpet under him was now full of blood, that looked like the color of his hair. My heart started to race, as I hurried next to him.

"Hongjoong!" I kneeled next to him, just to cup his face and check his heartbeat. It was still beating but very weekly. I was so scared he might die in my arms.

"Sweetheart" He mumbled faintly, reaching his hands to my wrists that held his face. He was looking up at me with desperate eyes, almost begging me to save him.

He did come back with some stitches here and there, but this was much deeper. As I slowly reached my hands towards his wet white T-shirt that was mixed with rain and blood, I lifted it very slowly, he winced at that painfully.

I let out a quiet gasp when I saw the wound, it was a bullet lodging into his abdomen. Tears started to flow down my face, as I tried to think, about what to do now.

"I'm going to call an ambulance!" I wanted to stand up, to get my phone, but Hongjoong suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"You can't, you have to do it yourself, sweetheart." His voice still came out weak, like he was breathing his last breaths.

"But the bullet is too deep, I can't-" I started to breathe heavily, as I ran my fingers through my hair, squeezing it, as I started to panic. His life depended on me. "I can't do this Hongjoong." I sobbed.

"Come here." As I leaned closer to him, he caressed my cheeks, wiped my tears away with his weak thumb, and looked at me like he had given his life into my hands, and that was literally the case. "You can do it, I trust you, sweetheart." He whispered, weekly, as his hand suddenly dropped to the floor weekly and his eyes closed.

He was unconscious. I needed to put myself together and save the life of the man who saved mine.

The next hours were full of me trying to get the bullet out somehow, I needed every kind of knowledge I learned in the past. Everything was full of blood, the carpet, my hands, my clothes, but all I could concentrate on was to clean the wound, get the bullet out, stitch it carefully, and hope that he did not die. After I finished and his heart was still beating somehow I felt relief going through my body. His body just needed some rest, so it could function again.

When I cleaned up and somehow with all my strength, I managed to lift him to the grey couch and put a warm blanket on him, as he was sweating like crazy because he had a fever. I kneeled next to the couch pressing a wet cloth to his forehead hoping his fever was going to drop. He was fighting for his life and I was praying he could make it alive, as I finally gave in to the dark that swallowed me completely.

I was dreaming of some dark figures that were chasing after me, and then I suddenly found myself on a field, where I saw a red-haired man's back facing me, he was standing between the colorful flowers. Then he suddenly turned and I saw Hongjoong's beautiful smile as he was calling me to follow him.

I felt as if someone pushed me weakly, a voice calling me. Sweetheart. Only one person calls me like that. I quickly came to my senses and lifted my head from the couch I was still kneeling beside it, my limbs numb I barely could move, but the only person that mattered was Hongjoong.

"Hey," I smiled at the survivor, as he was looking at me weekly, his mouth dry.

"Hi", his lips cornered up with a weak attempt.

"How are you feeling?" I scooted upper, so I could caress his face with my thumb.

"Better." He whispered, with a dry throat. As I noticed, I quickly went to pour water into a glass and took some painkillers to give it to him.

"Here, drink some." I slowly helped him up as he was wincing from the pain. I reached the pills to his mouth waiting for him to open it and then the glass so he could drink. After a few gulps from the water, he closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Y/N! You saved my life, I knew you could do it." He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me gratefully.

"Even tho, it was a very bad call from you…You could've died Hongjoong…" Tears started to appear in my eyes as I looked down at my hands.

"But I'm alive…thanks to you, sweetheart. Come here." He took my hands and slowly pulled me closer to him, as he laid down, leaving space for me beside him.

"I don’t want to hurt you." I hesitated a little.

"You won’t hurt me." His thumb traced my cheek and looked at me with affectionate eyes. At that I slowly laid next to him on my side, trying not to be too close to his wound. I was looking at him, and as he did the same, I saw his eyelids were closing, but he forced them open, so he could pull me closer to him by my waist. His face was inches apart from mine. I felt his hot breath on my lips, as he slowly ghosted over mine.

"Kiss me so I won't feel the pain." He whispered the words into my lips, his lips almost touching mine, I could feel his cold piercing on his lips. My heart was racing like crazy. Suddenly all my thoughts were gone, gone into the cold rainy night, as he pressed his lips against mine weekly, giving me control, so I could lead him out of the pain and he wouldn't feel anything. All I wanted to do was to take his pain away, to swallow it, so I could feel it instead of him. My lips moved against his slowly, very patiently, making him forget that he was in pain. He grabbed my waist and pulled me even closer to him, with his remaining strength. But he moaned into my lips from the pain that the movement caused. I wanted to separate from him to make sure he was okay. But he did not let me, he reached his hands to my nape and pulled me closer, suddenly getting some strength from who knows where, as I let him control the kiss again. It started to get more heated, as I separated from him, because of the lack of oxygen.

I looked at him like I couldn't believe he was right there, in pain but still kissing me.

"Sleep now, honey." I whispered at his lips, pecking them again, then moving to his sharp cheekbone, to his nose, then lastly I left feather-like kisses on his eyelids that were already closed, falling into a deep healing sleep.

After a few days of nursing Hongjoong, I was heading back from the grocery store to Hongjoong's apartment. His wound was healing perfectly, it just needed a little more time. He was only able to walk from his room to the balcony to smoke a pack of cigarettes. I asked a lot of times, what had happened, and who did that to him, but he always ignored me or changed the topic. After all, I was just a stranger to him, and he took me in because I was all soaked and I had nowhere to go. Even tho we kissed, that seemed like a fever dream.

But still, he was so protective of me, he did not let me go anywhere alone, and his friends lifted me to work and back, I didn’t even have the opportunity to paint as the painting courses were late at night, and he did not let me outside for some weird reason. He even insisted he was coming with me to the store that was just a few blocks away from his apartment, but I convinced him that it wasn't that far and I was going to be quick.

I was only one block away from the penthouse when suddenly all I could feel was cold hands around my throat and something cold being pressed against my temple. My back was pushed against a wall with an impact, I saw black points as I closed my eyes.

"Where is Captain?" The man who pressed me against the wall forcefully hissed through his yellow teeth.

His hand squeezed my throat with more force. Even if I wanted to talk, words just couldn't leave my mouth as the air was knocked out of my lungs, and my sight started to blur.

"I asked, where is Captain? I am sure you know it, little slut." He shouted at my face, spit landing on my face, as I closed my eyes, trying to scrape his hand off my throat. He pressed the cold thing harder against my temple, it was a gun. I didn't know who Captain was, but I had a very little clue, of who it could be.

The man was on the verge of hitting me with the handle of the gun when suddenly I felt the air getting into my lungs as the man was pushed off me. I hunched over trying to get some air into my lungs as I desperately needed it. My throat felt soar, my heart was pumping like it wanted to jump out from my chest, and I felt the urge to take my hands to my chest just to prevent it from jumping out. I couldn't catch up with the noises that were around me, some shouting and groaning noises that screamed pain. Then suddenly silence came. I slowly straightened up as I finally came to my senses, and tried to get what was happening. I didn't even realize the fact that a gun was pressed against my head, I didn't even realize I could've died. Our mind is a tricky thing, sometimes it is helpful, and sometimes it's our biggest enemy. But for my luck, as I straightened, I saw Yunho in front of me, one of Hongjoong's friends, who picked me up from work a few times. He was a tall, black-haired man, with a well-defined body, who looked intimidating at first, but after a few times as we always chatted the way home, it turned out, he was the sweetest guy ever, full of golden retriever energy.

"Are you okay?" Yunho came closer to me and carefully put his hands on my shoulders, looking at me with concerned eyes. That was the time when I looked down at his hands, that was all bloody, his knuckles full with stitches, then I averted my gaze to his face, which was all beaten up, his lips also bleeding, a cut on his cheekbone. Then I looked down next to us, where four men were laying unconscious, it was a slow process until I somehow put the puzzle together. He knocked out four men with his bare hands only.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I said quietly, my mind full of questions. "Who were they? They asked about someone called… Captain? Is that Hongjoong?"

Yunho's eyes were full of pity. "I'm sorry, Y/N, it isn’t me who should tell you these things." He turned around and went to his black Jeep, which was hurriedly parked on the sidewalk. "Let's get you back to Hongjoong." He said tilting his head a little.

I went to the car and sat in the passenger seat. "How did you know I was in trouble?" My voice felt sour a little, as I still felt the hand around my throat.

"Hongjoong told me to follow you, in case something would happen." He said, not even daring to look at me.

I scoffed at that and remained silent. I didn't know what the hell was happening. Is it normal to send someone so he can watch over you? Is it normal in Kim Hongjoong's life to be attacked? It was, based on the bullet that almost sent him to the other world and me, almost. Kim Hongjoong lived anything but a normal life.

Immediately as I closed the front door, Hongjoong hurried in front of me, pain running through his features that disappeared immediately when he saw me. He quickly came closer to me, worry taking over his painful features. He was eyeing me up and down searching for any injuries. Hongjoong cupped my cheeks and lifted my head.

"Fuck, Y/N, did you get injured?" He traced his right hand through my throat which was red from the choking. I just shook my head as a no, I was glaring at him, analyzing his features that changed between so many emotions, as his gaze remained at my throat, just to finally meet my glare.

"I told you not to go alone, for fuck's sake, Y/N!" He stepped away from me ran his finger through his red hair and squeezed it.

"Did you know someone would attack me? Hongjoong tell me something 'cause I have no idea what is happening." I looked at him with desperate eyes, trying to convince him, that he could tell me anything.

"No, I didn't know, but I felt it was going to happen." He turned his back to me and started to walk up and down in the living room. Then he stopped in front of the big window, where you could see the whole town, being busy, everyone living their normal life. He buried his hands into his face. I could see that his thoughts were screaming at him. A few minutes of silence fell between us. I was just waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

"You have to move out." His voice came out low, I barely could understand it. He didn’t even look at me, he was staring down at the city buried in mist.

My heart started to race, I knew, I knew I needed to move out at some point as I couldn't live here forever. But…it felt weird, months of being here, getting used to each other in ups and downs. And this coming from his mouth, I don't know why…but it hurt.

"Joong…" I stepped closer to him, slowly approaching him. "At least tell me what is going on. They asked about some Captain…is that you?" He was still standing in front of the window, his side profile was sharp, and his red hair seemed brighter as the sun was shining at him, giving it a little shade of orange, he was frowning as he was still thinking. But when he turned, all the emotions were gone from his features, I couldn't see any signs of the prior emotions that were running through his face.

He was glaring at me sharply very determined. "They are going to hurt you if you stay with me, just pack your things and I'll take you somewhere." He said with a commanding voice, that shouted he did not accept no as an answer. I was just looking at him, making sure he really meant it, but he held my gaze without blinking. Tears started to appear in my eyes from all the sudden emotions and from the thoughts of being alone again. I couldn't do anything other than to obey him.

After I quietly packed my things into a bag, this was all I had, I could pack my whole life into a black dirty bag. This bag was by my side all the time, not like the people, who always left me.

The ride to the place Hongjoong was driving us, was quiet. The sun hid behind the big, angry clouds and slowly raindrops started to drop at the windshield. I just leaned my head against the window and stared at the raindrops that were racing against each other on the glass. My mind was empty, I couldn't think. I felt Hongjoong's eyes on me at times, but I just couldn't look at him, because I felt like I might break then.

When we arrived and went up to the apartment that was also Hongjoong's, I stood in the living room and dropped the beg from my hand as I looked around. It was smaller than the penthouse, it was just an ordinary flat, with white furniture, as you stepped in, the living room was an open area with a kitchen. I saw two doors that I assumed were the bedroom and the bathroom. It was small and cozy, but I'm not sure if it will stay like that when I'm going to be left alone with my thoughts. I felt his gaze on my back and I turned around, finally looking into his eyes. Tears immediately started to appear in my eyes, I knew it was a goodbye, and I hated goodbyes. He slowly approached me, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands traced over my cheekbones, wiping the tear away that escaped along the way, then he traced his thumb over my lips, carefully as he was afraid he might break me. But it was too late cause I was already broken.

He slowly replaced his thumb with his thin lips, the piercing on his lips cutting my lips, the stinging racing down to my heart, he cupped my face and pulled me into a passionate kiss, that screamed, it was good 'til it lasted. Tears fell onto my face, falling on our lips as I felt the salty taste. He moved his lips against mine as he wanted to endure this moment for the rest of his life. My heart was aching, I felt like a knife was stabbed directly into my heart.

"You have to forget me, sweetheart." He whispered painfully onto my lips, as he leaned his forehead against mine, his words twisting the knife in my heart.

"But I don't want to." I shook my head, grabbing his wrists that still held my face. The tears never stopped rolling down my face.

"You have to, you are capable of anything, my heart." His eyes were full of adoration, that I never saw in his eyes, caressing my cheeks for the last time as he stepped away from me.

I shook my head as I cried out, I felt like my heart was going to stop at any time. "No, don't leave me Hongjoong…" My voice came out weak, it was barely audible as my crying got worse.

But all he did was turn around, without any emotion. "Goodbye, sweetheart!" and I was left alone again.

My legs gave up and I fell on the ground as I pressed my hands to my mouth just to somehow calm myself down. After all, he was just someone, who helped me out when needed. In these few months, I felt like finally I was heading in the right direction, I felt like I was finally stepping on the right road toward my dreams. Being with Hongjoong made me realize, that everyone deserves someone, who can support them, who can be by their side and give them some bits of advice, to keep them going. But destiny said, no, and I needed to move forward. My life was a never-ending circle, I always found someone who I trusted but eventually, they just treated me like I was some garbage. In the end, I was always alone, being left alone with my bag, to go somewhere else.

The next few weeks were all about painting. When I felt down, I always escaped into painting. At first, I was just staring into the white canvas in the building where the painting courses were held, I wanted to paint, but I didn't feel anything at all. I thought I was going to paint all the existing canvases in the world based on the emotions that I felt. But, when I found myself sitting in front of a big white canvas, I felt empty. I felt like I was there but at the same time, my mind was elsewhere.

As I closed my eyes, the dream that I dreamed the night when Hongjoong collapsed on the floor with a bullet in him, jumped in front of me. I saw his face, his smile that was rare to see. The warm breeze blew on his hair, lifting his red hair from his forehead. I saw him again in slow-motion as he turned around just to look into his eyes, he lifted his hand, inviting me to go with him. As I slowly approached him and reached my hands to take it, he disappeared.

I opened my eyes as I found myself in reality, facing with the white canvas and I saw an image on it, a face. I lifted my brush to the colors that were laid out in front of me and pushed it into the red color, just to lift it in front of the canvas. I drew one line with the red color and it was the most beautiful thing I saw in my life. The way it excelled on the white canvas fascinated me, it was a deep shade of red, that reminded me of Hongjoong's red hair, but then the blood that was all over the place that night. I kept drawing on the canvas, tracing the brush in shapes, switching between colors as my mind finally felt at ease. I never felt more calmer than now, as I didn't even realize what I was painting. I closed the world out and continued to paint the picture I was imagining in my head.

Who knows how much time went by, I didn't want to stop for even a moment, as I was desperate to finish this work, the work that brought me peace, that calmed my racing thoughts, that made me feel like I wasn't alone. I painted the last remaining white spot on the canvas with black and then I put my brush down, just to see the outcome. I inhaled through my mouth deeply, as I felt this was the first time I breathed through the whole painting.

The outcome was nothing compared to my recent paintings. It wasn't some random colors mixed, that had no shape at all.

It showed a scene, a scene that I saw with my own eyes. And it was the night I met with him. The background was all black, with different shades and a figure was leaning against the black wall, his right leg propped up to the wall, the cigarette lazily hanging from his pierced thin lips. His red hair was all wet from the rain that fell on him, it was pushed back with a black sunglass. The red dye was leaving red strings on his face, on his veiny neck. His black clothes were all soaked, and still, he was staring at me with eyes that screamed understanding, that was full of worry.

I never painted things like these, things that made sense, well not for others. It made me believe that Hongjoong started something in me, that I had never imagined I had.

The doorbell suddenly rang just after I arrived home after a tiring day at work. I changed into comfortable clothes, wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. I wanted to make some dinner for myself when I heard the sound of the doorbell. I frowned, I really didn't know anyone here, maybe the neighbor came to welcome me.

I went to the door a little hesitantly, then unlocked it and when I opened it, I froze. It was Hoshi, my ex, glaring at me with his typical sharp eyes, that always reminded me of a tiger. His platinum blonde hair was always shaped perfectly, it was similar to a buzz cut, two straight strings falling close to his eyes, which made his gaze and features even sharper. He was always wearing punk clothes, with a lot of silver accessories.

"What are you doing here?" I asked when I finally found my voice. I needed all my confidence.

"Hi, baby." He smirked at me and just pushed me away to get into the apartment, letting himself inside.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Hoshi?" I was amazed by his behavior, he acted casually, went to my kitchen, poured some water for himself, making himself at home.

"Can't I just see my girl?" He turned and leaned against the counter with the glass of water, eyeing me up and down like a predator.

"Fuck you Hoshi! Don't tell me bullshit. Just tell me why are you here!" I lifted my voice up, it sounded angrier as I couldn't believe this man.

"Woah, easy, girl." He put the glass on the counter, just to come closer to where I was standing. "I just came to apologize." He reached his hands towards my waist, but I immediately stepped away from him. I saw that he needed to hold back himself from doing something wrong at that moment. "Okay." He lifted his hands to the air. "I just wanted to say that I feel bad about how I behaved at the club, you disappeared, Y/N. I didn't know where have you gone." His voice came out a little trembled, and his eyes were full of worry, but I knew it was just an act, an act so I will go back to him. I didn't say anything, but he didn't even let me when he continued.

