#i had recurring nightmares about that when i was like SIX even

[a-pirate]

One of the worst parts of abandoment issues is knowing that nine of the ten times they're triggered you're not being ignored/abandoned and yet you still feel like that.

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 3.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. no warning except main characters being dumb and some SERIOUS tension

part six: the dreams and the sunday market ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

xv. the dreams

you were dreaming of kissing jeon jungkook.

  it was akin to a recurring nightmare, the way you woke up in cold sweat after picturing his beautiful lips on yours in your sleep. ever since the night where the two of you shared dinner, the image haunted you and chased you even in your lack of consciousness. it didn’t help that your day always began at five a.m, leaving you waking up, distraught, and no sun to warm your surroundings. 

  today in particular was not looking to be on your side. you slept through your first two alarms after getting lost in the dream of kissing jungkook on a beach in front of luscious palm trees and golden sand. even worse, it was the day of jungkook’s return to the farm.

  in the hours between your awakening and jungkook’s arrival, your nerves casted away your grogginess. you wondered why you didn’t decline his offer to finish the gate, but remembered he made it clear he didn’t have feelings for you - there should be no problem, then.

  since he was coming in the evening, you had an entire day ahead of you. somehow, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. it was maddening, as if the thoughts of jeon jungkook settled beneath your skin and chased your every move. it was a gloomy day with light showers, but the thoughts kept you warm and you didn’t like it one bit. 

  by 5 p.m, you were wrapped up for the day. it shouldn’t have taken so long, but with your late wake-up and the plaguing image of your childhood best friend, you found yourself sluggish. you decided that you were going to proceed like you’d done in the weeks prior.

  the last thing you wanted to take care of was inspect the garage once more. you’d been meaning to test out the old tractor inside to determine if you could sell it off or not, but it was a problem when the door was stuck in the same place. now, you were outside, wrestling with the garage, once again.

  “i guess this does have to be fixed. . .” you mumbled to yourself, remembering jungkook’s words.

  then, you heard your name being called. it startled you, since you hadn’t had any visitors in quite some time, considering jungkook’s absence. however, you knew that voice from a mile away and weren’t surprised when you turned around, taking notice of him approaching across the fields, coming face to face with the man in question.

  you hastily wiped the beads of sweat on your temple. “hey,” you said when you saw jungkook, who likely wandered to the fields when you didn’t answer the front door.

  “hey, y/n,” jungkook replied, setting his toolbox down by the fence he was to work on. today, he was wearing a black button down over a white t-shirt with jeans. his hair had grown slightly longer since you first arrived to amber valley and you liked the way it fell over his eyebrows. 

  as you always did, you graciously thanked him. “i really appreciate you coming to help me out.” even though he essentially shut down any possibility of you being able to come to terms with any feelings you had. you didn’t say that part out loud. 

  “stop that, you know i just want to lend a hand,” he waved you off and you wondered if that was what you knew. you weren’t sure if that was what your silent agreement with jungkook truly involved, with his persistence and your strong will - two things that were not easily challenged, but crumbled at one another.

"you still fighting with that old thing?" jungkook chuckled softly, looking at the garage door behind you.  

you only rolled your eyes. "i thought i could get it."  

he shook his head, continuing to laugh, and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. “oh, i guess this is the first time i’ve come by in the evening. you’re done work for once.”  

you didn’t realize this fact either and tried to fight a silent panic - you usually had a task that you could pretend to be busy with, in order to distract yourself from jungkook’s presence. then, you began what to wonder what was wrong with you? it was just jungkook. were your vivid dreams really chasing you into acting strangely? and was he not quieter than usual, or were you overthinking things?

  jungkook eventually excused himself to get to work and you decided that you needed to push your barrage of thoughts and questions away. instead, you entered the kitchen and proceeded to make dinner as usual, except a bit extra for your handyman of a friend.

  when you peeked outside after finishing, you saw that jungkook was drilling something into place. he’d taken off his button down shirt at some point, tying it around his waist. you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention, but it didn’t stand a chance against the sound of the drill.

  “jeon jungkook!” you yelled, but he still couldn’t hear you. it was only when you brought your hands to your lips and let out a loud whistle when he finally caught your eye, turning the drill off promptly.

  jungkook shook his head in disbelief, walking towards you with a laugh. “namjoon was right, that is a really loud whistle you can do.”

  “i made dinner,” you said, hiding your nerves. in reality, you knew little could go wrong, as the two of you were sharing meals together for weeks. unless, of course, if he tried setting you up with a friend again.

  “you know, i took you as someone who would be shit at cooking, but you’re pretty good,” jungkook teased, as he left his tools on the ground and walked towards you. “and thanks, of course.”

  you rolled your eyes. “i’m good at everything.”

  “lies. there’s a bunch of things i’m better than you at,” he mused, as he opened the door back inside for you. 

  the half-serious bickering made you drop your shoulders in ease, settling back into the same comfortable atmosphere that you always shared with jungkook. this was still the brat that used to whine if you got a better guitar hero score than him.

  the two of you soon settled into some local gossip. jungkook began telling you about how your grandpa used to constantly predict that the lee family would divorce sooner or later, which was apparently now in progress. you wondered how close he really was to him.

  “i wish we gave him one more summer with the three of us,” you said, as the two of you moved in fluid motions around the kitchen. the movements were natural and almost domestic, with jungkook knowing where all of the plates and silverware was and made it his job to set the table. meanwhile, you began getting the food ready.

  he nodded. “i think he would have liked that. he’s probably happy that we’ve become friends again.”

  the image of your dreams last night flashed before your eyes when jungkook said the word “friends” and you chose to ignore it. 

  instead, you responded, “i’d like to think that we never stopped.” your voice was quiet, unsure of the statement that you just offered. 

  it was nice, the way that you and jungkook managed to pick up your friendship after thirteen years as if nothing happened in between. and, even then, over the past month, the two of you slowly began to grasp the lives you led in the time apart. the people you grew into. somehow, it still clicked.

  jungkook paused, in the middle of bringing out plates from the cupboards. “you know, me too,” he said. “too bad you stopped responding to my letters.”

  this made you also freeze in place, eyebrows furrowed at his remark. “what do you mean? i didn’t stop responding,” you turned around to face him. “you’re the one that stopped replying.”

  “i’m pretty sure i was the last one to send a letter, bunny,” jungkook chuckled, but you sensed some bitterness. “i sent you a letter one spring and then when june rolled around, your grandpa randomly told me you weren’t coming back.”

  you shook your head, lips parted. “i never got a letter.”

by now, you finished setting food on the table. it was a full american-style breakfast, with chicken and waffles, scrambled eggs, and a platter of fruit from the farm. you made a jug of iced tea and set out some water. jungkook’s eyes trailed to the table and his eyes were unreadable.

  “that’s too bad,” he spoke slowly, as if remembering something. “breakfast for dinner?” then, jungkook shook his head, as if shaking the thoughts off, and proceeded to set the rest of the table.

  your eyes widened. “sorry, do you not like it? i thought it would be a good change - “

  “no, it’s not that! thank you, it looks delicious. i love breakfast for dinner,” jungkook smiled. it was as if he flipped a switch and you were itching to know what he was thinking before.

  “if you’re not up for it - “

  “you’re annoying, come sit down with me,” jungkook interjected again, but was playful and rubbed his hands together, ready to dig in.

  you punched his shoulder, which you knew did little damage, but he yelped anyway. sitting down across from him, jungkook began serving the both of you and you didn’t object when he plopped food on your plate for you. it was the same routine that you had before and frankly, it was nice.

  “i just didn’t think it would you’d never come back to town again,” he commented and you were confused, until you remembered what he said earlier. 

  you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “me neither. i don’t know what hapened, i used to love it here. . “ you trailed off, looking around your surroundings and out the window, where the silver of the amber valley sky looked down on you. “i did try looking for you at some point, but you aren’t on social media.”

  jungkook shook his head, pouring two cups of iced tea. “not really. and especially not after i started taking care of jiwon.” he passed one cup to your side, which you quietly thanked him for. “i think i saw you one time online, in early high school, but you looked different and i wasn’t sure.”

  like every teenager, you had a phase of experimenting with your look and went through different kinds of hair colours and makeup styles. now, in your twenties, you’d grown tired of constant change and like your city life, settled for mundane and simple. just before his passing, your grandpa once remarked that you began to look like yourself again.

