#did i mention train au. i have no plot yet but. trains

[n7punk]

a techie i know got me the orient express for christmas and it's so fucking sexy i know 0 things about trains but goddamn do i love them so much it's definitely going up there in top 5

[hanniluvi]

(Y)OUR EXPECTED FATE — JUNGWON FF

“ i always want you when i’m finally fine. ”

SYNOPSIS Jungwon felt he was on the verge of uncovering the solution — how to make you stay by his side for eternity. He had always loved you, and in every lifetime, you reciprocated that love. Convincing you to become immortal with him should be straightforward, right? However, your response proved far from what he desired, as if it were destined to be just his expected fate in every lifetime.

( 🗝️ ) THE PAIRING sorcerer!jungwon x knight-gn!reader

⌞ + ⌝ GENRE royalty au, doomed immortal x mortal, angst, subtle amounts of fluff !

𓍼 WARNINGS mentions of injuries (cuts/bruises), mentions of blood, mention of lifeless body, use of petnames

♡⸝⸝ WORD COUNT — 2.2K+ ( 2262 )

AUTHOR’S NOTE there was this one tiktok that had a plot like this and UGH i couldn’t get it out of my head…so you know i had to write this !! creds to that one tiktok bc i kept thinking about this all day…🤍 also, part one? maybe????

—> READ PART TWO ( HIS EXPECTED FATE ) HERE !

Jungwon lingered around the entrance, waiting for you to meet him. He knew you were practicing on the training grounds, and he was worried that you might overexert yourself once again. While he admired your dedication, a deep concern always lingered, fearing that such commitment could lead to severe injuries. But, he wouldn’t be surprised if you did walk out looking all rough. After all, he was used to that sight of you.

“Jungwon!” As you finally approached, he heard your cheerful greeting. However, this time, something was different. Your smile remained as bright as ever, yet the cuts on your arms and face had increased, now more pronounced and bloodied. Typically, Jungwon would rush over to greet you with a smile, but this time, his heart raced for entirely different reasons.

"YN!" Worry filled Jungwon's tone as his fingers gently brushed against your cuts, causing you to wince at the slight burning sensation. A guilty look adorned your face as you avoided making eye contact with him. Taking hold of your cheeks, he directed your head to meet his gaze, and soon his eyes cautiously inspected the wounds on your arms.

"Don't look at me like that," you chuckled lightly, seemingly unfazed by the numerous injuries sustained in the past hour. Jungwon shook his head, "Just when I thought I could leave you alone to take care of yourself."

"I just overdid it today—I promise not to show up all bloody like this next time," you firmly said, but he was aware that it was another one of those promises you might struggle to keep. Jungwon grabbed your wrist, leading you away from the training grounds and swiftly taking you to the secluded spot that had become your retreat.

“Sit there,” he pointed at the tree stump nearby, and made his first aid kit appear out of thin air. Jungwon being a sorcerer was definitely shocking to you, although after encountering so much magic within the realm of royalty, it shouldn't have been surprising. Still, you still find yourself randomly wondering how he was able to do things like that within a split second.

"Look at me," he softly instructed, followed by a quiet sigh. It was evident that seeing you hurt stirred a deep discomfort within Jungwon, even if the injuries were minor. As he wiped the blood from your cuts with a cotton bud, both of you winced simultaneously. It seemed he had grown accustomed to reacting this way.

"You know, I still don't understand why you panic like this. You always manage to treat me perfectly," you remarked, attempting to ease the tension with a hint of humor.

"And you always worry me—your injuries are getting worse as the days go by. Did you think I wouldn't notice the bruises on your knuckles either?" Jungwon reached for your hand with his free one, lightly caressing your fingers while still focused on inspecting your face. "You shouldn't ruin a face like this—not that I'm saying that in a bad way. Is there a different way for you to train so vigorously?"

"Well, what do you expect a skilled knight like me to do? To just back down now that I've built myself a reputation?" you chuckled. "No can do."

"Well, YN, I wouldn't laugh during a situation like this, where you have me tending to your awful cuts."

"Dropping the honorifics, huh?"

“My apologies, Sir YN. Is there anything else you command me to do?” A soft laugh leaves your lips again, causing the tense Jungwon to finally break into a small smile. It was as if your laughter was his medicine.

“Kiss me.” Jungwon's face flushes, but he places his hands on the sides of your face, slowly leaning in. Just as you close your eyes, you hear a slight giggle. Feeling something other than his lips on yours, you open one eye to see him just treating your wounds again as if he didn't just tease. “You’ve got a cut here–wait until I finish.”

“Hey that’s not…” Your voice trails off when he unexpectedly kisses your cheek. “...nice.” A peck comes with the next, and it just keeps going. He continues smothering kisses on your face, now making you want to escape his grasp despite you asking for them in the first place.

After giving you the final peck on your lips, he moved away from your face, a proud grin on his face for his handiwork. Handing you a small mirror, you examined your face and noticed how all the gashes from training had disappeared. Touching your cheekbone, you inquired, “What did you just do? That seems like a new technique you've learned.”

“You wanted kisses, didn't you? So, I did a little something,” Jungwon replied with a mischievous smile. “And it's a secret.”

“How mean,” you huffed lightly.

“I still need to tend to your arms and hands. Can you try to stay still for me, my love?”

Jungwon completed the task more swiftly than he had anticipated. He yearned to kiss you more, as his actions seemed to convey more than words ever could. Seating himself beside you, he lay on the tree trunk behind, reaching out for your hand. Together, you both gazed into the horizon without uttering a word.

He wished for you to rest, recognizing that even though he had healed your cuts, your body remained fatigued. Your energy levels hadn't been up to par lately, and he couldn't help but worry if there was something more serious at play.

But, even in quiet times like these, these moments are things he actually cherished the most. It allowed him to collect his thoughts.

Glancing back at your calm state, the question Jungwon had lingering in the back of his mind finally comes back to him.

Right.

He had to ask you this. But how?

Would he ruin this moment for the both of you?

A wave of countless thoughts flooded Jungwon's mind. The timing never seemed quite right. When would he ever get the chance to share something this important with you? This quiet moment was the only time you and he spent together without any peculiar occurrences.

Should he just ask the question already?

Should he— “Jungwon, do you need something?”

“Huh?” Caught off guard, Jungwon blinked for a moment. He hadn't realized that he was lost in his own thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he offered a sheepish smile. "No, nothing in particular. Just enjoying the moment with you."

"Is everything okay? Your hold on my hand is a bit...” He noticed the tightness in his grip and instinctively loosened it. “Sorry.”

“You seem like something is on your mind. Why not share it with me?” In moments like these, your attentiveness always shone through. Despite his usual tendency to back away, this time, Jungwon felt a stronger urge not to let the opportunity slip by like any other day.

“Well, um,” He found himself stumbling over words, struggling to articulate his thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions. Your understanding gaze encouraged him, appreciating the cute side of him you always found endearing.

“I... I wanted to ask you something important,” Jungwon finally confessed, looking into your eyes with a mixture of nervousness and determination. Your expression softened, encouraging him to continue. “What is it?”

He took another deep breath before speaking, “YN, have you ever thought about... eternity? About staying by someone's side forever?”

“Eternity you say…” You thought deeply of the question–it was certainly one of those questions that went beyond the usual conversations you two would have. “Well, I guess I have considered that–in a different sense. What makes you bring this up all of a sudden?”

“I said I would protect you for my whole life, did I not?” His hands interlocked with yours, and his tone…

His tone seemed rather…

Sad.

You knew his emotions better than anyone else could; you could instantly tell if something was off. It was as if he had repeated that question to you countless times before.

You just didn’t know how to explain it. It was just a gut feeling.

But why would he be sad?

You didn't quite understand it, but you hesitated to delve deeper.

“And you have done great so far, my dearest,” You tried to offer comfort, tightening your hold in response. “My wounds have never healed better when I’m around you.”

He nodded, appreciating your reassurance. “Of course, my love. Seeing you hurt is something I can't bear, especially when I know I can do something about it. But...that's not exactly what I'm trying to say.”

“Oh?”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment before letting out a nervous chuckle, “I was just... wondering if you'd be open to the idea. You know, staying with someone you care about for a very, very long time. Like, forever.”

The sincerity in his eyes left you with a sense of vulnerability, and you realized that this wasn't just an ordinary conversation. Jungwon seemed to be hinting at something much more profound.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

He sighed, nodding his head. “Yes…what I’m trying to say is that I find I can find a way to keep you beside me forever.”

“You mean... granting me immortality?”

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hold on your hand tightening, as if he had no intention of letting you go. “I’ve been experimenting with various spells from the countless books I’ve read during endless nights. I can share some of my findings with you, if you’d—”

“My love, I must decline that offer.”

“Huh?” Jungwon was puzzled by the sudden interruption. Gazing at you with widened eyes, he realized you weren't joking.

You were being serious.

“Oh. Is that so…” You noticed his eyes glistening, causing a twinge in your heart. Making people feel sad, especially those you love, was something you truly hated.

“Don’t misunderstand—I love you deeply, more than words could convey. But, after all the achievements I’ve accomplished as a knight, I don’t want them to go to waste.”

Jungwon couldn’t comprehend it.

“But, my love, how would it go to waste? Your accomplishments will be remembered for ages, even centuries. And you can continue achieving much more... if you choose to stay.”

He's trying his best—he wants you to stay. Was it selfish of him to wish for that? However, there's no time for self-doubt; what shouldn’t be doubtful is his love for you.

He wants you.

So he pleads. He tries his absolute hardest.

He’s just so close.

So close to stopping this wretched fate of his.

“Why, aren’t you the sweetest?” you smiled, freeing him from your grasp to run your fingers through his hair, providing instant solace. With your touch, Jungwon sighed, this was clearly taking a toll on him.

“Is…is that a yes?”

“The answer is still a no. I want to stay by your side as a mortal being.”

“But…but why?” he questioned, a mix of confusion and desperation in his eyes.

“Because, that way, it can make our memories more cherishable, don’t you think?” you smiled at him, your words piercing through his heart. How could you radiate joy in a moment like this? However, he couldn’t deny the truth in your statement. Across countless past lives, you were always a part of them, turning each one into a profoundly memorable experience.

Different clothes, different situations, different personalities—he had encountered them all. Yet, irrespective of the flaws or imperfections, he found himself drawn to you in every single life.

He remembers all the moments he’d be able to make you smile.

He remembers the sweet laughs you’d have—each one he would consider as a beautiful melody.

He remembers what had made you happy in those lives.

He knows them all by heart.

He longs to share those stories with you, but the fear of overwhelming you with his endless tales holds him back.

He would never want to burden you like that.

“I guess so…” he manages to utter, his voice choked with unspoken emotions.

“I can tell you’re hurt,” your tone softens, your smile fading into a slight frown. “But it just won’t be the same. I would feel much prouder about how many things I can accomplish during my time. I hope you understand.”

His lips thinned, and he slowly nodded, trying to convey that he was okay. Attempting to hold his head high, he looked at you with a certain glint in his eyes. “As long as you’re happy, my love.”

“Thank you,” you exhaled, shifting your position to lay on his lap, closing your eyes. Jungwon chuckled, a bittersweet sound, brushing your hair away from your face. “Let’s just relax, hm?”

“Yeah. Relax,” Jungwon agreed, feeling his energy drain out of him. How could he relax? He was tired. How many more moments like this could you two share before he was forced to part from you again?

He can feel the tears he tried holding back come back to him. His eyes were becoming blurry as he continued to look down at your figure.

He feels even sadder, as his blurry vision seemed to portray what he eventually ends up experiencing.

He should’ve known by now.

No matter the timeline, he was fated to be separated from you.

Despite his efforts, he would watch you leave, helpless to change the outcome.

The haunting image of holding your lifeless body would repeat, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

A new start awaits, but it was another wretched path he was forced to follow.

This was his expected fate.

💬 : ayaya

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[yanderes-galore]

Hi would it be alright to request romantic yandere Anakin hcs who’s Jedi darling asked him to leave the Jedi order/council with her, cause she doesn’t want to be part of the war any more please 🙏

This request is very similar to one I did here, just that one was platonic and for Clone Wars. I will take a more general approach with this one :) Excited to write more Anakin. I used the plot/backstory of the platonic request but tweaked so please enjoy!

Yandere! Anakin has so much potential....

Yandere! Anakin with Jedi! Darling asking him to leave the order

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Violence, Mutual relationship turned forced, Implied intimacy, Paranoia, Dark themes, Imprisonment mentioned, Threats, Implied kidnapping/coercion, Kissing.

In terms of backstory, you and Anakin are both Jedi working for the order.

In fact this can be the same backstory as the Clone Wars Anakin concept I did except romantic.

Which would be you both knew each other from your Padawan days and grew up alongside each other.

So this is essentially an AU where you become Anakin's romantic interest.

Jedi shouldn't have such strong personal connections but he can't help but fall for the young Padawan woman he's grown up with.

You two are inseparable, often training with each other or speaking with one another.

Perhaps your relationship starts mutual.

Anakin has fallen for you and you fall for him over time.

Your relationship has to be secret yet you make do.

Having an already established relationship may just make Anakin's obsession worse.

It's seen in the prequels that Anakin is someone driven by emotion.

He's scared to lose those he loves.

Anakin would also be the first to sense you not liking the war going on.

By the time you wish to leave, Anakin knows you inside and out.

He often meets you in private for "training", when in reality you both share intimacy.

Anakin is addicted to every kiss you give him and he loves your warmth and soft skin.

You're his girl, his woman, and he loves you with all his heart.

He's a man willing to do anything to keep you happy and safe.

In fact part of him constantly worries you'll be in danger due to being a Jedi Knight like him.

If anything his fear skyrockets at the idea of you being killed... especially later on.

When you tell Anakin you wish to leave The Order, he's on edge about it.

He stresses out and he's worried you're trying to leave him.

By this point you're either his girlfriend or wife, depends on if this is around Clone Wars or the third prequel.

He vents these worries to you in private.

He worries he's doing something wrong.

But that just isn't true, you hate all the fighting.

You don't know which side tells the truth and wish to leave... maybe even have your own family.

The idea of having a family with you make Anakin's heart flutter.

The idea of protecting you as his cute little house wife is an idea that pleases him.

Yet he hates the idea of leaving you alone.

Then you drop a bomb.

You want him to leave The Order with you.

Deep down, Anakin really does want to abandon everything and run off with you.

He wants to have a family, he wants to have kids, he wants to keep you safe as his wife and your husband.

At the same time he's still dedicated to The Order.

At first he ignores your offer, instead distracting you with a kiss and tight hug.

He can't ignore it for long unfortunately.

You echo the question back to him, a frown on your face.

One way or another you may leave The Order without Anakin.

He just can't abandon things right now.

The relationship/love for Anakin dies down for you as you make your case and leave for somewhere private.

To make this more yandere and dramatic let's say Anakin comes back to find you after he's joined the Dark Side but before he fought Obi-Wan.

Anakin would've convinced Palpatine to spare you from Order 66 as you will no longer be a problem.

I also have a feeling you left The Order and Anakin for a reason greater than just the war.

Perhaps you had visions of what he'd do in the future.

As a result you tried to change things, but to no avail.

However, Anakin was never ready to just let you go.

You most likely sense his presence, it's darker from the last time you saw him.

His desire for you is darker, he did what he could to prevent your death due to Order 66.

He chose darker power to protect you and now he's finally returned to you.

It was a trial to find where you went but he guessed it was so no one found you.

But Anakin would always find you... he knows how to sense you.

His presence frightens you when he makes his way to your planet with Clone Troopers at his side.

You ask him if he'll kill you, you ask him why he couldn't just forget you after he left.

He made his decision... you made yours... what does he want?

Anakin reassures you he isn't going to kill you, in fact he made you an exception to the Order 66 rule.

No... Anakin came to collect you.

If you had kids then he'll take them too.

Their fate is unknown, however....

Anakin has just missed you so much and regrets not following you back then.

Maybe you had a point to leave....

Yet, Anakin is here now to love and adore you just like before.

You're stiff in his arms when he embraces you, kissing near your neck and cheek while whispering how much he missed you.

Things can be different now, he'll make it different.

He threatens you to not fight him on this.

If you fight him then he'll have to call for your imprisonment.

He's worked hard to make things perfect for the both of you.

Sure, he's given into the Dark Side, but you'll still love him, right?

Of course you will....

There's no need to be hiding from anyone now... he'll protect you as he did before.

Even if you're imprisoned due to no longer loving him and he's cast into lava... he'll probably still care for you somewhere in his heart until you die.

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Nakime x f!reader, Douma x f!reader, Daki, Kokushibo and Akaza (mentioned).

Warnings: modern au, cheating, choking, mention to murder, gore and violence, mild sexual content, vaginal sex, dom!muzan, sub!reader, slight somnophilia.

Plot: the morning after, you wake up in Muzan’s embrace. While he seems affectionate, his mood swings allow you to see past his angelic face and you start to connect the dots about his dark side. You make love again, but he becomes distant right after it. He leaves for work and you bump into Nakime, who tells you about some of Muzan’s habits. In need for fresh air, you run in the basement but Douma allures you to give in to your animalistic desires. You could love whoever you wanted privately, right?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE DEVIL.

His hot breath fanned your earlobe, his arm was draped over your waist to keep you close to him. Muzan loved how you were smaller than him, so beautiful and fragile. You were his special someone to protect, to give his all for.

His mouth left a trail of open mouthed kissed down your shoulderblade, his half-lidded, plum red eyes watching how you stirred in your sleep and snuggled into his chest. He barely knew you and he had already taken so much from you. You had practically given yourself to him without blinking, so diligently, you had given up on the mundane and trivial part of your life to train yourself to be a First Lady.

“Y/N” he purred, his long fingers drawing patterns on the naked skin of your stomach to wake you up softly. He did not want to startle you, he just craved to taste you once again before leaving for work. While he perfectly knew he could have had you by the time he got back from his office, he had the irresistable urge to have you again now, as the first rays of the sun seeped into his bedroom from the curtains.

You rolled on your side, facing him and, lifting your heavy eyelids to peek out at his angelic face. It felt unrealistic. It was not a dream, you were really sleeping on Kibutsuji Muzan’s king-sized bed. His hand was gently squeezing your hip and you blushed, hiding your face into his toned chest, not to allow him to see your sleepy face.

A hoarse laughter rumbled through his chest as he pulled you closer to him, his chin propped on the top of your head affectionately “I did not wake you up for you to hide your pretty face to me. – he murmured, sending shivers down your spine – I have the ardent desire to fuck you again, before I go” he blatantly said, his fingertips digging onto your waist possessively, earning a soft whimper from you.

“Do you?” you whispered bashfully, craning your neck to stare up at him.

Your legs were still sore from the previous night events and a dull track of pain was still present in your core. But you could do it again, you could do it one more time because you wanted to, because he was staring intently into your eyes and his fervent passion felt like boiling droplets of lava on your sensitive skin.

“I don’t particularly like to repeat myself, darlin’. – he stated, arching a dark eyebrow up and propping his elbow on his crimson pillow, only to rest his head on his fist to inspect your visage – I own you, I desire you. Haven’t I been clear enough, hm?” he inquired in a cold tone, his voice dropping a few octaves.

There it was, his feral side. The one you, deep down, hoped to see crossing his face. He had rarely lost his temper on the camera, but when he did you usually feared for the safety of those who had dared to enrage him. And, dear God, something bad happened to them, sometimes.

How could he be so fascinating, when his malicious inner side showed up? You should have been scared of him.

“I didn’t mean to—…” you said, yet you never finished your sentence. His hand reached out to your neck, the iron-grip knocking the air of your lungs as he easily pushed you down on the mattress and hovered over you. You gulped down forcefully, lips parted in excitement and a ounce of fear as the dark-haired man on top of you grinned down at your writhing frame.

“Tch, bloody hell. How do you expect me not to fuck you senseless, when you look at me like that?” he rhetorically asked you, a vein popping his forehead as he gave your neck one last squeeze, before releasing it.

You inhaled sharply through your nostrils, legs timidly hooking behind his back as a sign that you were ready, that he could claim you again.

“Muzan…” you called his name lowly, your hand cupping his smooth cheek and brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. His eyes never left yours. His lips twitched as his mouth connected with yours in a hungry kiss. You did not even fight for dominance, he won, he shoved his tongue into your mouth without bothering to ask for permission. Your hands went up to thread his hair as you shyly squeezed his waist between your legs to relief your core from the pressure engulfing your nether regions.