"But I found out you were with that fucking red-haired shorty." His features suddenly changed from worried to angry. I had never seen him like this, it scared me.

He slowly came closer to me, just like a tiger that approached its prey. "Had fun fucking around with the Captain?" He looked like a psycho as he asked.

My heart rate picked up as I stepped back, just until my back hit the wall behind me. "How do you know him?"

As he was inches apart from me, he slowly reached his right hand towards my chest and traced his fingers on my skin, up to my neck, his gaze on his fingers. My chest was rising as shivers ran through my body, but these weren't the good types of shivers, it was because I felt terrified.

"Oh, you don't know a lot, babe." His fingers slowly traced up to my jaw and cheekbones. All I wanted to do was to run away from him. I felt disgusted, but he caged me against the wall, I had no chance.

"Then tell me." My voice came out rough, as I wanted to convince him I wasn't afraid of him.

"Well, that little redhead, is a fucking mafia leader. I didn't know you were into mafia gangs." He stepped away from me, as I finally could let out a sigh. "Stupid, Hoshi." He hit his forehead, with a psychotic smile. "If I would've known, I would've told you that I'm a mafia leader as well. Then you wouldn’t have run away." He approached me again, pushing me up against the wall. His face was inches apart from mine. I couldn't believe what he said. There was no fucking way I managed to catch both the town's mafia leaders. What happened with my life?

I scoffed at that, it was a joke. "You? As a mafia leader, you are funny Hoshi." I laughed into his face, as he got more annoyed.

"Did you have fun, when I sent my gang to threaten you so you will tell them where that fucker is?" He whispered it close to my face, his fingers crawling around my throat and squeezing it. My eyes rounded immediately, as my hands automatically tried to tear his hands off. "You had to fuck my only enemy that existed? I hate him, he destroyed my life, he took everything away." He hissed through his teeth.

"I'm asking again, nicely, Y/N. Where - is - he?" He squeezed his fingers more around my throat, as tears fell on my face, blurring my vision.

"Wh-where is that H-Hoshi I loved…" My voice came out weak, as I slowly saw black dots in my vision that were already blurred.

"He never existed." And with that, he squeezed my throat harder, as I was in desperate need of air, but it never came.

I was on the verge of fainting when sudden noises came from the staircase. The door was suddenly slammed open with a loud thump, all I could hear was footsteps, and my vision went black.

Hoshi's hands were gone from my throat, and I fell to the ground, barely conscious. I heard loud noises that my brain couldn't comprehend, glass breaking, shouting and when I opened my eyes weakly, I saw red. My vision was blurry, but when it cleared out I saw him and I knew I was safe.

He was holding me in his warm arms on the floor, my body was shaking from the lack of oxygen and the overwhelming emotions. He hugged me, as I buried my face into his chest, inhaling his peaceful scent, which always calmed me down. He traced my back up and down and pecked the top of my head, my forehead.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart for leaving you alone." His voice seemed like he was on the verge of breaking.

I slowly lifted my head up to look into his eyes, and I met with two eyes full of regretful tears. My tears started to flow down my face at that, as I started sobbing.

"Please, forgive me." He cupped my cheeks and wiped my tears away with his thumb. "Shh, don't cry please because my heart breaks. You are my heart, Y/N." He leaned his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, just to get myself together. This man in front of me, who was only a stranger to me, in a short time became the most important person in my life.

"Don't you ever dare, leaving me." I whispered after a few seconds that felt like ages.

He smiled in relief, his smile looked exactly like in my dream, his lips curved up, and his nose scrunched. "I am never going to leave you, sweetheart."

He slowly reached his hands under my knees, just to lift me from the ground, my hand immediately curled around his neck, as he brought me to the bedroom and carefully took me down to the bed. He crawled next to me as we were both on our sides, facing each other. He reached his hand towards my face and caressed it as if we were just looking at each other.

"This time that I spent without you was hell." he tugged my hair behind my ear as he said. "I realized I can't live without you, Y/N. I never felt like this before. I got scared when those bastards attacked you, and I never felt this scared before in my life. I thought if I keep you away from me they won't hurt you. Please, forgive me." Tears started to appear in his eyes, that screamed regret.

I took his hand from my face and lifted it to my mouth, to carefully peck his warm palm. "It's okay, Hongjoong, I get why you did it. But you could've at least told me who you were." I looked at him weakly, as I felt more and more tired.

"I know." He scooted closer to me, holding my waist as he pulled me closer to him. "I was just terrified if you find out, you will run away from me." He said with a low voice, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I never would've run away, don't you remember how many times I stitched you up?" I smiled at him.

He chuckled at that sweetly. "Yeah, that would've been enough reason for you to run. But for some reason, you didn't." He frowned at that.

"I just couldn't leave you, even tho you acted weird all the time, I felt like I needed to be by your side." I wanted to tell him that I was going to be by his side forever.

"I want you to be by my side, sweetheart. I never felt more at ease than I was when you were with me." His lisp was inches apart from mine, as he whispered. "Being with me is going to be dangerous, but I'm going to do everything to protect you." He said as he pressed his lips against mine, capturing it as I could slip through his holding. His fingers reached to my neck, to the back of my nape just to run his fingers through my hair, pulling me impossibly close to him. I kissed him back desperate, with passion I never felt in my life. I never wanted to break the kiss, that tasted like happiness, that whispered good promises for the future.

2 months later

"I want to show you something." Hongjoong hugged me from behind on the balcony where I was standing with a coffee mug in my hands. His hands crawled around my waist pulling me close to his chest, his head on my shoulder as we both were looking down to the busy town from his penthouse.

"What?" I asked with a genuine smile.

He pecked my neck sweetly before turning me around and taking my hands. "Come I'll show it to you." He was smiling at me like he seemed the happiest and most excited man on earth.

When we were in his black Maserati and I looked at him while driving, I could see that his smile never disappeared he was so excited for some reason and I started to get nervous as hell. After a fifteen-minute drive, we arrived somewhere. I didn't know about this side of the city. The streets were very artistic, with a lot of graffiti on some random walls, and artists were standing on the streets singing or painting. I looked around curious as I stepped out of the car. Hongjoong rounded the car and took my hand.

"Where are we Hongjoong?" I looked at him with a frown.

He just smiled at me, his perfect-white teeth showing. "I have to blindfold you, sweetheart. I don't want to expose the surprise." He took a silk blindfold from his pocket and chuckled as he saw my confused face.

"Just trust me, love." His voice came out low as he pecked my lips sweetly and blindfolded me.

He was leading me around, as I couldn't see anything. We went through a door, and the street's noise faded away. Our footsteps were echoing on the strange floor as we walked inside. Suddenly Hongjoong stopped me, as he turned me to face him. He reached his hands to unfold the silk material, as it slowly fell on the floor. My eyes followed how it fell on the floor, which was made out of brown marble. Then my gaze lifted, just look around where we were. My mouth fell open, it was a big and empty hall with big windows, where the light came inside, lighting the emptiness inside. The walls were all white, the ceiling was meters away from us, and it was huge.

"Why are we here?" I asked after my gaze fell on Hongjoong, who was looking at me the whole time.

He stepped closer to me, to hold my waist and pull me closer to him. His face was inches away. "This is your gallery where you can exhibit your paintings." He said with an excited smile, waiting for my reaction.

I pressed my hands to my mouth, my eyes rounded unbelievably "No way." Tears appeared in my eyes.

"Yes way, sweetheart." Hongjoong giggled seeing my reaction. "I want you to show the world how talented you are." He caressed my cheeks as he said with a sweet and proud look on his face.

I couldn't believe this. "Hongjoong…" tears started to fall to my cheeks, as I started to jump in excitement just to jump on Hongjoong who was taken aback by my sudden movement, but he caught me in time. He lifted me to spin us around as we both chuckled like two teenagers.

"Thank you so much Hongjoong." I whispered to his ear when he took me down and I buried my face to his chest. "I couldn't be grateful enough for making my dreams come true." I lifted my head to face him.

He was looking down at me with the proudest smile. "I'm happy I can be by your side while you achieve your dreams." He cupped my face and pecked my lips as I giggled.

"I love you, Hongjoong." I said looking up at him with teary eyes, as I never felt happier in my life.

"I love you more, sweetheart." And with that, he kissed me passionately like never before, his lips moved against mine slowly, as we were standing in the gallery that was going to hold all the emotions I felt in the past years, so I could finally let them go. And that one portrayal of Kim Hongjoong, that promised me a good future by his side.

The portrayal that showed the first time I saw him, the first time I fell in love with him, on the night we met.

154 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 2 years

Note

A random idea, Klaus is really (murder spree) angry Elijah and Rebecca are trying to talk reader into leaving with them but she tells them no, that she knows Klaus won’t hurt her, they are both in shock as they watch her walk up to Klaus speak to him and he totally calms down.

Thanks.

Because I love you

As I approached the abattoir i could hear glass breaking, a whole lot of screaming and a very distinctive yell, Klaus. Suddenly Rebekah came rushing out, the door swinging dramatically behind her as she ran towards me

“Y/n he’s gone mad, we need to leave now, come on in the car” she spoke in one breath grabbing onto my sleeve as tugging me along

“What happened? Is he okay?” I asked concerned. Suddenly Elijah appeared next to us covered in blood

“He’s prepared to kill every being in this city if not all of America itself for the best that we go away for a bit- you especially, you’re human” he took my hand and tried to coax me into the car

“No what? What happened? Did someone hurt him?” I question, another crash sounded, another scream.

“Look we just need to get out! It’s not safe when he’s like this!” Rebekah whisper yelled starting the car

“Jesus you two are meant to be a thousand years old, I’m going to see if he’s okay” i started walking back but Elijah was directly infront of me again

“Y/n i beg you to reconsider, he will hurt you” i frowned at him and moved around him

“He won’t lay a hand on me” i nodded to myself walking forward a little more confidently. I heard the car stop and both of their footsteps following behind

“He might drain you-“ Rebekah started

“He won’t” i cut her off

I walked in to see bodies nearly everywhere. I quickly ducked as a whole ass chair flew through the air and smashed into the wall behind me. I blinked a few times at it before making eye contact with an apprehensive Elijah who light shook his head ‘no’

I took a breath and turned back to the direction of pain filled terror. I stepped over and/or around the body parts leading to a fuming Klaus, blood splattered everywhere and a white oak stake in his hand that pointed at a man i had never seen who was crying a river

“Klaus?” I asked softly, his head whipped round to face me, his deathly expression dropping as he lowered his hand

“My love you need to go home” he told me, his adams apple bobbing

“Can you put the stake away…why do you even have it? I thought it was destroyed remember?” I asked stepping closer to which he moved backwards

“They want to kill me, it would seem that they discovered another. They need to pay for the harm they have caused and the lives they have threatened” his words grew harsher with each word, his gaze hardening

“Elijah and Rebekah are afraid, please calm down” i whispered and he growled

“My siblings are weak! They will not stand and defend themselves! Defend me! Or you! These people they threatened you! They will die and i do not care if i have to kill off the entire world to make sure every last pathetic excuse of an enemy is dead”

My lips pulled together in a thin line before i spoke again

“Look at him Niklaus, he’s crying, are you even sure that he was apart of this? There’s a dead old man in the corner, i do doubt an 80 year old human could have charged at you with white oak”

“He was collateral” he mumbled

“I thought you were going to try and limit the collateral” i took a few steps closer

“I can’t, not with this” he uttered

“Please, some of these people have families, they have people they love. Klaus i love you, if someone were to kill you and say it was collateral i would not accept that”

“That is why i need to kill everyone so it just cancels out” he frowned

“You’re making a bigger mess, just give me the stake, you trust me right? I’m going to put it somewhere safe so you can’t get hurt. Then you can stop because nobody can kill you without it” he sighed and looked at the weapon hesitantly

“But they can harm you” he whispered almost incoherently

“Then be with me, just stay with me” i held my hand out to him, he nodded nearly unnoticeably and dropped the stake in my hand.

“Let him go please” I instructed and he let go of the man infronts throat, letting him drop to the ground sobbing

“We’re going to go upstairs, calm down for 10 minutes and then I’m going to help you clean this up”

“We are not doing anything of the sort, you should never have to touch such horrible things” he growled

“This is not something anybody should have to do but you made the mess and you will clear it up and because i love you, and so i will help” i yelled back at him. He fell silent and his eyes dropped

“I’ll do it myself” he murmured

“We will help” Elijah called from behind us, i turned and smiled sadly at him, Rebekah was already lifting a body from the ground. Both looking both shocked, terrified and confused at the same time

“No, I’m afraid this is something he needs to do without you, please just relax, no more drama, take a day off” i took Klaus’s hand and pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom. I filled a bucket with warm water and grabbed a cloth

“There’s not much point in a shower until we’ve gotten rid of everything so ill just wash your face” I muttered seeing him glance to the shower

“Okay” he whispered lifting his head to make it easier to wipe clean

Once finished he looked at me silently for a minute or two

“Are you upset with me” he asked quietly

“No, I’m upset with the situation” I muttered

“You’re disappointed” he whispered

“I just don’t like all the death but i understand why you got angry, you just need to wait a minute and think before you act. Please don’t let me find you like that again, Elijah thought you would hurt me.” I stoked his cheek bones with my thumbs

“Did you…think i would hurt you?” He asked softly

“No, you wouldn’t touch me” I confirmed and he sighed, his head growing heavy in my hands as his eyes closed for a second

“I love you and i…i trust you” he uttered

“I trust you too, and you know that i love you. Now are you ready to grab a sponge for the floors…and walls and furniture and-“

“I got it, ill grab a few sponges” he muttered pushing his forehead to mine

“You know if you do it without complaining ill give you a reward later” i whispered to him

“What kind of reward?” He asked with a smile

“Perhaps you can take out your frustration on me? I may even get on my knees for you if you deserve such treatment” a low growl came from his throat as his arms circled my body

“Then we should really get started”

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clarisse0o · 2 months

Text

Camp Wiegman - Part 1

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Summary : Ona has to leave Barcelona against her will because her mother decided to sent her to a school in Manchester.

Words : 4k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, October 5; 6:45 AM - Home.

« Get up, Onii!!! »

I jump when a little bundle pounces on me, screaming. I groan into my pillow as he laughs in my ears before getting off my back. I turn over as quickly as possible to catch him before he runs away. The surprise rings in my ears even before his shrill scream, but I don't let go of him.

« Joan... » I begin in the calmest voice I can manage. « How many times have I asked you not to wake me up like this? »

« Mmmmmh... »he pretends to think. « I don't remember! »

« You'll see! »

A mix of cries and laughter fills the room as I attack him with tickles along her ribs. He tries to struggle, but I'm far too strong for him.

« St-stop », he says between laughs. « P-Please... Oniii! »

« Ona, let go of your little brother. He'll be late otherwise! » my mother reprimands me as she passes by my bedroom door.

« You're lucky this time! »

I release him and get out of bed to go to my closet. I sigh when I see that a large number of clothes are missing.

« Are you taking me to school this morning? »

I turn around to see my little brother watching me from the edge of the bed where he's sitting. He's so innocent. He makes me want to go back to when I was his age. Everything was simpler. It's rather ironic, considering he keeps telling me he wishes he were as big as I am. My many discussions about my departure don't seem to have sunk in, given his question. I'm afraid he'll hold it against me over time, as this isn't the first time I've left home. I approach him, crouching down to his level. His doe eyes and sad expression don't make it any easier to say what I need to, but I go ahead anyway.

« Joan... » We've already talked about this. You know it's not possible.

« But I don't want you to leave! » he raises his voice. « You just got back... »

I tense up when he lowers his head to hide his sorrow from me. I feel so guilty for causing him so much pain. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in all this mess. I gently stroke his cheek to encourage him to lift his head.

He makes a pout that could melt anyone's heart, mine first and foremost.

« I'm sorry, little heart... I'm really sorry for putting you through all this. You know that if I could stay, I would. You know that, right? »

« I don't want you to leave! » he shouts again. « Stay, please. »

Now he's crying, which only makes me feel worse. His tears bring tears to my own eyes. I hold him as tightly as I can and stroke his hair to soothe his sadness.

Joan is undeniably my weakness in all this. I feel so guilty about leaving again. I have to stay strong and hide my feelings to avoid making his reaction worse. If it were up to me, I would stay. I resent my mother for sending me to that damn school thousands of miles away. It cuts me off from the few loved ones I have left.

« When will you come back? »

« I have no idea », I shrug. « We'll see. Anyway, I'll call you regularly. »

« Promise? »

« Of course, if I'm allowed to, I will. »

« Is it very strict there? »

If there's one thing I don't like about kids, it's their curiosity. They just keep asking questions and can ask the same one ten times to get an answer. It's not so bad, but in my situation, it's annoying because I don't have the answers myself. He just reminds me why I've been stressed all week since the news broke.

« Well, you know what? » I change the subject. « If we hurry, I'll try to negotiate with Mom to take you to school before I leave. »

« Really? » He smiles with all his teeth.

« Of course! I just have to make sure I don't miss my flight. If we leave a bit earlier, I can drop you off before going to the airport. »

« YAY! »

I laugh at his excitement. I help him get dressed so he can quickly head downstairs. His departure allows me to clean up his mess and get myself ready more peacefully. Fifteen minutes later, I join him downstairs.

Dressed and with makeup on. I find him in the large dining room talking with his father and our mother. I don't bother to stop and head straight to the kitchen. I sit on a high chair behind the bar that faces the kitchen. I smile when I see a cup of hot chocolate and a freshly prepared pastry waiting for me.