  “we would’ve still been best friends in high school. i’d keep you around to copy off your homework,” you joked, cutting into a waffle. you weren’t kidding when you told jiwon about how smart jungkook was, as he’d always been since you two were young. though you were academically gifted yourself, you’d held jealousy for the way jungkook learned every hobby you liked at twice the learning speed.

  “aw, i was your best friend?” jungkook banterd, which made you kick him underneath the table. “i’m joking. we’re best friends forever, isn’t what we put on the tree?”

  “oh my god, don’t remind me of that!” your cheeks went hot, as you recalled that memory that jungkook was referring to.

  when you were about nine years old, you and jungkook had the genius idea to carve your names into a random tree by the town square. while doing so, you were caught by mayor kim walking by, who made a big deal out of you kids “defacing” town property. when he scolded you and told your grandpa though, the latter got a kick out of it. 

  the rest of the conversation was light, which was exactly what you needed. in spite of this, jungkook’s remarks about your letters echoed in the back of your mind. you made a mental note to look into his claim - though the said letters from your childhood likely lived in your dad’s apartment, where you had spent your middle school to high school years at.

  midway through the dinner-slash-breakfast, you caught the way jungkook’s eyes were fixated on you and didn’t move. you gave him a questioning look and he sighed.

  jungkook said, “there’s jam on your face.” his tone was pretending to be disappointing, but holding back a laugh.

  “oh, where?” you began wiping your cheek, which turned out to be dry. you continued swiping around, still missing.

  he groaned. “it’s literally right there. by your nose, bunny. come on.” 

  after looking like he was about to simultaneously lose his mind and burst out laughing, his chair creaked loudly against the wooden flooring and jungkook stood up. he made strides around the table over to you and bent down to meet you at eye-level. you jumped at the sudden movement and the fact that jungkook’s face was inches away from yours. he was so close that you could count every single one of his long eyelashes if you tried.

  “it’s right. . .here.” at some point, jungkook ripped away a piece of paper towel from your side and you nearly flinched when you felt his touch on your cheek. 

  he gently wiped away the spread with a tilted head and a crease forming in between his brows, seemingly looking everywhere but in your eyes. you were so close to him that you could hear his steady breathing. you wondered if he was close enough to hear the army marching in the middle of your chest. it was hard for you to breathe yourself when your entire body froze at the contact.

  you managed to let out a whisper, fighting the shiver creeping up your spine. “thanks.”

  jungkook’s lips looked exactly like they did in your dreams. “no problem.” his voice was low and you swore you saw his eyes flash to your own lips, before looking up at you.

  you weren’t sure how long the two of you were still for. the only thing in your ears was the sound of your heart, which was amplified over the ticking of the grandfather clock several feet away. nobody dared to move until the ringing of a cell phone, which caused both of you to jump.

  it was jungkook’s. the phone was sitting on the dining table and it rang because you knew he always kept his phone off vibrate for his sister. when you saw a picture of jiwon and jungkook making silly faces at each other flash on the screen, you cleared your throat and scooted backwards, knowing that jungkook was going to immediately take the call.

  “sorry, one sec,” jungkook eventually snapped back into reality when he saw his screen. he picked up his phone and trailed into the living room to take the call.

  it was time for you snap back into reality, too. you felt stupid and like you wanted to bang your head into the table in front of you. there was no way he was going to kiss you, you’d witnessed one too many reruns of this fantasy in your dreams. you just spoke about how great your friendship was.

  best friends forever. you repeated that in your mind, along with jungkook talking your ear off about how great you and taehyung would look together.

xvi. the sunday market

on the last sunday of each month, the valley closed up most of its main roads for pedestrian access only and the community came out to hold a market in the town square. local busineses came out to sell their usual and offer up fun, seasonal products to buy. your grandfather usually set up a stand, but you found yourself a little too shy to be doing it alone for your first month in town. thankfully, you were wedged between jimin and hoseok, right in between their booths. 

  “honestly, i’m glad you’re with us, y/n. at least we can all smell like fish,” hoseok hummed, as he began unfolding a tablecloth.

  to this, jimin rolled his eyes and continued shuffling through some flyers in his hand. “we’re not even selling fresh fish this month.” in front of him was instead a variety of different seafood products, such as artisanal spread, marinated seafood in jars and sustainably sourced caviar. 

  meanwhile, you were proud of what you scrambled together last minute. cartons of eggs, jugs of milk, yogurt, and quick-growing crops like microgreens and radishes. you took your job very seriously and wanted to make a good impression on the townsfolk.

  “thank you, y/n! hoseok, can you put some sunblock on for once? sheesh, you’re going to get burnt!” hoseok’s mom, mrs. jung, was one of your first customers that day and happily took home some fresh basil and eggs. her sneer at hoseok was clear as day, even underneath her floppy hat, snapping at her son from right beside you.

  hoseok groaned. “mom, i’m almost thirty. stop!” and still, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. 

  mrs. jung ignored him. “bye, y/n! bye jiminnie!” she blew a kiss to jimin, which made hoseok grumble.

  you laughed at the interaction, as you fanned yourself with one of jimin’s flyers. it’d been less than an hour since the market began and it was still early in the morning, so the square was sparse. you could even look down to your left and still see seokjin’s booth on the other side of the market, beside the mayor’s booth manned by namjoon. 

  it was now the end of june and marked your first month in town. the skies were clear and bright, a sight that you promised yourself you wouldn’t take for granted. every morning, you woke up before the sun did and by the time the morning came up to greet you, you were filled with vibrant energy for the day.

  “hi unnie! you look like you’re in a good mood today!” it was jiwon, holding onto peanut with one hand and her teddy bear in another. she was stylish for a kid her age, wearing jeans and a trendy graphic t-shirt that you suspected was jungkook’s influence.

  taking a cautious scan of your surroundings, you let out a quiet breath of relief when you saw that jungkook wasn’t around. he was definitely nearby, though, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let jiwon roam around with the puppy with anyone else.

  you greeted, “hi jiwon! you’re up early.” it was about nine in the morning and if you were a kid, you would not be a morning person during summer vacation.

  “yeah, oppa made me come with him,” she yawned extra loud, clutching her leash close.

  to your right, jimin cleared his throat. “where is jungkook?” he asked.

  “he’s avoiding y/n,” jiwon sang, like it was a normal thing to say out of the blue.

  your ears turned pink. you thought the two of you were good. it’d been over a week since your dinner with him at the saloon. now come to think about it, since your last encounter, jungkook had yet to make another return to the farm to finish whatever gate he was repairing - you stopped keeping track at some point, just letting him come over and continuing to hope that he found something new to fix. 

  hoseok pinched his nose. “jiwon, you can’t rat my boy out like that,” he whispered, side-eying you, even though you could clearly see. 

  to add fuel to the fire, you noticed the way jimin was scoping his surroundings. his eyes narrowed over to a corner, where you finally saw jungkook talking to mayor kim. when you did so, he looked over and made eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds, before darting away. before you knew it, jimin began hollering.

  “hey! jungkook! come here!”

  “what are you doing?” you hissed, taking a step towards jimin’s booth. “i thought we made a truce, park jimin.”

  “trust me, i’m helping you out.” jimin’s cheeky grin made you take a deep breath, holding back profanity for jiwon.

  you weren’t sure if the boys knew anything about what was going on with you and jungkook. hell, you weren’t even sure what was going on with you and jungkook. ever since he began detatching, you’d become confused and kept second guessing if you said or did something wrong. maybe coming by his house randomly was weird, but he did the exact same thing. the way he randomly suggested taehyung as a date for you also sent mixed signals.

  jungkook and mayor kim looked towards your direction, taken aback. then, jungkook gave the latter a polite smile, before walking in your direction. great.

  “did you need help with something, jimin?” the tight-lipped smile and tone coming from jungkook indicated he didn’t want to help with anything at all.

  jimin’s smile remained on his face, as he shook his head. “have you seen y/n’s, uh, cilantro? so fresh.”

  you turned to jimin, dumbfounded, but also irritated that you got roped into the conversation. meanwhile, jiwon batted her eyelashes, looking back and forth between you and her brother. her innocent demeanour was almost convincing, but you knew you were dealing with a jeon here. 

  “oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, y/n,” jungkook said. 

  bullshit. your tablecloth was bright yellow, compared to jimin and hoseok using the same white for their booths. you were wearing red lipstick and a sundress. he definitely noticed you. this made your jaw tense, annoyed that jungkook was acting different out of nowhere.