He growled in your mouth, grinding his groin down onto yours to feed you what you longed for.

His hands cupped your face, his lips barely brushing over yours as his breath mingled with yours in erotic, erratic pants “Impatient little girl. You will learn not to play with fire”.

You had no time to realize what had happened. All you knew was that a sharp pain pierced the tender flesh of your neck and you squealed out in surprise. You tugged at Muzan’s hair unintentionally, when you felt his tongue lap at the bruised skin of your neck. Only then you came to the conclusion that he had bitten you and, right after that, he wasted no time in pushing your panties to the side and slipping into your already wet cunt.

♚

You walked him to the door, once you two were ready. He did not kiss you goodbye. Actually, he was back to be the cunning, distant politician you saw on the tv screen during his interviews. He barely glanced at you, before shutting the door behind him and leaving with Kokushibo.

You should have not felt hurt. You were not into an enstablished, true relationship. You were paid to keep him company and stick by his side in public. You remembered what he had told you before Kokushibo took you back home that night.

“You can love whoever you want privately”.

You could, right. But if he kept on these mood swings, if he made you believe you meant something for him by the way he fucked you, or the way he looked at you, there was no way in the world you could have ever had eyes for someone else. Additionally, who? Who could you love far from the medias, without letting the news reach the ears of the journalists?

You were conflicted and the best thing you could do to distract yourself was probably talking to someone, or asking them the permission to leave. Possibly alone. You made your way to the elevator, your finger reaching up to push the button, when you had stop midway.

“Miss L/N, can I help you?” Nakime asked from behind you.

You flinched, turning around to face the woman with the same expression of someone caught red-handed and bowed your head at her “Ah, Nakime-san, goodmorning – you quipped, forcing a smile on your face – I was going to the basement” you told her, thinking that your answer would have sufficed to chase her away.

Nevertheless, you were wrong.

“No one is in the basement” she declared flatly.

“Oh… Do you know where I can find Douma and Akaza then?” you then asked her, folding your arms against your chest. Were you really going to spend the day in her company? Honestly, it sounded like hell.

The brunette took a few steps forward, her high-heels clicking against the marble floor “On a mission. – she said, cocking her head to the side – How can I help you, miss L/N?” she repeated the question, her red-painted lips curling up in a faint smile. There was something off about her. She radiated hostility and danger. However, you did not have much of a choice.

You shrugged, averting your eyes from her and staring at the majestic Muzan’s potrait hanged on the wall. Damn it, his eyes were haunting you even through paintings.

“Uhm… A-actually, can you do something for me, please?” you stammered, fidgeting with the charm of your necklace. Bad habits never died. It was a clear sign that you were on the verge of snapping.

“Do you want me to kill someone for you?” Nakime blurted out, making your blood run instantly cold. What did she say? Why did she ask that as if it was not a crime? Was she really a killer? Well, you should have not been that surprised.

“What?! No!” you replied horrified, grimacing at the mere thought of Muzan giving his bodyguards the order to kill his opponents. But, deep down, you knew he did. You just decided that pretending he was a good man was the easiest way to get along with him.

Further more, the feelings he gave you were controversial. Would you have been able to forgive him, if he had told you he had made his flunkies slaughter his foes? Probably. Why? He could manipulate you to believe it was the rightest thing to do.

Silence swallowed you two for minute straight. Then, she spoke out again.

“Oh, I get it then. – Nakime said, walking towards you and stopping right in front of you – Just relax, okay?” she added, before slowly dropping down on her knees. You were puzzled by her actions, even more when she grasped your hand and planted a chaste kiss on its back. Nakime curled up to your thighs the hem of your skirt, careful not to touch the exposed skin of your legs.

You were paralyzed, mouth agape when she planted a kiss on your clothed sex. What was she doing? You shivered, blushing furiously as she reached for the waistband of your panties and tried to tug them down. Was she going down on you? Were you letting her do it? Christ, why? No, no, no. That needed to stop.

You took a step back, gawking at her as you straightened your skirt and ran your fingers through your hair in shock. Nakime cocked her head to the side, scrunching her nose in annoyance at your rejection. Why did she assume you needed this kind of favor? Plus, was she really into it?

“W-What was that, Nakime?” you blurted out, blinking at her skeptically.

“Well, I assumed you were sexually frustrated. – she chimed, standing back up and bowing her head at you – I apologize. Master Muzan usually asks me to help him relax” she added, blushing slightly but keeping her head high.

Her words made your breath hitch in your throat and you gaped, forrowing your brows in curiosity “Y-You… Does Muzan—”.

“Fuck me? Yeah, he does. Daily”.

“Jesus…” you choked, clenching your fists down your sides. You were such an idiot. Of course he had told you to love whoever you wanted privately. It was exactly what he did. You should have not felt offended at the revelation, you were nothing more than an actress. Yet, it pissed you off.

“I’m not even the only one and, definitely, not his favorite. Daki is probably on her way to his office. – Nakime added, glancing at her wrist-watch – Now, what was that favor you needed from me?” she pressed, folding her arms over her chest.

Daki. Daki was his favorite. If Daki was his favorite, you were not. Ouch.

“Who’s Daki?” you asked, cursing yourself for being upset about it.

Nakime scoffed “His sixth in command. Now, what in the actual hell do you need me to do?” she asked again, exhaling through her nostrils.

You rolled your eyes at her and turned back to the elevator, pushing the metallic button. You felt her staring at you, although her eyes, that you still had to see, were hidden by her long fringe.

“Where are you going?” she spat, but before she could pest you again with another question, you entered the elevator and waved your hand at her mockingly. Maybe you were going to be punished for that, but you needed to get away from her and taking a little time for yourself. You knew that there was a garage, somewhere, with dozens of car. You had heard Kokushibo mentioning it and, right now, you needed to borrow one of them. You were the soon to be First Lady, after all.

Nakime sprinted up to catch up with you, but the doors closed and in five seconds you were at the basement. When you walked in, you took a look around and you realized that the cold-hearted brunette was not lying when she told you no one was there. You sighed and started to search for a secret door, or something that could have led you to the garage, but you could not find anything.

“What the fuck…” you uttered in exhasperation, walking over the huge library and staring at the titles almost absent-mindedly.

It was foolish, maybe, but you had seen enough movies in your life to know that rich scions loved to hide rooms behind libraries. Now, which was the book starting the device?

Your fingertips grazed the covers of the novels, as you passed by and you were about to pick one of them to test your theory, when a mild voice rang in your ears and you jolted in fear. You twirled around, your back pressed against the library as your eyes locked with a pair of multicolored hues. Was he not supposed to be out on a mission?

“My, my… What is my cute, little doe doing here?” Douma chimed, his hands on each side of your head caging you between his body as the library.

You blushed, staring up at him in embarrassment. It was hard to breathe. Not only he was standing way too close to you for your likings, but he was handsome as hell and… And some dried, scarlett substance was splattered over his face. Was it blood? Was he out murdering someone?

“D-Douma… Is… What’s on your face?” you breathed out, heart thrumming into your chest as you pointed your finger at his right cheek.

He quirked his eyebrows up, his gloved hand reaching up to touch the stained portion of skin on his face and he grinned, his pearly teeth on display as he took a step back and nodded his head at you “Oh, that’s blood! It’s not mine, don’t worry, love!” he stated, winkig at you.

You thought you were going to faint and maybe you would have slumped down on the floor, if it was not for his sharp reflex. As soon as your knees buckled, his arms were wrapped around your waist and he held you up easily. It was time for you to deal with the fact that your fiancé was a murderer. The morning had started with a bang and you were, apparently, not ready for Kibutsuji’s secrets to screw your life.

“Sensitive, aren’t we? – Douma joked, as you clutched the fabric of his white shirt in your hands – Are you alright?” he asked, giggling at your reaction.

You sighed and let go of him, walking to the small leather couch and sitting down “Whose blood is it?” you boldly asked him, watching how he hastily joined you and slumped down on the comfortable surface.

“Does it really matter? I mean, he is not dead… Just battered. I did such a good job!” he beamed, winking at you and lolling his head back on the backrest.

You flinched and shifted to face him properly, eyes round as you jabbed your finger at him “Douma! Please… It matters to me. I didn’t think–…” you started, but you choked on your own words, tears spilling out of your eyes without your permission. Gosh, it happened. You were on the verge of a breakdown.

Douma stared at you clearly confused, his hands immediately cupping your cheeks as he tried to calm you down. You sobbed, his thumbs wiping away the tears falling from your lashes as he ducked his head down to inspect your face better. You did not protest, you did not have enough strength to do anything else, except for leaning into his touch and batting your eyes closed.

“Don’t cry, little doe! – he murmured, his nose now brushing against yours – No one is going to hurt you, I promise!” he soothed, his hands sliding down your back, until they were settled over your hips. It was weird, inappropriate even. Maybe, if Akaza or Kokushibo were here, he would have not even dared to touch you like that. But some physical contact, some comfort, even from a serial killer, was not that bad.

You had slept with one of them twice, after all. And, naturally, you knew that Kibutsuji Muzan was the worst of this crew.

You nodded your head and Douma smiled, cradling you in his arms. Now, you were the one who had pushed his limits. You should have not straddled him, you should have not played with his tie, but when he grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, you parted your lips and Douma kissed you.

It was intense, but not demanding. Was it a soothing kiss? You had no clue about what was happening, but you kissed him back, chest pressed against his one as he held you close to him. His tongue brushed over your lower lip and you softly moaned, arching your back as he entered your mouth. It lasted for a while, your body melting under his touch. You only abruptly parted, when you felt his bulge pressing against your thigh through the fabric of his trousers.

“What the fuck did I do?!” you panicked, standing up and fixing your clothes. Was everyone horny in that place? Were you slowly slipping in the deep end too? Were you becoming a whore?

Douma licked his bottom lip, a smug smile curling his plumped lips as he stood up and straightened his tie “Oh, well, you opened your mouth for me, ma’am. Such a pity you did not open your legs too…” he complained, feigning sorrow and tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Muzan did not have to know about that. Plus, he had no shame in sleeping with Nakime and that Daki girl, right? Maybe you should have not felt guilty for it.

“Listen, that was a mistake—…”.

“One hell of a mistake, love!”.

“Gosh, will you please just take me out for a stroll and a lunch? I might just explode” you blurted out, throwing your hands in the air.

Douma gladly complied, his hands somehow always finding their way to your waist, but you finally managed to hop into his car.

Your phone in your purse buzzed, you ignored it. You were too busy chatting with Douma, laughing at his stupid jokes, to check it out. It was Muzan, telling you that you would have made your first public appearence in two days and that, maybe, you were in trouble for having tricked Nakime.

Muzan: I don’t accept insubordination. I know what you did. We ought to talk tonight. Don’t bother wearing anything.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! Third part is out! Buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourselves for a very, very crazy ride with the Kibutsuji crew. I enjoyed writing this part and, just to be clear, I’m a sucker for Douma… So, it’s clear why the reader is going to have some fun with him, alright? Thanks for the support, really! Please, read the first two parts of this series to understand better. Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!

Tags: @bookandstar

[bradshawssugarbaby]

The Coronado Story - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Your marriage to Bradley was fraught with issues -- you married far too young to a man who was far too immature. Several years have passed, and now, you're engaged to the perfect gentleman. Everything is going wonderfully in the days leading up to your wedding - until Bradley reappears into your life.

A/N: this is an AU fic I've been wanting to write for a really long time, based loosely on the plot of one of my all-time favourite movies, The Philadelphia Story. I was really nervous about this one because it's the longest fic I've ever written, and it's completely self-indulgent, but I love it.

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader / Bob Floyd x Reader / Bradley Bradshaw x Reader / Bob Floyd x OC (sort of?)

warnings/content: divorce, mentions of children, affairs/cheating (briefly mentioned), Bradley being a shitty husband, heartbreak, angst, fluff, love triangles, female reader but no description (I think?), named side OC side characters.

word count: 9.2k

The time to make up your mind about people is never.

As the morning sunlight poured in through the bay window of your bedroom, you squinted and groaned, covering your eyes with your comforter, refusing to get up and out of bed at this hour. Turning to face your alarm clock, you were dismayed to see that it was only just 7 AM, far too early for any normal person to be awake and functioning as of yet. You knew that your definition of normal was skewed - you were sheltered your whole life, the only controversy you’d ever faced was your divorce from your ex-husband, Bradley Bradshaw that took place eight years prior, and even then, it was only scandalous for the reasoning behind it. 

You and Bradley were simply young, dumb and in love - the biggest mistake anyone could make, in your mind. No sane person would get married under those circumstances, you were sure of it, and certainly not when they’ve only known their spouse for six months - but you and Bradley were anything but sane when it came to one another. 

Smitten and head over heels in love, unable to focus on anything outside of one another - you were crazy for him, and he was crazy for you. However, the romance was fleeting, and no sooner than it had burned strong and bright, did the fire fizzle out on you both. Your marriage lasted all of 12 months, no children produced as a result, and nothing to show for it other than a piece of paper and a simple surname change on your part. 

In fact, children were one of the sore spots in your relationship - while you wanted them, sooner rather than later, Bradley was unconvinced. Having been orphaned by his sixteenth birthday, and now serving as an aviator in the US Navy, Bradley wasn’t sure how to be a parent. He was barely sure about marriage for that matter. He wanted it - he wanted it with you more than anything, he thought - but when it came down to it, he got scared. Terrified of leaving behind a family the same way his dad had when he was a toddler. 

Bradley hadn’t even been toilet trained when his father died - his memories of him were whatever was relayed to him through stories from his mother and his father’s friends, news clippings from his time in the Navy and his medals and ribbons received during his service. Otherwise? The man was a stranger to him, and that was something that scared Bradley more than anything. However much you loved him, you couldn’t stay in a marriage that had no future, and Bradley felt the same. Bradley had enjoyed partying and having fun far more than being a husband, and it showed.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, and you held your breath, hoping and praying it was just a text message that you could easily ignore and respond to later. However, it continued to ring, spasming against the hard wooden top of the table, causing more noise than necessary. You sleepily extended your arm out to grab it, cursing under your breath at whoever in their right mind would call you this early in the morning. That was, until you saw the caller ID, and realized it was your new beau, Jake.

“Good mornin’ beautiful!” Jake drawled out, his Texan accent thick and velvety smooth as he spoke. 

“Good morning,” you hummed sleepily, rubbing your eye with one of your hands before letting out a yawn and sighing. 

“Sorry, honey, did I wake you?” 

“Mhmm? No, no, I was already getting up.”

“Listen, baby, I just wanted to call and say I can’t wait to marry you. You’re the love of my life, you know that?”

“I think you may have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Good, I’m not gonna stop mentioning it to you.”

You shook your head and giggled softly, a happy sigh escaping your lips as you thought about your upcoming nuptials to Jake. You were going to be Mrs. Jake Seresin in a matter of days - hours in fact - and you were excited to finally move on from your time as Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw, a chapter of your life that you tried desperately to hide. 

You’d hoped that moving back to your family home in California would help you escape it - your family’s sprawling beachfront home in Coronado, dating back to the 1920s, complete with all the historic art deco era charms and graces, was welcoming and inviting when you returned from your failed marriage in Virginia. 

No sooner than you had moved home did Jake cross your path. Another aviator - a type you’d apparently developed without realizing it - but this time, confident and cocksure, not needing a reminder of your existence, or forgetting how to be in love, never wavering on his stance on your future, or the idea of having children - Jake was, well, perfect. Or as close to perfect as a person could be, anyways. 

With his broad shoulders, Southern charm, piercing green eyes and perfectly styled golden blonde hair, Jake was maybe the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Sure, Bradley was gorgeous - a stark contrast to Jake’s perfect appearance, with dark curly hair, sunkissed with honey coloured highlights scattered throughout, amber coloured eyes that changed depending on his mood, and a neatly trimmed mustache that looked fresh out of 1984 - but he was no Jake. No one was Jake. 

“I’ll be home from this mission soon enough, ok darlin’? Then I’ll come runnin’ right over there to marry your pretty little self.” “I expect nothing less, Lieutenant Seresin. In full dress whites, too, I hope.”

“Of course, nothing but the best for my girl.”

My girl. The way he said it felt so melodic, so beautiful. Bradley had called you that once in a while, and at first when Jake did, it stung. You’d almost convinced yourself not to let him use it as his term of affection for you because of it, yet, the way he said it was so different. You felt compelled to let him continue using it. Now, it only made you think of Bradley occasionally, a slight twinge of melancholy when you heard it, but nothing enough to trigger an unwanted memory or feeling of longing for your ex- husband. 

After your conversation with Jake, you took your time getting dressed, paying special attention to your hair as you got ready for the day. You wanted everything to be perfect - your wedding wasn’t for another two days, but you couldn’t help but stress over every minute detail. If you didn’t take care of preserving your hair’s silky smooth feeling today, you’d run the risk of compromising it’s styling ability in two days - a risk you couldn’t afford to take. Not when your wedding had become somewhat of a mild celebration in the San Diego Bay area. 

Your family was wealthy, to put it incredibly mildly. Your father had started his own investment firm back in the 1980s, just before meeting your mother, and his success had grown exponentially over the years. He now stood as one of the richest men in the country, and since you were one of only two children - you’d become quite the celebrity as soon as you turned 16. Your sweet sixteen party rivaled those seen on MTV - you’d declined any prodding from your friends to televise your party, your father had assured you that only families who were insecure about their financial situation felt the need to flaunt it so tastelessly on television. 

When you’d met Bradley, he had no idea. You’d moved out to Virginia to get away from your life in California, having been accepted into Old Dominon University, entering into their Journalism studies program. You were looking for something, anything to give you some semblance of normalcy in your early twenties, desperate to feel the same way your friends from high school did about going off to start their higher education and studies. You didn’t like being left out, and college life was no exception. 

It was your second year when Bradley wandered into your life. You opted to hit the beach with a couple of friends, making the half-hour drive out to Virginia Beach to sunbathe and enjoy the seasonably warm spring that had descended upon you. There, he caught your eye. 

He was tall and lean, broad shouldered and wearing tight-fitting denim shorts that sat low on his hips, showing off his sleek, toned abdomen. His skin was olive-toned, you could tell he spent a lot of time at the beach, and without a shirt. He looked to be a few years older than you, but it was almost impossible to tell, he looked like an adonis of sorts. Aviator sunglasses perched just slightly askew on a slightly crooked nose - the signature bump to his nose a tell-tale sign of a previous break, yet somehow, you found it made him even more attractive. A rogue volleyball sent him your way - and his charming smile and sense of humour had you ready to exchange your phone number with him within a matter of seconds. 

Bradley had been stationed at NAS Norfolk, and, like most people, wanted to enjoy his day off away from work. He and a couple of his naval buddies had headed to the beach for the day, similarly to you, and the rest was history. To a 21 year old, the prospect of dating a 32 year old seemed so appealing - so rebellious and thrilling. Bradley was immature for his age, a side effect of growing up way too quickly as a young teenager, needing to care for his mother when she became sick, and doing so until her unfortunate passing four years later. He was only fifteen at the time, and suddenly was left relatively on his own - moving in with his grandmother while he finished high school, but venturing out on his own by the time he reached his eighteenth birthday. 

Your thoughts of your time with Bradley would come and go, especially now as your wedding to Jake approached. It made sense to you, the reminders of a failed marriage encroaching in on you as you prepared for another marriage to begin. You just continued to push them aside, reminding yourself that Jake was not Bradley, and Bradley would never be Jake. They were two completely opposite people - Jake was better at treating you like a princess, the way you were always accustomed to growing up, while Bradley was better at the silly little things, the affectionate kisses stolen whenever no one was around to see, a protective hand on your hip at all times. Jake excelled where Bradley had lacked, but the same could be said the other way around too. Not that you wanted to even think about that. Bradley was the last thing you wanted to think about. 

You bounded down the winding staircase to find your parents seated at the breakfast table, your younger sister, Kylie tucking into a bowl of cereal as she sat next to your empty seat. Your father’s stern expression as he read the paper, something you tried to tell him that no one did anymore since the advent of tablets and e-readers, was a sign to you that he too was stressed. You knew he worried about your marriage to Jake being another waste of money and resources, but this time you were sure, you told yourself. You assured him that history wouldn’t repeat itself. 

“Good morning, darling,” your mother’s voice rang out in a sing-song fashion, “have a good conversation with Jake this morning?”