« Good morning, Sam. »

« Oh, hi Ona. »

He moves to the counter so we can be face-to-face and chat while I enjoy my breakfast. I've had this habit since... well, since he started working here, to be honest. Samuel has been our cook for a few years now. We're almost the same age, give or take five years. His dishes are truly outstanding. I'll really miss them. They say the food in boarding schools isn't very good.

« So, you'll take me to school then? »

« What's this about now? » asks my mother, entering the room with Joan.

« I told him I'd drop him off if we leave a bit earlier. »

« Did you really have to tell him that? » she snaps.

« It's the last time I'll see him for a long time, you could make an effort. »

I maintain my gaze firmly. She eventually capitulates with a sigh. I suppress a smile that could change her mind. I always win when it comes to staring contests. I'm proud to have irritated her, but even more proud to have won.

« Fine, hurry up then. »

« Yay! »

My brother knows how to lighten the mood. I take a sip from my cup to hide my amusement as he dashes out of the kitchen, with my mother chasing after him, yelling to be careful on the stairs.

« Tough leaving, huh? » asks Sam.

« Not really. The hardest part is leaving Joan. Take care of him for me, please. »

« Don't worry about that. He'll be fine, unlike you », he says through gritted teeth.

« I'll be fine too », I assure him.

« I hope so. It would be nice to see you alive again », he jokes.

I roll my eyes with a smirk. We've always had a good relationship. At first, I even thought he had a thing for me. I realized it was a mistake later when I found out he was dating this guy named Paolo. I had a good laugh. As a lesbian I was surprised that Samuel was gay too.

« Shall we go, Oni ? »

I turn to Joan, who has returned with his backpack on. The time for goodbyes has come. I smile at my brother and get up to put my empty cup in the sink. Then, I walk over to Sam and give him a tight hug.

"It's all going to be okay, you'll see," he reassures me.

"I'll try to call. Can you put Joan on when you get the chance?" I ask.

"Promise. I really hate goodbyes," he adds, pulling me back into his embrace.

I laugh, playfully tapping his shoulder when I notice his teary eyes. It's touching since I've never seen him cry. I leave before I end up in the same state. I miss Sofia, my governess, who has a day off today. I said goodbye to her yesterday, but it's not the same. She's a bit like my second mom. She always knew how to lend a listening ear when I needed it. I go up to my room to check that I haven't forgotten anything. I also stop by the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I'm sure everything's in order, I put on my jacket, grab my bag, and take one last look at my room. It's time to leave if I want to take Joan to school, so I head down the stairs without rushing.

Hector has put your suitcase in the trunk," my mother informs me as she waits. "Do you have your ticket? »

"Yeah," I reply, patting my pockets to double-check.

"A taxi will drop you off at the school."

I half-listen to my mother's final instructions about my arrival at my new life. I look up when I realize she's wrapping up her verbose explanations, which I could have done without.

"Are you going to be okay?" she finally asks.

« Does it really matter to you?" I retort rhetorically, brushing past her to reach the entrance. She sighs behind me as I open the door. It's all her fault anyway. I look at the cobblestone driveway where the car is already prepared with Joan inside. I greet Hector, our driver, who is standing nearby. I descend the stairs and glance to my left at our garden where Marcus is. I give him a small nod. Asshole. He's my mother's boyfriend. He's not entirely to blame, but I've never been able to like him. I avoid looking back at the landing where my mother might play the model mom, waving me off as if I'm going on vacation. I've never liked formalities, so I head to the front seat of the car. Hector has long stopped making remarks about it. He settles in beside me and pulls into traffic once the gate opens. I watch the house recede in the rearview mirror. Here we go... We're on our way. Before starting my new life, we make a stop at Joan's school. Hector wishes him a good day as I step out to walk him to the gate. The hardest moment arrives... I crouch down to his level. He immediately wraps his little arms around me for a hug.

"I don't want you to go," he says softly.

"Look at me, Joan," I ask gently, lifting his chin. "It's going to be okay, alright? I'll come back, don't worry."

"Will you think about me a lot?"

"I'll do nothing else."

"Will you call me?"

"If I'm allowed, I will. I promised you, little one," I say, touching his nose with my finger. "Sam and Sofia will pass you the phone if it's me."

"I'll miss you."

He hugs me again, and I squeeze him as tightly as I can. I kiss his forehead before helping him with his backpack.

"I love you, Ona!"

"I love you too, sweetheart! Now, go play with your friends."

He runs off to join them. I wait until he looks back to wave at him with a smile. I make sure not to show any emotion so that at least one of us is reassured. I turn around when I'm no longer the center of his attention and settle back into the car. Hector starts driving towards the airport without saying a word. Everyone knows these are the toughest goodbyes for me.

"Are you okay?" he asks, handing me a tissue.

I hadn't even realized I was crying. I nod and smile gratefully as I take the tissue. The journey lasts half an hour to reach the airport. I have plenty of time to check in my luggage and go through security before the flight. Hector insisted on accompanying me the whole way, despite my repeated assurances that he didn't need to stay, though I appreciate his presence. Boarding time arrives quickly, and we head there after passing all the checks.

"We'll take care of Joan, don't worry," he tries to reassure me.

"Thank you."

"He's a big boy now, you know."

"Yes, he's grown up so much," I reply with a faint smile.

The intercom interrupts, announcing the boarding call. I turn to my driver, whom I've always appreciated. He's in his forties, but we've always had a special bond. He smiles tenderly, and we share a hug. I take the opportunity to thank him for everything before joining the line that has formed. I teased Sam about his state earlier, but I'm not much better at the moment. At the end of the line, I present my ticket to a hostess who tears off a portion. A security guard beside her checks my navy blue Eastpack once more, then they wish me a safe journey... "Safe journey," my ass, yeah. I move forward without a word for boarding. A second hostess welcomes me onto the plane and helps me find my seat number. Luck seems to be on my side for once. I have a window seat, and my neighbor who arrives shortly after me is an elderly lady. I'll have peace and quiet for the entire journey. I switch my phone to airplane mode. I put my headphone on. Music will help me sleep since I have two hours to kill. I start my music just as the intercom instructs us to fasten our seatbelts because takeoff is imminent. Indeed, a few minutes later, we're airborne. I watch our ascent through the window with a thoughtful expression. "Hasta la vista Barcelona... Hello Manchester !"

Monday, October 5th; 10:25 - Manchester Airport.

Damn it... Not only did I forget about the time difference, but I also forgot about the temperature change here! I'm finally in my taxi after taking some time to find my driver with his tiny sign. We're now stuck in monstrous traffic. The scenery is different from Barcelona. I'm going to miss my city more than I thought. I put my headphones back on just as my driver announced that we still have a way to go. He explained that the school is located away from the city center, but right now, we're stuck in the middle of it. We just need to manage to get out. Given the traffic jams, I have more time ahead of me. I could have done without it, considering how my imagination has come back in full force. I know nothing about the school she's sending me to. As if what I went through wasn't enough. Something like this had to happen to me again.

I hate having to listen to my mother and do everything she says. I'll be twenty in a few days and I still have to do as she pleases. If I hadn't messed up, I might already have a job by now. Now, here I am stuck on the other side of the Europe, with no one. Thanks, Mom, thanks a lot! My stress level shoots up again, though it had subsided thanks to my nap on the plane. I managed to catch up on my sleep. Nothing can change now. I'm here, and it will be difficult to turn back. The driver tries to make conversation, but he understands it's a lost cause. I can be a real wall when I want to be. He seems relieved to have finally arrived after forty-five minutes on the road. We would have certainly taken less time without the traffic jams. I get out of the car while the driver takes care of my suitcase. There are no buildings here, just a few houses around and even then. I didn't see any bus stops either, which I don't like too much.

The driver told me it was impossible for him to go any further. I understand why now, seeing what's in front of me. A huge, very impressive metal gate blocks the road. OK, what is this place? It's surrounded by an impenetrable high brown stone wall. It might have had its charm in another context. I feel like I'm standing in front of a prison entrance. I read the sign proudly standing above the gate: Camp Wiegman. What the hell is this mess? A camp? I wanted to ask the driver if he had the wrong place, but he was already gone. What an asshole! He better hope I don't run into him again next time! I groan in frustration and resign myself to dragging my feet and my suitcase towards the reception. A woman in her fifties is there, with glasses dangling on her nose. She looks up and smiles warmly at me. At least I'm not dealing with an old hag.

"Hello. You must be the new one, right?"

"I guess. Ona Batlle," I introduced myself.

"That's right," she said, looking at a sheet. "Come in, I'll notify them of your arrival!"

A door next to the large gray gate opens. I push it and roll my suitcase inside. Surprisingly, the taxi wasn't wrong after all. This place is huge from what I can see. I don't know where to look, it's quite... breathtaking. I don't dare move, not knowing where to go. The door is now closed behind me, preventing me from getting out. I wait a few minutes, and still, no one comes. The receptionist smiles at me every time I look at her. I guess someone will come to get me.

"Welcome to Camp Wiegman, Ona!"

I jump and turn toward the voice. A blonde woman stands before me. She has glasses and smile at me. I frown as I shake the hand she offers me. The only question that comes to mind is: Who is she?She must have understood.

"Excuse me, I haven't introduced myself! I’m Marina Wiegman, the director of this camp."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"I'm a friend of your parents" he explains.

"Oh."

I can't manage to say anything else. They've put me in a damn camp run by their friend. Great! This is getting worse and worse! This whole situation reeks of trouble.

"Follow me, I'll give you a quick tour of the place."

She orders me to leave my luggage, saying someone will take care of it. So, I leave my suitcase but keep my backpack. We walk down the large tree-lined avenue. It looks like a beautiful place... until you see what's hidden inside. I wasn't wrong. This place is gigantic! I can't see the end because of the buildings in front of us, but the horizon is already impressive. We take a left where I can see two fields in the distance surrounded by perfectly maintained grass. As we get closer, I spot a macadam field and a grass field, both fenced. Next to that, there’s a huge brand-new gymnasium. We don't go inside, but she indicates there are several rooms that I'll discover over time. We continue the tour in the first building on the left. It’s attached to the central building. This one houses the various classrooms, according to her. There’s another similar building just behind, connected by covered walkways. They don't seem big, only having one small floor each. One thing is for sure, the decoration is far from warm. Everything is as cold as the weather outside. It's raining, by the way. I already miss the sun I left behind in Barcelona. All the buildings are made of gray bricks. The only place that seems less gloomy is the new gymnasium. We exit through the back of the second building after a short passage and continue to the right. We pass the cafeteria, then the dormitories which are at the other end. She indicates that the staff dormitory is behind the student one. We complete our loop by returning to the central building. It’s the heart of the place and houses the administration. It looks very large. The upper floor must be her personal quarters. We continue inside where we are greeted by a hall before accessing the offices. We pass through a door with a sign indicating the secretariat. We walk down a long corridor with several doors labeled with names, most of them closed. We finally reach her office at the end. She invites me to sit on a chair, which I do without hesitation.

"I'm sorry I could only stop by briefly, but work keeps me very busy."

"No problem."

"Alright, let's get to the point. Did your mother explain anything to you?"

"Not really," I replied honestly. "Just that I'd be here for a long time."

"I see," she said. "I've been informed about your issues. Do I have your permission to share this information with the staff?"

"I'd prefer you didn't."

"As you wish. Do you know it's usually hard to get into this kind of camp?"

"Believe me, if I could have avoided it, I wouldn't be here," I retorted.

"Many applications were rejected this year. I shouldn't even be taking on another person in the middle of the year. You should see this as an opportunity! Your mother contacted me. I owed her a favor, so I reconsidered your application after someone left."

"I could have done without it," I muttered.

"We are a strict establishment," she continued, ignoring my comment. "We have clear rules that must not be broken under penalty of sanctions."

"Hmm."

"We are a half-university, half-military camp."

I sat up straight. Did I hear that correctly?! Military? This has to be a joke! She frowned as I laughed.

"What's so funny, Ona?"

"Military, seriously?" I laughed even harder.

"Military, indeed," she confirmed. "Well, it's a big word. You simply have the right to supervision and guidance by instructors alongside your classes. We are a special private educational institution."

"Didn't see that coming."

I hate her. There's no other word. Sending me to a place like this?! Does she want to turn me into a little soldier or what? If she thinks I'm going to go along with this, she's dreaming! I can already tell I'm going to have fun driving them crazy. They'll get so fed up with me that they'll send me back themselves.

"Since you're just starting, you'll be under the responsibility of an instructor for a while," she informed me. "This person is the one you should listen to first. They will help you adapt, guide you, and discipline you if necessary."

"Yeah, yeah."

I couldn’t care less about what she has to say now. I've been tuning out since she mentioned it's a military school. I did catch that all devices are banned in the camp except in the rooms. Phones included. Great! Well, at least I can use it in the room I'll have the pleasure of sharing with a roommate. It won't change much; I'll act as if I'm alone. I don't plan on staying here, so I'll make sure not to get attached. The best thing would be to leave as quickly as I arrived. She finishes by giving me my class assignment. Wait, they have classes here?! Surprising for this kind of school. She hands me a paper with my schedule and the names of my teachers. I don't even bother to glance at it. I don't know anyone anyway. Wiegman's monologue is interrupted by a noise at the door. A young girl enters after getting permission. She introduce herself as Lotte Wubben-Moy the adoptive daughter of the director Wiegman.

"Lotte will show you to your room in the dormitory. Once again, welcome, Ona. I hope I won't have to see you in my office anytime soon!"

"Yeah, thanks."

I leave the office, ignoring the hand Lotte extends. I wait for her in the hallway while she quickly says goodbye to her mother and closes the door. She leads the way since I don't know the place well yet.

"Your name is Ona, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have a good trip?"

"Don't bother trying to make conversation"

Her face falls at my harsh and curt tone. At least she understands not to talk to me. I'm furious with my mother. How could she send me to a military camp! I can't swallow it. It doesn’t even make sense! I now understand why she didn't give me any information about where she was sending me. She just handed me a ticket and said I was leaving home. If I had known, I wouldn't have even gotten on that damned plane. Then again, maybe I would have. She didn't give me much choice. It was either this or she would cut me off and throw me out on the street. That was clear. I don’t know if she would have actually done it, but I didn’t want to take the risk.

We walk along the outside to reach the right side. We arrive at the dormitory I saw earlier. It's larger than the classroom building we visited before. It has three stories. We pass through wooden doors. I'm surprised by the interior. It's a bit cheerier than what I've seen so far since arriving. We're greeted in the hall by a large wooden staircase that leads in two opposite directions. We go up and take a right. Lotte explains that the dormitory is divided into two sections. We stop on the first floor where we reach a long corridor. There are two more floors, but they are for the first and second-year students. I'm surprised she still dares to talk to me after I so harshly rebuffed her. She stops her explanations when we stop in front of room 19. From what I've observed, the even-numbered rooms are on the right and the odd-numbered ones are opposite. She steps aside to let me enter first. The room is nothing special. It has the bare minimum. Two single beds dominate the middle of the room, each with a two-drawer nightstand next to it. A lamp and a clock radio sit on top. On the other side of the bed, two wardrobes face each other. The one at the far end is next to a window, the only source of natural light. Finally, there are two desks at the foot of each bed. There's just enough space to pass between each piece of furniture. I open the only other door next to the entrance to discover a bathroom that is also nothing special. Surprisingly, it’s rather modern. It has a shower, a small sink with an extended countertop, and a mirror above. There’s also a toilet and a laundry basket. I close the door and move into the room with white walls. There's no decoration, so it still feels rather cold, once again.

"Well, here you are," she breaks the silence. "Your suitcase is already here, as you can see. I'm going back to my room. If you need anything, come see me. I'm in room 3, first floor."

"I'll be fine, thanks."

She nods before closing the door behind her. I sigh, looking around the room. What am I doing here? I have to survive a year. A fucking year that I plan to cut short. They don’t know who I am, but they will soon. My name is going to be known to the staff very quickly. If I understood correctly, I'm free for the rest of the day. I pull out my iPod from my pocket and check my phone. I must have sent a message to my mother when I got off the plane. I'm relieved to see she hasn't replied. She would have faced my wrath, and this time, I’ll have trouble holding it back.

My suitcase is at the far end of the room, right under the window. I guess that’s my side. I check by opening the first wardrobe. I close it immediately upon finding it full and lie down on the bed at the back. I would have chosen this one if I had the choice. I like having the window on my side, even though I doubt it will be of much use given the weather outside. I grab my bag to get something to eat. I’m glad I thought to bring snacks. Given the time, I would have been starving until dinner since I didn't eat lunch. I then slip my headphones into my ears. I use this quiet time to gather myself, staring pensively at the ceiling. I still can’t believe where I am. A military camp. This is going to be interesting... depending on your point of view, of course!

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #fiction #manchester united women

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christinarowie332 · 10 months

Text

stupid kids in love

part three to “stupid horny fucks”

warnings : angst , SMUT !!!! , kinda fluff . sub chris if u squint . cock warming . m! receiving , f!riding . SMUTTTTTTTT

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“what?” i cut him off , it feels like a punch to the gut . a thousand different things race my mind , the loudest drowning the rest out . what the fuck does that mean .

“look i don’t fucking know what to say . it was a stupid thing to do i know but you don’t understand, i have literally been fucking fighting myself with the knowledge that i am literally obsessed with you . i’m talking like … i can’t actually imagine myself with someone that isn’t you , and i know u shouldn’t have a one time fuck with a friend or someone your in love with but i fucking did , and i’m sorry that i made it awkward and i’m sorry you don’t feel the same and i’m sorry i didn’t tell u before and i’m sorry that i don’t fucking regret it .” chris finishes his incessant ramble and i’m stood frozen . literally everything he has just said was insane . like it feels like a dream . maybe a nightmare.