  “yup,” was all you could say, a dry tone settling in your voice.

  jungkook raised his eyebrows. “late night or something?” he asked, as if your voice indicated fatigue.

  “no.”

  “your eyebags say otherwise.” usually, jungkook teased you with a certain playfulness, but he instead matched your dry tone.

  hoseok immediately interjected, “oh, haha! ha - uh, haha!” he forced laughter out as if pushing with brute force, looking at you and jungkook strangely. the question in his eyes read what’s wrong with you two clear as day.

  you shrugged and luckily at that very moment, a small family began walking in your direction and approached your booth. on the other hand, jungkook suddenly became fascinated with the infused syrups at hoseok’s table and found the energy to talk his ear off about the ingredients. you missed the way jiwon shot a dirty look at jimin, as if this was his fault.

  “why are they acting weird?” jimin whispered to the smaller girl, as if buddies gossiping on the playground. 

  jiwon only rolled her eyes and huffed, walking away with peanut. she murmured things under her breath about adults being useless, wondering why she had to wake up early all to witness a dumpster fire between you and jungkook. she walked away, muttering to herself something about how she was determined to prove she was the only one with brains around here.

  𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx @shellyyy177

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 5)

Summary: While meeting Dean's parents went smoothly, the reader's may be a different story. Meanwhile, Dean confides in Eric he knows a secret of his that sheds light on Eric's past actions and the boys set their plan in action...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 6,500ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: 👀

_________

Dean POV

I woke with a jerk, eyes flashing open as a small surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I sighed, closing my eyes as glimpses of a nightmare ran through my mind. I was honestly surprised at how long I’d gone without one.

I wondered if Y/N ever had that recurring dream about not being able to get to Max in time like I did with Sam. I turned in bed, scooting closer, searching for her warm body to curl up against. When my arm reached out to find her though, all I discovered were cold sheets. My eyes popped open again, the clock on her nightstand showing it was almost six in the morning.

I was due to get up in half an hour but Y/N could sleep in. Given how she’d told me just last week she was a night owl, my thoughts wandered to not so great places.

Either she was missing or she was so stressed about her parents visit she was losing sleep over it. The fact she lived in fucking Fort Knox led me to believe it was the later.

I stretched in bed before wandering over to the closet, smiling at the previously empty side. I stayed over most every night, even if the most intimate thing we did was a cuddle. We hadn’t officially said I had a drawer or anything like that but I had a space in the closet for some personal items. Mostly it was fresh underwear and socks but Y/N had hung up a few things that hadn’t belonged to me. Just things she thought it’d be “nice to have” around.

Including a dope ass robe that looked way too freaking comfy on the chilly morning. I threw it on and wrapped my arms around myself, humming as the fleece warmed my cool skin. I wasn’t exactly a robe guy and suspected this thing cost more than some people’s rent, but it did feel damn good.

I trudged through the dark house, ears perking up as I made my way towards her home gym. Piano notes filled the air and I saw light spilling through a cracked door, a soft melody breaking through the quiet.

“Endless,” breathed out Y/N, smashing her fingers against the keys, her eyes closed, face contorting like she didn’t like that sound. “Endless,” she sang softly again, moving her fingers to a lower note, her face less critical. 

I didn’t want to disturb her and tried to close the door. Unfortunately, it was enough to prick her spidey senses because next thing I knew, a hardcover notebook was smacking me in the forehead.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, covering her hands with her face as she shot up. I rubbed my temple and picked up her papers, Y/N moving my hand away before I even straightened up. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She guided me to the couch in what looked like a studio, taking off quickly and returning in less then thirty seconds with a small first aid kit. “I’m fine, I swear.”

She ignored me, dabbing a cotton ball with alcohol before lighting pressing it against the cut. I winced, Y/N frowning as she found a butterfly bandage and stuck it on. 

“I am fine,” I said again, taking hold of her cheeks, smiling sleepily before pecking a light kiss on her lips. “I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. I shook my head, pulling her to sit in my lap.

“I’m not. You’re kind of a badass. Plus with an arm like that I’m thinking we get you in as backup QB. If you ever got sick of singing, I got a job lined up for ya.” She didn’t smile like she usually did when I teased her though. “What’s wrong? It’s one little bump is all. No biggie.”

“I woke you up early and you need your sleep and now I’m sure you have a headache on top of that and I have my stupid parents coming in this afternoon and you’re not going to be to stay over like normal because god knows what they’ll say and I’m so behind on the next album already and-”

I put my hand over her mouth to stop her, Y/N blinking as tears welled up in her eyes. Fuck, she ripped my heart out when I saw her like that. 

“Listen, listen,” I shushed her, Y/N wearily watching me. “I am fine and I’ll tell you if I’m not. You are exhausted, honey. You have not caught up from when you were on tour for half the freaking year. I want you to go back to bed and I’ll talk to Eric, make sure your morning gets cleared. All I want you to do is get some sleep. Someone from your team can grab your parents and entertain them until tonight where I will come over to have dinner with you and then I will stay over like always. You’re not going to worry about any other shit. Promise?”

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around me in a deep hug. “My parents stress me out whenever they visit. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t say sorry,” I said, pressing my lips to her ear. “I just want you to get some sleep. Now do you promise?”

“Promise,” she mumbled, burying her face in my neck. She sighed softly and it was only a few beats later I realized her breathing had evened out, fast asleep. My girl really was at the end of her rope. As gently as I could, I carried her out and upstairs, tucking her into bed before changing. Downstairs, I filled up my thermos with coffee and made Y/N some pancakes she could reheat for lunch later.

“Good morning,” said Eric quietly. I glanced left, his body drenched in sweat, most likely from the gym. “You’re up early a lot.”

“My day starts at eight on the dot, sometimes sooner. I get fined if I’m late,” I said, taking a mug from beside the sink and filling it up for him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a long sip. “You guys get Tuesdays off, right?”

“Yeah but I normally work it and review game film. Gotta set a good example for the team.” I wrapped up the pancakes on a plate, putting a sticky note on top. “I turned off Y/N’s phone. She needs to catch up on sleep. I know she’s busy but please let her sleep late today and cancel any morning meetings she has. And make sure her parents stay away until this evening. She’s worried about them and I told her I’d be here when they get here.”

“Can do.” I nodded, washing up the pan and taking another sip of coffee. “Dean.”

I turned around from the sink, Eric leaned back against the counter. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry again for how I treated you before. Y/N’s always deserved someone good. I’m glad she finally has that with you.” 

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to him. Eric shook it, a quiet beat passing. “Do you think you and Sloane have a chance of working things out?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t even want her forgiveness. I just want her to know my reasoning and that I regret it. I just need her to know that I never thought she was weak or incapable and especially that I didn’t string her along. I always loved her. Even if I fucked it up for good.”

“I’m no relationship expert but why didn’t you go to her in the hospital?” I asked, Eric taking a seat at the island with a sigh. “Like, is there any possible reason you could tell Sloane about why you left?”

“You blamed yourself for your brother’s abduction when there logically was no reason to. For years you did.” He stared me down and nodded. “Now imagine that feeling of guilt but you know you fucked up. The intel was bad and you were distracted and imagine Sam or Y/N were taken, beat to hell, every inch of skin battered. And it was 100% your fault. Your job was to protect them and you screwed up. Would you be able to walk in that room and sit there, your mistake staring right back at you?”

“Were you abused as a kid?” Eric’s eyebrows shot up fast before his jaw clenched. 

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” he snapped. 

“Survivors often blame things out of their control on themselves because they’ve been conditioned to,” I said, raising my chin. Eric closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“You did a background check on me,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t use Sloane for it if it makes you feel better. No one knows except me and I plan on it staying that way. I wanted to know who the fuck you were was all.” Eric nodded, inhaling sharply. “Does Sloane know about your dad?”

“No and it doesn’t matter. I screwed up-”

“You probably ran away because you’re conditioned-”

“I’m a fucking solider, Winchester. My sack of shit father has been dead and gone for a very long time. I did not run away from Sloane because of some childhood trauma crap. I was a shitty person. Case closed.”

I stepped closer, looking down at him with a hard face. “Y/N and I were barely adults when we got our trauma and it’s still inside us. Don’t you fucking dare try and say it had no effect because it did. It made you a protector. It also made you expect Sloane to do or say awful things to you when you did go in that room. You’re smart enough to know I’m right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eric grit out, shooting daggers at me. “I wasn’t there when she needed me and that’s that.”