“We heard you gushing to him over the phone up there,” Kylie quipped, grinning as she spooned some more cereal into her mouth.

“I wasn’t gushing. I was simply returning the affection he was giving.”

“You and Jake make me sick,” Kylie scoffed, shaking her head, “I don’t remember Bradley being this nauseating.”

“Bradley,” you snapped, “wasn’t good at anything when it came to matters of the heart. All he cared about was flying planes and having a good time. What kind of a husband is that?”

“A fun one,” Kylie muttered as she avoided your mother’s death glare. 

“Jake’s wonderful to your sister, Kylie. You know that. He’s just wonderful.”

“Yeah, yeah, the sun shines out of his ass and everything,” your fifteen year old sister piped up, grinning. 

“Mom, please tell me why you decided to give me a sibling when I was 15. I didn’t need it. I was fine being an only child.”

“Will you two just cut it out? You both sound like incessant children,” Your father grumbled as he finished the last dregs of coffee from his cup.

“I gotta go,” Kylie said before standing abruptly and dropping her bowl into the sink with a thud, “Meeting my friends at the ferry port. We’re going shopping for the day.”

Your father nodded his head in approval, an incoherent mumble coming from his direction as he continued to read the paper. Your mother waved Kylie off, smiling as she sent her on her way, as if she’d just dropped her off at school for her first day of kindergarten. The attention then turned back to you, something you were dreading, because it felt like all anyone in your family wanted to talk about anymore to you was…

“I want to talk about Bradley, darling.”

Shit.

“What about him?”

“You should know, we saw him the other day.”

“Oh? How lovely for you.”

“He’s grown into quite the responsible young man.”

“That’s fantastic, mother. Is that why Kylie’s so in love? Tell her to wait three years, I’m sure he’d be open to dating her when she turns eighteen.”

Your mother scolded you almost immediately for your comment, and you had to admit, as soon as it left your mouth, you regretted saying it. In fact, Bradley had been so nervous about the eleven year gap that you and him had shared, that you were almost positive he’d never date someone under thirty now. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just on edge.”

“Well, Jake’ll be home soon enough.”

“On our wedding day, yeah. I’ll see him then.”

“Exactly! Bradley wished you well. He said he’s glad you’re happy now.”

“I’m sure he is, Mom.”

You shook your head in disbelief before getting up, setting your unused plate and cup in the sink out of habit. You sighed and grabbed your purse from the hook where it sat by the door, slipping into your shoes.

“I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back.”

“Alright, when you come home we’ll finalize your seating arrangements and the minor details for Saturday!”

You hurried out the door and sighed, taking in a deep breath of the salty ocean breeze as you tried to find some clarity. You hated knowing that Bradley was this close to you, but you knew the odds of seeing him again were close to zero. San Diego was a huge city, and he could be stationed at any number of bases in the area, or none at all. He could be visiting for all you knew. You resolved to not worry about it - whatever Bradley did hadn’t been your business for nearly a decade. He might have been remarried with children by now for all you knew. 

As you headed down the street towards Orange Ave. to check out the shopping district for some retail therapy, you furrowed your brow. Something just didn’t feel right. You couldn’t describe what it was, but something was definitely off. 

Now settled into a booth at the coffee shop in the heart of Coronado, you flipped through your Instagram feed, scrolling past selfie after selfie, accomplishments of your high school and college peers on display with no discretion as to what was shared. So-and-so’s son took their first bowel movement on the potty? It was posted as vital information for anyone interested in her life to know. Your college roommate’s brother’s dog died? Documented for everyone who followed her to see. 

You looked up from your phone when you heard a familiar voice. The voice of someone from your past. You knew that voice anywhere. 

“I’m telling you, she still lives here. I know she does. I checked her social media. If they want me to document her wedding to this poor bastard, I’m going to do it. I’m just going to hate every second of it when I do.”

Bob Floyd, in the flesh. 

Bob had been a classmate of yours at Old Dominion - he was one of the few who entered into the realm of Journalism. His drive and passion for telling the truth was admirable, a quality he always strove to make his best-known trait throughout the four years you’d spent at school together. Bob was sweet towards you, understanding and sympathetic towards your craving for normalcy in a life that was, by most people’s standards, anything but normal. He’d supported your need for an escape from your life in California at the time, which was something you were always grateful to him for. 

“Who lives here?” You piped up, your interest piqued as you overheard Bob’s conversation with his female companion. 

“Hey! Just the gal I was looking for. How have you been?”

“Fine,” you responded bitterly as you sipped your drink, the ice in the plastic cup rattling as your hand moved. 

“I s’pose you overheard all that?”

“I did indeed. I didn’t realize my wedding to Jake was worthy of your attention.”

“It’s not that - I write for a magazine, they sent me here to cover it.”

“They sent you? Despite the fact I’ve requested no media coverage?”

“Your request for no coverage just made a target for you - now everyone wants to cover it. They’re fighting left right and center out there for a chance to even get near the venue. I only got out here because I know the area from when I came to visit that time. And because I follow you on your Instagram. Did you know your posts aren’t all privated?”

“Forgive me for assuming that there was some human decency to be had out there.”

“You studied Journalism. You know better than anyone else that it’s a dying art form.”

“What do you want, Bob?”

“An exclusive story centering on you and your new husband to be, and the luxury of being the only one to cover your wedding. Trust me, I’m the reporter you’d want covering it. I know you already and know how exactly to portray you. And how to avoid a lawsuit for slander or libel, which just becomes messy later down the line.”

You sighed, looking at your cup for a moment before meeting his gaze once again.

“Fine. But only if your little friend here keeps her mouth shut about it outside of a professional scope.”

“Deal,” the brunette standing beside him replied, smiling politely as she nodded her head. You couldn’t help but get the sense that there was more to it than just wanting to advance his career, but you didn’t have time to think about that, or even to care, really.

An hour later, Bob and his female friend, whose name you’d already forgotten, were following you up the marble steps of your family home. You had every intention of living with Jake, as soon as he returned from his deployment. You technically did live with him, but with this most recent shipment out and the memories of your previous marriage flooding back to you, you knew it was in your best interest to stay with your parents for a while, at least until Jake returned home. 

As you headed inside, you heard Kylie babbling from the other room. You could just barely make out the sound of the person she was talking to, the distinct baritone sounds and unique lilt something you know you’ve heard before. Something you’d hoped you’d never have to hear again. 

Bradley.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You spat out angrily, your eyes darting between Kylie and Bradley for some sort of explanation. 

“Your sister invited me,” Bradley shrugged, as if the invitation extended to him by his teenage ex-sister in law was enough of a reason to intrude. 

“Kylie, why the fuck did you invite him?”

“He’s your ex-husband. I thought he should see who you’re marrying now.”

“That’s not how this works, Ky.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, maybe he’d like to meet Jake. Besides, are we really gonna ignore the random guy standing behind you looking like some kind of Clark Kent knockoff?” Kylie quipped, making a vague gesture in Bob’s direction.

“This is Robert Floyd, we went to college together. He’s here to cover the wedding. And…,” you began, once again blanking on the name of his colleague who awkwardly stood in your kitchen, observing the impromptu, uncomfortable reunion.

“Meghan.” She nodded, offering a polite wave, the only non-hostile look currently being exchanged in the room. 

“Right, sorry. Meghan is his colleague. She does the video and photography component to his writing.” 

Kylie raised a skeptic eyebrow as she looked Bob up and down, the lack of trust towards him evident on her face. To Meghan, she gave a sidewards glance, almost as if she was challenging her to ruin the wedding in some way, while also delivering it in the form of an unspoken threat. Bradley cleared his throat as he glanced at you, his amber coloured eyes widened with shock and surprise as he realized what was unfolding in front of him.

“Can I talk to you? In private?” His voice was sheepish and shy as he spoke, a far cry from the Bradley you’d once been married to.

“If you must.”

Bradley excused himself from the group circle that had now formed in your kitchen before politely escorting you into the backyard of your family home. It wasn’t exactly away from prying eyes and eavesdropping friends and sisters, but it offered enough of a shield that Kylie couldn’t interject her own opinions and thoughts into the conversation, as she so often liked to do. 

“What’s his name?”

“Jake.” 

“Last name?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Just answer.”

“No?”

“Is it Seresin?”

“Why, Bradley? So what if it is?”

Bradley lets out an exhausted sigh, a hint of something that you’d swear was disappointment if you didn’t know any better was evident on his face as he shook his head.

“I know him.”

“Ok, and?”

“You don’t understand. I’m his commanding.”

“Ok…and?”

“So, every time he gets sent off somewhere, you’re going to have one more reason to hate me.”

“I don’t need any more reasons, Bradley. Believe me, our one year of marriage provided me with plenty.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, shaking his head with another sigh before looking up towards the sky. The southern Californian sunshine cascading down on him, creating a halo-like glow over his sun-kissed face. His hair had the slightest hint of age to it, the odd whitish-grey hair scattered throughout his curls, which were considerably less noticeable than they once were. A handful of scars dotted his face, a couple of varying slashes across his chin, neck and cheek, as well as one on his nose, just below the characteristic bump that you’d noticed that first day you met him. He’d aged remarkably well for someone that was fast approaching his fortieth birthday at the end of the month. 

“I never wanted you to hate me, ok?”

“Oh? You did it without even trying then, congratulations.”

“Look, can’t I just be supportive of you and happy for you without an ulterior motive?”

“No. I don’t believe you can.” 

You shook your head furiously before laughing in pure disbelief at what was taking place. Your wedding was in approximately thirty-six hours now, and you felt as though with the return of both Bob and Bradley into your life, everything was beginning to unravel around you, coming undone with every passing second.

“Honey! I’m home!” 

Jake’s cheerful Texas drawl echoed throughout the house. You rounded the staircase, running so fast down the stairs that you were sure you’d fall and land on your ass on your way down if you weren’t careful. You practically leapt into his arms, enveloping him in a hug as he held you tightly, hugging you close. You smiled as you breathed in his scent, using Jake’s presence to drown out any memory or feeling you may have felt for Bradley come creeping back on you.

“You’re early!” 

“I managed to get home a little sooner than anticipated. I still expect you to stay put right here though. Bad luck to see my bride on the wedding day, you know.”

“Please, no one believes in that anymore.” 

“I sure do! I’m not taking any chances, darlin’,” Jake said as he gently pressed his lips to your cheek, his kiss soft and sweet as his lips lingered on your skin.

Bob emerged from the living room, a broad smile on his face as he pushed his glasses up further on his nose, a pen tucked behind his ear neatly. His baby blue polo shirt was perfectly pressed, paired with a neat pair of khaki coloured pants, a look that screamed professional, but also golf course appropriate. He essentially fit in perfect with the other non-military men on Coronado - the wealthy, put-together, business men who spent Fridays out of the home office and out on the golf course, forwarding their calls to an answering machine or their secretary.

“You must be the infamous Lieutenant Seresin, I’m Bob, I’ve been sent by StarGaze to cover the wedding. It’s basically all anyone on social media is talking about,” Bob extended his hand to Jake, offering a firm handshake as he introduced himself.

“Please, call me Jake. I’m only Lieutenant Seresin if I’m in trouble for somethin’, I’m Jacob even less often, my mama only calls me that if I’ve well and truly fucked up. I’ve been Jake my entire life.”

“Right, Jake. Got it.” 

“You two know one another already?” Jake quizzed, raising an eyebrow at how at ease you were around Bob, and at the fact Bob was already in your parents’ house, getting to know your wedding and it’s surrounding background information.

“We went to Old Dominon together.”

“Oh, classmates! Got it. Listen, you don’t mind if I steal her for a sec, do ya? You see, Bob, I haven’t seen my girl here in close to three months. I missed her.”

“Of course not,” Bob offered his hands up in reassurance, “I completely understand. I have some more questions for the bride’s family anyways. Nice meeting you.”

“Nice to meet ya too!” Jake nodded as Bob walked off, gesturing behind him towards Bob with his thumb, “He seems nice, babe.”

“I don’t trust his motives.”

“Now, how come? Not everyone’s out to ruin the big day, darlin’. Maybe just Kylie, but I think her heart’s in the right place. She just doesn’t think I’m good enough for her big sister. And I don’t blame her. I don’t think I’m good enough for her big sister either. But thank the good Lord, Kylie and I are wrong, right?”

“Right,” you agreed with a half-hearted chuckle.

“That’s my girl.”

This time, when Jake called you his girl, you didn’t get the butterflies in your stomach like you usually did. You felt a sting of sadness come over you, as if you were disappointed that you were his girl. Or at least, that part of you was. You tried your best to shove those thoughts aside, chalking it up to the trauma response of seeing Bradley again for the first time in eight years, the whole event sending you into some kind of mental tailspin that you were struggling to pull yourself out of. 

The morning carried on as usual - breakfast at the table as a family, now joined by Jake, Bob and Meghan, with awkward, uncomfortable shifting glances whenever Bradley was mentioned by name. You noticed that Meghan continued to gaze at Bob, long after he’d finished a thought, as if she hung on every syllable of each word that came out of him. You observed how she stole glances at him every few seconds, a look of loving, longingness in her eyes. You could tell that to her, Bob was the only thing that mattered. 

In the garden, after breakfast, you took it upon yourself to head to the venue of your wedding - Hotel Del Coronado, one of the most historic, iconic landmarks in the area, and arguably, in the Southern half of the state. Your entourage of sorts - your mother, Kylie, Bob, Meghan and Jake, followed along with you, each planning to take on a different role when you arrived there. You and Jake planned to oversee the layout of the chairs for the seating plan, ensuring everything was in the correct place, while your mother followed behinded with placecards, neatly folded with each guest’s name embossed in golden script on off-white cardstock. 

Bob made a few notes on his phone, typing furiously whenever he saw something that piqued his interest, while Meghan snapped photos of varying aspects of the day - photos of you and Jake, photos of the placecards, the decorations, the seating plan - anything and everything that could be of use. At this point you almost wondered why your parents were paying for a photographer at all, when Meghan was clearly going to fit the bill without payment from your parents - all for a magazine spread that would go on for a maximum of six pages.

You furrowed your brow as you noticed Kylie approaching Bob, speaking in hushed tones as she looked in your direction, as if she wanted to make you nervous. You didn’t trust your younger sister to stop meddling in your relationships - you were happy with Jake. You were comfortable with Jake. You didn’t want to even entertain the idea of someone else at this point. Jake was it. He was your end game. You were sure of it.

That was, until, Bradley had wandered back into your life yesterday. As much as you hated him, loathed him, in fact, something kept nagging at you. Almost as if it was some part of you trying to reel you back into him. Demanding you to leave Jake before you married him, telling you to give Bradley another chance. You scoffed at the notion - there was no way in hell you’d give Bradley Bradshaw a second chance. He didn’t deserve it. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned to refocus your attention back to the wedding plans that were underway. Jake gave you a soft smile of reassurance, as if he sensed some sort of apprehension on your face as he watched you. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze - God, his hands were able to practically swallow yours whole, making you feel an overwhelming sense of protection - Jake led you towards the head table. He turned you to face the rest of the room, the way you’ll be seated in just 24 hours.

“Well, Darlin’, does this look alright to you?” He pondered, his accent thick as honey as he spoke.

“Yeah, looks good to me,” you started, before something at the back corner of the room caught your eye.

Jake approached Bradley, his eyebrows raised in a mixture of surprise and delight, almost honored that his commanding officer had come to wish him well the day before his impending nuptials. Jake’s grin broadened as he approached, his arms spread wide in a gesture of pleased disbelief as he saw him. 

“Captain Bradshaw? What are you doing here, sir?”

Captain? 

“Oh, I just wanted to come by and wish you all well,” Bradley started, a hint of anxiety in his normally calm, cool and collected composure.

“Well, thank you, sir, we appreciate it!” Jake said as a smile broader than the San Diego Bay appeared on his face, “Where are my manners? This is my beautiful fiancée, and darlin’, this is Captain Bradley Bradshaw, callsign,”

“Rooster,” you interrupted, finishing Jake’s sentence.

“Y’all know each other already?”

“Sort of, yeah. Only met briefly a few times. We lived near one another in Virginia, partied in similar circles, that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Bradley said, trying not to appear crestfallen as you brushed your history together off so easily. 

Jake, ever the crowd-pleaser, but not always the most perceptive of men, smiled, seemingly unaware of the awkward tension that now brewed between you and Bradley. Bob, noticing Bradley’s presence, approached, offering a polite smile, as if he was certain there was no way your ex would possibly remember him, trying to provide gentle distraction from the uncomfortable atmosphere that was now brewing.

“Lieutenant Seresin, could I steal you for a minute? I have a few questions for you about the wedding and would like to get them out of the way now before things become too…chaotic, so to speak.”

“Of course, you alright with that, honey?” Jake said, looking to you for approval.

“Mhmm, go ahead, I’ll be here.”

“I’ll keep her company,” Bradley nodded simply, trying to mask any excitement he might have at the prospect of spending time alone with you. 

Once Jake and Bob had disappeared from earshot, you noticed that your mother and Kylie had gone outside for a coffee break, while Meghan was preoccupied with finding the perfect lighting to capture the romance of the room, fiddling with the drapery and curtains just so to find the balance of sunlight she wanted. You let out a sharp exhale before grabbing Bradley by the collar of his khaki coloured uniform, dragging him off to a secluded corner. Bradley’s eyebrows raised as he smirked at you, giving an uncomfortable chuckle as he watched your cheeks burn red in frustration.

“You’re still cute when you’re frustrated, you know.”

“Shut up. Why the hell are you here, Bradshaw?”

“I wanted to wish Jake good luck on being married to you. Believe me, he’ll need it,” Bradley fired back, a wicked grin forming from his plump lips, “Although, clearly he has no idea.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way, Lieutenant.”

“It’s Captain, actually. I got two promotions while we were apart. I actually could be aiming for Rear Admiral by the end of the year the way I’m going.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations. Should I be dropping my panties for you now?”

“Actually, I-”

“I was being sarcastic. You can get fucked, Bradley. Get lost.”

“If you’d let me finish-”

“Funny, I seem to remember you doing that in about three seconds before. Surprised you haven’t finished yet.”

“You’re such a stubborn bitch, you know that?” Bradley quipped, shaking his head as he threw his hands up in exasperation at you.

“Fuck you.”

“Listen, I came to say I was sorry.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I owe you an apology for how I was as a husband. I hope Jake treats you better than I did.”

“He does, thank you.”

“Kylie told me he wasn’t right for you, I was worried you were going to get yourself hurt again. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Why the fuck are you listening to anything my fifteen year old sister has to say?”

“Because, like it or not, she was sort of the little sister I never had. You seem to forget I was an only child who was orphaned by the time I was her age. You and your family were the only thing closest to a family I’ve ever had, and I fucked it up.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Well, at least we have that we can agree on.”

Bradley shook his head in frustration and heaved a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. In this moment, you didn’t see the asshole of an ex-husband that you hated for treating you like an afterthought at every moment. Instead in his place stood the vulnerable aviator you’d fallen in love with - sweet and sensitive, trying to find humour in an otherwise awful situation. His  caramel toned eyes looked to you as if asking for forgiveness, but there was something else about the way he looked at you. 

It was the same way Jake did. Full of love and adoration, admiring everything he saw before him in you. You held your hand up against Bradley’s chest to create space between you both. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t break Jake’s heart like this, and you couldn’t let anything grow between you and Bradley - there was no way. Bradley’s heartbroken stare was all it took for you to leave the room in a hurry, fighting off the tears that now threatened to fall from your eyes.

You ran out of the hotel, making it to the solace and serenity of the beach. You sat on the sand, hugging your knees to your chest as you sobbed, unable to hold up the front you’d created anymore. You couldn’t bear it any longer. Jake was perfect. He was everything you’d ever wanted Bradley to be. But Bradley was Bradley.

Bradley was that perfectly imperfect, impossible to live with because he drove you crazy, asshole. You hated that you still loved him, but you knew part of why you hated him was because you never stopped. Part of you always hoped he’d come after you when you filed for divorce, trying to win you over and get you to call it off. It never happened, but you could only hope that it didn’t happen because you’d made it clear to him that you didn’t want him - a lie that you told yourself to feel better about your world coming crashing down when you were still so young. 

“Are you ok? You ran out of there like your ass was on fire.”

You quickly wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and looked up to see Bob standing beside you. He sat down next to you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder as he sighed softly. His sapphire-blue eyes looked at you, full of concern and worry for the person he once considered his close friend. 