“chris”

“and i’m sorry that it happened the way it did , i feel like fucking shit knowing that was your first time and it was bad , i wish i could go back and stop myself . i’m so fucking sorry” he cuts me off , basically pleading with me . i wouldn’t be suprised if he got down on his knees and started praying. with all of his apologies ,all i can think about is holding him , he has absolutely nothing to be sorry for , i feel the exact same as he does. so why the fuck am i still frozen. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL FROZEN .

“chris i love you”

“please just hear me out- wait what” he cuts himself off and meets my eyes . his eyebrows soften before they furrow in confusion. i step forward , taking his face in my hands , searching each of his eyes , watching the tears that were flowing over his cheeks stop . i didn’t notice until now ive been doing the same , they pool on my chin , dripping down my collarbones and soothing the same place he had kissed me a week ago .

“chris i have loved you for years . don’t u dare apologize for anything, i was insecure and overthinking. i don’t regret the sex if you don’t , it was fucking perfect. please don’t run away now .” i say quietly, i silently pray he understands. that he believes me .

“u were the one who ran away” he says , refusing to meet my eyes , it was as if he thought that if he looked up , i would disappear. i grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me , his usual confidence gone in my grip . “and i will spend forever trying to make it up to you chris .” i reply , my lip shaking under my teeth as i try and hold back a sob , he needs me as much as i need him . he’s wanted me as long as i’ve wanted him . i have nothing to worry about .

we stay in silence for a while , before i tug him forward into me . his arms latching around me tighter then ever . i’m not going anywhere, i want to say . but the pressure of his body against mine finally silences the voice in my head , i completely melt in his grip . the scent of his cologne and just him flood my senses as my face rubs against the soft material of his sweatshirt .

he tilts my head to look at him , the blue of his eyes almost gone as the darkness of my hallway makes him seem like a shadow . almost unreal to look at . but he is real . i know this because his lips touch mine in a way they never have before , slowly melting into his touch as his tongue softly caresses mine , his hands move from my back . slowly trailing to my face as he pulls me closer , deepening the kiss impossibly closer . i kiss him back with the same amount of passion. no . love . that’s the only word for how his lips move against mine . how his hand moves to my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulsing veins . he could have his hands wrapped around my neck and i would trust him . i would let him squeeze the last breath of air in my lungs just to have this be my last memory.

i walk him to the wall , my lips never leaving his , his back hits it and as soon as it does he flips us around , pinning my back against the cold object . his body is basically attached to mine as he presses his pelvis to me, slowly rolling his hips against mine as i match the movement. our pace quickens , the soft kiss turns into a hungry one , soft groans as we explore each others body like the first time , his hand reaches towards my thigh and trails towards my knee, lifting my leg as i wrap it around his waist . my hand that was once on his face makes it to his chest as i push him towards my living room , never once breaking contact with his lips .

the moment i feel him hault and hit the edge of the couch , i push him down . immediately straddling his lap and pushing his hair back through my fingers , feeling the soft strands gently slide over my skin . i re-attach our lips , he pulls away but i chase his lips still looking for contact . “y/n this isn’t-“ i kiss him again , cutting him off but he moves back and swerves my attempt to carry on .”y/n listen to me “ i look from his lips up to him, “i need you to know that this isn’t the only think i want . it’s not just for the sex , i want you . i need you. it’s always been you . i should have said that before but i was just-“

“stop apologizing.” i say putting my hands on his chest to i can see him properly, “chris , we were stupid horny fucks , it was both of us , i don’t fucking regret it so just kiss me!” within a second of my words leaving my throat, his lips were on mine again . his hands travel to my ass , lifting me as i grind against him , my hands grab my t-shirt , lifting it over my head . his eyes fly to my chest , before dunking his head into the skin and sucking dark marks into it making my head throw back and my hand to grab his messy hair . after a few seconds i tug on the brunette strands , making his lips detach from my throat and look at me with the most attractive expression i’ve ever seen . his lips were plump and pink, along with his nose and cheeks, his eyes droopy and black as his pupils dilate . his lips were slightly parted so i took the chance to slide my thumb against his bottom lip , pulling it down and watching him squirm underneath my core , feeling his very hard dick against my clothes .

“for someone who doesn’t care about the sex , your little friend sure does …” i whisper while moving my hand to his face , tracing his cheek bone with my thumb gently . moving my hips against the hard object prodding at my pelvis . he whines slightly at the movement, making my lips turn into a smirk , producing a breathy laugh from him . “are you okay with this?” i ask playing with the hem of his shirt , asking to take it off , he nods and starts to help me . i smack his hand , resulting in a very confused look from him , i ignore him and pull it over his head , throwing it to the ground and getting off his lap to kneel in front of the couch. “and …are you okay with this ?” i ask looking up at him through my eyelashes , putting two fingers under the band of his sweatpants , running it across the ragged elastic material . he nods quickly and i take my hand away . “chris , words please baby” i say sitting on my heels and waiting for him to answer me .

“yes, fuck please” he says , letting out the air he was holding in anticipation. i smile at him and place my fingers under the band again , pulling them down . he raises his hips letting the sweatpants free for me too move down his legs , letting them pool around his feet . my hand ghosts over his cock , slowly moving up and down the material of his boxers , feeling him twitch . ”please” he breathes out . “please what?” i reply , loving the power this gave me . i could practically feel the pool between my legs , it should be teasing him but all it’s doing is making me wetter . he doesn’t need to know that though .

“touch . please just touch me y/n” he says , attempting to pull his boxers down. i take the fabric from his hands and pulling it down the rest of the way . his dick springs up and almost hits me in the face , making us both laugh, but he quickly gets serious when i grab his dick with my hand and spit down on the tip . his head throws back , shakey breaths and whines from his throat as i kiss his tip , tongue rolling around the sensitive skin . i take half of him in my mouth, letting my hand work the rest . slowly sliding my head up and down his dick , my lips rolling over his veins as he takes my hair into a makeshift ponytail and pushes he down further . my nails drag into his skin as i try not to gag as his tip hits the back of my throat , leaving red marks down his thigh , lewd sounds coming from both of us as i moan around his cock.

he pulls me up by my hair arruptly , my chest sliding against his dick as i come up , making him shutter and whimper. “what?” i ask , thinking i did something wrong or that he was in pain, “i was literally about to cum down your throat?” he says breathlessly, tilting his head slightly and furrowing his eyebrows .

“and u think i didn’t want that?” i ask as confused as him . he just relaxes and smirks, looking down at my lips and kissing me slowly . i pull away , pushing my sweatpants and my underwear down together , wanting more then anything to feel him inside of me , i straddle him again , letting my folds slide against his dick . he grabs his dick and slides the tip up and down . “jesus y/n” he says , referring to the fact i am basically fucking dripping at this point , i just roll my eyes and change the subject, “you ready?” i say , he smiles . “shouldn’t i be the one saying that?” i just tilt my head at his words , raising my eyebrows. “yes y/n” he continues .

as soon as the words leave his mouth i sink down on him , too fast . i can literally feel myself burn , he notices and kisses my lips again , brushing the hair from my face with one hand , wrapping the other around my waist to lift me up . “you okay” he speaks with concern , i humm in reply and slowly start to lift myself on him . slowly the pain turns to pleasure. feeling him deep inside of me . rolling my hips to get a deeper feeling , i drop my head to the crook of his neck leaving open mouthed kisses on the skin , breathing heavy and letting soft moans fall from my lips as he starts to thrust upwards . his hands are on my waist , before moving to my ass , helping me lift myself on his dick , he grips it hard enough to leave bruises , but the feeling in my stomach overshadows that pain as i feel the knot slowly start to gain more tension.

“chris , mmh, fuck” i breathe out before putting my hands on his chest and pushing myself up to look at him .”chris- FUCK … chris i’m close.” he lets out a strained moan , before nodding frantically and bringing his hand down to my clit , running fast circles on the bundle of nerves . my nails dig into his chest as i half-ball my fists and run them down his chest . he bites his lip harshly , attempting to muffle his own noises, but ultimately the sounds that leave his throat are breathy groans as his dick twitches inside of me .

the room that encapsulates us are filled will loud grunts and high pitched moans as we both completely undone around each other . i clench around him after i feel his warmth shoot inside of me , painting my insides white as i come almost straight after him . a string of curses leave our mouths before i collapse on his chest. listening to his quickened heart beat in my ears , feeling his hands rub up and down my breath as we both come down from our highs .

after a while i go to get up but he stops me . “is anyone home tonight?” he asks me , running his fingers through my sweat drowned hair .

“no why?” i ask , relaxing into his touch . “let’s just sleep like this” he says grabbing a blanket and covering us both on the sofa . i nod and lie back down on his chest , resting my head on his shoulder , breathing in his scent on his neck . he grabs he around my shoulders and wraps his legs around me , swinging us to the side so we can lie down on the sofa properly. his dick slides out slightly so i take the opportunity to wrap my legs around him and push myself closer to him . he lets out a small whimper at the sensitivity and i giggle , apologize and kiss his neck as i get comfortable against his body again .

“hope you know we’re defo not gonna be friends after this” he says , making me look up to him .”ur my girl now , you know that?” he says smiling and placing a small kiss to my forehead .

“yeah i’d fucking think so”

—————

hope i did y’all proud ☝🏻 i feel like im going to hell for writing this .

—

taglist:

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444@kenzieiskoolaid @urmyslxt @chrisenthusiast @mattslolita @iheart2021chris @parkerssecrets @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @paper-crab @daddyslilchickenfingers @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lustfulslxt @lunarsturniolo @chrisolivia4l @freshlovehacker @its-jennarose @kitaysworld @liz-stxrn @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @flowerxbunnie @mattsbratt @slut4chr1s @oversturn @mbbsgf @fredswh0re @nickenthusiast

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rosemariad · 15 days

Text

THE BITTER END | SPN 15x18 DESPAIR: About that Destiel moment in 15x18

Oh boy…the scene that sailed a thousand memes (and counting)…the scene that made us all go feral in the midst of a contentious presidential elections in one of the most disruptive, chaotic years in recent memory (2020 you son of a bitch)

Now i am super late with this since it’s nearly been 4 years since this was aired live on TV and posted like crazy all over the internet BUT…y’all Destiel shippers got robbed. Not just with this scene but the whole Destiel ship in general - just done so dirty.

I started watching this show on and off back in 2021 and I finally got to finish over the summer this year (2024) taking my sweet time, even rewatching certain episodes (for some fanfic writing 😁). I went into this to settle the debate for myself - is this Destiel stuff legit? Or was it taken out of context? Misconstrued.

No. It really wasn’t. They (the powers behind SPN) tried it, tried to pull the wool over people’s heads, with certain fans chiming in (the destiel haters, the homophobes, the anti-mishas, etc.) but no. The SPN showrunners fucked all this up.

From the beginning….

So it’s 15x18 despair - we’re in the last act - shit’s popping off, everything’s going tits up - Billie is trying to hunt Dean down, calling him chaos incarnate. Dean & Cas get trapped in a room with no apparent means of escape or defense - probably should’ve headed for the exit - but I guess since it’s the 3rd to last episode and the execs clearly want things to go back to the status quo 🙄 now’s as good a time as any to cash in on that plot thread from last season and kill Castiel once and for all 😭 (as 1 person pointed out, given the prior context they probably could've just waited Billie out, since them being trapped in that room - Cas was the one that blocked the door anyhow - but I get it SPN showrunners you wanted to get rid of Cas somehow - what a mess)

If you haven’t watched it - here’s where I gasp and scoff in disbelief - please watch it https://youtu.be/l_r9GZeQl1w?si=uVox8PlXByYEYKci

youtube

Basically Cas tells Dean he’s the greatest guy he’s ever known, that he fights for love and that Cas lurves Dean 😭 and he’s not the bad things enemies say Dean is. That he’s more than the worst parts of himself - oh Cas.

This was Castiel’s one moment of true happiness - telling the one person whom he adores more than anyone or anything else in the entire universe - that he is loved by Castiel himself.

The confession that triggers Castiel’s demise to go with the empty, takes Billie with him and before Dean can process the massive TRUTH BOMB Castiel just dumped on him, Castiel is gone.

Despair indeed.

They made too many fucking cuts to this scene, at least for Jensen’s coverage. Like if you don’t want Dean to reciprocate…fine. Don’t. But let him fucking respond! Let him use his words. Castiel just told Dean he was in love with him, that is one of the BIGGEST things you can say to somebody in your life. EVER. Especially on TV. And yes it was in love, like romantically. Not platonically because why make such a fucking fuss over fucking platonic friendship! There’s always been a tension between these 2 characters, it hung over between them since season 4. They just made it into a joke, never expecting to get the traction it did over the years. They even tried writing Cas off the show for good back in season 7. But they got stuck with Cas and never really made proper use of him. They literally just waited until the last minute to get rid of him in a way that couldn’t get the show cancelled until that decision had already been made by the network. to make things worse - COVID happened

So don’t tell me the confession doesn’t merit a response, either for or against on Dean’s part - whether he returns Castiel’s affection or not is another story but dammit let Dean speak! How could you not? Cowards!

And Would it be so terrible if Dean did feel something MORE than friendship for the only other individual that has stood by him for so many years? Like really? A relationship doesn’t demand sex (but let’s be honest, Cas probably wanted to fuck the shit outta Dean 🤣) it’s whatever the people in the relationship want! Dean isn’t young by the time s15 rolls around. Older people tend to just want someone to come home to, settle down with. Companionship. Cas fits that to a fucking T. When Dean dreamed of a future, Cas was right there with him (and Sam, cuz Dean always wants his family close as much as he can, given how he grew up).

Couldn’t find a gif of Dean talking about taking some time off after all the craziness of the hunting they do but I’m not crazy I know he wanted it.

The team behind SPN could have finished Dean’s narrative beautifully as man who was driven by fear all his life and opens himself up to a relationship he never saw coming but when the time came he didn’t run because he grew to love more than fear (and choose to live a life of peace after stuck in one of violence for so many years).

This is why Hollywood is shit! Great beginnings, shitty endings. But in this case, it was because they consistently chose NOT to indulge in queer-like narratives with enough care (aside from some other problematic stuff like the treatment towards women being more negative than positive, the inconsistent writing for characters and plot, etc.)

BUT not when it’s the main character 😡 Charlie can be gay AF but not Dean, seriously? That’s fucked. Like at least let him fucking explore/consider it. So people stop watching it who gives AF?! I never even watched the show when it was on air for 15 years, tons of people didn’t. There are still people out there watching SPN for the first time today! People who started but stopped because it’s a show that ran WAAAY longer than any other normally does.

Idk who made it so that Dean couldn’t explore his sexuality or fucked up the Destiel of it all but they SUUUUUUUUCK! You really shat the bed! at least explore it cuz at the end of the day, it may not work out. Gay relationships aren’t that different from straight relationships in that sometimes it just doesn’t work out BECAUSE we’re ALL people. And who knows maybe they could’ve been happy but we’re not allowed to know that canonically because Destiel was never given a CHANCE!

I mean if it was REALLY that big a deal – why introduce it? By making these little suggestions that (in a way that's funny but why would Dean be queer be haha funny - no that's not okay, queerness shouldn't be a joke) furthermore we’re talking about a show on basic cable - all it would’ve taken was fucking hand-holding or the same routine of staring into each other’s eyes like they’d been doing for 12 fucking years already! Just not shying away from the queerness that time. Legend of Korra did it. That 1 Disney show did it (i don’t remember the name). No kissing would’ve been necessary - nice, wishful thinking but not necessary if the kissing became an issue (but seriously it was 2020 man but ofc - that is a year where a pandemic that required social distancing decided to kick in during the final arc of this show) - just so we’re all clear COVID cock blocked Destiel lol jk 🤣

All those times they had Dean & Cas stare into each other's eyes – the forces at work – showrunners, writers, directors AND editors & the network who is showing this to audiences – if its such a big fucking deal - Don't leave it in. By leaving it in, you're allowing people to make assumptions about the relationship – it happens literally every time in every story ever told. You put 2 people in a scene and they're not family (though not always the case) or JUST friends (explicitly proven) there's a chance SOMEONE is gonna wanna ship them no matter how likely it is (OR NOT) they'll hookup or become a couple. That's just how it is. So don't fan the flames and then turn it around on fans that they're wrong, crazy or misinterpreting. If Wincest can exist, so can Destiel and any other ship. That being said, y’all Destiel shippers were ROBBED but I don’t need to tell you that.

I don’t think the relationship would’ve been perfect or smooth sailing - their friendship as it was on the show sure wasn’t. And Dean wasn’t the only one with issues - Cas had some bad qualities too - the angel liked to lie and for a while there he was extremely averse to conflict. And Dean…he gets real fucking angry 😬 not a good mix for a relationship- hell even a friendship.

But the two had a profound bond, with a great deal of affection for one another and that’s what got them through betrayal, fights, amnesia, curses, apocalypses, and all the ugliness in between. They could’ve made it. Or they could’ve just had Cas and Dean stay friends - but we’ll never know since Cas was pretty much omitted after 15x18 - there were references - like only 2 though 😒

Really SPN? 😒😔 so lazy. But sure, go ahead, blame COVID. It’s not like phones exist. It’s not like the actor couldn’t have just recorded Castiel’s voice nope. Totally not an option 🤦🏾‍♀️ same goes for the other characters - Jody, Donna, Eileen - you know all the other characters Sam & Dean cared about but sure - fuck ‘em too. Status quo is the only thing that matters - SMH.

#supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #supernatural season 15 #the destiel meme #destiel confession #spn final season #spnfandom #spn 15x18

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iboatedhere · 4 months

Note

Hi friend! Thanks for asking for prompts!

I’d love to request a fic based on a prompt from the June list - Peaches 🍑 (any interpretation you like 😏). Can’t wait to see what your awesome brain comes up with! ❤️❤️

start with a little inspo

"I'm having a full-on crisis."

"Henry, darling," Pez says over the line, "you'll have to be a tad more specific. You open a conversation this way at least three times a week."

"This is the most urgent. This is the one that will have me change my name, grow a beard, and flee to the woods. It was lovely knowing you, Percy. Truly."

"I'm not entirely sure you could pull off a beard," Pez says. "Too blond and too pale. It'll just blend right in."

Henry groans.

"Perhaps plastic surgery," Pez offers. "Although it would be a shame to cut up that gorgeous face."

"Percy—."

"I'm sure I could find you an excellent surgeon. Let me make a few calls."

"Please go ahead and do that because I'm hanging up."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop," Pez says with a laugh that negates his promise. "Tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better once you do."

"I might have, accidentally, slightly, sexually harassed a politician on Instagram."

"That's quite the adventurous statement," Pez says after a moment. "Care to elaborate for me, Haz?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning, love."

"You know how dreadful I am at social media."

"Indeed. If I had a penny for every time you accidentally posted a screenshot or sent me a DM filled with gibberish, I would never need to tap into my trust fund."

"Yes, well, there's this man that I follow—."

"The politician? Haz, if you dare tell me that you've taken an interest in some old, white dolt—."

"He is none of those things. He's quite young, and I believe he's said his father is Mexican—."

"Oh, you believe?" Pez says as if he already knows Henry has hung on to his every word since he followed him.

"He's brilliant," Henry continues, "and beautiful."

"But still a politician."

"He's pro all the correct things, Pez. Nobody is perfect, but he's as close as I've seen."

"And you sexually harassed him?"

"Slightly. Accidentally. And via Instagram, which I know doesn't make it any better."

"What is his name?"

"Unimportant."

"You do realize I can find him by looking through your followers. It's the price you pay for only following one hundred people."

"I like to keep my feed neat and organized. Plus, the fewer people I follow, the less of a chance I have of embarrassing myself."

"And yet here we are."

"Indeed."

"Henry George Edward James Fox. What in the world did you do?"

"Well. He posted this photo to his stories, and I meant to scroll past it—."

"Did you?"

"I meant to screenshot it," Henry admits.

"That's more like it. Do continue."

"I meant to screenshot it and then move on—."

"Wank off."

Henry hangs up. If Pez isn't going to be helpful, then they don't need to have a conversation.

Thirty seconds later, Pez calls him, and Henry picks up against his better judgment.

"Is his name Alex Claremont-Diaz?"

"Pez!"

"He's not hard to find. Running for New York's 11th Congressional District. Originally from Austin, Texas. Yee-haw."

"Pez, please, I'm dying."

"Moved to Manhattan to attend NYU law, then relocated to Brooklyn where he decided to try his hand at politics. Seems to volunteer a lot and posts quite a few thirst traps. I'm telling you, Haz. A man in a well-fit suit is a thousand times sexier than one with his shirt off."

"Did you look at his stories?"

"Looking now. A photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Basic. A Goldendoodle in the park. Adorable. A little photoshoot. Oh. Oh my. I see."

Henry hums, knowing precisely what Pez is looking at.

Congressional hopeful, Alex Claremont-Diaz, facing sideways toward the camera in a jumper and khaki pants.

"Certainly has a body on him, doesn't he? What did you accidentally say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. But I somehow sent him the peach emoji."

There's a moment of silence and then bubbling laughter. "Oh, Henry," he wheezes.

"I don't know, my finger slipped on the screen or something, and then that little bar came up on the bottom, and the peach emoji auto-filled. I tried to delete it, but I hit send instead. Then I tried to delete that, but I couldn't, and now I'm panicking."

"Oh, darling."

"I don't know what to do. I'm so embarrassed I could die."

"I do think you're overthinking this a bit. The hopeful congressman did post that photo for a reason."

"So you think he was looking for this kind of reaction?"

"He's young, gorgeous, and very clearly knows it if he's taking GQ photo shoots and posting them to his socials. Plus, the angle of this shot…I think it's safe to say he got plenty of peaches sent his way."

"Oh," Henry says, doing an awful job of hiding his disappointment. He spends entirely too much of his time thinking about this man, and in return, he's barely a blip on his radar. "Okay. I suppose it's not as dire as I thought."

"As long as he doesn't block you, I think you're just fine."

"Okay," Henry says again as his phone dings. He pulls it away from his ear and looks down at a new Instagram notification.

"Oh bloody hell," he breathes when he realizes what he's looking at. "It's a message from him."

Pez gasps. "What does it say?"

Henry holds his breath as he opens Instagram. "He sent me a photo of myself. That ridiculous one you made me post from during our trip to The Hamptons."

"The one in your swimsuit? By ridiculous, you must mean how ridiculously hot you looked. Posting that was a public service."

"I beg to differ," Henry says as another message appears. "Oh. Oh."

"What?" Pez asks. "What?"

"He sent the eggplant emoji. What does that mean?"

"Oh, Henry," Pez says, "love. It means you'll have quite the story to tell the grandkids."

#rwrb #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #ask #summer prompts

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aimbutmiss · 4 months

Text

Buggy sighed in frustration as he clenched another important document that he absolutely couldn't care less about as he tried to make sense of the words on it. Crocodile rolled his eyes at his "dramatic theatrics", as he put it. And while Buggy did indeed hold the sigh a bit longer than necessary, he could argue it was a very justified reaction. The words on the paper were basically alphabet soup in his brain as it completely shut down, unable to process any more information.

He rubbed his eyes as if that would somehow fix the problem. He felt closer to death with every second he spent inside the dreary office tent. The room was suffocating, filled with the smoke of Crocodile's never ending cigars. Buggy desperately needed fresh air and exposure to direct sunlight, or a poor crew member was going to find his corpse under all those papers by the end of the day.

"Croccy, it's been hours... How many more signatures do you need from me?"

Crocodile puffed out the smoke in his mouth as he spoke, making the air in the tent even heavier. Buggy had to hold himself back from coughing as he kept his eyes locked to the other man's unimpressed ones. "You're the one who insisted on reading all the documents when I already had done so. You could have just quickly signed all of them and left by now if you weren't so stubborn."

"Of course I have to read them! How can I trust you? You could be making me sign away my life to the slave trade for all I know!"

Crocodile laughed menacingly, the only way he knew how, as far as Buggy had seen. "No one would pay good money for you, clown. And if I wanted to sell you off I would have done it by now."

Buggy crossed his arms with a frown, ready to argue with his business partner, but he was cut by a low-ranking worker entering the tent reluctantly.

"I'm saved." He thought as Crocodile got up to talk to the poor man. He took the moment to sneak outside, limb by limb. As he put himself back together outside of the tent, he took the sunlight in with a sigh and cracked his back in relief. He was unfortunately too old and certainly too sexy for an office job. Being an Emperor was supposed to be more flashy than this god dammit!

He locked eyes with the shaky man as he left the tent, and gave him a reassuring smile. The man visibly relaxed, smiling wide as he bowed down before leaving Buggy's presence.

Buggy hated how much Crocodile ruled by fear. These were his men! He was responsible for their well-being and happiness! Well, he couldn't even protect his own well-being so how could he do the same for his enormous crew...

"Don't think so hard, your head will explode."

Buggy jumped in his place as Crocodile spoke in his ear. Too close! When had he snuck up on him? He was too tired to deal with this.

"I'm gonna go now."

"Not before you sign the papers."

"I'm tired..."

"Then don't read them."

"But I want to!"

"THEN GET BACK IN THERE!" Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his cool after his outburst. "Okay, you either go in willingly or I'll drag you in there myself if I have to." He moved his hook at an angle, making the light reflect off its sharp edge menacingly. And Buggy probably should have listened, but something snapped in him.

"Stop threatening me with that damn hook of yours! You know I can't get cut."

"But you can get pierced, can't you?"

Buggy gulped, sweat forming on his forehead but not daring to drop. "... You wouldn't dare."

"And why's that?"

"Because..." Buggy stared the scary man in the eyes and was somehow overcome with boldness he couldn't explain. "Because this" he gestured to his face with exaggerated motion "is what sells your shitty personality to everyone!" He was spitting out the words like venom, emphasising every word slowly. "You need me. Certainly more than I need you. You're just an overgrown accountant, but I'm a fucking Emperor. I leave, and the thousands of men under me also leave. You are nothing without me. So stop acting like you can get rid of me without consequences. I dare you to pierce me with that hook."

"..."

Buggy smiled smugly. "I'm gonna take a nap now."

He was lighter than a feather as he made his way to his tent, the smile never dropping from his face. He did it! Well, he wasn't quite free but it was certainly a step in the right direction. And sue him, he was fucking proud of himself.

As he left with his head in the clouds, he was completely unaware of the scene he left behind him. Crocodile was fuming. He felt hot with anger and another annoying, sticky emotion eating at his insides. He completely ignored Mihawk, who had been a witness to the whole conversation.

The swordsman raised a brow in question at the man's silence. "What are you gonna do now, go masturbate?"

Crocodile stared daggers at the man before turning into sand and flowing away. And he absolutely did not masturbate to thoughts about the clown. Ridiculous Hawk Eye really thought he knew everything...

(and he did.)

#I feel so rusty with writing 😖 especially little drabbles like this #the beginning of this has been a draft for months... glad I could finally complete it #also not related but I'm dying of heat rn #one piece #buggy the clown #cross guild #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #crocbug #crocobug

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chelseachilly · 10 months

Text

when i'm feeling alone, you remind me of home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you're stranded at uni by yourself for christmas with no flights going to london, but your boyfriend has other ideas warnings: nothing but fluff ❄️🫶🏼 word count: 2.5k

author’s note: here's another holiday one-shot! hoping to write at least one more before christmas. also btw there is no regard for the actual chelsea december fixtures or club rules in this story lol. title from christmas tree farm by taylor 🎄

You’ve always loved snow.

You loved playing in it as a little kid, making snowmen with your parents and going sledding with friends. You loved watching it from your window your first year of uni, seeing the blanket of white make Edinburgh look even more magical. You love bundling up to go ice skating and drinking hot chocolate as the snow falls around you.

But right now, you absolutely hate it.

A massive snowstorm rolling through the UK has caused the cancellation all flights, including the one you were supposed to take from Edinburgh to London tonight. It’s your last year of university there, but you’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and your boyfriend.

Now, it’s two days until Christmas and you’re stranded alone in your little flat with absolutely no way of making it home.

“What? You can’t get a train?” Ben asks after you’ve explained your predicament to him sadly.

As much as you feel bad about missing the holiday with your parents, you feel really bad about not being able to see Ben. With your busy schedules, you’ve hardly seen him in months, and you even missed his birthday a couple days ago because you had an exam. Now, you were supposed to finally have an entire week with him in London.

You were going to go to Winter Wonderland and complain about tourists and end up going back to his to snuggle by the fireplace. You were going to have Christmas morning with your family and dinner with his, spending the whole day exchanging gifts and fond memories. You were going to watch his game on the 27th and bundle up in your warmest Chelsea gear to cheer your heart out for your man, which you’ve really missed doing lately.

You miss everything about him, really.

But instead, you’re going to be eating Indian takeaway leftovers and watching Love Actually to try to make yourself feel better.

“The trains are all full, I checked,” you sigh.

“Well, let me see if I can charter a plane-“

“Ben,” you cut him off before he gets ahead of myself. Although it’s quite extravagant for him to spend tens of thousands of dollars getting you there, you know he would do it in a heartbeat. “All flights are grounded, not just mine. It’s not possible.”

“But…there must be something.”

You can picture his disappointed face right now, and it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you reply, sinking into your couch. “You know I would do anything to be there with you right now.”

“Don’t apologize to me, love, I can’t believe you’re going to spend Christmas alone,” Ben sighs. “This is so shit. I just wanna see you and hold you.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I miss you so much. The only thing that got me through exams was thinking about being home with you and playing with Oscar in the snow and baking cookies…”

You can feel yourself getting choked up, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you think about all you’ll be missing out on. You feel a bit silly, knowing there are people with far bigger problems in the world, but you’ve been working yourself to death for the past month to ace your finals and this trip home was the shining light at the end of the tunnel.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ben says sadly. “I miss you so much too. I wish there was something we could do.”

“Like control the weather?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the tears running down your face.

“You know I would do it if I could,” he replies seriously. “I’m sorry this is happening, babe. Maybe the weather will clear up in a day or two and you’ll still be able to make it out for a few days, yeah?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you breathe - some time with Ben and your family is better than nothing, but you’re still going to be alone for Christmas morning. “I should let you go, I don’t want to stop you from having a nice holiday too. Say hi to your mum and Alex for me when they get there, alright?”

“I will, baby,” Ben says. “I’ll text you later and call you in the morning, alright?”

“Alright,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, love.”

The moment Ben hangs up, you toss your cell onto the cushion beside you and bury your face in the pillow, groaning in frustration.

After feeling sorry for yourself for a bit, you reluctantly get up and go to turn up the heat and change into something warmer, as the temperatures outside continue to drop. You grab Ben’s hoodie from your closet, a cozy grey one you stole last time you were in London. It barely smells like him anymore, since that was over a month ago and you’ve worn and washed it several times, but it’s still a small comfort to wear something of his.

You heat up your dinner and put on the film, although the romantic scenes and the shots of London only seem to make you more homesick.

You text Ben during his favourite part, which is naturally Hugh Grant dancing around 10 Downing Street.

The annual Love Actually rewatch isn’t the same without you babe. Hope you’re having fun with the fam ❤️

He takes a while to respond, which you hope means he’s having a better time than you are and enjoying being with his family.

You’re just drifting off to sleep when his text finally comes in.

It’s not the same here without you either. Goodnight baby, talk in the morning 😘

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing.

You briefly think it’s your alarm, but you don’t remember setting one, certainly not for 7AM, which is the current time according to your watch.

You blearily stretch your arms, a bit of a crick in your neck from falling asleep on the couch, and reach around haphazardly for your phone.

You see Ben’s name and contact photo on the screen and you quickly answer, worried something is wrong if he’s calling you at this time.

“Ben? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assures you. “Can you go downstairs? There’s a delivery for you.”

“What?” you yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What on earth have you sent me at seven in the morning?”

“Just go check, I think you’ll like it,” Ben promises, and you can hear the smile tugging at his lips. “Quickly, babe. This is time sensitive.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you throw the blanket off yourself and slide on your slippers, leaving the warmth of your flat to go down the stairs and see what’s waiting for you outside the main doors. You can only imagine what ridiculous present your boyfriend had shipped to you overnight to try to make up for your failed Christmas.

You tighten Ben’s hoodie around your body to brace yourself for the cold before opening the door, your eyes on the ground where you’re expecting the package to be.

Instead, you see a familiar pair of Nikes - and your eyes trail up to see the very familiar man wearing them.

You’re not sure if you’re dreaming, so you blink a few times, only to be greeted with the same sight - your perfect, adorable boyfriend standing in front of you in his puffer jacket and hat, his cheeks red from the cold and his smile absolutely blinding.

“Ben?” you gasp. “Why are you - how are you here?”

“I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

You meet him halfway as he drops his bags to the ground and opens his arms for you to throw yourself at him. You hug him as tight as you can, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling his scent. You can’t believe this is really happening.

“How the hell did you get here?” you ask as he squeezes your waist tightly and kisses the top of your head.

“I drove,” Ben murmurs.

You pull back to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You drove? It’s, like, eight hours-“

“Twelve in a snowstorm, apparently,” Ben chuckles. “But definitely worth it for this.”

“You drove all night through a snowstorm for me?”

You can feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes once again, though these are tears of joy. You can’t believe how insanely lucky you are to have a man who loves you this much.

“Of course I did, I would do anything for you,” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, brushing his nose against yours. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long night and I would really love a kiss.”

Without hesitation, you grab his face and kiss him passionately, sighing with joy at the feeling of being reunited with your boyfriend. You’re certain that this is the most romantic and wonderful thing anyone has ever done for you, and although you never expected the best kiss of your life to happen on your doorstep at 7am in a blizzard, this just might take the top spot.

“I love you so damn much,” you whisper against his lips when you finally pull away. “But I am also slightly mad at you for driving at night in poor conditions.”

Ben laughs and rolls his eyes a bit. “I promise I was safe, but can we go inside where it’s warmer before we argue about it?”

“Hmm, okay,” you grin, pecking his lips a few more times before helping him lug his bags up the stairs to your flat.

Once you’re inside and Ben’s taken off his shoes and coat, you waste no time in wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again.

“You’re freezing, sweetheart,” you murmur as his cold hands slide under your - his - hoodie to feel your skin. “Want a tea? Or do you want to go straight to bed? You must be exhausted.”

“A tea and a cuddle would be perfect,” Ben smiles, pecking your forehead.

You tell him to go get comfy on the couch while you make tea for both of you, and when you return, he’s waiting for you with open arms and a sleepy grin on his face.

You place both mugs on the coffee table and curl up next to him, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms and legs tangled.

You let out a content sigh as your bodies recalibrate after so much time apart. You knew you needed this, but you didn’t know quite how much until right now.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “What about your mum and Alex, though?”