“Do you know why Y/N let me in? Because I talked to her, because I was vulnerable. Big bad bodyguard and you’re too scared to tell the girl you love all your secrets.”

“So what? I tell her and nothing changes so what’s the fucking point? I still hurt her.” I grasped his shoulder, shaking my head at him.

“Buddy, we both love two badass strong women. You’re right, Sloane could tell you to fuck off. Or she can finally understand and maybe forgive you. A guy like you isn’t the bad guy, no matter how much you tell yourself.”

Eric lowered his head, his shoulders rising when he breathed deeply. “I can’t. I’ve never told anyone. Shit, my own sister doesn’t even know.”

“Well you can practice with me if you ever decide you do want to,” I said, patting his back. “Take care of Y/N for me today.”

He hummed, Sloane waiting out front by my SUV when I left.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked. Sloane rubbed her eye, opening the car door.

“I was working on understanding Y/N’s security protocols,” she said, still rubbing her eye.

“At six in the morning?”

“I wake up early. Is that a crime?” she snapped, her eyes red rimmed. I glanced back at the house, Sloane glaring at me. “What?”

“You overheard me talking to him, didn’t you.” She kept my gaze, only a slight tick of her jaw giving her away. “You’re in jeans and a t-shirt today.”

“So what?”

“So maybe your outfit choice doesn’t have to be the only change you make. You could talk to him-“

Sloane held up a hand. “I am not talking about this with anyone, including you. Understand?”

“And the world thinks I’m the emotionally immature one around here,” I mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat. Sloane slammed the door shut and I winced. I could only hope the rest of the day turned around.

Late Afternoon

“Winchester.” I blinked my eyes, noticing the conference room was mostly cleared out. Benny waited by the door as I grabbed my playbook and quickly followed after. “You alright, man?”

“Yeah. Just need to get some sleep,” I yawned, my phone buzzing in my pocket. My agent was having a field day today, fending off offers left and right from companies wanting to capitalize on my recent popularity. Thankfully Brad was a good guy and he knew what I was and wasn’t willing to endorse. 

And any mention of Y/N meant they got an automatic rejection. No questions asked. I wasn’t about to profit off the fact people knew she was my girlfriend.

My phone buzzed again and I reached into my pocket, surprised to see Eric calling. “Uh, hey. What’s up?”

“What time do you get done with work?” Eric asked. I shrugged, waving for Benny to go on ahead of me back to the locker room.

“About an hour. Why?” Eric sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“Listen.” The phone got quiet for a moment, faint footsteps in the background. But then I heard it. Heard it loud and clear.

“Liars and cheats and oh you dirty, dirty sneaks! Like I’m the stain on your perfect life making it bleak!” Y/N sang loudly through the phone, her voice raw while her fingers slammed piano keys.

The noise dissipated, Eric clearing his throat. “Good news, she wrote a song for her record this morning. Bad news, her parents showed up early on their own and they had a massive blowout. I guess they saw the cake you guys made for Max and freaked.”

“...You wouldn’t call me with this unless you were concerned, would you.” 

“Girl’s always used music to process her feelings. But she’s sort of bawling in there and I’ve promised in the past to not interfere when it comes to her parents.” I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. “She’d rip my head off and probably yours if we went in there and talked to her. She’ll either be calmer in an hour or be halfway through another song.”

“I’ll be there in forty five,” I said, heading for the locker room. “Don’t tell her.”

I could feel his hesitancy on the other end. “Did you say not to tell her you’re coming over?”

“Yeah. Let her stay in her studio. I need to talk to her parents. Alone.” Eric was silent for a beat and then another. “Tell me the truth, buddy. Does Y/N exaggerate about her folks or do they say some fucked up shit to her sometimes?”

Eric breathed heavy, a door closing, the sounds of the outdoors surrounding him. “They already don’t like you. Her mom called you a man whore and her dad flipped that she wore your jersey the other night. So I guess you got nothing to lose.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me. But they will change their act if they want to be part of their daughter’s life. They can’t hurt her like that everytime she sees them.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, kid,” said Eric, opening a car door. “I’ll pick you up at the stadium.”

“I distinctly recall you hating my guts.” Eric scoffed, a sliver of a smile on my face. “Oh, I forgot. You loved me from the start, right?”

“Don’t push it, Winchester,” he said. “Get back to work. I’ll see you in a few.”

One hour later I was bouncing my knee in the passenger seat of my truck, Eric pulling into Y/N’s driveway. If my conversation with him over the past twenty minutes was anything to go by, Y/N had been far too kind regarding her parents.

They’d blamed her for Max’s kidnapping. Said it straight to her fucking face when she was eighteen years old. She was a kid and they told her it was her fault. Seven years later they told her they wished she was the one that was dead and they were burying. Called her a brat and diva for being upset on the day of Max’s funeral. Blamed her for paparazzi invading their moment. Blamed her when she tried to talk about Max or hear stories from when they were kids, told her not to speak his name, not when she screwed up his life. The day they “buried” her brother, their relationship had been done for good. They had no problem taking her money though, playing the warm set of parents when they needed to. 

Y/N was not about to be forced to hide in her own home just to get away from people who clearly didn’t give a rats ass about her.

A strong hand gripped my shirt collar as Eric parked, my gaze shooting over my shoulder.

“Hey. I fucked up because I was too protective of Sloane. I don’t want that to happen to you,” he said. I nodded, Eric still leery. “She still loves them, Dean.”

“I know. And if she hates me for what I’m about to do, then she hates me. But her parents need a wake up call and I’ll be the bad guy. Like you said, they already hate me so no harm no foul.” 

“They’ve been by the pool,” said Eric, dropping his hand. I slid out and gave a nod to a few of the security guys in the shack I recognized. I walked around the side of the house, nerves flaring up like this was a freaking super bowl for some reason. Sure, I’d like it if Y/N’s parents were friendly and she had a good relationship. 

But she didn’t deserve their shit. I just hoped it didn’t turn into a screaming match immediately.

I inhaled slowly as I found the older couple relaxing under the umbrella on the patio. 

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester,” I said as I approached, both their heads turning toward me. “Y/N’s boyfriend. I think the three of us need to talk.”

“Excuse me son but I don’t think we have anything to discuss aside from the fact you're not the kind of man we want dating our daughter,” said her father. I sat down in an open chair at the table, leaning forward with a smile.

“See that’s funny. You think you have a right to have any say in your daughter’s love life. Regardless of the fact the media portrays me as someone I’m not or that your daughter is thirty two years old, you think you have the right based on what? That she’s your flesh and blood? As if you gave an actual shit about her. It’s just us, no need to pretend.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” said her mom, voice on the edge of something dangerous I didn’t like. “Who the fuck are you to say that crap? Of course we love Y/N-”

“There you go being funny again,” I said, narrowing my eyes, looking between them both. “I would never blame my daughter for something that wasn’t her motherfucking fault. I wouldn’t wish her fucking dead or call her names or forbid her from speaking of her missing brother. I certainly wouldn’t snap at her for making a cake to celebrate her brother. If you two really hate Y/N that much, just stay the fuck away. I’m sure she’ll keep giving you as much money as you ask for.”

To my surprise, they didn’t get angry. Y/N’s mom simply stood and wandered off towards the pool, holding a hand over her mouth. Meanwhile, her father closed his eyes, lowering his head.

“At least you have the decency to not lie about it,” I said. “You people are fucking disgusting to come into your daughter’s life like nothing’s wrong when you’ve hurt her as much as those kidnappers did. He was her little brother. She knows she was late to pick him up. You have no idea how hard she’s working to start to feel like it was simply something out of her control.”

They were both silent, still not looking at me.

“Where the hell were you two? Why wasn’t it your responsibility? Why not the parents of Max’s friend? The police? The damn kidnappers? Why’d it fall on the shoulders of an eighteen year old girl? Because you’re weak people, that’s why. It’s why you keep blaming her. You have no idea how lucky you are she’s strong. Telling her you wished it was her in the ground? She might have followed up on that, you morons. She deserves to be able to remember Max openly. She deserves to believe he’s still out there somewhere, even if you don’t. She deserves parents better than you two. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here sooner to say it to your faces.”

I stood up and headed for the back door, her mom making a sort of hiccup sound.