“Bradley left just about as fast as you did. Thankfully I’m the only one who saw. Other than maybe Meghan.”

“God, I just, I’m so, stupid. What am I doing?”

“You mean why are you marrying Jake when Bradley’s clearly still in love with you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“On Bradley’s part? Absolutely. Jake’s not too smart if he hasn’t figured that one out yet.”

“He won’t say anything even if he has. He’s too nice. He’s…he’s perfect.”

“You’re saying that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It might be? I mean, I think he expects me to be perfect. I think he thinks I’m some angel who’s been Heaven sent to him. I don’t think he knows anything about me.”

“Is that his fault though?”

“No. I haven’t been entirely…honest?”

“You mean he doesn’t know you were married before?”

“Well, he thinks it was an engagement. Doesn’t know it was Bradley.”

“Right,” Bob sighed, shaking his head, “And you think Jake would be upset if he found out?”

“I think he’d pretend he was fine and just let it go but it would always eat away at him.”

“And you think he wouldn’t love you anymore if you told him the truth?”

“I think…I think he would struggle through it.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Please,” you nodded slowly, sniffling as you hoped Bob could provide you with the sense of clarity you so desperately needed right now.

“If you’re that worried about it, Jake isn’t right for you. He’d love you anyways. Unconditionally. Isn’t that what this whole marriage thing is about anyway?”

You sat silently as your mind raced, going over what Bob had just shared with you. You shook your head adamantly and sighed. 

“I can’t break his heart.”

“Then you need to break Bradley’s. You can’t let Bradley keep coming back in.”

“It really has to be one or the other, doesn’t it?”

“‘Fraid so, unless you want the unexpected third option.”

“The what?”, you blinked slowly at Bob, the confusion evident on your face as you slowly raised your eyebrows, “Oh God, not you too, Bob.”

Bob sheepishly laughed, raising his hand in a wave of surrender towards you.

“Seriously?”

“Since college, yeah. I was over it, but then when I saw you again yesterday, it all came flooding back, and…I mean, I know all there is to know about you, and it didn’t scare me off. That counts for something, right?”

“Bobby, I can’t.”

Bob shook his head and sighed softly, He looked behind him, ensuring no one was around to see before placing his hand on your cheek. He gently brushed your hair back off your shoulder, stroking your soft skin as he spoke, his voice just above a whisper. 

“You’re wonderful. You know that? You might be a stubborn pain in the ass who can’t make up her mind about what she wants in life, and you might be in the perfect position to break three men’s hearts tomorrow morning, but I think you’re wonderful anyway.”

Bob’s words were enough to make your head spin, trying to wrap itself around the idea of Bob being unconditionally in love with you. You weren’t sure what you were going to do at this point. That was, until you felt Bob’s lips press against yours in the gentlest, most tender kiss you’d ever received. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him, returning the sweet gentleness he’d given to you. As he pulled away, you bit your bottom lip and shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, threatening to cascade over your cheeks.

“Bobby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he shook his head, laughing slightly to himself as he looked up at you, his deep blue eyes now wet with his own tears. “It was worth a shot, right?”

“You know, I know someone who’d probably be over the moon if you kissed her the way you just kissed me. I can tell by the way she looks at you, it’s…it’s as if you’re the only person in the world who matters.”

“Who?”

“Meghan. She hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you since I met her yesterday. Every time I see her, she’s stealing glances at you and looking to you, hanging on your every word as if you’re the most important person in the world. I think you’d make her really happy. And, I think she’d make you really happy too.”

Bob nodded slowly, looking back towards the hotel. He let out another sigh and raised his eyebrow, chuckling to himself.

“How do we end up in situations like this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Bob rose to his feet, offering you his hand as he helped you stand up again. He smiled at you again - a genuine, caring smile.

“For what it’s worth, I think Bradley really does still love you. I don’t think he’s dumb enough to make the same mistake twice, if that’s your only reason. On the other hand though, anyone with eyes can tell Jake’s crazy about you. I don’t think he’d turn his back on you if you told him the truth about you and Bradley, but he might put in for a transfer to another base. I know I’d want to if my wife’s ex-husband was my supervisor, you know?”

“Fuck, I wish there was an easy solution to this.”

“There is, isn’t there?”

“What? No matter what I do, someone gets hurt.”

“What solution makes you happiest though? That’s your answer.”

Bob headed back up the sandy beach towards the hotel, leaving you to sit alone with your thoughts, stewing over them as you watched the waves crashing onto the shoreline. You hated this. You hated that you let yourself fall into a position where someone would be devastated by a choice you made, and you hated yourself for still feeling something for Bradley, when you so desperately wanted to feel nothing. You hated how despite how passionately Jake loved you, how deeply and madly infatuated he was with you, you couldn’t help but think that he didn’t love you. He simply loved the idea of you. He loved what he saw you as, what he wanted you to be in his heart of hearts, but not the real person behind it all. You couldn’t help but feel torn as you agonized over the right thing to do.

On one hand, if you choose Jake, life would run smoothly for your family and friends, you and Jake would own a beautiful house somewhere, funded almost entirely by the generous wedding gift from your parents, and you’d raise an army of kids, likely all with Jake’s golden blonde hair and bright, piercing green eyes. Jake would be happy. He’d be ecstatic. You’d be happy too, you were sure of it, even if it didn’t come right away to you.

On the other hand, there was Bradley. Bradley was complicated. He was wild and fun, and he made you feel things you never felt before. He was careless and reckless at times, immature and unable to act the part of the adult he was supposed to be, but you could tell he’d grown into the man you wanted him to be over the last eight years. He’d become the man you needed, whether intentionally or not. You could see yourself giving Bradley another chance, trying this marriage thing all over again with him, despite any fears of history repeating itself. Bradley may not want a family, but you could see yourself being happy even without that now. You knew Bradley had the ability to make you happy, and to love you in a way that no one else could, despite all your fears about being with him again.

You checked your phone, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you noticed the time. In eighteen hours, you were expected to walk down the aisle and marry somebody. And until today, you were so sure of who that somebody was. Now, you were sure of just one thing. You needed to talk. 

Inside, you found Jake, who was throwing his jacket on, a harried expression on his face vanishing when he saw you again. He breathed a sigh of relief, as he pulled you in for a hug. 

“I was worried about you, Meghan said you ran out? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I just need to talk to you about something.”

Jake’s smile fell as he quietly guided you over to the side of the room, his touch gentle as he grasped at your arm, still gently holding on to your elbow as he waited for you to begin explaining everything. 

“Jake,” you started, trying to avoid eye contact with him, knowing for sure that one look into those sea green eyes of his would be enough to make you go back on everything you’d decided.

“You don’t want to marry me anymore, do you?” He said defeatedly, looking at you for a moment, “God, if you’re going to call it off, please have the decency to look me in the eye when you do it.”

“Jake, it’s not like that, I swear.”

“What’s it like then? Because all I’m seeing is my fiancée calling off our wedding hours before it happens.”

“Look, I’m not the girl you think I am, ok?”

“Is this about Bradley?”

“What?”

“I know about Bradley.”

“You do?”

“He told me everything. Why didn’t you tell me he was your ex? And why did you tell me that nothing happened with you two? You told me you and your ex never made it down the aisle - you were married to Bradley for a full year.”

“I know, I know. I got scared, ok?” You snapped back, shaking your head as hot tears rolled down your face.

“Scared of what?!”

“I was scared you wouldn’t love me anymore if you found out! I was scared you’d leave me and that I’d get my heart broken twice because of Bradley.”

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t love you? Do you hear yourself? Do you even know me at all?”

“Jake, please!” You pleaded, knowing it was no use. You couldn’t blame him for being hurt. He knew all too well what was coming, and he had every right to be upset by it all.

“Jake, I am not the perfect woman you thought I am. I can’t be her. You and I can have the dream house, and adorable children and the perfect wedding, but we’ll never be truly happy. You deserve to be happy. I can’t be the one to do it for you though.”

“So this is it, huh?” Jake sighed, shaking his head as he looked away, wiping his eye with his finger to try and hide his tears.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could get out of you. 

“Me too,” Jake said as he nodded his head sadly. “I’ll put in for a transfer in the morning. I can’t be here. Not under him anyways.”

As Jake headed for the door, he turned back to you, tears in his now bloodshot eyes.

“I hope he makes you happy. I really do. You deserve it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be it for you.”

With that, the door shut behind Jake. You slumped down into a chair in the empty reception hall, crying heavily as you put your head in your hands, shaking it as you admonished yourself for ruining everything, potentially for a man who might not even love you still after all. As you sat there and cursed yourself for your shortcomings as a prospective wife and human being, you heard the voice of someone behind you.

“Now I hope you don’t mean all that. You and I both know, it wasn’t your fault our marriage fell apart.”

You lifted your head up to see Bradley pulling up a seat beside you. He reached out and swiped a couple of teardrops off of your cheek, stroking your face gently with his thumb in an effort to comfort you. He pulled you in tightly for a hug, holding you close as you fell apart in his arms. You felt Bradley’s hand caressing your hair, his fingers tangling themselves in it with a level of care you never expected to feel from him again. He held you as you cried into his uniform, shaking your head against the fabric of his shirt, a mixture of tears and snot now dampening his shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I’m here,” Bradley soothed, nodding his head as he pressed his lips to your forehead, “I’m right here.”

“Bradley, I ruined my life.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You just refused to settle in an unhappy marriage. It’s admirable really. You know what you want out of life, and you don’t settle for less. It’s why you left me, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t unhappy.”

“You were, but that’s ok. I was a shitty husband. I didn’t know how to be a good one. I didn’t have much to go off of.” 

“I expected too much of you.”

“No,” Bradley asserted, shaking his head. “I didn’t give you what you deserved. I wasn’t man enough to be a good husband to you, and even worse, I wasn’t man enough to admit when I fucked it up. I made you feel like you were less than perfect, and it wasn’t true.”

“I’m not perfect though, Bradley.”

“You’re perfect for me. You always have been.”

Bradley’s hand guided your face upwards to look at him. His warm caramel coloured eyes met your gaze, and for the first time in the last couple of days, you felt home. You felt at peace for the first time in a long time, because you knew it wasn’t forced. You weren’t forcing yourself to be happy and comfortable and relaxed because you were with someone everyone told you was perfect. You were happy and comfortable and relaxed because you knew you were with someone who was perfect, in his own imperfect little way. 

Bradley’s lips crashed into yours, locking you into a passionate kiss, the kind that sweeps you off your feet, tingles in your toes and sends butterflies fluttering through your stomach. It was electrifying as he held you close, his hand resting on the back of your head as he continued to kiss you with a fervor and passion you hadn’t felt in a long time. When you finally broke apart, coming up for air after what felt like a blissful eternity, your eyes met once again, and Bradley couldn’t help but laugh.

“I swear to you, if you let me remarry you tomorrow, I will do everything I can, I’ll move fucking mountains and Heaven and Earth and all that shit just to prove to you that I can be the husband you need me to be. You want kids? Honey, I’ll give you as many of my babies as you want. You want me to retire from the Navy? I’ll give my notice in immediately after the wedding. Name it and it’s yours, baby girl. Just tell me what I gotta do.”

Your heart swelled at the sound of Bradley’s voice, hearing him offer everything he had and then some in order to make you happy was all you needed. You threw your arms around his neck, smiling to yourself through your tear stained cheeks as you felt Bradley’s hands firmly grip your waist.

“Nothing. I don’t need anything. I’d give all that up if it meant I could have you.”

“Really? All of it, huh? Listen, I just really want you to know how serious I am about this. I’m not about to make the same dumbass mistake twice. I’m not going to let you go again. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to be happy. I promise.”

“I know you will. That’s all I need.”

“I, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, take thee, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. This is my solemn vow.”

“Now, by the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As Bradley's lips pressed against yours, every doubt and worry seemed to melt away. His embrace felt like home, a place where you belonged completely. In his arms, you found comfort and peace from the tumultuous journey that led you both back to each other. The years of separation and heartache faded into insignificance as you surrendered to the overwhelming love that now enveloped you both. You knew this time would be different, that together you could conquer any obstacle that came your way, that Bradley adored you and loved you with all of his heart, and that he planned on never letting a second go by where you thought otherwise. With renewed faith in your love, you were ready to embrace the future, hand in hand with Bradley, knowing that this time, nothing could tear you apart.

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 11 | NIGHT WE MET

PAIRING: lee minho x reader

GENRE: angst, unrequited love, college au, non idol au

WC: 1.27k

CW: profesional dancer!minho, mentioned reader/gunil (xdinary heroes), seonghwa (ateez) cameo

PROMPT: realizing they fell for the other one too late

this is the angst one. i'm sorry in advance. i know i sneaked in yet another random relationship, but it fits the plot. and i will use any excuse to sneak gunil anywhere lol. also i have no idea how weddings in sk work, so i just wrote what i know. the wedding isnt even important anyway lol. i hope you enjoy reading <3

title from the night we met - lord huron

general masterlist here

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Minho propped his head on his hand and looked out of the window. He wasn't really watching nature outside the train window; it just served as a distraction. And a cover, so the other people sitting around him won't see his face, even though it's covered by a mask. His deep brown boba eyes weren't, and that eyes are the windows to the soul was a saying for a reason. Especially for Minho. Many people have told him that despite his mysteriously closed-off attitude, his eyes have always betrayed him, telling his deepest secrets to the world.

And especially now, he didn't particularly feel the need to spill his heart to the unknown woman sitting opposite him. Not that she would notice, given the fact that she had been arguing over the phone for the past twenty minutes, but it was better to be safe than sorry. His thoughts were in dangerous territory. As they always did for the past few months, they wandered to you. Minho hadn't seen you for almost a year. The last time you two saw each other was last summer, when you took advantage of the summer break to go on a late August vacation with your whole friend group. Then your lives kicked off; you became busy with your university work, and Minho didn't even make it to Jisung's birthday before his company sent him off to dance for some idol group on tour. But now the tour was finishing, and Minho was on his way back to Seoul. He wasn't supposed to be back for another week, but he made a deal with the company. His best friend Chan was getting married, and Minho planned to surprise him.

But because Chan was also your friend, it meant you would be there too. And here was the core problem. In the time spent around the world and being able to exchange only a few texts a day, often with multiple-hour delays, Minho realized something. Minho realized that he was a complete idiot for what he did back in August. He pondered over the conversation you had the last night of your vacation many times. When it got late and he was in his hotel room, unable to sleep, his mind found its way towards that specific moment, replaying every second of it so vividly that it felt like watching a movie. And with every replay, Minho began slowly realizing something important.

He remembered how you pulled him aside that day, telling him to come meet you outside the beachhouse you and friends rented. He remembered standing there while you went to put on something warmer than a tank top. You walked barefoot alongside the beach, the waves occasionally splashing your ankles. Minho remembered how the stars shone brightly above your heads, mirrored in your eyes. It was romantic, Minho recalled. The breeze had been playing with your hair as you stopped and turned to face him. And then you told him. You confessed with tears in the corners of your eyes, telling him about all the heavy feelings you had harbored since March. You told him how it would be fine if he rejected you, but you just needed to get it off your chest because it was killing you on the inside to have him so close yet so out of reach.

And Minho, being the fool he was, said no. He said he was flattered but didn't feel the same. He only saw you as a friend. You nodded. Minho reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, and you smiled at him. You told him it was okay, you understood. You would just need a little time to allow your heart to get over it as well. Reaching forward, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and began walking back to the house, leaving Minho on the moonlit beach alone. When he woke up the next morning, you were gone. And that was the last time he saw you. He gave you time, like he promised, and then he left for the tour.

Sometime after two months of touring, you began texting like you used to, but Minho could sense something had shifted. As a matter of fact, it took him several more months to realize what, but he knew it from the start. He got too used to the fact that, in his life, you were a constant. You never left, not even after a few particularly nasty fights. In the end, you were there. Everywhere. Always. So being away from you made him realize just how much he missed you. And not only that. In the lonely, sleepless nights, he had room to think. And he did indeed. He thought about you, what you were doing, or how you were feeling. He thought about how dear you were to him and that he wouldn't know what to do if he lost you. He thought about what his heart did at the mention of your name. He thought about what your texts made him feel. And he came to the conclusion that he was completely, utterly fucked.

Because he was in love with you. He was in love with you for the whole duration of the tour. He was in love with you even back then, in August. He was just too stupid to realize it then.

But now he was going to fix it. He was going to surprise you, spill his heart, and hope you haven't moved on yet. He had watched your Instagram almost obsessively, and you haven't posted anything about a new partner. That hope was what got him through the tour, because as soon as he realized it, he was really close to just packing his things and leaving right there and then. He wanted to tell you in person because you didn't deserve anything less, and he wanted to do it soon.

When Minho arrived at the venue, he went to greet Chan and his friends but avoided you at all costs. As soon as reception began, though, he immediately began searching for you. When he found you, he had to remind himself to stay calm. You hugged, exchanged a few sentences about how you were, and then he came. An unknown man holding two drinks joined you, giving one of them to you. You smiled as a thank-you and said the words that shattered Minho's world. “Oh, Min. Meet Gunil, my boyfriend.”

It took all of Minho's willpower to smile, bow, and shake Gunil's hand before he excused himself. He knew this was his fault. He couldn't blame you for moving on and for finding someone who was there when he couldn't. He cared too much about you to do that. He was the one who was late, and now he had to suffer the consequences. He found himself at the bar, a drink in hand. He downed it in one go and, with a raspy voice, asked the bartender, Seonghwa, according to the name tag, for another one. He didn't ask questions; he simply filled Minho's glass again. And again. Until Minho had too much to drink and the bartender had to take him out for some fresh air.

As Seonghwa led him outside, Minho caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor in Gunil's arms, head thrown back in laughter as your boyfriend spun you around. A part of Minho felt happy for you. Another part of him wished he would find someone to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, just like Gunil did for you.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh @ivaneedssleep @jazziwritesthings @darkypooo

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[topguncortez]

Key: ☆ full fic, ♢ one shot, ⏃ drabble, ⏀series,  ♰ AU

ANGST

✧ Glad You Called Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | The line has been disconnected from you to Bob, but he still decides to call anyway. warnings: parental death, breakups, angst, cancer

✧ Eyes Wide Shut Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | A training incident gone wrong, leaving Bob is trying to convince you to wake up and help you complete your bucket list. warnings: slight medical inaccuracies, description of injuries, failed ejection, mentions of death.

✧ Fighter Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob tries to help you when you put yourself into a dangerous situation warnings: violence, fighting, blood, mentions of concussions, gambling issues, illegal street fighting, sleazy men.

✧ Out of Love Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Guess it is true what they say, women fall out of love first

✧ Have Mercy Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob can't help who he falls in or out of love with. warnings: mentions of emotional cheating, arguing, yelling,

✧ I love You Bob Floyd x Jake Seresin | Bob loves Jake more than he would ever be able to realize. But sometimes those words are said too late. warnings: slight mention of religious trauma, slight mention of homophobia (christian parents)

✧ Baby on Board Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | being placed on a top secret mission weeks before his wife's due date was not what Lt. Floyd had imagined married life would be like. warnings: top gun shit, child birth, near death experiences, cursing.

SMUT

✧ Shibari Bob finds himself in an interesting place between you and Jake. warnings: SMUT, edging, rope, Bob is a brat

✧ Lingerie & Heels Bob has a thing for powerful women in pretty lingerie and heels. warnings: mommy kink, switch behavior, dom/sub, mentions of oral.

✧ Handsy Bob can't keep his hands to himself.

✧ Girls on Film While facing yet another deployment, you decide to give Bob a gift to take with him. warnings: SMUT, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, nude photos, filming.

✧ Garter Toss A silly old tradition that the boys make Bob do anyway, and you are a very willing participant

✧ Marked Up You leave Bob a little marked up after a night in between the sheets.

✧ Panties ♢ Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob has a pair of panties he likes on you. . . but also on him. warnings: SMUT, dom/sub relationship, masturbation, teasing

✧ Mission Accomplished ♢ Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | It's Bob's 30th birthday and the boys set up a mission for him to conquer. warnings: it's porn with a dash of plot. Virginity, Oral sex (f&M receiving), unprotected sex, PIV, pet names, hair pulling, cockwarming, cursing.

FLUFF

✧ Girl of My Dreams Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | You are the woman of Bob's dreams, though he isn't going to tell you that. . . well, maybe.