“I told them how sad you sounded on the phone and they encouraged me to go, though my mum was slightly nervous about me making the drive-“

“As she should be,” you scold gently.

“I told you, I was very careful, and there were hardly any cars on the roads,” Ben promises once again. “Anyways, they were all for it. They knew I would’ve been miserable without you there.”

You hug him a bit tighter, hooking your leg around his. “Wait, you have a game in three days. Did the club really sign off on this?”

“I managed to persuade Poch to give me today off to go see my girl, I think he’s a bit of a softie at heart,” Ben jokes. “And we have tomorrow and the day after off for Christmas anyways. We’ll just have to drive back on the 26th, the roads are supposed to clear by then. I know it’s not the same as Christmas in London with both our families, but this is better than being apart, right?”

“Ben,” you say sincerely, cupping his cheek with one hand. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. A cozy Christmas with just the two of us sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Your lips meet in another sweet kiss, one that quickly escalates as you feel your boyfriend’s hands on your hips and thighs for the first time in a month. You moan into his mouth as he tugs you into his lap.

“I missed you so much,” you breathe between kisses, tugging his hat off to run your hands through his messy hair.

“I can tell, hoodie thief,” Ben teases, fiddling with the soft material. “You look unreal in that, by the way. And I missed you more.”

You smile into another kiss, getting completely lost in him and his scent and his touch. Even after years together, you’re completely addicted to him.

You’re ready to take it further and move to your bedroom, but you’re interrupted by a yawn from Ben. He tries to kiss you again afterward, but you laugh softly and hold his face.

“You need sleep, Benjamin.”

He pouts slightly in protest, but you kiss him again quickly and it goes away.

“Babe, you’re exhausted,” you murmur softly. “We can go cuddle in my bed and continue this later.”

Ben sighs and nods as you climb off him and extend your hand to help him up. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though, instead pulling you into another warm hug. He’s so sleepy and adorable that you could nearly cry as he nuzzles his face into your hair.

He’s always been a very tactile person, and you know that for every time you tell him how much you missed and love him, he will hold you a little bit longer or kiss your forehead to say the exact same thing.

When you finally pull apart, you take him by the hand and lead him into your bedroom. He strips down to his boxers, which is how he prefers to sleep even in the dead of winter. He says you run hot enough to keep him warm, though you’re not sure if that’s true or he just likes to maximize your skin-on-skin contact.

He’s much warmer now than when you found him on your doorstep, so it’s not a shock to your system when you climb into bed with him and he immediately pulls you into his chest.

“I promise once you’ve had a proper rest I’ll make the drive worth your while, baby,” you say with a slight smirk as you wrap your arm around him and nuzzle your face into his neck.

Ben just tightens his grip on you and closes his eyes, a content smile on his face.

“It was worth it the second you opened the door.”

As you watch your boyfriend drift off to sleep, feeling so full of love for him that you might burst, you make a mental note to make it extra worth it for him later just for that adorable comment.

After you’ve both slept a few hours and spent another few making up for lost time, you spend the rest of Christmas Eve watching films and baking cookies.

The next morning, you both wake up early and exchange presents in your festive pyjamas. It’s not the same as if you were in London with both your families, but it’s still perfect because you’re together.

And a year later, when you’ve graduated and you’re celebrating your first Christmas in your new home with a diamond ring on your finger, it’s even better.

i hope you enjoyed this story! and thank you for all your lovely comments on my last fic. if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for my ben fics in the future, please let me know! ❤️💚

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #my fics

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ichorai · 2 years

Text

amor ; namor.

pairing ; namor x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; we know what it’s like to be punished for love.

words ; 1.1k

themes ; angst, fluff, mutant au, married au

warnings / includes ; no black panther: wakanda forever spoilers, reader is a mutant and can transform into a creature known as the mishipeshu, brief mentions of a conquistador and mutant bigotry, you and namor bicker like an old married couple <3

part two. main masterlist.

The feathered serpent god—K’uk’ulkan. Leader, savior, ruler.

That’s what your people called him. But not you.

“Mi amor,” you called out, a small crease of worry divoting between your brows. You rose from the waters and into the expansive cave, glowing a faint green from the bioluminescent sea lanterns, striding up to your husband. “You have yet to eat today. I’m worried about you.”

He glanced towards you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His arms extended to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and roping you closer. “I’m sorry—I’ll be down shortly. There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

Humming in response, you placed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to the side of his nose. A satisfied rumble thundered within his chest. With his free hand, he gestured to the rocky wall you were facing.

You tilted your head upwards, observing his handiwork. It was a grand mural, painted with bright coral pigments and sponge-tipped brushes. Every stroke held a thousand memories, every color a symbolic tale. It was no wonder Namor spent hours upon hours here.

“That’s me,” you whispered, stepping closer to the wall. It wasn’t you in your human form—it was an intricate drawing of Mishipeshu, as the land-dwellers called you when you transformed. There were about a couple dozen humans with spears pointed towards the creature. A lump formed in your throat. You could feel a tar-like darkness stain your insides at the memory. The surface-people were once your friends, but that was a lifetime ago.

“It was the day we met,” Namor susurrated, vibranium jewelry jingling as he strode towards the other side of the cave, where another painting resided. “When I found out you were not like the other Talokans—a mutant, like me.”

“That was not a pleasant memory. The humans I once trusted, betrayed me. They were hurting me and I… I thought you were going to do the same. I nearly killed you,” you sighed wistfully.

At that, Namor whirled around, arching a brow as he stalked back to you. “If I remember correctly, I almost killed you.” He leaned closer with a smug look etched over his features, only mirroring your steps every time you shuffled back.

“I am nearly sure I was winning that fight.”

His low chuckle reverberated through the cave. “I beg to differ.”

“I broke your arm!”

“I cut your tail off.”

“And then I married you not long after,” you gruffed with a scowl, gently shoving his face away when he backed you into a corner. “Besides, my tail grew back a month later—no thanks to you.”

“And who was the one that proposed marriage?” Namor leered, grabbing your wrists to keep you from swatting him.

A low growl caught in your throat. “You are insufferable, my love.”

He barked out a laugh. “As are you, mi vida.”

Then, he kissed you. It was a kiss of contrasts—his cold jewelry pressing flush against your sweltering skin, and his lips rough as his nose softly slotted against yours. The silence was loud, nearly deafening, only thickening as he crowded you against the wall, the damp stone scratching almost painfully against the bare skin of your back. But you didn’t care.

“Amor,” you croaked, when his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, to your quivering throat, to your heaving cleavage. He hummed in question, wordlessly asking you what was on your mind. “Why me? Why did you choose to save me?”

“Because I saw myself in you,” he replied easily, letting go of your wrists so he could press a frigid palm flat over your sternum. He could feel the frantic thumping over your heart pulse, only seeming to quicken the longer he stared at you. “Because you’re the only one that can truly understand me.”

“Because we’re mutants?”

Namor regarded you silently, before dipping his head to kiss you, much slower this time. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Because we know what it’s like to be punished for love.”

You studied him with wide eyes—the emerald luminescence cast arching shadows over his face, and for a moment you understood just why everybody called him a god. He certainly looked like one.

But your love was not a god. He was a man—a man that lived through repeated nightmare after nightmare. A man who’d seen too much for a single lifetime. A man left with a legacy that he never asked for.

A man with mutant powers—like yours.

Did that make you a god?

To the surface-dwellers, that made you a monster.

“I love you,” he muttered into you, lifting his head to meet your eyes steadily. They were narrowed, dark and observant, as if searching you for any sign of regret. He uttered those words very sparsely, usually in the dead of night when you were already sound asleep, or when one of you had to leave Talokan for a long period of time.

The land-roamers called him Namor, a man without love—but he had so much to give to you. The love he harbored for you laid heavy and stagnant within his chest, clinging to every bone of his ribcage, to every pump of his heart. It was tricky and unfamiliar to deal with at first—because the only time he’d ever loved someone this much was for his mother. He was not talented in the art of love, that was certain.

He was never one to be insecure. But with a name such as Namor so deeply ingrained into his being, he could only wonder if that was perhaps true. A Spanish conquistador used his dying breath to call him devil-born, undeserving of love.

Was there truth to his words? Did he have your love in return? And if he did, would he deserve such love?

“You think so loudly,” you said, tilting your head. You kissed the corner of his mouth. Once, twice, thrice. He would do anything for a fourth. “I love you, amor. It’s like you said before—I was the one that wanted to marry you, remember?”

Your husband huffed, smiling fondly at the memory. “Mmh, very adamant about it, as well—”

“It’d be wise if you didn’t finish that thought, K’uk’ulkan.”

Playfully, he narrowed his eyes. “You’ll have to make me, Mishipeshu.”

You surged forward and slanted your lips against his once more, and Namor reciprocated with an equally passionate vigor.

Yes, he thought, as your muffled laughter rang through the cave whilst you kissed him, throwing your arms over his neck, he had your love. And he most definitely deserved it, too.

#namor x reader #namor fanfiction #namor fanfic #marvel fanfiction #namor imagine #namor drabble #namor angst #namor fluff #namor x you #black panther fanfiction

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reysdriver · 1 year

Text

Keeping Secrets | P.P.

Your boyfriend Peter shows up at your window in the middle of the night and asks for your help — peter x gn!reader angst with happy ending

warnings: blood, injury, angst

words: 1.2k

It was almost 1 o'clock in the morning, and you were still working on a report for school. You were sitting on your bed with your laptop on your legs, and you were starting to get tired. You were just about to put away all of your work and go to sleep, but then you felt your phone vibrating against your leg.

You picked it up, and saw that it was your boyfriend, Peter Parker, trying to call you.

You were confused as to why he was trying to call you this late, and then a scary thought poked itself into your exhausted mind that it was an emergency, so you answered the call.

"Hey, Peter, what's up? Are you alright?"

His voice sounded pained as he answered. "Yeah, I'm good."

"So why are you calling me at one in the morning?"

"Umm," he hesitated. "I need to drop by your place for something really quickly."

"Babe, it's really late and I was just about to go to sleep. I don't-"

"I'm out on the fire escape right now. I just need your first aid kit and maybe a place to crash for the night."

"What?" You mumble, standing up and going to look out your window.

Sure enough, your boyfriend was on the fire escape of your apartment, right outside your window. You quickly raised the bottom pane of your window, letting him come into your bedroom. As he passes you and sits on your floor, leaning against your bed, your eyes scan the injuries, blood, and bruises all over his body and face.

"Oh my god, Peter, what happened to you?" You asked him, sounding slightly out of breath due to your surprise and the fact that you haven't spoken in hours.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." He said, obviously avoiding your question.

"Don't worry about you?!" You almost shouted, but caught yourself and started whisper-yelling so your family wouldn't wake up.

"Yeah, like I said, (y/n/n), I just need your first aid kit and a place to sleep."

"No, you need to tell me what's going on right now." You demanded in a still hushed, but firm tone.

"I just need to clean myself up so nothing gets infected. I would go home but Aunt May can't know about this, and her night shift just ended, so she should be back home at any minute."

He stood up from your bed and headed towards your bedroom door. You quickly rushed in front of him and told him to stay.

"No, I'll get it. Just stay here for a second." You told him, heading out to your bathroom to find any first aid supplies you could find.

After a minute, you came back to your bedroom with your arms full of bandages and other medical supplies. When you walked in, quietly closing the door behind you, you found your boyfriend lying down on the ground against the footboard of your bed.

"Hey, you're back." He said in a hushed tone. "I didn't want to get blood on your bed, so I just sat on the floor."

"Thanks." You mumbled, crouching down next to him. "Arms up."

Peter brought his arms up over his head and you pulled off his dirtied shirt, placing it beside you both.

"Holy-" You gasped lightly as you saw the amount of small wounds and bruises that were covered before. You had seen him injured before—he's a clumsy kid who likes to skate, so of course—but never like this.

A thousand different thoughts raced through your head on how this all happened, but you weren't going to ask if he wasn't going to tell you and answer.

Pushing away the thoughts you now deemed irrelevant, you went back to helping him. You poured some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth and started dabbing it onto his cuts.

As you cleaned his wounds, he thanked you multiple times, and you ignored him every single time.

As you rubbed over a particular cut of his, he winced, then quickly explained that it was just because a lot of alcohol soaked into his skin at once.

"Oh, now you'll explain why you're in pain?" You muttered under your breath in annoyance.

"What?" He asked, looking up into your eyes.

"Nothing." You brushed him off, without stopping the cleaning of the injuries on his chest. "I just don't get why you won't tell me what happened to you."

"I told you not to worry about me." He said, gently placing a finger on your jaw.

You brushed his finger away from you, and argued back, careful not to speak too loudly.

"But I am going to worry about you because you're my boyfriend! And my boyfriend shows up outside my window in the middle of the night, covered in blood and he tells me it's nothing? Of course I'm going to be upset over that!"

"Just trust me when I say there's a reason I can't tell you what's going on, okay?" Peter said.

"No, I'm not going to do that." You said, your eyes filling up with tears. "I'm going to help clean you up so you don't die, I'll give you a place to sleep, but I'm sleeping on the chair and I want you gone by tomorrow morning."

Wanting to dry your tears and hide your vulnerable face from the boy sitting in front of you, you stood up, trying to escape the situation. You felt Peter's familiar hand grab your wrist, stopping you from leaving him.

"(y/n), please just stay." He said with a sigh.

"No, Peter, unless it's you explaining everything, I don't want to talk right now."

"(y/n), I'm Spider-Man." He confessed.

You turned around and he let go of your hand. "What?" You asked him.

"Hand me my backpack." He said, pointing to the constantly-ripped bag that he dropped by your window. You picked it up and handed it to him.

He unzipped the second zipper on his bag and pulled out the red and blue suit that you, and about half of New York, had seen online and in some police reports on the news.

"I'm Spider-Man. I go around stopping criminals and helping good people, and I just got in a fight trying to take down some guys who were trying to rob a jewelry store a few blocks away."

"So you're not in the mob or some secret fight club?" You asked, drying your tears with the end of your sleeves.

"No, of course not." He said as you crouched down next to him again.

"Good." You said, kissing his forehead. "But don't ever lie to me again or I promise I'm going to leave you out on the fire escape next time you call me."

"Deal." Peter said, a new smile gracing your face.

#peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker angst #spiderman #spiderman angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #ansgt with a happy ending

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anotheroceanid · 2 months

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Before I (try) to take a nap, here it is: the first part of the next chapter (that hopefully won't end up as long as the previous one)

JASON

JANUARY 2028

NEW ROME

Even before getting some ribs broken, Jason was having a rotten day.

He started the morning with news of an earthquake nearby. The earthquake in question reached one of their depots of food, which meant that now they were cut short for the upcoming months.

Rome’s crops were near unproductive, their livestock was scarce and prone to sickness. There hasn’t been rain in a long time. Not ever since Jupiter, Jason’s father, had cursed the Greeks with a drought and Neptune, Jason’s uncle, decided it was fit to impose the same upon Romans, avoiding any water from getting in the sky and retrenching their access to fresh water through his influence on the river gods. The past year, hundreds of people have died of hunger, disease and dehydration.

A few hours later, a letter from the Mexican front was delivered to him. The fauns advanced in their territory. The Roman army struggled to stop them. Multiple soldiers died in the attempt, and just as many were now wounded, some permanently.

The Fauns Rebellion shrunk Rome’s army every day, there was nothing they could do about it. After they signed the armistice with the Greeks, their only choice to fight against the Nature Spirits was to accept mortals’ enlistment. While their enemies in the East could be starved to death, nymphs could endure months with only sun and water. Fauns weren’t as resistant, but that didn’t matter because their Lord of the Wild always found ways to help them, even from afar.

Though crowned Emperor of Rome by his peers, Jason couldn't think of someone more powerless than himself.

Jason spent his morning writing a letter to the Greek cities begging for food. Because that was the only thing he could do for his people in these times of need.

He crumples up a piece of paper and throws it in the pile of discarded letters. Jason did it a thousand times, and yet, he can’t really find the proper words. He runs his fingers through his hair and his beard, takes off his glasses and presses his eyes together hoping it'll help the thoughts come clear.

Asking the Greeks for help is pathetic. Beyond stupid, Jason also feels guilt. If anything, he should be looking for ways to apologise. Not that it would be worthy anything. What's the point of apologising for something unforgivable? At most, he’d come out as weak to the Senate, and his enemies would use the opportunity to eat his liver.

Although Jason might’ve learned to live with remorse, his fellow Romans didn’t learn to leave with hunger. So, he picked another paper and started again. For every word he managed to write, Jason heard Annabeth of Perses telling him to go fuck himself. Well, better her saying such a thing than Piper, the thought made a shiver go down his spine. That woman creeped the soul out of his body, in a way not even the Vipera Graeca and her deadly poison could do.

Once he finishes his letter, Jason stares at it with a numbing acknowledgement that soon he won’t have to beg for food anymore. At any time, the war that decimated most of North America would restart. Rome would burn. With the Greeks courtesy, Jason would be alive to watch, surely. How else could he expect his debt to be paid? Though, Jason ponders, I might destroy Rome myself, will it be a favour or a slight for the Greeks?

The walls of New Rome were too thin to protect its citizens forever. How longer before truth would rushes in? How was Jason supposed to fight against it? For now, New Rome was safely unfamiliar to the horrors outside their gates. The people didn’t need to know everything. How, despite how bad things were in the city, it was much worse across the rest of the Roman Territory.

Jason’s job was to keep them ignorant. To try to get things better outside. Win the war against the Greeks. He was bound to become thrice a failure. Only thrice? How optimistic.

For what felt like the thousandth of times, Jason begged the Greeks to feed his people so the day would come when the Greeks would have more than corpses from who to take revenge.