“We never forgave her for not picking Max up on time,” she whispered, lowering her head. “When she gets…I get so angry at her when she wants to bring him up.”

“So much of our lives changed because she wanted to sing. Our privacy. People always offering fake tips about Max. It hurts so much and we keep blaming Y/N for that pain,” said her dad. “We know we shouldn’t but we don’t know how to stop.”

“Try some fucking therapy,” said Eric, walking around the near side of the house, my eyes darting to his. “This is your official notice. You are both banned from this property and contacting Y/N until further notice. Pack up your things and you will be escorted to your hotel.”

I stared at him wide eyed, Eric raising his chin, ignoring me. 

“Now!” he barked. Y/N’s father rose slowly, something steely about him.

“My daughter ask you to do that? Because I’m not leaving without her wanting me gone,” he said. Eric stepped closer, getting in his face.

“My job is to protect Y/N from threats and I am sick of you two coming in here every year and fucking breaking her heart. Get some damn therapy and deal with your shit or never, I mean never, fucking contact her again. You want something, you deal with me. Now get the fuck out.”

Roughly five minutes later Eric and I watched them both be driven down the driveway, my eyes still stuck on him. 

“Keep staring like that Winchester and I’ll think you have a crush,” said Eric, giving a satisfied nod when the gate closed again.

“You said you’re not supposed to interfere with her parents.” Eric shrugged, giving me a smirk.

“She wants to fire me, she can. But those assholes send her spiraling and I’m sick of standing there and watching it. Kiddo was a fucking shell for months after what happened the day of the funeral.”

“I thought I said I had it handled.” Eric spun around and headed back for the house. “Eric.”

“Just cause you can do something on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” he said, opening the door, holding it open. I slid past him into the foyer, Eric patting my shoulder. “Go take care of her. I’ll face the music later.”

“Doesn’t seem your style to hide,” I said, Eric spinning back around to head out, pausing in the doorway. 

“I have an appointment…therapy,” he said quietly. “Probably going to be a waste of time.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Eric shrugged. “I’ll put in a good word with the boss for you.”

“Just focus on taking care of her. I can wait,” he said, leaving and pulling the door shut. I closed my eyes and ditched my bag by the base of the stairs, walking quietly down to the studio.

I knocked once, poking my head inside, frowning as I found the room silent.

And Y/N nowhere in sight.

I flinched when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, a small body hugging me tight. “Y/N, we should-”

“The team in the shack texted I should watch the security video in the back. I heard the whole thing.” Her head burrowed between my shoulder blades, squeezing me hard. Soft, mumbled cries filled the air, my heart aching for her. Slowly, I turned in her embrace, her face hiding away in my chest when I came to face her. I gently shushed her, one arm around her back, one around her shoulders as I tucked her head under my chin.

“I’m sorry I upset you but I’m not sorry I set them straight. You don’t have to put up with people that won’t take accountability for their actions. So be mad with me and Eric but we saw how much it hurt you. We don’t regret it. The only-”

“You think I’m mad at you guys?” she whispered, raising her head, puffy, red rimmed eyes staring back. A quiet laugh slipped past her delicious lips, her head shaking as she laughed harder. “You’re such a goof, Winchester. That was…that was what they needed to hear. Thank you for saying it when I couldn’t.”

“Maybe they’ll get some help for themselves and things can get better,” I said, even if I didn’t believe they would. I’d happily be proven wrong but I wasn’t counting on it. Y/N shrugged, not seeming to have faith in the idea herself. “Can you play me something?”

“I just wrote two new ones,” she said, catching my head shake. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Nothing particular. Just want to sit and listen to you poke around if that’s alright.” She smiled, taking my hand and leading me inside. She left me at the couch and wandered to the piano bench, rolling her shoulders with a heavy inhale. 

“You like rock and grunge,” she said, tapping a key, her head cocked as she did it over and over. “Think I could pull off a few alt rock songs?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want to, sweetheart. Pretty sure you could throw bagpipes in a song and make it go number one.” I caught her smile as her fingers started to dance, hips starting to sway in her seat.

“Normally I come up with music before the lyrics,” she said, something rhythmic and heavy in the air. “You know people think because I’m the pop princess that’s all I listen to. Never would think Metallica inspired a good number of songs on the last album.”

“You partial to Zeppelin?” I asked, her smirk stronger, the puffiness around her eyes going down.

“Everyone loves Stairway and for good reason but I’m a Kashmir girl,” she said, my eyebrows raising. “Surprised?”

“No. Think I fell in love with you a little more is all,” I chuckled, getting up and taking a seat on the edge of the piano bench, watching her fingers move quickly, a hint of both songs coming through. “I am sorry about your parents, sweetheart. I wish things were different.”

“Me too,” she said, flurrying her fingers before abruptly pulling back. “But I won’t ever completely forgive myself for Max as long as they’re in my life. At least how they are right now. S’like Sloane said, even if you're strong, sometimes you want someone else to be strong for you.”

She bumped my shoulder, a coy smile sneaking onto her face. My hand found hers, clasping them together. “We take turns and it’ll work out how it’s supposed to.”

Her head rested on my shoulder, nodding once. “I don’t want to be sad anymore today. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” I said, kissing her temple. “People will probably take pictures of us though.”

“I really don’t care anymore,” she said, squeezing my hand. “If I want to go out with my boyfriend, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“That’s my girl.”

Sam POV

“Eek! Y/N and Dean went out! In public!” squealed Cecilia from the kitchen island, showing her phone to Sebastian’s event planner. The woman in her mid-thirties gave the phone a passing glance, probably wishing she could plan a party for one of them instead of fucking Seb. 

He was even more of a dick whenever it got to close to him hosting one of his stupid ass parties at the house.

But the piece of shit’s desire to mingle with the rich and famous on a regular basis meant Max and I had a real shot at our plan working. I worked at the end of the island, near the open planner with a tentative guest list, my back blocking the camera.

All I had to do was slip the piece of paper from my pocket into the planner and hope the event planner added Y/N and Dean to the list without too much thought. 

Without getting caught of course.

And assume that the super detailed planner lady would just go ahead and invite two of the most popular people on the planet right now willy nilly.

That was all assuming Max didn’t get caught in his part of the plan. Or too hurt. Or dead.

Shit, we really were laying it on the line for this one.

A few moments later, we all heard the loud thud, our heads snapping towards the front of the house. I moved fast, taking the split second opportunity to place the paper in the planner. Then I was off the second Max groaned, playing the role of concerned friend. 

Sebastian knew how close we were, that we considered ourselves brothers. Even if we were both scared shitless about the consequences of breaking a rule, he knew I’d abandon my “job” duties to go to him if he was hurt. So I rushed through the front hall to where a few security guys were already surrounding a grunting Max on the floor.

“I’m fine,” grit out Max, even though we could all see the growing bruise on his cheek. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to hit his head. He tried to sit up, a few of the security guys urging him to stay down. Ironic considering they were the ones they’d kill us if we ever got caught.

“What the fuck…” said Seb, coming out of his office, staring at the scene before him.

“He fell down the stairs, boss,” said a guard, Max brushing the guy off and sitting up, wincing a bit. 

“I said I’m fine,” said Max, his movements proving that was a lie. He was hurt. Hopefully just bumps and bruises. But that was key.

If we wanted a believable story, one of us had to get fucked up in the process. And unfortunately for Max, he was beyond shitty at rock papers scissors and had to take the fall. Literally.

“He needs to rest,” I said, forcing my way into the crowd, helping Max to his feet with another wince. I didn’t wait for a response and started taking him towards our room, Seb’s tsk making us both freeze.

“Andy, make sure he’s alright and then Max should rest the remainder of the day. Sam, I trust you can complete all unfinished chores yourself?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I said, reluctantly letting Andy take my place and help support Max. I watched them disappear down the hall, Seb turning to another guard, Frankie.

“Explain yourself.” The guard stared at Sebastian, his thick swallow heard loud and clear. Sebastian stepped closer, until his nose was jammed right against the young guard’s. “Why the fuck did you punch my house staff in the face after he fell?”

I stared at Frankie, Sebastian smirking when he saw my face. 

“His knuckles are scrapped, Sam,” he said, turning back to Sebastian. “Question is why the fuck do you think you can touch my fucking property?”

“The guy doesn’t respect me,” said Frankie, finding his voice. “Doesn’t laugh at my jokes, don’t call me sir.”