✧ Pretty As the Moon Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob never uses pickup lines, but for some reason he did, and he is sure happy that he did

✧ Kiss the Girl Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob gets nervous and sometimes needs to remind himself that you are just as madly in love with him as he is with you

✧ Annie's Song Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob sings you your favorite song while back visiting his parents farm. warning: marijuana usage

✧ Coughs & Cuddles Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob knows exactly what you need when you wake up with a cold

✧ Drinking for Two Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | The only time Bob drinks, is when you can't. warnings: pregnancy

✧ Fundamental Right Bob Floyd x Jake Seresin | Bob isn't sure what they are doing, but he's pretty sure him and Jake are dating | warnings: mentions of gay sex, jacking off, unprotected sex

✧ A Change of Plans Bob Floyd x Female!Reader | Bob has been finding the perfect way to propose to you. warnings: pregnancy

EXTRAS

✧ Home Sweet Home - Moodboard

✧ Floydsin as Dads - HC

✧ Bob & Bea - Opposites Attract

[zexal-club]

It's time I talked about this major plot point in Zexal Club, as it's really important. It's also one of the first skits I did together with @yukii0nna , so I'm really excited to talk about it! For those who don't know, Zexal Club is a crossover between Winx Club and Yu-Gi-Oh ZEXAL, where Bloom is Yuma and Kari's mother.

Tagging a lot of mutuals and followers since this is pretty important to me, even the ones who probably don't follow this AU much

@yukii0nna @marrondrawsalot @kousaka-ayumu @gritsandbrits @soprinceblizzard @darkicewolfknight @bakawitch

Edit: I'm now also tagging @bibookdemon since you don't seem to know much about this AU or even that it's a thing, which sucks because this is my biggest and even favourite Yu-Gi-Oh ZEXAL AU

Warning, this is longer than I thought.

So basically, Yuma's been spending more time with Winx 2.0 (what me and Yukii call our OCs) recently due to still coping with the shock of learning the truth about what he is. He also starts spending less time with the Numbers Club since he hasn't told them yet because, again, weird way of coping. Tori and Bronk notice and decide to talk to him about it.

Yuma realises what he's doing and decides to introduce his main friends(Numbers Club) to his other friends (Winx 2.0). They happily agree.

After school, Yuma calls all of Winx 2.0 + Cathy if tomorrow, they can come to a place he picked so they can all meet each other. Everyone happily agrees. After the call, Yuma and Astral discuss whether or not Yuma should tell his friends his secret. Astral thinks he should, but Yuma's still nervous.

Unbeknownst to either of them, things won't go as smoothly as they hope.

See, other than Winx 2.0, Mari is friends with this boy named Aiden. And Aiden's father, Laurent, is, well, a control freak and a jerk, who thinks Aiden's friends are a bad influence on him and corrupting him. He's thinking of how to keep Aiden away from them, when he's approached by someone: Dark Mist.

Dark Mist offers to make sure Aiden never sees those 'bad influences' again in exchange for his help. He explains how there's this boy keeping secrets from his friends, and he needs said boy out of his way. If he uses his magic to help him corrupt said friends, he'll gladly help. Laurent accepts.

The next day, none of Winx 2.0 + Cathy are able to come, obviously, thanks to Laurent and Dark Mist. Jade's parents said no, Leo got extra training sprung on him, Kikyo had to go for a check-up, Mari got detention, one of them got sick, I think Casey-look, it's been a while, okay?- etc. Yuma has to go and tell his friends the bad news.

Tori, Bronk, Caswell, and Flip are shocked and a bit hurt by this, but are understanding. After everyone leaves, Dark Mist and Laurent get to the next stage of their plan. With their powers combined, they're able to make a corrupted card for each member of the Numbers Club, which they can now use on them since their negative emotions are at their fullest. They give them to the 4.

The next day, Kikyo is back and at school, so Yuma decides to introduce her to the rest of his friends at school during lunch break (Casey and Jason are still unavailable). He manages to actually do it this time, and things go alright enough at first, even if they're a little on edge thanks to the cards' influence (Flip the most). Then, Bronk notices Kikyo's pendant, and she tells him about it. After that, either Bronk takes it or she gives it to him for a bit, that part's a little foggy, but he turns it on, and it points at her. And also then bc of the cards, but I'm not 100% sure. Anyways, she takes it back and brushes it off as being broken. They mention how she should probably fix it, since she could be mistaken for a magi (what magical beings are called in this AU), and that would be bad because magi are bad.

Yep, the corruption made them racist.

Yuma is shocked by this, as none of them have ever shown signs of hating magi. This makes him even more scared to tell his friends he's a fairy, along with making Kikyo uncomfortable. After the whole introduction, he asks The Numbers Club what the hell's gotten into them, as they've never had anything against magi before. They just tell him magi are dangerous and evil.

After school, they wonder why Yuma was so defensive on what they were saying, along with why Kikyo seemed so anxious. They decide to spy on her.

They follow her, going into an empty and probably abandoned building, where she practices her magic. That's when they realise she's a witch. Since their minds have become messed up because of the cards, they decide to record and expose her as 'revenge' for 'stealing' Yuma.

The next day, everyone is looking at Kikyo weirdly. Yuma notices and asks her what's wrong. Suddenly, some jerk pours water on Kikyo, commenting on how she didn't melt or something, causing Yuma to get angry and ask what their problem is. The jerk shows Yuma the recording, and Yuma is shocked that someone found out. Jerk is like, 'You already knew?!' And they fight. Mr. Kay breaks it up and is on Kikyo and Yuma's side. They all go to class.

Throughout the school day, Kikyo is constantly bullied and harassed, with kids throwing spitballs at her, some girls hiding her skirt, so she ends up wearing pants, and some even get violent, with her having a bunch of marks on her face. One student (Cough Miyuki cough) even cut her hair. Yuma uses his magic to heal her, though I think Kikyo used her own magic to regrow her hair, and the two of them think of who exposed Kikyo. Then, a certain someone appears: Shark!

He tells them he knows who did it and will tell them. When asked why, he replies that even he thinks what they're doing is cruel. He then tells them it was Tori, Bronk, Flip, and Caswell, which shocks them. Yuma decides to confront them, and Kikyo goes with him. Shark tags along since, in his own words, he's got nothing better to do.

Yuma goes to the 4 of them. They ask him why he's still with Kikyo after she was outed, and Yuma replies, 'I already knew'. Tori shouts, 'And you stayed with her?!'. Yuma asks why they would do any of this, and once again, where this hate for magi came from. They try to convince him Kikyo's not worth it.

Yuma then asks, 'If I was a magi, would you still care about me?' They wonder why he would ask that. He tells them to just answer. They say yes.

Yuma then shows his magic, shocking them and Shark. (Originally he didn't reveal he was a magi until later, but we did a revision and liked this reveal better.)

Tori grabs Kikyo and asks what she did to Yuma, to which Yuma separates her from Kikyo, saying she did nothing. He finally tells them the truth: His mother was a fairy, and so is he.

Tori processes this for a bit, then starts laughing like any good anime villain. Yuma asks why she's laughing, but she doesn't answer and just keeps going. Frustrated and angry by everything, he slaps her.

I'm seriously considering changes that detail because HOLY SHIT I DON'T THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA ANYMORE.

Tori stops and is quiet for a moment, then says, '...I see'. Yuma tells the Numbers Club he's transferring with Kikyo, and their friendship is over - again, considering changing this part- then tries to leave with Kikyo. Suddenly though, they're stopped by a vine.

Tori, Bronk, Flip, and Caswell have become fully corrupted, and the cards also gave them dark powers of their own. Yuma quickly uses his magic to destroy the vine and manages to escape with Kikyo and Shark. When they get away, they think about what happened. Kikyo remembers their eyes seemed different, and the 3 realise something must've corrupted them. They decide they need to hide somewhere and not their homes because the 4 could look for them their. They go to this abandoned house near-ish to the school that Shark knows about (fanfic logic, am I right?), and try to think about what happened. Shark gets supplies so they can survive. After a while, as they try to figure out how the 4 were corrupted, someone comes to help them: Aiden! Yuma's like, 'Oh, I know you! Mari told me!' He tells them it was his father who did it, but he had help from someone he doesn't know. Kikyo asks who could have a grudge against them and can corrupt people, and Yuma realises, 'Oh no, it's 96!!' And then explains the whole Numbers problem to Aiden. They decide to call Mari to help, since by now, she can come.

A while after, or even the next day, Mari arrives. She sends her pixie, Tika, to spy on the Numbers Club to find the source of the corruption. She goes and sees it's from the cards. She goes back and tells them.

They all decide to confront the Numbers Club head-on. Shark is told to stay back since he doesn't have any real defence against magic. He does.

Yuma, Mari, Kikyo, and Aiden go to The Numbers Club. Well, actually, I'm not sure if Aiden also went, but let's just say now he did. Of course, this leads to a fight.

Yuma and Mari dual transformation!!!

The two respective teams fight, and our heroes manage to win! Yuma uses his magic + the power of friendship to defeat the corruption placed on his friends. He then flies up and yells at 96 to reveal himself, which he does. 96 warns Yuma that this isn't the end, and Yuma warns him back that if he ever hurts his friends again, he'll tear him apart. 96 leaves.

After all that, Yuma manages to properly introduce his two friend groups, and they actually get along! The Numbers Club apologised to Kikyo for what they've done, and Kikyo forgives them since it wasn't really their fault. They all hang out, and plans are made to change schools since their current one SUCKS.

Whoo, I'm finally done!! That was WAY longer than I expected. It was also really nostalgic visiting this whole plot. What do you all think?

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

Do you plan to continue the dragon Jon and Bard Dami?

Why did something happen in Damian past to him only wants peace now ? I assume this because his family is knights and everyone is just allowing him to be a bard I can stop thinking that this boy has already seen too much on both sides

Did the girls tell the king about the bloodthirsty dragon?

Or will Damian's family find out?

I honestly really want to but I don't want to commit to it so I tried to leave it off at a good stopping place! I think the au is really fun and I'm thinking I might write more standalone stories in this continuity. I wanna recover from covid before starting or working on any long fics, just in case I get worse and die and leave everybody in suspense lol. I don't expect that to happen I just have anxiety disorder.

Those are very good questions! I think definitely something has to be done to free these dragons. And I want to catch up with Lois and Clark, are they human and dragon or both dragons? I haven't figured that out yet.

I want to give Damian a happier story where he actually gets to choose peace instead of participating in his father's intense war on crime. And in dragon age, bards are sort of assassins in addition to merrymakers, so I think he might be more classically trained than you'd expect. I don't think it's quite so bad as what he went through in canon, though.

I did have a thought, batman would think every character in dragon age is a bad person for killing lol. You can't just give people brain damage to get them out of the way, Bruce, that's still unethical. Not talking about Gotham wars but that also applies.

I think it would be really fun to go backwards in the timeline and show how Jon and Damian met and became friends and why Damian trusts him. I can do that as a one shot.

I want more Kathy and Maya, I want them to have their main character moment. So I want most of the actual plot of changing the world to be up to them. But Damian and Jon could still introduce them to helpful allies and provide support!

Oh imagine one day Kon just kidnaps Tim to add him to his horde and Damian's worried about his missing brother and Jon just mentions offhandedly that his brother just found his human who acts just like Damian's brother. And Damian goes "HE DID WHAT?" Jon does not see the problem, Damian is crying like "he's so stupid why do I have to keep explaining that kidnapping is bad". And Kon is like, a disaster himbo with an empty horde cause he was born yesterday and he brings Tim along to collect stuff and Tim's like "hold on a second. This is just a dumb ass mf guy. Regular dude. What??" And he reasons with him and gets to go home. But Kon tries to come with him like "sweet cave. Nice horde. I'm glad I picked you to be my human, this is sweet." Tim is like "??? Get out??? They'll kill you???" Kon is like "nah it's fine you can hide me I'll be quiet. Got any grub?"

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence"

Rated: Explicit (this Part is rated Teen)

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior

Summary: Steve gives Bucky's parents a tour of the school and promises to take excellent care of their son

Author's Note: *reformatted with a few age and plot changes to adhere to Tumblr's ToS*

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 yet!)

Part 2 - A Pedagogy Steeped in Tradition

Most of Carter Academy’s international students are shipped over by their families, arriving with nothing but themselves and their luggage. So Steve is surprised when James’ parents fly in with him and ask for a tour of the campus. He obliges them of course, chatting easily with the mother, Winnifred, when he learns that she’s from Brooklyn, and making due with talk of football and how the Patriots are doing that season when the father, Ransom, insists that they’re Bostonians through and through. 

James, who has been brought to the school under the pretense that this is just a college scouting opportunity and mini vacation to England, is left behind in Steve’s office with Sharon and a security officer. Sharon is the employee whom Steve has decided to assign as Bucky’s alpha Handler. The security officer is just there to ensure that whatever fit the boy throws can be contained. Steve isn’t too worried about it. Omegas are simple creatures, easily molded and contained once you build a small rapport with them. It never takes much to redirect their focus and get them in line.

Steve takes the parents around the grounds. He shows them through the dormitories and some of the classrooms, the library and the dining hall. And though he’s absent his usual helper for an admissions pitch (Peggy always was the better salesman), he still does his best with the pleasantries, asking if they plan to visit long in England, pointing out all of the campus’ amenities, and giving them his practiced spiel about the school’s traditional methods for training up omegas to the very highest standards. “It’s old-fashioned, but we don’t see that as a bad thing. The way things are in the world today? People could do with a little old-fashioned right about now.”

“You don’t know how glad we are to have found this place,” Winnifred says at one point. “I love my son to death, but Ransom and I are at the end of our ropes. We’re both beta. We’ve tried talking with him, punishing him, but every step we take always seems to be the wrong one. … I’m afraid we just don’t understand what’s going on with him.”

“Not to worry at all. You’ve brought him to the right place.”

She worries about how Bucky will react when they break the news to him that he’s staying there. “He’s very strong-willed, you know,” she tells Steve, wringing her hands. “I worry about how he’ll take it—”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” Steve assures her. “This is a reform school, after all. The majority of our students are enrolled after age eighteen, brought in by their parents when they can’t adapt to traditional college life.” He says ‘traditional college life’ with a gigantic fucking eye roll, and Winnifred nods along and parrots her fears about Bucky heading off to college in the real world.

“You always hear the horror stories of omegas like him once they come of age and leave their parents’ control.”

“But you’ve attained an ECO?” Steve checks. *Extended custody order until age twenty* had been marked on the boy’s paperwork, and Steve is relieved when Winnifred confirms it.

“Yes, yes. We applied last year, once it became clear that he was struggling.”

“How did he take it?”

“Oh, just terrible!” she mourns. “He’s been so defiant, almost worse since we got the judge to sign off on it. He’s been so angry and retaliatory. I almost regret getting the order …”

“Don’t be,” Steve advises immediately. “It’s a good thing you had the foresight to do it. Many parents wait too long and then they’re left powerless or slogging through a much longer process with the courts. Especially in the US. Things are very progressive there.” 

He says it with audible disdain in his voice, because it used to be that omegas never reached majority, and were instead protected by their family and community, kept in the family home or supervised in a communal omega “Nest” until marriage. But then the “age of emancipation” was created in the seventies, and the age just kept getting lowered again and again as the first, second, and third wave feminists fought for more changes. First it was thirty, then twenty four, then twenty, until finally the damn fourth wave feminists got it lowered to eighteen, and in the process destroyed nearly any chance an omega in the US has at being guided into a stable, healthy future. 

“The judge said he’ll be re-evaluated in two years,” Ransom says. “We’re counting on this place to help him get straightened out by then.”

“Oh, but I do worry about what his reaction will be when he finds out we’re leaving him here,” Winnifred frets. “We shouldn’t have tricked him.”

“You think we would’ve been able to get his stubborn butt on a plane if we hadn’t?”

“We’re very experienced in these matters,” Steve promises. “James won’t be the first student to have been enrolled against his will. I promise you that we can handle him.” When Winnifred continues to angst over the harshness of leaving her son at a foreign boarding school three thousand miles away, Steve just leads her along and continues to reassure her that she’s made the right decision in choosing Carter Academy to straighten out her son. “You have to remember: this will be very different from his other schools. We specialize in cases like this. Boys like James thrive on structure and guidance. You’ll be amazed at what we can achieve in only a few months.”

“Oh you really think so?” she gushes, looking brightly up at Steve as Ransom shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. “That’s so wonderful to hear. I actually had been reading about it on your website, about all the things you offer here. The fact that there’s a one-to-one ratio of alpha support staff is just incredible. Will he get one of those, um, … what do you call them again?”

“Handlers,” Steve supplies with a nod. “And yes, he will. Sharon, whom you met back in my office; I’m trying her on for size with your son first. She’s very good at what she does. Plus, James will have me. I make certain to take a personal interest in each and every one of our students. I supervise their education closely, so I can promise you that he won’t slip through the cracks.”

“Good,” Ransom jokes. “Certainly paying enough for it.”

Steve chuckles awkwardly at the gauche comment. “Ah, yes. I know. Costs can be high when you’re staffing support positions for each and every student, but we find that the benefits cannot be overstated. Having an alpha consistently at their side each day is … well it’s as close as you can get to the real thing, isn’t it?” He points out a student passing by with their Handler. The boy is on a lead, walking peaceably with a serene look on his face. “You see, we prepare our students for the real world, not some fantasy world like the more liberal schools do. We want them to leave here happy, well-rounded, and ready to find their future mates. Handlers are their practice for that. They help them model all the important aspects of a healthy A-O relationship.”

“But they don’t, um … you know. Right?” 

“Fuck each other?” Ransom snickers.

“Certainly not,” Steve says sternly. “We take care of the students’ needs, of course, but all of our Handlers are consummate professionals, I can assure you. It’s more the level of constant supervision and dominance that’s so invaluable. That really is the only way to ensure success with these boys. Especially those coming in with any … extra needs.”

Beside Winnifred, Ransom scoffs. “He’s extra, alright.”

Steve’s smile tightens. “Right. Well, that’s one big part of our support system. Constant digital supervision is another.” He points out the cameras as they walk. “The surveillance system. It’s a newer addition, very high tech, outfitted with motion sensors and facial recognition software that allows us to keep perfect track of each and every student.”

“Isn’t that a bit overwhelming for them?” Winnifred wonders.

“Yes, but they need to be overwhelmed. It’s what levels them out. You see, everything we do here at Carter Academy is science-based, backed by all the latest research. We value the research over any ‘modern agendas’. All the studies show that omegas your son’s age have been shown to have decreased cortisol levels and more balanced serotonin and dopamine after even just a few months of close supervision. The cameras add another layer to that support system. You eliminate privacy, and these boys figure out real fast that they aren’t in control anymore.” 

“How long until you whip him into shape?” Ransom asks as they return back to Steve’s office. They’ve just walked in the room, and James is turning around to look at them as they come through the door.

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi. My fee is $10 per 1000 words.

Masterlist

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[factorialsotherfandoms]

QSMP x XCOM AU, finally some plot! (Though you'll have to wait for the plot in this one to get explained...) (Kinda suprised I got this done. Entirely uneditted as I'm leaving in 10 minutes)

This is still pretty early. Post Pac&Mike, pre-Cellbit. Infact, you may see Cellbit referenced a little... Jaiden, Bad, Foolish, Fit, and Philza explore a Federation Facility they were lead to by mysterious coordinates found tucked into a hidden supply cache...

TW: major character injury, background character death, corpses, violence

(Chapter 1/2, idk when 2 will be done but all the mission is contained here)

Following coordinates left by a spy of unknown origin is a fool’s errand, but then Foolish /has/ been assigned to the mission. Said sniper has taken it upon himself to distract Bad at every opportunity possible, and so Jaiden has stolen his command.

She presses on ahead, scouting the paths and signalling for people to follow. The low hills they arrived on give way to a road, and that is where she pauses.

3 fingers - an order to wait.

Fit crouches behind a fence, careful to make sure his grenade launcher is hidden, and squints for what she saw.

“Two guards and a sectoid,” she murmurs, Foolish hops down and into earshot. “Chances are as soon as we hit them, there will be alarms.”

“Can we sneak around?” Fit asks.

He is not against triggering the alarms and making some horrific noise, but they are here to investigate primarily. Tripping the security immediately… It’s a good way for any clues to get blown up.

Fit would know.

Blowing shit up is usually his job.

“We could try?” Jaiden chews on her lip. “But they seem to be going up and down the train tracks. Can’t see the building yet, if there even is one.”