With this happy thought, Jason sends his letter.

Next things Jason does, is dig his face on his hands and moan loudly in absolute despair. What a way to start the year…

‘I can’t even say there isn’t any way this can get worse…’ Jason mumbled to himself.

His door was slammed open. Reyna arrived in a rush. ‘Octavian’s house was attacked!’

… Because of course, it can.

#wthb fic

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 15: Drive] [Series Finale]

The year is now 2000. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, violence, character deaths.

Word count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07 @joliettes @trifoliumviridi @bornbetter @flowerpotmage @thewitch-lives @tempt-ress @padfooteyes @teenagecriminalmastermind @chelsey01 @anditsmywholeheart @heliosscribbles @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @tillyt04 @cicaspair418 @fan-goddess

A/N: This is the fic I almost never wrote because I didn’t think anyone would be interested in some random, angsty, 1990s, Alaskan, crime-thriller AU. Thank you for proving me wrong. I hope you enjoy the ending. 💜

Almost everything about your existence is pure chance; it’s the most freeing and horrifying truth imaginable. There’s the genetic lottery and corporate downsizing, revolutions and hurricanes, plagues, asteroids, famines, faulty airplanes and malignant blooms of cells and drunk drivers. There are 100 billion planets in this galaxy and your atoms ended up on the one called Earth. After all that, do you really think what you want matters? So make all the choices you like, all the nail-biting deliberations and promises and vows, weigh costs and benefits, do research, roll dice, ask astrologers and palm readers, start over every New Year because that’s something we tell ourselves is possible. The fact that you exist at all is one big cosmic coin flip. If you think you’re the one driving, you’re dead fucking wrong. You’re the speck of dust on a windshield, the spin of a roulette wheel. You’re a flash of silver in the universe’s pinball machine.

I spend a lot of my time thinking about chance, okay? My family is one of the wealthiest in the Western Hemisphere, and I didn’t do anything to earn that. I was born first, and I definitely didn’t do anything to earn that, Jesus Christ, what a chromosomal fuckup. I inherited an affliction that others get to live without. I can’t imagine what it feels like to wake up and not be horrified by myself, my shortcomings, my failures: too small, too stupid, too wild, too weak. And the first time someone says something like that to you, you want to apologize, you want to drop to your knees and cling to them and beg for absolution, maybe even the first hundred times, the first thousand. And then it just starts to piss you off. Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it all before, why would you expect anything different? Isn’t this getting old, Mom? Maybe you’re the stupid one, Dad, if you think you could cut me and anything but disappointments would fall out. I’m not horrified by the fact that I’m an addict. The horror came first. The horror is what led to all the rest of it.

One day when I was in 10th Grade—I was slumped way down in my chair and drinking vodka out of an Evian water bottle—my American History teacher, purely by chance, assigned me to make a poster about Juneau, Alaska. Some other kid got Los Angeles (Hollywood! The Whisky a Go Go!) and another got Chicago (the Mob!) and another got Nashville (Johnny Cash!) and some jock moron I hated got Baltimore (um, crabs? the War of 1812…?), but I got fucking Juneau, Alaska. I thought this was so unjust that I never forgot it, the fact that I had to get up in front of the class with my pathetic Crayolas-and-magazine-cutouts poster and pretend that Juneau was a place that mattered, that microscopic cloud-covered relic of a late-1800s gold mining settlement on the shores of the Gastineau Channel. Juneau was never on my list of cities to run to. It just wasn’t. It didn’t have anything I wanted. But when I started thinking about places where I could really disappear, where no one would ever bother looking, where days are short and dark and incurious and irrelevant…well, that sounds like Juneau, right?

Let me tell you something about the night I left. I’ve been more messed up, yeah, and I’ve hurt people worse, and I’ve been closer to death, I’ve been one more powder-white gram on the scale away from oblivion; but I’ve never felt that fucking low. I can’t decide if I wish I’d never gone to Juneau at all. I can’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

My flight is a red-eye with a layover in Ketchikan, American Airlines, bound for Seattle. Sunfyre has the window seat. He’s wearing the bright red Service Dog vest that I once stole for him specifically for such occasions. My dog fly with the cargo? My dog?! Bill Clinton will be elected pope first. Sunfyre is chewing contently on Milk-Bones and watching the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. He knows the drill. We’ll touchdown and deplane, and then…and then…

And then we’ll start over again somewhere new. I’ll find a flight board and pick a destination; Seattle is a hub, with spokes leading everywhere. I could go south, to Galveston, Lafayette, Biloxi, someplace where it gets hot, someplace where I can sweat her out of me, purge every cell that still remembers what she felt like. I could go west, fading into mountains or cornfields, vapid infinitesimal towns in Montana, Iowa, Idaho, Nebraska. I could go to New England or the Great Lakes or freaking Hawaii, sleep in hammocks, swim with sea turtles, drink my rum and Cokes out of coconut shells. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that nowhere really sounds good to me. My legs are suddenly tired of running. There’s an ache that rattles down to the bone.

I don’t have to tell you that I love her, right? It’s not so easy for me to say. But it’s true, and it’s beautiful, and it’s torture, and it’s a dream. It’s pain that flays you alive and then builds you back again, layers of fresh muscle and tendons and veins growing over ribs and vertebrae like a trellis thick with ivy. It’s not a high. It’s just the best life can get down here on earth. It’s the ocean, it’s the Northern Lights.

I’m swimming in a black hoodie that is three sizes too big; I haven’t slept and I’m pale and raccoon-eyed, looking like death, feeling worse. When the stewardess rolls by with her clattering cart just slim enough to fit through the aisle, I order a cup of water for Sunfyre and a double rum and Coke for myself. It arrives with two blood-red cherries bobbing in a caramel-dark carbonated sea. The guy in the next seat over gives me a judgmental little eyebrow raise.

“That doesn’t look like breakfast,” he says.

I bite off both cherries—juice dribbling down my chin, wiped away with a sleeve—and throw the stems over my shoulder. The lady sitting behind me yelps in disgust. “Because it’s dessert.”

The man smiles and shakes his head, one of those I shouldn’t find it funny but I do sort of looks. I inspire a lot of those. He’s maybe mid-thirties, long hair and ripped jeans, very punk rock, cool as hell. There is a constellation of pins on his denim jacket. One of them has a roman numeral 10 on it, a stark X nestled inside a triangle. Unity, Service, Recovery, the gold letters say. To Thine Own Self Be True. It’s an Alcoholics Anonymous pin. What are the chances?

He catches me staring, and I ask: “Does it really make you a better man?”

“It doesn’t make you better. It just makes you real.” He smiles again, patient and kind. “It makes your emotions and experiences real, your relationships real. And so you become whatever version of yourself you were always supposed to be. But you have to want it. Not your wife, not your parents or your kids, not your pastor, not your friends, not your parole officer. You.”

I speak without knowing what I’m going to say. “I want it.”

“Yes, I think you do.”

He sees a lot, I think, as the plane descends into the grey fogbank of Seattle. 20/20.

When we land, the man squeezes into a cab with me and Sunfyre—he sniffles into a Kleenex for a while before reluctantly admitting that he’s allergic to dogs—and pays the fare. The cab’s worn brakes squeal to a stop outside a residential treatment center on the banks of the Puget Sound. When we step out onto the sidewalk, I ask the man if he’s going to take me to get one last drink first. He laughs in my face. Fucking jerk.

He pulls out a black Sharpie and rummages through his pockets, his wallet. He can’t find a scrap of paper. He writes his phone number on the underside of my arm instead. “You call me, okay?” he says. “Call me when you get out. Call me before you get out, if you need to. I don’t care if it’s in five minutes, I don’t care if it’s at 2 a.m. You just make sure you call.”

“Why would you do this? I mean, you don’t even know me. You have no idea who I am.”

“Because once, years ago, someone did the same thing for me, and someone did it for her too. Maybe one day you’ll be able to pay it forward. I don’t care who you are or where you’ve been. It doesn’t matter to me. I’d like to think that we’re all more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

And then he waits for me to go inside. He doesn’t leave until he watches me check in at reception on the other side of the rain-flecked glass. Outside, a brand new day is beginning. A misty sun rises as pieces of the sky fall.

Sunfyre trots into the lobby alongside me, panting cheerfully, shaking the perpetual Seattle drizzle from his fur. There’s a girl at the front desk, just a girl, and that’s the other thing that’s different now. She’s not a maybe-future-one-of-my-girls. She’s just like anyone else. I already have a girl. I mean, I don’t anymore, not really. But I still do.

I throw my things onto the counter: my single suitcase, my tattered wallet, my bundle of cash held together with rubber bands, my scraped-up electric guitar.

“Checking in?” the girl asks.

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes, I guess.”

She opens my wallet, reads my license, blinks in bewilderment. “Aegon…?”

I sigh dramatically. “It’s Greek.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You dream of him; and when you do, he’s always smiling. He’s reading your palm in an empty Taco Bell, he’s kissing you under the Northern Lights, he’s regaling your parents with stories—of lobster fishing in Portland, of cattle ranching in Denver—all through Thanksgiving dinner, he’s undressing you in his moonlit apartment, he’s climbing into your bed. He’s not angry, he’s not ruined, he’s not running away. He’s exactly as you remember him in his best moments. He’s all chaotic white-blond hair and weightless light, sharp laughter and bright eyes. And each morning there’s a splinter-thin moment before you remember that he’s gone. That’s the worst part, really. You always knew it would be. You can’t even begin to forget him.

Your friends want to help you, but they don’t know how. Neither do your parents. Your dad gets an atlas from the study, throws it down on the dining room table, and opens it to a map of the world. “Pick anyplace and we’ll go there,” he says. “We’ll close the vet clinic for two weeks and we’ll all go.” But you can’t give him a single name: not Athens, or Paris, or Buenos Ares, or Cairo, or New York City, or Rome, or Tokyo, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s the strangest thing. All your life you’ve been waiting to get out of Juneau, but now nowhere sounds good to you. And maybe that’s a lesson you wish you’d never learned: sometimes freedom is less about places than it is about people.

The blood on the equipment recovered from Trent’s apartment matches DNA from the first three victims. He is charged with eight counts of first-degree murder and held awaiting trial in the Lemon Creek Correctional Center. His family visits him faithfully each week. His lawyer is exasperated that he won’t plead guilty and spare his parents the humiliation and expense of a protracted court battle. But Trent’s story never changes: he’s innocent, he’s never killed anybody, he doesn’t understand how the blood could have been found on his belongings. He wants to know exactly what items the police tested; he and his lawyer are still waiting for the prosecutor to turn over all the details during discovery. In the midst of the scandal, the upheaval, you fade into the backdrop like the stars behind fog. People talk around you and through you. They offer gaps that you don’t care enough to fill in. Drinks clink, whispers fly, conspiracies are exchanged between pool shots. You watch the days grow longer and wait for the future to arrive. You don’t know what it will look like, you can’t even begin to fathom it. But surely there must be a future. Life goes on. It did for your mom after Jesse. It will for you too.

A week after Aegon leaves, there is a knock at your parents’ front door. You open it to find Aemond standing there in the muted amber-pink afternoon light. His hair is long and loose, his Armani suit immaculately tailored, his BlackBerry nestled in his right hand. He glances up from it at you and his jaw falls open. And only then do you realize how awful you must look.

You tell Aemond, your voice hushed and heavy, ankles in quick-drying cement: “I don’t know where he is.”

“No, I can see that,” Aemond replies, dull horror in his blue eye. Then he turns around and strides halfway down the driveway towards the street, where a cab idles as it waits for him, engine exhaust pouring into the air like smoke from a firepit.

“How’s your dad?” you call after him when you get your bearings.

He pauses under the dwindling light. “Alive. For now.” And then Aemond considers you for a while. “I suppose if I ever want to find you again, I know where to look.”

You nod. “I’ll be here.”

I’ll always be here.

A month crawls by like a wounded animal, dead leaves snared in the fur of its belly. The flesh on your thigh knits back together. The things that Aegon ordered show up in Juneau, packages left on the front porch and stuffed into the moose-shaped mailbox like Christmas gifts in a stocking. You pack these remnants of him—Zoobooks and cooking accessories, knives and Chia Pets—into a cardboard box and tuck it away in a dusty, cobwebbed corner of the attic, and you’re aware the entire time that this has happened before, almost exactly twenty years ago. When your dad puts a Third Eye Blind or Red Hot Chili Peppers or Oasis album on his record player, you find some excuse to leave the room. When you tack magazine cutouts of beaches and cityscapes to your bedroom walls, all you can think about is where Aegon might be now. You wonder where he works during the day, a surf shop or a construction site or a farm or a fishing boat; you wonder who he spends his nights with.

I’ll always be here. Even if I leave, I’ll always be here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty years ago to the day, almost to the hour, a man fell into the Gastineau Channel and drowned. They found water in his lungs, though the autopsy was only a formality, an afterthought; Jesse had a reputation in Juneau, and no one was particularly surprised to see how his story ended. There were abrasions on his back and shoulders, contusions on his wrists, but so what? He probably tripped half a dozen times before he tumbled over some guardrail and into the frigid black water. There was a bloody mess of an impact wound on the side of his face, but who cares? The blood alcohol concentration doesn’t lie. The man was wasted, and more than that he was a waste. If his premature demise hadn’t been then, it would have been later, in a week or a month or a year. And when someone like that goes, there’s a sigh of relief that accompanies the misery, isn’t there? There’s the sense of a weight being lifted from a scale.

You’re sitting in Ursa Minor at the usual booth, but the bar is practically empty. It’s Valentine’s Day. Joyce is with Rob, Kimmie is with Brad; Heather’s parents have spirited her away on a short vacation to Sitka to try to take their minds off Trent’s imminent lifelong incarceration. Your mom and dad’s February 14th tradition is cooking a homemade Italian dinner together—pasta, bread with herbs and olive oil, caprese salad, tiramisu—and then settling in for a romantic Blockbuster rental. This year, it’s Runaway Bride. Your mom loves Julia Roberts. They didn’t ask for privacy, but you gave it to them anyway. Kimmie offered to drop you off at Ursa Minor and then drive you home after her date with Brad so you could drink away your sorrows without having to worry about calling a ride. So now Kimmie is getting wined, dined, and plied with boxed chocolates at the Red Dog Saloon while you drain appletinis and flip through one of Jesse’s journals, not knowing what you’re looking for.

Dale is washing pint glasses in the sink behind the bar and humming cheerfully along to a Cake CD. It’s just you and him tonight; evidently, Dale doesn’t have a hot date either. It was nice of him to eschew the usual Shania Twain or Sheryl Crow soundtrack. He’s trying to spare you from any crooning love songs. He must have forgotten that Cake has its own little slice of relevance in your memories of Aegon, those memories that refuse to fade, ink in your skin as dark as night.

Your fingerprints trace Jesse’s scrawling, handwritten letters. It’s his very last journal, the last words he ever wrote. His final entry is unremarkable, a lucid recollection of his latest woodcarving project: it’s a family of tiny bears, three of them. He says he wants the cub to have the same slope of your cheeks, the shape of your eyes. And it’s just like your mom said. It really did seem like he was getting better.

You flip to the next page, blank. The heading reads: Thursday, February 14th, 1980.

You go back a few days. And your gaze catches on words that you’ve read before, months ago, back when the journals were a new discovery like striking oil. The entry is from Saturday the 9th. It ends with an unceremonious bullet point of a reminder: dinner w/ Dale on Thursday.

You leaf forward to Thursday, to the blank page that tells you nothing. Back to the 9th, forward to the 14th, again, again. Valentine’s Day 1980, before Dale had married his wife, after your mom had stopped trying to make plans with Jesse, maybe even rebelled against them; just two unromantic, discarded men with a vacant slot in their calendars and troubles to drink into submission. Except that Jesse never came home.

Dinner with Dale, you think dizzily. Dinner with Dale on the night he died.

The opening notes of The Distance shout from the stereo. Everything suddenly feels very loud.

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,

Engines pumping and thumping in time…

What had Aegon said about that song before you sang it together, stomping and staggering across the hardwood floor? It’s not about NASCAR, it’s about a journey!

Outside, it’s a rare clear night in Juneau. The Northern Lights are a kaleidoscopic ribbon against indigo night, the sky a mausoleum of stars. And you remember when Aegon sang Everlong, when he grabbed your hand, led you upstairs to the roof, kissed you for the first time under the ethereal, shimmering curtain of green and purple and blue…before Heather had interrupted to tell you that Dale was closing the bar. He was irritable, he was tired; he wanted to go home.

The arena is empty except for one man,

Still driving and striving as fast as he can…

And then they found a body, didn’t they? Yes, you can remember being in Aegon’s apartment and hearing the police cars zoom by. You remember the red-and-blue flashes on his face. You remember thinking they looked like sapphires and rubies, the ocean and blood.

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up

And long ago somebody left with the cup,

But he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns

And thinking of someone for whom he still burns…

Icy claws glide down the length of your spine. Memories play back with a focused clarity that you didn’t have before: Dale groggy and yawning just before they found the fifth victim at Christmas, and again before they found the eighth the same night Trent dragged you—shrieking, bleeding, virtually naked—out of your Jeep. You remember Dale at your parents’ New Year’s Eve party talking about how maybe the killer was an athlete with brain damage from CTE. You remember him offering to give Trent a box of his old equipment from when he was a park ranger. You remember him watching as Trent towered over you here in Ursa Minor with a cue stick clenched in his fist, demanding to know where you had been the night before, Dale’s eyes gleaming with disapproval and fascination and…and…oh god, opportunity.