“He knows his role and abides by it. You on the other hand need a reminder,” snapped Seb. “Sam, dismissed.”

I quickly went back to the kitchen to finish my vegetable prep. On the one hand, Frankie was about to have a world of shit thrown his way which normally I’d feel bad about. On the other, I hated his guts and he’d hit Max for no damn reason so he deserved what was coming to him.

“Take a tylenol in six hours and ice that ankle,” said Andy, patting Max’s shoulder from where he looked him over. We shared a quick look before Max headed for our quarters, the event planner shaking her head.

“That’s why I always say you need a stair runner on those grand staircases, be damned the design.” 

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” said Andy with a role of his eyes. Cecilia eyed me up and down before looking at her phone.

Weird…

“What do you think about maroon?” asked the planner to her just as I caught Seb storming across the hall to his office.

Yeah, today was not about to be Frankie’s day.

It was late when I finally finished with the chores. I was a better cook than Max so I normally handled dinner and prepping snacks and lunches. But doing all of Max’s cleaning on top of all of mine meant I was exhausted and starving for my own dinner.

“Sam.” I turned my head in the dim hallway, Sebastian sitting in his office, sipping on a glass of what I guessed was very expensive whiskey. “Come in here, please.”

I swallowed. The last time I had a late night conversation in that office, I was being branded by the poker in the fire place. God, if he was going to kill me hopefully it’d be fast.

I entered the room, pulling the door shut when he waved his hand. “Yes, sir?”

“How’s Max?” I clasped my hands behind my back, lowering my gaze. 

“I haven’t seen him yet. I’d assume he’s resting.” 

“You’re a hard worker, Sam. Always appreciated that about you. Max too,” he said, standing with his glass. He spun slowly, taking a sip. “You know what I like most about you boys though?”

Oh God. I was so dead.

“You’re loyal,” he said with a grin. “Sure, it took us a little bit to get there but you were young men. I made plenty of mistakes when I was twenty too. Now…now you boys know your place and I haven’t done a single thing to either one of you since. That’s the kind of trust I know we have. It’s loyalty. Something I seem to be lacking with some of my men.”

I raised my head, Sebastian finishing off his drink. 

“Frankie’s…no longer with the operation. That kind of boy wants my head. All he sees is how to get rid of me. And I won’t say I liked the way he looked at my daughter.”

Okay. Good news, Frankie was dead and buried out in the woods out back. Bad news, Sebastian was in one of his killing moods which normally didn’t stop at one body. Mob bosses were like that.

“It’s too bad you and Max aren’t suited for this kind of work. You’re the kind of boys I could trust to be successor,” said Seb, refilling his glass from the bottle on the desk.

“That’s very flattering of you sir,” I said, his chin raising.

“Those are my issues to deal with though. You and Max on the other hand, I can promise that even when I step down and am long gone, you’ll always have your places in this organization. You were a big investment and it’s paying off. I don’t want all that effort to go to waste,” he said, clasping my shoulder. Fuck, I could literally taste the bile pooling up from my gut.

“Thank you sir,” I said quietly, fighting back a shake when he ruffled my hair.

“If only Cecilia were a man. This kind of work doesn’t lend itself to women…although she does have enough rage inside her to handle it,” he said, walking over to his desk, my eyes widening for only a split second when I saw the planner there. “She fucking slipped that singer and Dean Winchester’s names on the guest list. Can you believe that? The balls on that kid.”

Fuck. It didn’t work. It didn’t-

“I guess it’ll make her happy though,” he sighed, cracking a smile when he looked at me. “And I wouldn’t mind meeting Dean Winchester. I bet I could get him to sign my jersey in the game room.”

“I know how much you enjoy the LA Wolves. I know your work is…stressful,” I said carefully, Seb allowing it. “Perhaps Miss Cecilia wouldn’t be the only one to get some happiness out of the guests.”

“This is why I like you, Sam. Always looking out for the big guy,” he chuckled, nodding his head. “She practically begged when I asked her about it earlier so I suppose if I get a benefit out of it too that’s a happy accident.”

I forced a smile, Seb humming to himself. 

“Alright. Go and tend to your friend. I have work to do.”

“Yes sir,” I said. I was quiet in the house as I made my way to our room, closing our door with a quiet thud. Max sat up from the twin mattress, a shiner on his eye and some bruises covering his arms and legs but otherwise in one piece. “It worked.”

“It worked?” asked Max, a smile growing on his face as I nodded. “It fucking worked!”

“Yup. Now we just got to hope they accept,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “Although…we may have a problem with Cecilia. Dickface confronted her about the names, thought she slipped them in. She covered for us. The way she looked at me in the kitchen earlier, I think she knows I did it.”

“The kid is smart and knows her dad’s in the fucking mob. Maybe she’s got a gut feeling something’s not right. Let’s just hope she keeps her mouth shut until after the party,” said Max. I tried not to worry about her right now. I think she knew enough to not say anything.

“So now we just wait for them to accept a random ass invitation to a party for a guy they’ve never heard of.” I sat down beside him, Max still all smiles.

“Have a little faith, Sammy. We made it this far. Who knows? Two weeks from now we could be free men.”

Free or dead. One way or the other, I had a feeling our stay at the Sebastian household would be coming to an end very soon.

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

[wakandas-vibranium]

Wednesday Nights || Part Five (final)

Pairing: outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI 👁️, time skip, angst, smutty smut, dirty talk, oral(f+m receiving) v fingering, praise kink, creampie

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: The final chapter is among us! Thank you to everyone who’s read, engaged, and just been so sweet. I hope you’ve really enjoyed reading this story! Please like, comment, and reblog!

part one

part two

part three

part four

Six months in, you were beginning to consider Jackson your permanent home. The medical research group you were a part of was always on the move, never staying somewhere for more than a month or so. And now, sadly you were the only one of your squad still breathing. Because of your concerns for Joel and the immune girl, you weren't able to truly appreciate it. Tommy mentioned that they left a week before Christmas, and it was now approaching July. You were worried. What happened to them? Were they safe? 

Was Joel? 

You were devastated for twenty long years, convinced that your newfound family—Tommy, Joel, and Sarah—had lost their lives. It was only Sarah, as it turned out. You laid awake in bed at the new house Tommy and Maria had set up for you and silently sobbed. Instead of being bitten and turning into a monster, your baby girl was shot. According to Tommy, a no-backbone havin’ soldier opened fire and shot at Joel and Sarah.

You had barely slept now that you knew Joel was alive. You endured a recurring nightmare in which he was attacked by a swarm of infected and turned into one. You'd wake up a cranky, sweaty mess. You pleaded each and every night for six months straight in Jackson. Please, please please let Joel make it back safely.

Today was actually pretty good. You worked a shift with Tommy at the stables. Spending time with the animals usually made you feel better and kept your mind off the whereabouts of your missing love. One of the horses accidentally tripped you, and you fell flat on your ass. Tommy, of course, thought it was hilarious and laughed his ass off once he made sure you were alright, and so did you. You and Tommy's laughing fits reminded you of old times. Better times.

As usual, dinner was warm and delicious. You ate with Tommy and a few others you were warming up to. You chatted with them for a while before heading home to shower and get ready for bed. You arrived home, which was a few houses down from Tommy and Maria's, just as the sun started to set.

You stood under the warm spray, your thoughts racing about Joel and whether he was safe. Joel, Joel, Joel. He was all you were going to think about until he returned, maybe even then. You washed and rinsed a handful of times before standing underneath the trickles of water, contemplating. If Joel hadn't come back by the end of the week, you were going to go look for him and Ellie.

You told Tommy a month ago that you wanted to go out and look for Joel, and you asked him to go with you. He would have said yes if Maria hadn't been eavesdropping. She burst into the kitchen with a sleeping newborn in her arms and immediately put a stop to it.

You were furious at first, but you realized it was too risky for the father of their newborn child. Soon after, you decided to go at it alone. If just one person was prepared to risk their life for Joel, and that person was you, then so be it.

Right before you exited the shower, you turned the nozzle to the off position. Taking a towel from the nearby rack, you started to dry off. You sat on the edge of the tub with your leg propped up and lathered yourself in shea butter from the small container you'd gotten from Maria as a peace offering.

You were in the middle of lathering your arms when you heard the sound of heavy boots approaching your door. Moments later, someone rushed inside without knocking and slammed the door shut behind them.

What. The. Hell?!  