“We should be fine,” Bad shakes his arms down a little, adjusting his grip. “Take them out fast, don’t let them call for help? A little surprise for them?”

“Up I go, then! Later!” Foolish is already crossing the road to a nearby petrol station, scrambling up to the roof.

They give him a moment to get into place, all analysing the terrain. Standard practice would be to have most of the group line up their shots, then Jaiden to distract the enemies by running straight in. As soon as they duck out of cover to deal with her…

Well Fit’s weapons are /messy/, but the others are all damned good shots.

Jaiden waits for everyone to confirm they are ready, then leaps out of her hiding spot. The Feds and their pet all turn their attention to her, stepping out of their cover to greet her.

It is their mistake.

One guard is down before it hears the gunfire, the other just as it turns to look. The sectoid tries to bolt, causing Philza’s bullet to only graze its shoulder, only for Jaiden to slice through its throat as it does. 

A shot from Foolish’s rifle puts an end to the other.

Fit checks for more danger, and sees none. Beyond the trees he can see what looks like factory smoke - likely their target. To the left, right, and behind is clear, leaving only onwards.

“All clear,” he tells them, and starts moving on.

Only to turn and realise everyone has frozen.

“Guys?” he asks.

Bad breaks out of it first, shaking his head, “ah, muffins.”

Fit tilts his head in a question.

“The Assassin,” Bad taps at his head. “Didn’t you hear her?”

Fit shakes his head, “not a thing.”

The others shake off the effect too, frowning at one another.

“Well,” it’s Jaiden who tilts her head. “If she doesn’t want us here specifically, that means we’re on track, right?”

“Right,” Philza nods. “And she’s still a bit off, yet; Niki mentioned good scrubland for landing around the back, just too close to be subtle, so it’s probably where she arrived too.”

“Did you train in the Wastelands to not get this bullshit or something?” Foolish asks. “Because, damn, not hearing her would be good.”

Fit looks at Philza.

Philza looks back.

“Something like that,” Fit says. “Takes too long to teach anyone, though.””

“Guys, let’s just get on with this,” Jaiden stretches. “She’s here now; we deal with her if she gets close. Just like always, right?”

“Yup!” Bad has Ghostie shift modes, his robot now joining Philza’s crow in keeping watch. “Let’s not give them time to sort their muffins into line.”

The rest agree, falling into formation, and Fit still is not entirely sure what they heard, but… 

Well, if it was important, Philza would have said. 

---

Beyond the treeline is a railway track, and beyond the track is a building made of concrete and steel. The emblem of the Federation sits proudly on the front, clearly marking out their target. Unlike city facilities it has no main front door, only two small side ones.

And outside of it are crates upon crates, scattered and stacked up. Every crate has a metal frame, but some sort of clear plastic reveals the green glow inside. On the sidings of the railway tracks is a flatbed cargo carriage, also stacked up with them, but those ones have a tarp pulled over to hide the worst of the glow.

And inside each and every crate, there is a perfectly intact human form.

“The fudge,” Fit breathes out.

He is not the only one, the group quiet and faces grim.

Hesitantly, Philza approaches the closest of the exposed crates. He kneels besides them, his Crow sat atop and looking down. He frowns as he looks first at his bird, and then at the screen giving him readouts from it.

And then he is still, very still, just quietly breathing and eyes skimming text as his Crow hops between the stacks of crates, taking readings both for records and Philza’s consumption.

Breathe in, breathe out; Philza is rarely so quiet.

It is… concerning.

Fit kneels beside him, listening to the others shuffle and looking at his old friend.

“Phil?” he asks.

“Dead,” Philza doesn’t even look up from the screen on his glove. “All of them are dead.”

Fit stands again, looking over the crates. If this many are stacked outside…

“And the goo?” Jaiden asks.

Philza shakes his head, and Foolish shrugs. Now he looks properly, Fit can see that they both also look a little shaken.

“We’re too late,” Jaiden replies. “All these people…”

“We’d need to run samples, but I think… I think we found the missing civilians.”

“Fudge, Max!” Bad turns sharply to Foolish.

“Max…?” Foolish replies. “Oh, fuuuuuck. Fuck, okay, we’ll just… You break it gently to him, alright?”

“Do you think we could…?” Jaiden starts, before shaking her head. “There’s too many of them.. I…”

“Take a moment,” Fit advises, knowing that, of the five of them, only he and Philza have much experience with the sort of tortures that the Federation call ‘science’. “We can’t help these people, but we can stop the fuckers taking anyone else. Breathe through it, and get fucking angry.”

Jaiden curls in on herself, while what little of Bad’s face can be seen is grim. Foolish is the one who takes the advice to heart, kicking at one of the low walls. Fit and Philza keep watch; everyone has known civilians dying before, hell the sanctuaries have been attacked often enough. But that is in fire and blood and anger, while these…

These crates, the putting of every corpse into it’s own storage container of goo, nearly piled outside a facility presumably for some sort of processing…

Well, it takes a few minutes, the first time. Emotions should be processed later, but you gotta get them into the boxes somehow.

But they do not have minutes, only seconds, because more trouble will arrive soon enough

Philza is the one to break the quiet, taking a deep breath and looking inwards to the group once again. “We need to-”

Whatever he was about to say, he cuts himself off as he drops to his knees. Above him, right where his neck had been, a long sword swipes through the air. As it does, an arm - a torso, a head - flicker into vision.

Purple skinned, hair pulled back, armour in red and black, two swords - Assassin.

“Good reflexes,” she twitches her head as she speaks, lips pulled in a mockery of - or maybe attempt at - a smile. "I had hoped your kind would never stumble across this facility, you know? Some things are best left unknown. But, now you have seen it… I cannot permit you to leave. Prepare yourselves."

As if.

Philza glances over, and Fit catches his eye. It’s a little dark but, while the Assassin talks about how wonderful it will be to kill them all, he nods.

Fit adjusts his gun.

Philza pulls a knife from his toolbelt.

It isn’t a combat knife, not really, but it still cuts flesh well as Philza sinks it into the Assassin’s ankle. He darts back, and Fit knows how this goes.

He opens fire.

The Assassin cuts off her words at the storm of bullets, a nasty hit to the shoulder as she jumps over the fence and into cover. Jaiden follows, cursing out her opponent with knife in hand.

Mud is kicked up and into Jaiden’s eyes, blinding her - and the following Foolish - just long enough for the Assassin to pull out her cloaking device.

Fit cannot fire, not with his allies so close, but Bad can. A shot from the rifle lands squarely in the Assassin’s back right as she fades from view.

“FUCK!” Jaiden yells. “Shit! Where is she?!”

The answering laughter echoes around.

“Is she gone?” Foolish asks. “Wait, no, she’s not gone. Stay close.”

Even though he knows that he will never see her coming, Fit still keeps glancing from side to side. His skin crawls with eyes on his back, the very familiar sensation of being hunted down his spine. Philza looks just as edgy, eyes a little wild as he presses against Fit’s good side.

The five form a circle, all looking out, guns ready for trouble when it comes.

And they wait.

And they wait.

And they wait, until Bad sighs and shifts his gun a little.

“She isn’t coming,” he says. “She’s waiting for us to be distracted.”

“Do we wait for her to get bored? Or press on?” Jaiden is equally as shifty, eyes narrowed as she looks arond.

“She doesn’t get bored,” Philza’s voice is a little distant. “If we wait, they’ll just bring more of the fuckers in.”

And that’s damned the problem, isn’t it?

All five pairs of eyes turn to the door, and then at everybody else. They need to enter, they know they need to, but with the Assassin in play… It’s a fucking death trap.

Fit looks at his companions again.

He is about to offer, when Jaiden nods, and pushes back her shoulders.

“I’ll go,” she says, already pulling out her sword. “Foolish?”

Foolish cocks a pistol, “always.”

The two of them enter, side by side. Fit positions himself behind them, ready for them to slip to either side of the door and allow him to fire on whatever is within. Foolish does, firing a few rounds from his pistol. Jaiden… sort of does, jumping over some scattered technology and charging an enemy out of sight.

Fit, however, cannot see whatever problem they have seen; he makes sure that Philza is keeping an eye out for threats from the outside, and also presses on in.

First assessment - threats. Three MECs, standing in some sort of algae-coloured water. Four Federation Guards to the right, one senior two with stun batons. Two sectoids and another guard to the left, Jaiden already there with sword in one hand, rifle in the other, and sparring all three at once.

Second assessment - location. Copper and brass looking technology, glowing in sickly green. There are walkways around the edge of a pool of tainted water, and the back wall consists of hundreds upon hundreds of giant tubes. Each is filled with glowing green.

Each contains a human corpse.

Third assessment - next action. Even if Jaiden somehow cannot manage two sectoids and a guard, an automatic fire submachine gun is not going to help her there. The other guards are A Problem, but MECs? MECs are his specialty.

The best cover he is getting is the sheet metal serving as a bannister for the walkway - MECs don’t care, not with small-scale rocket launchers, and those Guards are busy coming closer anyway. He hefts the gun onto the railing - he can support it himself, especially with the prosthetic, but he likes having knees - and lets loose.

Somewhere behind him, the door closes. Bad’s Ghostie drifts over, stunning the MEC not caught in the hail of bullets, while Fit hears the very familiar sound of a grenade exploding somewhere near the group of four guards. He does not have the luxury of protecting his own back, but they will all have to do.

“Do not touch the liquid!” Bad calls the group as Ghostie swoops back to him. “It eats flesh!”

Jaiden seems to take that warning as inspiration, because right after she yells “got it!”, one of the sectoids is flipped over the railing, and sent screaming into it.

It’s not an acid, any acid working that fast would surely damage at least the paintwork on the MECs, but it’s fucking grim. Something enzyme based? Fit’s seen some people try that sort of shit in the Wasteland, but never get it to work.

Might be, might not be; that’s not really Fit’s job.

He knows that some of the Order - Maxo, mostly, though Missa has been convinced to carry them too - do fancy shit with bluescreen bullets and EMP grenades. Fit, though? Fit likes to do this the old fashioned way. Just filling the fuckers full of lead.

Highly specialised, sharpened lead, designed to tear through metal with even more ease than flesh, but lead nonetheless.

He takes one down, dives under cover to avoid the small rockets another fires at him, and takes a smattering of shrapnel to the arm. He wears proper armour unlike some people he could mention, and it’s far enough away that it does not cut all the way through, but it certainly leaves scorch marks across the fabric.

It is nothing that accounts for how, as he stands, Philza screams, “Fit! Look out!”

Fit turns, and sees nothing; both MECs are reloading, the sectoids are dead and the guards are engaged. Maybe a late call about the rockets, but-

A cold chill runs down his spine.

“Your training fails you,” a voice whispers in his ear. He turns, catching the eyes of the Assassin as her cloaking device flickers off. He grabs at her, twisting himself away.

Cold, hard steel punctures through his armour.

He does not look. Fit does not look, but he can feel how her sword enters his back just below his ribs, curving up and escaping just after the next one.

One, two, three.

Waiting for the pain to kick in, Fit takes careful breaths around the blade. He’s survived worse. He’s survived worse. They’ve fought her off before. There are potions and medics right there. Don’t panic, do not panic, panic and you die.

And then the rips out the blade.

The agony hits, and Fit drops to his knees, pressing his hands to the wounds and gasping for air.

It hurts, it hurts, it /hurts!

“Take comfort,” she whispers to him, wiping his blood from her blade, “for there is dignity in death to a superior opponent.”

Fit closes his eyes.

A clash of steel.

From the floor he struggles them open again. 

Foolish is between him and the Assassin, her blades caught on his pistols. Jaiden, sprinting over, slashes down her back and the fight moves away.

“Phil!” Foolish yells. “And you, bitch, get away from him!”

With his assailant distracted and a bleeding tear through his chest, Fit pushes himself backwards, behind a counter. Worse place to fire from, but better cover. He runs on instinct, blood pooling inside him and leaving a trail across the floor. Hide, heal, get safe - he’s had worse, he’s had fucking worse, just fucking breathe.

(Or don’t because, shit, he has no idea how to tell if she caught his lung).

Moments later, Philza’s Crow stumbles a landing beside him. He can see the splash potion already prepared, the pink liquid in the throat of the robotic bird.

He lifts a hand, letting it apply it to the front, before shifting just enough to apply it to the back. Almost immediately the numbing component takes effect; now the burning is gone, he collapses once again. He can hear Foolish swearing as he fights, Bad answering just as instinctively, the clang of sword-on-sword, and the steady fire of either Bad or Philza’s rifle as the other enemies are kept at bay.

It’s Bad’s; as the weapon is still firing, Philza slides around the counter, medical bag already open and hanging off his shoulder.

“Fit?” he asks.

Fit gives him a somewhat listless thumbs up, “right here, Phil. Potion got the bleeding, just waiting for the painkillers, you know?”

“Right,” some of the tension in Philza’s shoulders drops as he examines the wound. He grimaces, but grabs some dressings and starts peeling off the backs. “Don’t have time to stitch this, with all this crap going on. Think you can manage until we get the fuck out of here?”

“You know me, Phil,” Fit hears the sounds of the fighting slowing down, the MECs no longer firing. “I’ve survived worse with less.”

He probably deserves the way Philza jabs his thumbs into old, tender scars as he tugs the skin together, and applies the dressings. The potion will deal with the blood, at least until the nanites run out of power. Then it’s just… Just keeping the wound sealed enough to breathe.

“Keep weight off it when you can,” Philza tells him, adding tape despite the dressings having adhesive. “As soon as we get to evac, you’re lying down and letting me look at this shit.”

There isn’t really time to agree. Fit is certain Philza was about to tell him to let someone else carry his heavier kit, only to be interrupted by Bad screeching in pain.

Philza is cursing and running before Fit has a chance to process the ungodly sound.

Still, needs must. Despite his wound, despite the painkillers not yet quite being fully working, despite the nanites still spreading into the bloodstream and stabalising the wound, allowing him to breathe, Fit pulls himself to his feet. Feeling a little weak he hoists his gun onto the counter.

It’s awkward to work like this, but he can; he directs his attention to the last of the Sectoids, and lets loose a hail of bullets.

It falls, and Fit looks around.

Jaiden is adjusting one of her vambraces, while Foolish reloads his pistols. Bad looks a little dizzy, but waves off Philza’s hands and drinks one of his own potions rather than apply it to whatever wound he has. Crow rests on some of the rails separating the walkways from the liquid, and Ghostie floats in its place.

The MEC wrecks in the liquid stand untouched, but the Fed whose corpse fell into it is slowly dissolving away.

“We good?” Foolish asks the group. “We forced a respawn, so she shouldn’t be back anytime soon.”

“I’m good to go on,” Fit replies, even as the others somewhat hesitantly confirm.

Whatever they are looking for, well… The missing civilians were some of it, and fuck this - fuck all of this - but the rest… Whatever their contact sent them to get? It’s in the back, isn’t it?

“Fit, you got explosives?” Bad asks.

“Do I have explosives,” Fit deadpans back. “What do you take me for, Bad, a reasonably human being? Of course I have fucging explosives.”

The slip gets him a look, but Bad must be feeling shitty as he allows it to pass, “we wanna meet up with Niki, right? Can you make a door in the back wall while we check that room out?”

A door?

“You won’t be able to close it,” he warns.

“Oh that’s fine,” Bad smiles a bit. “We don’t need to leave this place intact.”

“Just tell me where you want it, then.”

“Hm… Back wall, to the right? I saw an internal door there you can duck around once it’s set!”

“Perfect,” Fit ignores Philza’s glare, and hoists his gun back over his shoulder. “You four headed to that lab looking room?”

“Yup,” Foolish pops the p as he speaks. “See you in five!”

Fit waves his acknowledgement, waiting for the four of them to start heading over. Once they’re close enough to the back for any aliens in the last room to jump them and not him, Fit starts the other way around the walkway.

Alone, now, he can see how the liquid is not just dissolving the corpse, but is glowing as it does so. Bubbles he sort of expected, but glowing is fucking weird; even if they have to take samples of this shit, he isn’t touching it. Tubbo with glowing flesh dissolvant? Could probably make it work, but half of the field agents can’t be trusted to handle grenades, let alone that stuff.

Examining the wall Bad asked for a hole making in, Fit finds a couple of weak points. The area around the window is surprisingly well reinforced, especially given that the section next to it is cracked. Outside, a short, muddy cliff where the facility was cut into a slope, leading up to some shrubland beyond.

The facility is not exactly hidden, but why do the Feds need to hide the damn thing, when they already rule the world?

Despite the cracked section and the reinforcement, Fit still elects to lay the explosives around the window; upon examining the cracks, damaging that bit of wall further would just bring the roof down on them. If his maths is right - and Fit’s explosives maths is always right - he should be able to blow out the window and the section of wall below it, while keeping the top of the frame in place. It would be easier to just blow it out from the window but, again, the structural integrity of a shitty concrete job.

Given everything going on in this facility he’s a bit surprised the walls are /this/ bad, but perhaps the Federation enjoys cutting corners more than they enjoy their horrific science experiments going to plan.

Just through the wall beside him, Fit can hear the intense debate of the others. The wall muffles it a little too much to hear specifics, but it means they’ll be done soon.

It’s for the best; Fit really, really does not want to be stuck on the helicopter still when the painkillers wear out.

Careful of his wound, he sets the charges. He checks and double checks, before heading over to the room with the others. Enters, latches the door behind him, and moves away from it.

“Charges set,” he informs the group, already taking in the room.

It is a lab, yes, though of copper and brass looking faintly sickly in the glowing green light. Large vials of softly glowing liquid line the walls, feeding into some sort of device. The device runs through the walls and the floor, and up into a plinth in the centre.

On that plinth, being fed into by the processor, is a glass cylinder, barely larger than a syringe, filled with something viscous.

“Just a minute,” Foolish replies to Fit. “They’re arguing about if we grab whatever they’re extracting from the stuff outside or not.”

“The people,” Jaiden elaborates. “What they’re taking from the people.”

“We have to,” Bad is the one looking closest at it. “I don’t have anything to analyse it here, and it has to be important, right?“

“It looks like nitroglycerine,” Philza is frowning. “I’m not sure it’s /safe/ to touch that.”

Safety’s a bit laughable with the amount of blood covering everyone, but Fit understands the point.

Still, they gotta do what they gotta do.

Foolish seems in agreement with that sentiment; he ignores the continuing debate to simply walk over and grab the vial.

An entirely new set of alarms goes off, causing mildly irritated groans to pass around the group; it’s just loud.

Anything the others say with it going on, Fit doesn’t hear; years of working with explosives will do that, even if you have the sort of protection Fit has only recently learnt exists.

“Alright,” Fit waves for attention from the din. “Away from the door. I don’t think it’ll blow through, but this place is crap. I’ve seen lean tos more stable than this.”

In the Wasteland, sure, but that still means they were put up in ten minutes and not meant to last longer than a night.

There is not a lot of cover in this room, but they make do; Foolish and Philza, the least injured of the five, tuck themselves into the corners, using the wall itself as a shield. Fit, Jaiden, and Bad? They just about manage to be entirely covered by the machinery feeding into the glass. It’s not much better than the wall, but it’s made of metal and not shit concrete.

Fit gives a count of three for them to cover their ears, and hits the detonator.

The door does not blow in, and the walls do hold, but even with all his calculations the ceiling does crack. It doesn’t fall, though, so he considers it a win. They let the dust settle, then scramble back up.

“You three get out first, we’ll cover you,” comes Philza’s order.

With even more alarms and reinforcements surely on the way, there is no point in arguing or quibbling over who is incharge; Foolish passes Bad the vial, and the trio run.

Well, no, Fit cannot run - while the painkillers are working, the numbing effect has worn off. It hurts again, now, and he can feel where movement tugs at the dressings. Bad sees him stumble and offers an arm, helping him on while Jaiden runs ahead to lay the flares and call Niki back down.

They do not talk, busy with the necessity of movement. Behind them, Fit hears Philza swearing. Bad calls back a ‘language’, and Fit only hopes that Philza has the time to flip him off in return.

It takes forever and no time at all for Niki to appear and drop the ladder. Jaiden does not immediately scramble up, instead waiting for the two of them, picking off any aliens which escape Philza and Foolish’s aims.

Fit lets go of Bad, letting him climb up first. It takes a minute and some deep breathing to prepare himself, but Fit can find it in himself to follow.

He can almost feel the wound tear as he does.

At the top, Bad grabs his arm, hoisting him into the helicopter proper. Fit does not even bother getting to a chair, merely rolling out of the way of the hatch and cussing up a storm.