He’s going the distance,

He’s going for speed,

She’s all alone (all alone)

All alone in her time of need…

And now Aegon’s long gone, but you’re still here. And so is the Ice Fisher.

You’re staring at Dale, eyes huge and glossy with terror. He glances up, gives you a brief casual smile, looks down at the pint glasses again. And then his eyes come back to you. He sees you and you see him, really see him, and it’s the first time in your life that you can recall him being a centerpiece instead of an ornament for gazes to skate over like ice, wallpaper or taxidermy deer heads or a mirror. And you watch as the thing that lives inside Dale stirs awake. It is a shadow with fangs, talons, barbs down its spine, a weblike scribble of a brain loud with the echoes of screams; and it unfurls and fills him completely, all the way to his fingerprints. It possesses him, it eclipses him.

It’s Dale, you realize like a bullet slicing through an aorta, spilling an ocean of hot blood. It was him twenty years ago and it’s him now.

You gasp and fumble for the cannister of bear mace still clipped to your purse. Dale crosses the room with staggering swiftness, like a wolf, like a storm, one pint glass still gripped in his hand. He reaches you just as your thumb presses down on the cannister’s release tab. The rust-colored mist spews not directly into his face but into the room; Dale is hacking and rasping, you both are, but he isn’t in too much pain to haul you out of the booth and onto the floor. You’re screaming, you’re clawing at him, your eyes feel like they’re on fire, tiny pinpoint infernos that drill down to the bone. You can feel the ice-cold juice and schnapps and vodka of your appletini, knocked off the table when you fell, soaking through the back of your sweater. You can feel pebbles of glass as they burrow into your flesh. You are dimly aware of a barstool tumbling over as you struggle with Dale.

“No!” you cry into the monstrous hand that he clamps over your mouth. “No—!”

Dale brings the bottom of the pint glass down on your head. The Distance lyrics—she’s hoping in time that her memories will fade—swirl around inside your fractured skull.

Silence descends like a curtain, shadows in, lights out.

~~~~~~~~~~

I knock, and he opens the door. The house smells like fresh bread and alfredo sauce, rosemary and crushed garlic. My rental—a Toyota 4Runner, I remember what she said about the Nova being a bad idea in Alaska—is parked in the driveway behind her Jeep. Sunfyre is standing beside me, eyes sparkling, smiling with that unburdened-by-intellect innocence that dogs have. There’s a bouquet of blue-dyed roses in my left hand, cool melancholy blooms of life like seawater, like bruises.

“Hi,” I say to her dad as he stands in the doorway. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Aegon.” He’s not just staring at me in the artificial front porch light; he’s gawking, he’s damn near speechless. “Wow. Wow. It’s really good to see you.”

Yeah, I know I look different. The dark rings around my eyes have vanished, my face is less puffy, my hair is trimmed and healthy and mostly out of my face, I stand taller. I’m wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a leather jacket, black skinny jeans, my combat boots. I have a red chip in my pocket that I can’t fucking wait to show her: 1 month sober. On the first day, you think you’re going to die, and on the second day you wish you would. But you don’t. You live, and that starts out as a grisly inconvenience, and then you get a taste for it. “You can probably guess who I’m looking for.”

“Yeah, I reckon I can,” her dad says. “But she’s not here right now. She went to Ursa Minor.”

I grin, a crooked little curl of the lips. “I think I remember how to get there.”

I hop back into the 4Runner with Sunfyre and pull out into the street, snow and ice chomping under the tires. I had missed driving, I realize now. I got so used to almost never being able to do it that I forgot how good it feels to turn the wheel yourself, to watch the speedometer ramp up when you decide you want to fly. Ten minutes later, I swerve into Ursa Minor’s deserted parking lot and screech to a stop across three separate spaces.

“Oh, what the fuck!” I choke out as I step into the bar, coughing into my sleeve. The blue roses tumble out of my hand. Ursa Minor is empty, but there’s something in the air, something invisible that drives scorching, stinging needles into my eyes and my sinuses. Tears stream down my face; my exposed skin prickles and burns. Sunfyre sneezes over and over again and lingers in the doorway, gulping in fresh night wind from outside. There’s shattered glass and green liquid on the hardwood floor. There’s an upturned barstool. The stereo is playing Cake’s cover of Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.

What the hell happened here—?

And then I see it: the cannister of bear mace that had rolled under the booth, the same one she and her friends always sat in.

She used the bear mace. She finally used it. But why?

There’s blood on the floor. There’s blood on the table too. There’s a tattered, olive-green journal opened to a blank page. The pieces slide closer and closer and then link together, an explosion in my mind like fireworks.

I bolt outside and study the snow-covered parking lot. There are fresh tire tracks there under the murky luminescence of the streetlights; they lead out to the main road and then north towards the lakes.

“No,” I whisper to no one but the fierce wind, the sky threaded with the opalescent Northern Lights. “No, no, no…”

I sprint back inside Ursa Minor, get the phone Dale keeps behind the bar, and call the cops. “Stay where you are,” the 911 dispatcher instructs me sternly. “Wait for the police, do not attempt to investigate yourself, do not attempt to intervene—”

“Yeah, fuck that,” I say, and slam the receiver into the cradle. Then I swipe the black 8 ball off the pool table.

I load Sunfyre into the 4Runner and spin out of the parking lot, following the parallel lines of tire tracks like the etching of veins beneath skin.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a sound, rough and grating; and then you realize that it’s you being dragged across the ice. When your eyes flutter open, you see the uninterrupted sky: indigo night, distant stars, the Northern Lights. Your clothes are wet with snow; it’s so cold that the fabric is freezing, stiff and crackling when you try to move. Dale is lugging you over the frozen lake by the collar of your sweater. It’s choking you, but of course that doesn’t matter much. He’s about to kill you anyway.

“It’s not right,” Dale mutters, and you’re aware through the disorientation and the fog-like cloud of pain that he’s not really talking to you. “Your mom’s a nice lady. It’s not right that she had to lose two people this way, she doesn’t deserve that. Oh well. It can’t be helped now, can it?”

You whimper something, disjointed helpless words. Please, hurts, don’t, please.

“It’s not me,” Dale says, as if it’s perfectly logical. “I mean, not really. It’s this part of me that I can’t cut out. I can only feed it so it goes away for a while. It quiets down sometimes, it hibernates like a bear in the winter…but it always comes back. And my god, is it hungry.”

You smack clumsily, futilely at his hands as he hauls you over the ice. Dale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You have to make it look like an accident. That’s the ticket, if you don’t want anybody to know. You shove a hiker from a ledge, a drunk into the ocean. I did that for a long time, never raised suspicion. Never pinged on anyone’s radar. Jesse was the hardest, though. Good lord, did he fight. Had to pour a bottle of Everclear down his throat. Had to make it look like he was drinking that night. He wasn’t, which was unusual. Kept saying he wanted to turn things around. I think you had something to do with that. Now this? You were never supposed to be here, ladybug. What a shame. What a goddamn shame.”

Consciousness is a river that you dip in and out of; blackness crumbles around the edges of your vision, collapses in, recedes, swells again like a wave. You moan, you beg, you struggle as much as you can. It’s not much. It might as well be nothing.

“Things were easier after I got married,” Dale continues. He has a large hiking backpack slung over his broad shoulders, you see now. It jostles from side to side as he drags you. You know what’s in there: a chisel to break the ice, fishing line to strangle you. “Having someone else there all the time, it was a distraction. And it kept that thing inside me…not tame, no, I wouldn’t say that. But chained up down in the basement, maybe. Now I’m alone again. And when the chains start rattling, there’s nothing to stop me from hearing them.”

You get your feet under you, twist around, and slam your fists into Dale’s chest as hard as you can. He laughs in a baritone rumble and shoves you back down onto the ice; your head hits the ground, and you can feel yourself fading again, the last wisps of sunlight at dusk.

��Sometimes you want to hide,” Dale says. “And sometimes you don’t. I was ready to stop hiding. I can’t tell you what a high it was every time they found a body. The news, the ceaseless chattering around town, the name they gave me…incredible. Exhilarating. I couldn’t sleep for days after each kill. I’d toss and turn all night imagining what the headlines would be. Let me tell you, ladybug. I’ve never tried heroin, and I never need to. It can’t possibly be better than this.”

What will happen to my parents? you think, heartbreak gutting you, dull knifes rearranging your organs. What will happen to Heather and Kimmie and Joyce? What will happen when Aegon finds out he left too soon?

“I knew I needed someone to pin it on,” Dale informs you calmly. “Didn’t take anyone who went to the bar, didn’t take anyone who could be traced back to me. And still, I knew they’d figure it out eventually if I didn’t give them another suspect. At first, I was thinking I might use Aegon. He was a little small, sure, but he showed up around the right time and he was an outsider. Then I saw the way Trent was with you…aggressive, menacing…and I knew it had to be him. It was almost too easy. I planted the seeds, and good lord did they grow.”

“They’ll know,” you croak. “If you kill me, the police will find my body and they’ll know Trent’s not the Ice Fisher.”

Hideously, horribly, Dale smiles down at you. “Oh, ladybug, I don’t think they’ll ever find you. They found the others because I wanted them to. And no one is looking for victims anymore. Once you sink, I’ll cover up the hole with ice and snow. No blood, no signs. People will assume you’re a runaway. It was just too much, wasn’t it? Trent getting arrested, Aegon leaving town. Maybe you ran off after him. Maybe you threw yourself in the channel. Who could say? No, your bones will become silt, your name will slowly disappear from Juneau. And in ten or twenty years, your parents will have you declared dead in absentia. That’s my best guess. That’s how it will go.”

“No,” you sob, battling against the hands knotted into the collar of your sweater. “No—!”

His knuckles bash the side of your head, and a black silence rolls in like high tide, engulfs you, drowns you. When you swim back up into consciousness again, Dale is a few yards from you and drilling a hole in the ice with his chisel. You try to crawl away and promptly collapse, frail and boneless. He glances over at you, chuckles pleasantly, and then begins using a hatchet to widen the opening.

No, you think, hooking your fingers into the snow and dragging yourself towards the forest. No, no, no…

Dale’s ready for you. He walks over, grabs both of your ankles, tugs you with terrifying ease to the hole in the ice. Then he has a length of fishing line in his hands, and he’s looping it around your throat again and again, and he’s tightening it until the needle-thin nylon wire bites into your flesh, spilling tendrils of blood. You know you don’t have a chance, but you try; you owe it to your parents to try. You claw at the fishing line and you struggle and you cry out in hoarse, useless screams—

And then you hear something that doesn’t make any sense. Through the darkness, through the wind, there are the barks of a dog. Sunfyre rockets into your dimming field of vision and jumps on Dale, snarling and growling and snapping at his hands, his face. Dale flings the dog away, and as he’s distracted, Aegon arrives. He’s holding—ludicrously—a black 8 ball from a pool table, and he smashes it into Dale’s head. A sick, wet, crushing sound ricochets, cracked bone cushioned by flesh, and Dale howls as he rolls onto his side and covers his head with his hands.

He peers up at Aegon, furious and pained and stunned. “You?!”

“Me.” Aegon’s voice is dark and low like thunder, like the iron gale of storms over the ocean. “And I’m a killer.”

He lunges at Dale, still wielding the 8 ball. Dale’s massive hand juts out and closes around Aegon’s wrist, and then he yanks him to the ground. They’re grappling on the snow and ice, they’re striking out with knuckles and elbows, they’re ripping at each other with their bare hands. You’re trying to unravel the fishing line still coiled around your throat, panting in deep, frantic breaths so you can see and think clearly, so you can scramble to your feet, so you can help Aegon. And then Dale gets away from him just long enough to grab you again, to wrap the ends of the fishing line around his fingers. He delivers one last macerating blow to your skull, pulls you by your throat to the gaping hole in the ice, and shoves you through.

The water is so cold it’s paralyzing. There is a thought that seizes you—so overwhelming, so strangely rational—that says all you have to do is stay where you are, to wait a little longer, and then you’ll never hurt again, you’ll never be disappointed or caged, you’ll never be anything. And you think of all the lives you could have lived, all the places you could have gone: cities and beaches and deserts and valleys, gardens and rivers, ruins and glass. You were always so afraid of really going after them. What the hell were you so afraid of? Everything worth fearing is right here in Juneau.

I can still do those things. I can still live. And I can still help Aegon.

You jolt out of your inertia and clamber madly for the surface. But you don’t hit frigid open air; you hit ice, ice too thick to break through, ice too thick for more than a murmur of light to penetrate. Your palms press against the semitransparent wall; bubbles of carbon dioxide spurt from your nose and mouth. You feel for the opening that Dale made, but you don’t know where it is. You are lost beneath the ice, running out of air, fading rapidly. Then you hear Jesse—and you aren’t sure how you know what his voice sounds like, but you do—speaking softly and kindly to you, comforting you, telling you which way to go.

I’m sorry that no one knows the truth, you say without speaking. I’m sorry we thought you destroyed yourself. I’m sorry you never got the chance to truly live.

You were all better off without me anyway, he answers, without any bitterness at all. And that’s true, isn’t it?

There is a great disruption that rocks through the water. New currents stir into existence, fresh waves spring out of the darkness. And then someone takes your hand and draws you towards a noise, muffled through the ice and water: a dog barking, you realize. Then your palms find the opening and you inhale brutally cold air into your aching lungs, the best you’ve ever tasted. Aegon helps pull you through the hole and out of the lake, out of the jaws of oblivion.

You lie together on the ice, breathing in gasps that turn to mist in the night wind. Dale’s body is sprawled several yards away. The hatchet he’d used to break up the ice is buried in his neck, spine severed, eyes slick and vacant. You can see reflections of the Northern Lights flickering in them.

“You came back,” you whisper to Aegon as whirling police sirens approach, the lights dancing on his face: blue like the ocean, red like fire and blood.

“Of course I came back, Appletini,” he says, laughing with frenzied relief, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over again, lake water dripping from his hair. Sunfyre jumps around you both, yapping ecstatically, his tail wagging. “I couldn’t leave without my Juneau girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s wind, but it isn’t sharp like a blade. There’s a sky, but it isn’t cloaked in cloud cover or fog. The boats that bob in the surf are sailboats and cruisers, not fishing vessels. Dolphins crest out of the sun-speckled waves like someone coming up from a dream.

It’s June 9th, and you’re soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in the red Ford Mustang convertible you rented after the plane touched down in Seattle. Aegon is in the driver’s seat, black sunglasses and white T-shirt, his hair whipping in the breeze. He has one hand on the wheel and the other behind your headrest. Sunfyre is in the backseat, grinning like only dogs can. You turn up the song on the radio: Drive by Incubus.

You and Aegon had stayed in Juneau long enough for your skull to heal, and for your parents to find someone else to take over the vet clinic. They settled on a 32-year-old from Detroit: Justin McNair, a former Marine like your dad, and he either has no family or a bad one because he never wants to talk about them. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter which it is; perhaps sometimes they’re just about the same thing. Your parents have already basically adopted him. He eats dinner with them three times a week and calls your dad when he needs help with house maintenance or scaring a moose away from his truck. And just before you went south, Aegon showed him how to make the world’s best hot chocolate.

You send postcards back to Juneau from each town you stop in. Heather’s bon voyage gift to you had been an indecently revealing swimsuit. Joyce appeared with—what else?—a stack of books fit for leisurely beach reading. And Kimmie gave you, however bizarrely, a compass. So you don’t get lost, she had said with an innocuous little smile. You honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking.

During his one month in jail, Trent learned how to meditate and do yoga. He’s still kind of a dumbass, but he’s also a supposedly devout vegan Buddhist, and he had the decency to leave you alone aside from an apology letter that he slid into the moose-shaped mailbox: handwritten, six pages, lots of spelling and grammatical errors. Oh, and he finally got that job with the Forest Service, probably mostly due to his high-profile wrongful detainment. Now hikers get to swoon over his muscles and hair flips.

You’ll go back to Juneau, of course. Maybe just for visits, maybe for more than that someday. But it will never feel like a cage again.

Aegon calls Aemond every two or three days, a habit he started when he was in rehab. At first it was by necessity—he needed someone to pay the $30,000 bill—but now you think he secretly looks forward to it. He updates Aemond about how the road trip is going and reassures him that the plan hasn’t changed: south to San Diego, and then cutting east across the country to Miami. You don’t know what exactly life will look like there, and neither does Aegon. That’s not the important thing about going. Part of AA is making amends, and Aegon has a lot of work to do in that respect. He wants to go back to Miami, he says. He’s ready to go back.

San Diego is exactly like Aegon once told you it would be. You weave through the rust-colored peaks of the Laguna Mountains and there’s the Pacific Ocean, glittering and sapphire-blue, peppered with surfers and sea lions. It’s hot and it’s beautiful beyond words and everything grows there: ivy, cactuses, palm trees, calla lilies, roses. And for the first time that you can remember, the world feels breathtakingly, impossibly big. You get carryout from an unassuming restaurant called The Taco Stand, and then Aegon parks the convertible in La Jolla. You walk down the steps carved into the cliffside, paper bags in your hands full of tacos and churros, Aegon carrying Sunfyre so the dog won’t slip.

You sit together on the golden sand and watch the 8:00 p.m. sun sink into the waves, Aegon’s arm around your waist, your fingers tucking his lock of silvery hair behind his ear. And then he takes your hand, kneads it until it’s sinuous and relaxed, and reads the lines of your palm in the amber dusk like firelight.

“It says you’re happy,” he tells you. “And that you’re free.”

“I am,” you reply, smiling as the ocean stretches out like the arm of a galaxy: the ancient past, the infinite future.

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