It had to be Tommy, you thought as you moved to stand. Maybe he had news about Joel that couldn’t wait ‘til mornin’. 

"What is it, Tommy?" You called worriedly from upstairs. You frantically reached for your linen bathrobe, slipped into it, and knotted it tightly around your waist before rushing down the stairs, stopping short at the sight before you. "Is Joel oka—" 

Your heart skipped a beat.

The love of your life was standing there, his shiny chestnut-brown eyes peering at you in disbelief.

You smiled sheepishly at him and said, "Hi." 

For a brief second, you were that timid young woman calling the hotline all those years ago. Oh, God , you thought. Still, with just a glance, he can make you feel nervous even after all these years.

With a watery smile, he cleared the lump in his throat and said "Hi."

What seemed like hours turned out to be only sixty seconds. Neither of you could remember how to put one leg in front of the other. You both stood there frozen, eyes roaming curiously over each other's figures. 

Gobsmacked.

"I thought you were dead," you admitted brokenly, unable to keep the tears from spilling down your cheeks.  

Joel exhaled sharply, fighting back his own hot tears, and uttered, "Darlin’.” That endearment was enough to make your heart sing and your tears flow quicker. He took a calming breath before continuing, "I thought you were dead."

Joel finally pushed his legs forward, and within three big strides, he was in front of you, sweeping you up into his big arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you both let out soft cries.

With slow, deliberate steps and a vice-like grip against your back, he walked you over to the couch and sat down, maneuvering you onto the cushion beside him.

You two must have been talking for hours. The sunset had long gone. Joel was very reluctant at first, but with reassurance and admittance of your own past wrongdoings, he finally opened up. He told you everything, starting with the evening of his 36th birthday.

When he got to the part about Sarah's death, he choked up a bit, but he didn't weep. It seemed like he had healed from it. At least enough to be able to talk about it without breaking down. He was reticent to tell you, but he did say that not long after she died, he made an attempt on his own life. You told him you were glad that he flinched. He told you about Tess — who seemed to be a remarkable woman. You wished you could have met her. When he talked about Ellie, his eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. The same way it did when he used to tell you stories about Sarah.

"Why do you keep doin’ that?" Joel took a break from informing you about the last three months to ask you. 

"Doin’ what?" you asked, raising your brows at him.

"You make a face like you're tastin’ lemon for the first time every time I mention the fireflies." 

“Oh, that ,” you muttered, fighting back an eye roll at the mention of the terrorist group, “I had a few fist fights with their leader.” you revealed, wincing slightly at the surprised look he gave you. Before the apocalypse, you weren’t really one for confrontation, let alone violence.

“You fought Marlene?” Joel asked, stifling an incredulous chuckle. 

“Yes,” you huffed. “That bitch killed a lot of my people. Blowin’ up unnecessary shit and whatever else she called herself doing. Almost blew me to smithereens a few times.” 

“I take it you don’t like her all that much…”

“Hell no,” you answered, a little too loudly. “Next time I see her, imma kill her dead.” 

Joel shook his head at you fondly and brought a hand over his mouth as he let out a hearty chuckle. He knew you were going to love the next part of the story.

He told you about Marlene's plans for Ellie, and you assured him that the cure would have failed and that everything would have been for nothing. When he shared with you that he shot and killed Marlene, you gasped so loudly that you choked on your own spit. He chuckled softly as he rubbed your back to help relieve your choking. You burst out giggling at the situation's irony. It made perfect sense that the love of your life would wind up killing your worst enemy. 

"Joel Miller," you said in between wheezes, "Just when I thought I couldn't love you any more than I already do..." 

He wiped the tears from his eyes and gazed at you as his laughter came to a stop, asking in a hushed tone, "You still love me?" 

"Are you kiddin’ me?" you smiled softly at him as you intertwined your fingers with his. “There isn't a universe that exists where I don't love you."

Taken aback by your tender remarks, he couldn't find enough words for a response, so he just bent his head down and caught your lips in a gentle kiss. 

The moment your lips touched Joel's, it felt like a match lighting a fire that was hidden deep in your belly. It was like both of your bodies remembered each other. You palmed the side of his head as you deepened the kiss so Joel pulled you in closer by your waist, and you moaned in his mouth as his tongue ran against yours. You climbed into his lap, eliciting a low groan from him as your heat brushed over his half-hard cock.

You broke the kiss, gently cupping Joel's face in your hands so you could see his beautiful chestnut-brown eyes. The eyes that gazed back at you looked nearly the same, just a tad bit sadder than you remembered. You were digging the gray hair he was sporting. He looked even better and more seasoned. You even had a few grays yourself.

"Fuck me," you whispered against his salt-n-pepper beard. 

"You’re gonna suck my cock, then I’m gonna eat your pussy, and then I'm gonna fuck you nice and hard. Just like we used to, okay?"

Fuck, he still knew what to say to get you dripping for him. You swallowed thickly, repressing a whimper. “Yes.” 

You unbuckled his belt as he slipped his shirt up and over his head. He flung his shirt to the other side of the couch before reaching for and untying the knot in your robe. He hummed with satisfaction as your breasts sprung free, bending forward to suck a nipple into his warm mouth as he pushed the fabric over your shoulders.

His skin was warm and smelled of fresh soap and whiskey. He must have shared a glass with Tommy before his little brother broke the news. You moaned his name softly as he cupped your other breast, tugging on your free nipple with the tips of his fingers. He let them go as you continued to move down his body, your hands going down his hairy chest and against his taut, pink nipples.

He was broader than you remembered, and where his abs used to be was a nice little pudge. He had the most irresistible dad bod you'd ever seen. Everything about Joel used to turn you on, so it only seemed typical that that side of you didn't change. You pressed a kiss into each of the scars that were visible on his chest. You had no doubt that Joel was a survivor, and this only served to confirm what you had always believed.

Joel raised his hips slightly, allowing you to tug off his boxers and jeans. His cock, still fat, was fully erect and oozing. Your mouth immediately began to water at the sight. You missed it. You missed having it in your mouth and inside your pussy, but most of all you missed cumming on it.

Seeing him there, all slack and attractive on your blue couch, sent an unexpected rush of warmth through your entire body. Joel smirked as he watched you eye his dick hungrily. “When’s the last time you sucked a cock?” He asked.

“The week before your 36th birthday,” you replied as you grasped it in your hand and stroked it slowly. 

Joel's eyes flashed in surprise, and you interrupted him before he could ask you another question.

"You are the only one who gets to touch me," you vowed, gazing into his lust-filled pupils. You knelt between his spread legs as you brought the tip of his cock to your lips and gently kissed it, he grunted softly in anticipation. You tongued the slit, licking the precum that had gathered there, moaning in pleasure at the sweet-tang flavor. Your clit throbbed with desire.

You lifted your head and glanced up at Joel through your long lashes, where you caught a peek of his adorable dimples as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. You licked long, wet stripes up the sides of his shaft before pulling the tip of his cock between your soft lips.

"Shit," he cursed, his moans growing louder as he felt the utterly delicious heat of your mouth. You flicked your tongue around the tip before taking him deeper into your mouth, meticulously bobbing your head up and down, relishing the low whines trickling past his lips. Joel was considerably more vocal than you remembered, but you weren't complaining. It only made your pussy drip more for him. Your cheeks contracted as you took him as far as you could, and you gagged as the crown of his cock slipped down your throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said, groaning loudly.

You let his cock fall out of your mouth with a loud pop sound, stroking it fast with your left hand while the other fondled his balls as you shot him a devilish grin. You still had it . 

Joel stared down into your hungry eyes and licked his lips. He commanded, "Rub that pussy for me," and then brushed his thumb across your wet lips. You happily obliged, sliding your free hand between your thick thighs and slowly rubbing your sensitive bud, surprised as to how soaked you already were. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as he cupped the back of your head, bringing your mouth back to his hard cock. He groaned deeply as you took him back between your lips, sucking the tip with precision. You braced your free hand on his thigh and massaged your clit even faster as he fucked up into your mouth. 

“Shit,” Joel grunted as you tightened your lips around him and took him deeper down your throat, breathing through your nose, “Just like that, baby.” 

Joel's moans were driving you insane. You had forgotten how sensual and filthy they sounded. It was like music to your ears. You came unexpectedly, moaning loudly around Joel's cock, the vibrations damn near sending him over the edge. Your thighs shook violently, causing you to fall slightly forward, drawing him deeper into your mouth.