Bad does not scold him, and that’s a grim thought.

“Sorry,” he still says, when the man approaches. “Stings like a, um, muffin.”

“We’ll handle that later,” Bad sounds chipper, but he frowns as he checks on the dressings and sees blood. Two black hands, nails too long for gloves, press down on it.

Fit grunts, and leans back, watching as Jaiden swings herself in. She strips off her armour, grabbing one of the helicopter’s medical kits to bandage herself up. She looks exhausted; Fit feels it too.

It’s not long after that that Philza and Foolish appear. Fit offers them a wave, as Foolish pulls up the ladder and Philza comes over.

“How is it?” Philza asks.

“The dressings are bloody,” Fit replies. “Still had worse.”

“Well, fuck,” Philza takes over from Bad, who excuses himself to go sit with Foolish. “Pain levels?”

“I’ll live.”

“Fit.”

“What do you want me to day?” Fit asks. “It’s better than the last time I got stabbed through the gut?”

It is not exactly reassuring words for either of them.

“Alright, fuck, I think we have soluble stitches in one of these. Should hold until we get back and someone can fix you up proper,” Philza roots around in his bag, pulling out a couple of packets. “Wouldn’t recommend being conscious, though.”

Being unconscious while injured and on the transport? No fucking way.

“Phil,” Fit just says.

“I know, I know, I just have to fucking say it,” he opens one of the packets, rips off the top layer of dressing, and presses something gooey into the wound. “Try not to bleed out.”

“Trying my fucking best.”

Phil gives him a thin smile. That’s the last of the helicopter ride that Fit actually remembers, except for the fact he did make it back to the Avenger conscious, if delirious.

[heliads]

Hey Lisa! I was just wondering if you could write a Leonard Mccoy (Bones) x reader. (Star Trek) But royalty / Bodyguard AU! Been a while since I requested something au haha.

The reader is royalty and Bones is the bodyguard and its the "we're not supposed to fall in love but we did anyways" type of thing.

He would save the reader from multiple things, attempted assassination, threats from other royals, whenever the reader is uncomfortable or needs help. Literally he would always be there to help the reader and that's what makes them fall in love with Bones. The reader would try and help Bones to be calmer in certain situations (you know he's a stubborn bean lol) and even hang out with him during training or whenever possible. And then some tragic attack happens and Bones gets injured protecting the reader or vice versa. And then they end up confessing to each other. You can decide the ending, I would love to see what you write about that!! <3

omg bless you for letting me write about star trek i had been HOPING someone would request

masterlist

Having a bodyguard is not supposed to feel like an insult, but somehow, it still does. You know that the bodyguard situation was to be expected; you are, after all, royalty, and that puts a target on your back unlike any other, but you had hopes that you’d be able to avoid all this. Yes, there are assassins out there who’d like nothing more than to end your life and reign in one pull of a trigger. Yes, the life expectancy for any monarch tends to linger around the youthful range due to the frequency of political murders. Yes, there is a reason for all this, and one you cannot avoid.

However, all you hear whenever you hear your advisors bring up the need for additional protection is that you are not capable of defending yourself. This is something that rankles more than it should, and has also been the reason you haven’t had a single soldier designated to follow you around in all your previous life. No bodyguard means that you can finally breathe without someone always watching you wherever you go, even when you try to rest. That’s what you’ve been fighting against all this time.

Once you ascended the throne, though, you knew that your claims to privacy were gone in a flash. Sure enough, the crown had hardly lingered on your head long enough to weigh you down before the nobles were eyeing each other nervously and starting to mention that it really was time for some additional security, now, wasn’t it? It’s not like they would dare say anything to your face, but someone should, and–

You endured their hemming and hawing for a couple of weeks before sighing and giving in. Of all the arguments to concede, this was the least obtrusive on your political plans. You told the head of your guard to find someone suitable for the task, and within the hour, almost as if they’d been waiting for this moment all their lives, they gave you a name.

Leonard McCoy. Top of his class. He originally planned on pursuing a career in medicine, but was convinced otherwise by a good friend of his, some rebellious fighter named James Kirk. You’d normally be doubtful of such a big switch in careers, but if General Pike says the guy is good, so be it. It’s his funeral. Or yours, if he messes this up.

Either way, it’s set in stone. You give a wary nod and Leonard is installed in your life as your bodyguard. That was years ago, and although you may have despised the change in routine back then, you have to admit that you’ve grown quite fond of the man. He may be hired only to save your life on a daily basis, but the two of you have become reluctant friends, and then there was nothing reluctant about it at all. Perhaps there would be more, if either of you were daring enough to look for it.

You aren’t, though. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. You know exactly what is expected of you in this marionette’s life of yours:  a political union with some other royal, a successfully continued lineage that will be plotted out by your advisors. Still, when you feel like dreaming, you look up at the stars and pretend there is a chance you could ever be with the man you want most of all.

He’s not Leonard to you, not anymore. You tried calling him that the first day, alternating awkward first name usage with the occasional ‘Officer McCoy,’ but it didn’t work for either of you. You remember him frowning at the title, then gruffly muttering something about how he went by the nickname of Bones. His friend James gave it to him, apparently, and it stuck. You still haven’t bothered to ask if it came about from his medical history or because of his knack for killing as a soldier. Both work.

At first, most of your exchanges were like that, altered and stilted, full of glaring signs that this was never meant to be. You used every opportunity you could to remind yourself that this is why you hadn’t wanted a bodyguard in the first place. He could only ever serve as a wrench in your plans.

But then he started allowing himself to laugh at the jokes you murmured under your breath when you forgot he was listening, and the two of you began talking during journeys over to neighboring royals, and all of a sudden nothing was awkward anymore, but right, just right.

Now, you can hardly imagine that there had ever been a time in which the world had not orbited around the two of you. Bones is your shadow, your second skin; he walks as an extension of you, fights the battles with the fists you wish you had and does it all while managing to appear as unruffled as possible. You may have known him for years now, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing an icy demeanor as comfortably as someone else would a smile.

It works out for the two of you, though. You force the laughter at terrible jokes posed by foreign diplomats when he physically cannot do anything but roll his eyes, Bones glares at the overly reaching royals when you have to play by the rules of common parlor etiquette. It all makes sense. He’s your other half, the flip side to your pragmatic coin. You couldn’t imagine life without him.

The problem is that you’re never sure if he can return the sentiment. It is easy for you to forget just why Bones is there; after all, you’re not the one getting paid to be there, he is. No matter how many times you see him give in and chuckle at your terrible one-liners, or notice how long he lingers even after a given event is over just to make sure that you’re going to be alright both physically and mentally, it’s not real. Of course it’s not. This is a job and nothing else.

Yet you find yourself wondering sometimes if it could be real. You are a stormcloud of too much stress with a crown balanced on top, he is a hired sword just as solid as a castle wall, but somehow, somehow he has a way of making it seem like it’s just the two of you against the world. You would take on the toughest armies if you had him by your side. 

Every now and then, you catch Bones looking at you when he thinks you don’t notice. In those moments, his gaze isn’t harsh or blunt as usual, but soft and quiet. He tilts his head to the side, thinking thoughts you could never understand. You try, though. You always do.

You’re at one of a thousand different royal functions right now, mind stuck on the same track of will-they-won’t-they as always despite the fact that you really need to be paying attention. Another royal has hosted you and a few other kings and queens to discuss a possible peace treaty to cement what had previously been unspoken agreements. It’ll be nice to get that done on paper, but it certainly makes for a tedious week.

Seeing as this is technically a peaceful mission, Bones hadn’t accompanied you on the way over. He had been busy with another military concern, and you told him that it wasn’t strictly necessary that he attend at all. That doesn’t stop you from missing him anyway, though. The assembly departs for a break in the afternoon and you walk out into the gardens, wondering why it suddenly seems so lonely to be by yourself when just years ago, you’d have traded anything to keep it that way.

An unfamiliar plant catches your attention and you pause by its rank in the endless rows of cultivated flora, furrowing your brow in an unsuccessful attempt to identify it. You’re decent with your plants, but this one escapes your knowledge.

A voice sounds from behind you, answering your unspoken question. It would have startled you if it was anyone else, but you recognize the speaker instantly.

“That’s echinacea,” Bones says, emerging from a nearby archway, “used in medicine fairly often. Decently potent.”

You watch him approach, unable to stop yourself from grinning.

“You came,” you breathe. 

“It’s my job,” he says back, voice as gruff as always. 

“That’s not the only reason, was it?” You dare to ask. 

He pauses a moment, as if turning the words over and over in his head like yet another blade. “No,” he decides at last, “no, it wasn’t.”

It could be a confession. He says it with the force of an oath. Regardless, it is enough to stop the two of you in your tracks, and maybe that is why neither of you notice the attack until it is too late. This was supposed to be a peaceful excursion into a foreign kingdom. How foolish of you to believe that anyone would see something kind and be able to stop themselves from ruining it.

All you know is that the tranquility of the garden is suddenly destroyed by plumes of smoke rising out of nowhere, shouting voices, the clash of metal against stone and flesh. Bones is instantly alert, reaching for you to pull you out of the way of any attackers. They haven’t found you yet, mostly focused on the majority of the royals, which are still in the central part of the courtyard. You had been pensive and headed for a quieter part of the palace, which is what saved you from the initial violence.

It does not save you forever, though. A few enemy soldiers shout when they see you and start to run over. Bones starts to fight them off, shouting for you to run. There is nowhere for you to go, however, and it’s not like you could ever leave him in a time of terror such as this.

You’re still scanning the grounds for a safe place to go, and that’s when you see him, the archer on the roof. At first, you think he’s trying to shoot Bones’ attackers, one of the host royal’s guards, but you realize with a chill that you do not recognize the colors on his insignia. He’s not aiming to take down the enemy soldiers. He’s trying to kill Bones himself.

Bones, too busy getting rid of his opponents, does not notice. In fact, he won’t notice a thing until it’s too late. The enemy archer’s finger tightens on his bow, and all you know is that you must not let him die. You would not be able to live with yourself if you did nothing and watched Bones get killed, so you do something worse and make him live with it instead.

Bones is just straightening up, having dispatched the last of the soldiers, when you slam into him. He’s good on his feet, always has been, so he doesn’t move much except to stumble a little to the side. That’s all you need to get him out of harm, though, but it is also all it takes to put you directly in the path of danger.

For a moment, you feel nothing, just a sharp impact by your ribs. Then the pain hits, and you can’t stop yourself from crying out. That is when Bones realizes that something is wrong, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget the look of horror that dawns upon his face when he learns what you’ve done. His head arches towards the sky and he throws a knife at the enemy archer. You hear the blade thunk into skin and bone up above you, the soldier slumping over in death.

You try to move, but your legs give out beneath you. The pain is unlike anything you expected from a mere arrow. Bones catches you before you fall, and you can hear him begging you to hear him, to keep your eyes open, to stay alive, please, and it occurs to you that this is a display of emotion unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before. 

You would love to think about it more, but it is getting awfully hard to focus. The darkness swimming at the edges of your vision is just too alluring, and even though Bones is asking you to stay with him, you just can’t do it right now. Maybe later, you try to whisper, but the words never make it past your lips.

It is dark for a while. You should be scared of it, you think, but thoughts are hard to come by. They appear and disappear in the depths of your consciousness like a child blowing soap bubbles, each one rising to the forefront of your eyes just to pop in a shower of light. The light grows by the second, though, and then you’re awake in a room full of brightness.

You’re not dead. Not yet, at least. When you open your eyes, it takes you a minute or so to realize that you’re in the hospital wing of your own kingdom. You don’t remember the return trip, or anything past losing consciousness in Bones’ arms, but he must have brought you back here in time to save your life.

Across the room, a nurse notices you’re awake and bustles over to your side. She greets you with a wide, beaming smile, and tells you how glad she is that you’re awake.

“I was starting to worry, Your Highness. Not for your health, I promise that was a quick and easy fix, but for that of your friend. Bones swore he wouldn’t leave until you woke up, but that was a couple of days ago and he’s still here.”

You follow her line of sight down the room, where you notice your bodyguard asleep in a chair. You laugh quietly. “He is rather stubborn when he puts his mind to it, isn’t he?”

The nurse smiles as well. “Yes, he is. I remember him being just as stubborn back here.”

When you frown at her in confusion, the nurse explains herself. “He used to be dead set on medicine. His friend James convinced him to try his hand at defense, and he changed his career. I used to wonder why, but it makes sense now. He’s still saving people, just doing it in a different way.”

You nod, wondering how many memories she must have of him that you never will. You cannot hold any claim to a past that is not yours, but wouldn’t it have been wonderful to see what Bones had been like before all of this, before his first kill, when he lived in a place like this and was not yours to know?

“I still feel bad for dragging him away from this life,” you whisper, “I know he chose to be a bodyguard, but I always wonder if he’d rather be here instead.”

The nurse shakes her head firmly. “Not a chance. Bones is happy now, I can see it. That’s due in part to you, you know. Almost every week he comes down and tells me how much he respects you for what you do. He hates all those politicking nobles and royals with every bone in his body, but you wrangle them into shape every time. He loves that.”

Her voice goes quiet at the end, as if full of the acknowledgement that she has shared something that was supposed to stay private. Still, you think you’re quite happy to hear it.

“Well,” the nurse says briskly, “he’ll be glad to see you’re awake. You gave him quite a scare, saving him like that. The wound will heal soon, but are you sure that you’re going to be alright apart from that?”

You pause a moment, weighing all that she’s said. Across the room, Bones stirs at the sound of voices and opens his eyes. He scans the room and his gaze lands on you. All at once, you can see a burden of stress and fear leave his shoulders. His face brightens immediately, and he starts to stand up and make his way over to you.

“Yes,” you answer, “I think I’ll be just fine.”

requested by @w1shes43, i hope you enjoy!

star trek tag list: empty for now!

[sanjoongie]

FFF~ Day 25

♡Pairing: Kang Yeosang x Reader (f) x Choi Jongho

♡Genre: smut with no plot

♡Au: gladiator

♡Word Count: 1,947

♡Warnings: roman slavery, strength kink, size kink, exhibitionism, Voyeurism, oral (f receiving), breast play, spanking, threesome, spit roasting, deep throating, auralism, cum eating, penetrative sex with no barrier, mfm orgasms

♡Rated: 18+ MDNI

♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Pegging, KHJ | Next Day~ Omegaverse, KHJ

♡Dedication~ @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland the unholy trinity beta team. @starbvrryhwa peep at the readers name 😘

You walked around the villa with a tray full of wine goblets with ease. You had been trained your whole life to be graceful and careful, as the personal slave of the Domina. This estate was where gladiators were born. Slaves were acquired, trained and churned out in the arena with great success. This is how your Dominus acquired most of his wealth and prestige. 

Hence, the large party that was being thrown. A roman dignitary was in town and your Dominus was more than eager to impress the Senator. Perhaps if the Senator grew interested in the man that groomed gladiators, your Dominus could receive the senator's patronage, increasing his wealth and prestige even more. 

“Petal, come here,” Your Domina summoned you from across the open courtyard. 

You weaved your way through the crowd to come to the side of your Domina. “Yes, Domina?” You replied sweetly.

“I require your services, Petal.” Your Domina looked you straight in the eye. “The senator has certain tastes that he wishes fulfilled. We would put on a demonstration for him.”

You perked up. As you had grown up here, you enjoyed watching the gladiators. “Shall there be a demonstration of power?” Not to mention, seeing the men with their greased up muscles put on display was a pleasure on its own.

Your Domina shook her head. “No, Petal. He is looking for a demonstration of carnal activities.”

You cocked your head curiously, “Do you want me to stand by his side in case he needs more wine?”

Your Domina cupped your cheek. “No, sweet girl, I am wondering if you would like to participate. The senator has requested two of the most built gladiators but he wishes for a woman of small stature between them. Would that please you? It will be a public display, so you must keep that in mind.”

Your eyes hit the dusty floor. “Who are the gladiators?”

“Yeosang and Jongho,” Your Dominia replied immediately.

You gasped in delight. “Oh, but they have such pretty muscles!”

“I would not ask this of you if I did not think you were up to the task. I know it is not a typical request for you, but it would please the senator if you took part. If not, I can pretend you are sick with having snuck some sips of wine. It matters not to me either way.” 

You were so thankful to have a Domina who cared for you. Not all slaves were so lucky.

“Domina, I will do it,” You said with increased fervor.

“Are you sure, Petal?” Your Domina checked one last time. When you nodded, she smiled in thanks. 

The set up was a simple one: a chair was set up for the senator and then a pile of blankets and pillows were laid out in the courtyard before him. You nibbled on your lip, eyes searching for the other two that would join you. Jongho had a stoic face, pulling and tugging on his armor. A servant with a jug of oil was begging him to let them remove his armor and apply it to his skin but he was ignoring them. Yeosang was laughing and joking with a few nobles as a servant ran their hands up and down his arms to oil them up. The two couldn't have been more different and yet… They were still gladiators of the arena, ones worthy of note and prestige. 

Your Domina clapped her hands and smiled as if she was on stage putting on a great comedy. “Ladies and Gentlemen, due to our esteemed Senator, we have some entertainment for you this evening.” The remainder of the watchers gathered closely, their whispers settling into quiet curiosity. “You watch our gladiators work in the arena, muscles gleaming from sweat and blood, but we wish to give you a more intimate view; one in which their muscles will still do the work, but perhaps using ones that aren’t necessary in the arena."

You walked into the center of the blankets and pillows. The senator sat down on his chair and his eyes raked in your small form. "This one pleases me," He announced his approval, deep voice rumbling through the crowd.

Jongho stepped to your side and then Yeosang. Jongho pounded a fist to his chest; a salute to his Dominus, who was at the side of the senator. Yeosang wound an arm around your shoulders and drew you into his body. 

"See how tiny my slave is between these mighty gladiators," Your Domina smiled wickedly. "You may begin."

Yeosang reached for your robes first, pulling the ties at your shoulder and it fell to the floor immediately. His lips curved into a smile at the reveal of your body. One of his hands cupped your breast, rubbing his thumb over your pebbled nipple. You whimpered at the direct contact.

"So responsive," Yeosang chuckled. 

Jongho's hands curved around your hips from behind. His mouth found the shell of your ear and he spoke lowly into it. "Is your cunt as responsive as your mouth?"

You cocked your leg and allowed access to your lower half. Jongho's fingers played along your lower stomach but only teased your outer lips with light touches. "Do you actually want this?" He teased you.

You nodded but made eye contact with Yeosang. He cupped both of your breasts and squeezed. Your back arched into his touch and another whimper left your mouth. 

"See how both the gladiators circle her like they are sizing up a potential opponent," Your Domina spoke. 

Jongho's fingers finally dipped to your core and he brought them up to your eye level to show you just how wet you actually were. "Such an eager whore, are we? Is it your first time being shared between gladiators? Do we turn you on that much?"

Yeosang dropped to his haunches, putting his face level with your cunt. "You can entertain her upper half," Yeosang offered, his deep voice going even lower, "I'll take care of this half."

Yeosang threw one of your legs over his broad shoulders and began to lick your cunt like he was starving and you were the first body of water he had come across. His hands kneaded your thighs, showing you how much strength was in his hands and arms alone. Jongho tipped your head back, wrapping his arms around your ribs and lifting you off your feet. You began to exchange sloppy kisses as his hands tickled your ribs. Yeosang was direct to the point, licking your clit and making you moan into Jongho's mouth, your weight settling on his shoulders, neck muscles flexing under your thighs. Jongho, on the other hand, teased the skin under your breasts until you broke the kiss you two were sharing and begged for him to play with your nipples. He simply teased around your areolas, showing how gentle he could be by holding his strength back.

Your Domina ordered for the next part to play out. "And, like every fight, they draw their swords to conquer their foe."

Yeosang set you down to stand up and unwind the clothing around his lower half, revealing a long, curved rod to the audience who began to titter. "Even his phallus is curved as if the gods themself carved him," Your Domina said pointedly.

Jongho didn't remove the hard-boiled leather chestplate he adorned but his arms flexed and his leather skirt dropped to show that he was not as long as Yeosang but thick enough to make you gulp. "He may very well cleave his foe into two," The senator laughed.

Then both gladiators shared your body. Jongho was assigned to your cunt by the senator and Yeosang to settle into your mouth. Even with the aid of being beyond wet, it was still a struggle for Jongho to sheathe himself inside of you. You could hear him hiss and grunt as he held his strength back and waited for you to stop clenching so hard down on him. Yeosang patiently fucked the soft skin of the inside of your cheek, cupping your face and smiling down at you like Adonis. Once Jongho was fully inside of you, he slapped your ass and made you cry out with Yeosang in your mouth still. At your shout, Yeosang began to fuck your throat. The two of them plunged in and out of you with an eager pace. 

You didn't know which way was up and which way was down. All you could focus on was the growing pressure in your stomach that Jongho was stuffing you so damn good and then breathing when Yeosang pulled his cock from your throat. Listening to Yeosang's melodic groans as he enjoyed your throat was a pleasure in of itself, especially when you cupped his balls and played with them.

"Look how she takes both of them. That is a direct lesson for all: size never dictates an outcome," Your Domina said with great flourish.

Jongho was breathing heavily behind you, his fingers squeezing your ass and hips at such a pace that you figured that he was just as close to his orgasm as you were. Yeosang was slightly ahead. He grabbed the back of your head and held you down on his length as he spurted down your throat. You didn't even have to swallow, his load simply shot down your throat. He moaned and moaned and moaned as his climax ran through him, making your pussy throb at the noise. 

Jongho growled and yanked you off of Yeosang. Yeosang's remaining seed spurted on your face as you braced yourself to move to the floor with Jongho. You had no choice as the gladiator pushed your body to lie face first and his hips snapped into your ass at such a ferocious pace that you felt yourself come undone for him. Jongho shouted in victory, burying his cock deep inside of you and then slowly thrusting through his climax. You were not doing any better, squealing into the blankets and pillows below you, feeling well used.

The senator stood up and clapped. "What a performance."

Your Domina bent her neck in acknowledgement. "Now, like every battle the gladiator fights in his life, there must be a winner. I think the award should be having my beloved slave for the entire night at their disposal."

You had a hard time finding the energy to sit up to see how your fate was about to be sealed but you did so nonetheless.

"Will it be the handsome gladiator who couldn't be built with less perfection," Your Domina raised a hand to Yeosang first. "Or, should it be the animalistic gladiator who was able to find his own release and sent my Petal to her climax as well."

The crowd were loud for both gladiators so it came down to the senator's pleasure. "I think that any gladiator that can bring the person he is with to climax deserves an award."

Yeosang bowed graciously, melting into the crowd while Jongho offered you a hand up. He grinned, making his eyes small. "Seems like you are mine for the evening, Petal."

"If what you just did is any indication for what I can expect until the sun comes up, I would let myself into your cell every night," You proclaimed earnestly. 

Jongho leaned in to speak directly into your ear once again. "I will fuck you up against the wall holding you up with just my arms. I will use that sweet pussy of yours like it is just a hole for me to use. You haven't even seen the beginning of what I'm capable of."

♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Strength, KYS/CJH | Next Day~ Hybrid, PSH

[polyhexian]

I was just thinking about Lazulas and how funny it is that she's, like, not a super important character, she's there if the plot needs her but otherwise she's just kinda in the background, and yet she somehow manages to get butterfly effected in every universe. Every AU gives her a completely different fate.

Like in Agony we're told that she retired (after having a probably-Kikimora-induced nervous breakdown) and funnily enough that's the kindest fate we've seen for her so far.

In MH she gets eaten by Hooty.

In eventually she…was gonna get petrified for some reason?? Unclear if they succeeded since the CATTs interrupted the petrification ceremony, but like, what did she DO that Belos decided to petrify her? What the heck led up to THAT?

I think those're the only 3 post-Jabberwocky stories she's been mentioned in so far, but those're 3 wildly different ends so I think that's neat. You should make Lazulas's fate an easter egg in every fic lol. Insert a mention of it in the most wildly coincidental way possible.

God you are SO right. Like I wanna be clear that I DO actually know the series of events leading up to each outcome and how the butterfly effect of Jasper's different outcomes caused them lmfao

In agony, kikimora wanted her job and caused her nervous breakdown. Obviously we saw what happened in MH. In runaway without jasper or s golden guard without jasper or a golden guard in training Lazulas took over his responsibilities, whereas normally that falls to Lilith so that she can train hunter to do them. Kikimora got her job without having to do away with her for it, but unfortunately that meant that Lazulas was a little more obsessed with her own power, and thus kikimora couldn't get her out of her position without killing her. Only she got caught, which is why she's a fugitive. And then finally in eventually, because of jaspers early and open rebellion it led to Raine forming the CATTs earlier and more formally, which means a LOT more shit for the emperors coven to deal with. With Lilith dealing a lot with hunter that made Lazulas feel frustrated because she felt like she was doing the work of a coven head without the credit, so she took a note out of kikimoras book and tried to kill lilith. And thus, public execution.

[flowerwrites06]

lion and the fox ix — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses.  Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle)  Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: 2.3k Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU  Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, sexual content, forced prostitution, mentions of racist/xenophobic implications and culture, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity.  Authors Note: finally managed a proper update lmao hope you like this new one! Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

Gaia’s guards dragged Jimin into the inner courtyard of her estate. The clouds hung heavy and grey above them. Amongst the gloominess, she wore a white dress and hat as if it was the height of a sunny summer yet her face looked like she entered a funeral.

Bruises peppered Jimin’s face, showing all the sign of how much he fought not to come to this place again. So it must’ve been torture to be around her. All the horrid things he must’ve thought in his mind while he touched her so softly. What a good little spy he was.

“Should we kill him, madam?” The guard asked.

“I’d have asked you do that if that were the plan.” Gaia waved her hand to send them away but the guards hesitated. Jimins’ hand were tied back but the man had talent in sneaking into places. Gaia’s own integrity was also questioned considering how much she believed him like a fool. “Are you worried he might kill me?” She stared down at him. “Well? Will you?”

Jimin stayed silent. Not glaring or calm but an irritating neutrality.

Gaia hummed and gestured for the guards to leave. This time, they did without hesitation.

“What do you want from me?” Jimin asked, voice parched and hoarse.

“Sorry, do you have somewhere to be?” Gaia asked mockingly as she sat down on the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“No matter where I am, I am loyal to Seokjin.” Jimin spoke like a perfectly trained dog.

“I’m aware of how loyal you are to Seokjin.” Mockery laced Gaia’s tone. “It was my cunt you were using to do his bidding, remember?”

Jimin pursed his lips together. Still unreadable.

Gaia sighed, pushing down the stupid squeeze in her chest. A good little spy through and through. It was all for his precious master. “This isn’t to betray Seokjin or anything of the sort.”

He stared up at her, finally the neutral expression turned to something more curious. “What do you mean?”

“It’s regarding my father. “ Gaia brushed away the creases of her dress, gladdened that gloves covered hands to prevent them from trembling accidentally. “I need a job done.”

-

“You’re not using my son as bait,” Sunhee, one of Seokjin’s lovers and the mother of his secret child, glared at Jungkook with glossed eyes. She had long, black hair and deep brown eyes that were round almost similar to the shape of her lips.

Belle encouraged them to go back to Namjoon’s household personally for this meeting. But now as fog began to gather in the air and guards layered thickly out in the courtyard. The original dining meeting area was now enclosed with paper walls to shield out some of the cold air rushing through her clothes.

“If you want revenge on Seokjin, this is the way to get him to pay attention,” Jungkook argued after his second cup of makgeolli.

“You bosses are all the fucking same. You don’t treat children like people.” Sunhee seethed. Her round eyes burned with an anger that was too intimate for Belle to watch. Sunhee had been tricked into a good life. A home. Only to be hidden like a dirty secret.

Namjoon sighed. “You’re not selling this idea, Jeon.” He spoke in a smoother tone compared to their previous meeting. It seemed he was trying to balance Sunhee’s understandable anger.

“Your son won’t be in any real danger,” Belle said.

“How can you be sure?” Sunhee asked in a shaky tone.

“I promise you if any of them raise anything at your son, I will stand in the way of it. He will not get hurt.” Belle kept her gaze close to Sunhee. Yes, she wasn’t sure whether Jungkook will keep the boys safe but she was sure that she’ll take any injury if the situation arose.

“So there is going to be danger.” Sunhee shook her head.

Belle took a deep breath, glancing at both Namjoon and Jungkook. “There are a lot of bosses who will tell you pretty things so they can get what they want. You’re not the first person and you won’t be the last one,” she said as Sunhee’s expression began to soften. “But if we do the right things, we can ensure it happens less and less.” She tilted her head, still keeping her voice low as if it was just the two of them. “Do you want Seokjin to weaken?”

Her expression turned, a mix of sadness and anger. How familiar that felt. “I do.”

“Then you’ll need to work with us on this,” Belle said.

Sunhee took a deep breath. “You’ll be there with your guards?” She turned to Namjoon.

Namjoon nodded. “I give you my word.”

Sunhee pressed her shaking lips together. “Alright. But you stay close to them.” She stared at Belle specifically, her gaze so deep that it felt like she was looking into her very weaknesses.

Belle gave a small bow. “Of course.”

-

It had been years since Angel had woken up on Taehyung’s naked chest, warm and a gentle heartbeat soothing her back into reality. His fingers traced down her arm, making her hum in pleasure. Angel lifted her head and nudged her nose against his jawline as she shifted closer.

Taehyung kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”

Angel smiled, caressing his cheek and leaning in to give him a tender kiss on the lips. “You don’t have to anymore.” She saw the guards in suits patrolling the inner courtyard. They were good at keeping their eyes away but she knew they were keeping an eye on her. “They’ve been patrolling us for a while now.”

“Maybe they like what they see.” Taehyung smirked.

She slapped his chest playfully with a grin. Angel was glad to see him light-hearted again after seeing the sheer bloodlust that pulsed through him towards Seokjin. “I appreciate Belle’s help but it seems they’re not letting us go anytime soon.”

“Nothing goes without a price,” Taehyung said with a slight grim tone, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling which was painted in blossoms. “Especially not until this is all over.”

Angel hummed. “I suppose it’s not so bad.” She snuggled deeper into the soft cotton sheets. “Their beds are soft.”

Taehyung chuckled. “We can steal the mattress for our new house.”

-

Guilt choked her throughout the day as Yoongi gave updates on the extractions of the two boys, who were called Byungho, Sunhee’s son and Kaito, Akira’s son. It was done then. Jungkook kept himself silent, smoking and going about his day like he didn’t just have two children taken from their homes. Even Sunhee wasn’t completely allowed to meet her son to protect her own identity. But Belle didn’t want to leave them be. She opted to take a car to the safehouse where the two sons resided during the night.

In her hands were two boxes of warm cooked food and some toys. Guards teemed the safehouse, looking more like a prison than a home. The house itself was luxurious made from hardwood and decorated with roses but it was empty and cold. When she entered the house hallway, she heard noise from the dining room on the right.

It was traditional Japanese style with tatami mats and a floor table. Byungho and Kaito were playing together, games from school grounds and a childhood that still remained in them. Belle was comforted by the sight.

When they saw her though, they quickly stood up in fear.

Guilt fuelled Belle further. “I’m a friend, don’t worry.” She kept her voice calm and soft.

Belle placed the freshly cooked food and toys on the table. “Your mother sent this, Byungho. I’ve also brought toys.” She grinned at them.

“Why did my mother bring me here?” Byungho asked.

Belle sighed, sitting at the floor table as they opened their dinner boxes to eat. “Your mother loves you very much but your father is. . .not a good man. So she’s trying to make sure he never hurts either of you. Okay?”

The boys nodded.

Belle sat down with them as they ate happily. It still ached to see them here, used as bait. They didn’t deserve to be in a world like this.

“Did you want some, miss?” Kaito asked, his posture so much straighter and rigid. He was trained to be the next boss and Belle could see the lack of true childhood just by the way he sat and ate politely.

Belle shook her head and smiled. “It’s all for you.”

Kaito nodded, picking at the leftover food for a moment. He thought for a long time, blinking slowly. “Will I be bad like my father?” he asked.

Belle’s heart clenched. “No.” She shook her head. “No. I hope one day you will fight to have good lives. And don’t be enemies. It’s already a world full of cruelty.”

Byungho nodded immediately but Kaito stayed silent, mulling over the subject as if it weighed heavily on him but he wasn’t old enough to truly comprehend anything.

“This will all be over soon, I promise.” She smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Belle,” Kaito said. A hint of a smile began to show on his face.

“Of course.” Belle stood to her feet. “I should get back.”

As she made way back into the hallway, a figure was already walking through the entrance door. Namjoon stared at her, confused as he had plastic bags full of snacks and things to eat. He looked more like a father coming home rather than a crime boss. “Oh. You brought dinner too?” He looked into the dining room.

“I did.” Belle intertwined her fingers together.

Namjoon tilted his head, eyes squinted. “Did Jungkook authorize that?”

“Jungkook doesn’t have to authorize everything,” Belle said, frustrated at the insinuation. Of course, he’d assume that she was Jungkook’s property or employee in some way. She allowed for that implication and now it was biting her back. Taking a deep breath, she bowed. “Sir.” She walked past him.

“Get home safe.”

-

Belle arrived back into Jungkook’s estate, keeping her footsteps to ensure no one was disturbed. But when she stepped into the bedroom, Jungkook sat on the bed. Very awake, still wearing his white work shirt with the sleeves rolled up, half-used cigarette in his hand and an angry expression across his face. The only light in the bedroom was a warm lamp next to his usual side of the bed.

“Where were you?” Jungkook’s voice was more hoarse than ever, dark brows furrowed. This wasn’t his first smoke today.

“Checking on the children,” Belle replied simply as she placed her purse on the vanity next to her.

“You don’t need to do that.”

Belle sighed in annoyance as she pulled her sweater from being tucked into her skirt. “They’re children and you gave them guards and a prison.”

“Acting moral again, aren’t we?” Jungkook’s voice dripped with bitter poison.

“We could’ve come up with something else.” Belle crossed her arms over her chest, stepping closer to him. “Something less cruel.”

“If I were cruel, I’d have killed one of them by now.” Jungkook waved his hand.

The ease of how he spoke those words made Belle’s stomach twist. “You don’t mean that.”

“Why not?” Jungkook leaned forward, glare piercing into her.

“Because you’re not that attached to power, you’re better than that.”

Jungkook scoffed with a cruel smile. “And you’re going to teach me about attachment? With your history?”

Belle pursed her lips together as her heart clenched. Any ounce of patience that built inside her for Jungkook crumbled into pieces right on her palms like broken glass. Hurt and anger spread through her, burning and aching every inch of her body. “You went downhill rather quickly.” Her teeth gritted. “I suppose you’ve already gotten to fuck me so it’s all out of your system now. All that effort and pretense.” She walked further away.

Jungkook tightened his jaw, sighing and getting to his feet. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Don’t piss out now, you’ve already said it.” Belle grabbed onto her bag. “Made a really nice show of it too.”

Jungkook grabbed onto the strap of her bag. “Stop that.” He pulled her close from the bag, pressing her body to his and gripping her chin, their noses nudged against each other. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Get the fuck away from me!” Belle pushed him back, yanking her purse from him. Her back hit the door. “Don’t manipulate me into forgiving you, I have every reason to stay away from you because this is what you do.” Her voice began to crack as the broken glass of her hopes cut through her skin. It was normal for Jungkook to be corrupt. To be bad for her. She knew it happened. But the fact it hurt. That was what angered her more than anything.

“You pretend you care and the slightest taste of more power changes you. I will not fall in line with you. Ever.” She seethed as her vision blurred. Tears formed in her eyes thickly. Now she was crying in front of Jungkook. She was crying in front of Jungkook. As if her mind was able to relax around him and be vulnerable around him like an idiot. Like a true fool. “Fuck.” She whispered to herself as she sniffled, looking away.

Silence thickened the air, heating it like lava. Jungkook pressed the cigarette into the ashtray. “It’s really late at night. Don’t leave.” His voice was terribly soft and Belle hated every minute of it.

She had her back pressed flush against the door, wanting nothing but to run back to her own home. But it wasn’t like before. Seokjin knew who she was, who Hoseok was. As much as it made her sick, Jungkook’s house was the safest place she could be. “I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll ask the servants to prepare you something,” Jungkook said.

“I’ll handle it,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “Just leave me alone.” Belle quickly wiped her cheek, walking through the door and slamming it behind her.  

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[nihilara]

so, i know my carrd is clunky, and messy and bad. so i've decided to make a big masterpost for kuro's hsr au. because as i play it, it is growing, and evolving as i find new things to !!! over. plus i feel it's a bit easier to just have the verse post here on my tumblr anyway where folks can see it easier.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: hamasaki kuro , just kuro please.

𝐀𝐆𝐄: 1000+ , his exact age isn't known. he's legit forgotten it.

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒: favored of the plagues author , cat guy ( express crew ) , killjoy , emanator of yaoshi ( not anymore. ) , more to come i'm sure...

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇: abundance ( previous ), later path dependent on plotting :)

as you know, kuro's home world died.

the planet just could not sustain life anymore, and while it isn't coincidence that yao/shi chose him to be an emanator- it didn't happen until the planet was dead. a husk essentially, for him to implant the power of the abundance within, and bring it back with that alone. making it completely reliant on the aeon, and an ecological horror show of never ending life and growth.

during his time as an emanator, kuro worked to spread the influence of yao/shi to other worlds too. and unfortunately, the xian/zhou was collateral damage to these endeavors. which has earned him not only a bounty, but a permanent ban from any of the xian/zhou alliance ships. the damage he did to them was... comparatively minimal to what he did to the world he was focused on at the time. but it has given him history with certain characters, that is both traumatic, and brief-- enough that it's not necessarily reliant on fine details, for kuro to be a wanted criminal by the xian/zhou and potentially in hot water with the IPC.

the reason he stepped off his path... is unknown. but there's some speculation among those who knew of him. that yao/shi abandoned him perhaps, that he saw the truth of abundance, that it terrified him. the real reason is much too complicated. and he will not discuss it with anyone.

the astral/express & jarlio/VI

kuro didn't immediately join the express, he did wander for a while. it didn't feel right to pick up a new path right away. and despite losing his status as an emanator, he'd maintained his immortality-- though he's yet to suffer the effects of mara, despite his surprisingly long life. only time will tell there.

welt and hi/meko know about kuro's past. and he is accepted a temporary passenger who's job is to help pom pom in keeping the train tidy. though his stay ends up being much longer than any of them anticipated. making a home in a large room of a secondary passenger car. where he has about 6 cats, not including mimi. who he's convinced is hyper intelligent, and has a genuine personality. he gets along with the crew as much as he can. never really putting himself out there, and usually... usually avoiding visitors to the express whenever they come by to see the mc. the only one he will come out to see consistently is ar/genti.

he really wasn't too present for the first arc, but he did leave the train with the other three. and got to see jarlio/VI with mimi. they mostly stayed out of trouble, and sorta just,,, vanished for a bit. found back on the train when it was finished.

the luo/fu, the xian/zhou, and jing/yuan

kuro really does his best to not be a part of this one. his history, as mentioned above, with the xian/zhou is not good. and he has quite the bounty on his head, despite the several of centuries since he last saw the fleet. when he does actually leave to board the luo/fu he wears some extra accessories to disguise himself. but, jing/yuan despite the distraction of the stellaron & phanty/lia... finds him.

it's after this point, that kuro's past and history with yao/shi become entirely public to everyone. and he is almost imprisoned in the shackling prison. something he barely escapes thanks to ?????????????????? then vanishes entirely from the express, along with mimi. hm.

pena/cony, boot/hill & the IPC ( a wip, im playing through it now )

long story short- kuro ends up at the pena/cony. how he gets there is still pretty up in the air. but he does have his own room.

( meaning i will be adding more to this post as i go!!! )

in that span of time however, between the luo/fu and the pena/cony-- he does meet boot/hill. i'm aware his lore is also very unfinished, open, and much of his backstory is really just speculation. but i've got a bit of plotting going, and the two of them are in a bit of an in-between stage at the moment. making the two's meeting entirely possible and,, potentially beneficial to both? also, boot/hill is optimistic, and frankly quite unhinged. where as kuro tends to be nihilistic, and more mellow in comparison. it's a funny sort of interaction, very silly, i love it.

i do wonder if kuro's relationship or opinion of the IPC is also sour. though it's nothing compared to the xian/zhou, kuro's hands are not at all clean. and he's messed up at least one ( smaller ) planet in the past so, hm.

BIG potential for kuro to become a galaxy ranger as end game :)