"Did you just cum?" he asked, pulling his spit-slickened cock out of your mouth in the same expression of surprise as you.

It had been 20 years since your last orgasm. You didn't let anyone touch you, even though many tried, and you didn't even touch yourself. Joel was the only person you wanted to touch you, and since you thought he was dead, you no longer had sexual urges. 

“Yeah,” you replied hoarsely, nodding as you panted from your abrupt orgasm. 

Joel moved lightning-fast, shifting your positions. You were now leaning back against the couch, and he was on his knees in between your legs.

Joel pushed your legs open wider and draped one over his left shoulder as he tenderly kissed up your supple legs; once he got to your thighs, he dug his teeth into the meat there, just enough to make you cry out in pleasure. 

He licked his lips in hunger as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger. The way your pussy glistened in the dimly lit living room made his cock twitch. "So wet for me,” he praised, stroking his cock with his free hand. 

"Only for you, Joel," you giggled, softly gasping as he rubbed his lips against your dripping cunt. 

His hot breath caressed your pussy just as his wide tongue teased your folds with soft licks. Your heart thudded against your rib cage, and you jerked slightly, anticipation getting the best of you.

Joel thrust his tongue up your wet slit, diligently licking his way up to your clit, flicking it a few times with the tip of his tongue before locking his lips around the bundle of nerves, driving you to let out a high whine.

Your head thrashed from side to side and your hands clawed at the arms of the couch as Joel dipped his middle finger inside your entrance, lips still tugging firmly at your clit. 

"I love the way you sound for me," Joel growled as he added another finger, his words barely discernible as he refused to let go of your swollen clit.

“I’m about to cum,” you warned, squirming as the pleasure made you incapable of lying still. You tried to close your quivering legs as your second orgasm ripped through you, but Joel’s grip on your thigh tightened, pinning you to the couch as your climax had you thrashing about.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed as he drew his fingers out, his tongue lapping at the new rush of wetness, soothing you through your orgasm. “You taste even sweeter than I remember.” 

"Joel," you begged weakly, unable to catch your breath. “Baby, please — just fuck me." You panted harshly, pushing his head away from your sensitive cunt as you struggled to recover from your climax.

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, moving back to give you enough room to turn around, “Come here, darlin’.” You rolled over so that your ass was facing him and bent over the couch cushions with your knees on the floor. Joel was on his knees behind you, aligning his fat cock with your dripping entrance.

He swirled the tip of his cock in your juices before pressing into your hole, oh so slowly. “Goddamn, you’re tight,” he grunted, breath hitching as he slid in all the way to the hilt. You wrapped around him like a vice. He needed a minute and to be honest, so did you. It’d been 20 years since you last had his cock and your body needed to adjust to his fullness again. He stretched you so good it hurt. 

Joel rocked into you with deep, slow thrusts, driving you mad. 

“Please fuck me harder,” you begged, wanting to feel more. You felt like he was holding back and you didn’t want that. 

He pulled back, driving into you with one strong push. He smacked your asscheeks a few more times before setting a brutal pace that forced you deeper into the couch cushions.

"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned blissfully, rocking back to meet his forceful thrusts. The sound of his hips snapping against your ass filled the room instantly.

“You still take my cock so well, baby.” He moaned loudly, flattening his palm against the small of your back as he drilled into your tight pussy, stretching you even more. You screamed in pleasure, sinking your nails into the couch cushions. 

Joel was pounding your walls tirelessly and your orgasm was making its way downtown, walking fast. 

"I feel it," Joel hissed as he felt your walls tighten around him. "Be a good girl and cum for me." As if his permission was all you needed, you did just that, your body jolting as you creamed all over his cock. Joel fucked you through your orgasm, not letting up as he chased his own climax. You whimpered, eyes welling up with tears, toes curling and uncurling as he brushed against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuck!” Joel cursed as he jerked and spilled his seed inside of you, making you spasm as his warm cum filled you up. 

You both panted wildly, staying connected as neither of you dared to move. After a few minutes, your breathing returned to normal and Joel pulled out with a low hiss, cleaning you up with his shirt before putting you on your back against the couch and laying partially on top of you.

You encircled him as his head rested on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. For quite a while, neither of you said anything. Simply enjoying each other's company in the comforting silence. You snuck a peek at him to check if he'd fallen asleep, but he was wide awake, thinking.

His left eyebrow still furrowed when he was in deep thought. You traced small circles into his arm as you asked, “What are you thinkin’ about?” 

“Decompress until there’s a mess.” he mumbled, grinning like a mad man in amusement.

You both burst into an obnoxious fit of giggles. You were laughing so hard that a deep ache emerged in your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time you laughed this hard. 

It's comforting to know that after 20 years and all the hardships you've been through, you still have the ability to make each other laugh like maniacs. 

“Good one Jay,” you snorted and you both cracked up again, both cackling like the wicked witch of the west. 

[popatochisssp]

happy late thanksgiving, poppy!!!! i hope you spent your day relaxing! also, has nobody asked for the full transcendtale story yet? if not then consider this my formal request lol! xx

I had almost forgotten about it, but you're right! So here it is!

Transcendtale

Monsters are at war with humanity.

Or at least, with one human.

A sadistic, single-minded human has set their sights on the Underground, locking the monsters within into an endless cycle of RESETs.

In the beginning, most monsters were only peripherally aware that something was wrong—recurring déjà vu, nightmares that felt like memories, knowledge of things they didn’t remember learning.

But as the RESETs persisted, this awareness grew stronger and stronger, compiling across many, many repeated timelines until people really were remembering things.

The natural change in their behavior only seemed to encourage the human to keep repeating the cycle, almost as if to see what would be different this time—strengthening the awareness further.

Monsters began to talk to each other about it, realizing they’re all experiencing the same; realizing that the looping of time is actually something that’s happening.

A lot of secrets end up out in the open, once people start talking.

The machine back behind Sans’ house is one such secret, actively recording data on the anomaly that seems to be tampering with the timeline and providing solid proof that what they’re all going through isn’t a shared hallucination.

No one blames Sans for not coming forward with that information earlier, of course, being that his memory transfer across RESETs is so poor.

The guy can pick up context clues and read a room fast as anything, and being able to check on that data when he felt something odd was going on helped catch him up to speed, but in terms of actually remembering…

Well, it seems that the strongest recall of memory across RESET timelines is linked to levels of Determination, and there are many things to be said about Sans but ‘determined’ is not one of them.

Still, his data is helpful.

Monsters begin to try to organize, trying different strategies to combat the human’s relentless assault against them.

Gradually, the Underground becomes a siege, or something like it, a handful of the same days repeated over and over again to the point that the monsters living them—now remembering them all—feel like years are passing.

In spite of trying everything they can think of, the human manages to thwart them at every turn—or if they do manage to turn the tide for a short while, the human comes back again and again until they force their way through.

Potential solutions escalate, from attempted diplomacy to guerrilla tactics to the height of desperation.

It would be one thing if it was only the (repeated) extinction of their species they were fighting against, but another entirely to know that when the human finishes with everyone else and kills Asgore, the entire universe ends—not a single timeline in thousands extending past that point.

No one’s been left alive to see what happens, but inevitably everything ceases and goes right back to the start, for the killing to begin anew.

It has to stop before then, whatever the cost.

The human is far too strong for any one monster to handle, even groups of monsters, and they know that because they’ve tried, and the human will always come back, learn their patterns and break through.

It’s no job for any monster.

They consider that they may need a god instead.

Asgore, the strongest boss monster of their number, absorbs the six human souls, becoming something terrible and powerful and deeply unnatural.

………

It takes the human under a hundred tries to get through him.

The monsters are at a loss, for awhile.

Their biggest and strongest boss still isn’t enough…

…can they make a stronger one?

Normally, this would be a ludicrous thought—just making a stronger monster—but Sans isn’t the only one whose strange secrets are out, now that everyone remembers RESET timelines.

Flowey’s busted too—at least, to the extent that he’s an artificial monster brought to life by dust and DT.

Initially, he was on the human’s side for………reasons………but being killed a few hundred, thousand, whatever times has a way of changing one’s loyalties, and he’s been (begrudgingly) siding with monsters for awhile.

So when the suggestion is laid on the table—make a new bigger and better monster—Flowey has a couple cents to throw in on the matter.

That still wouldn’t be enough.

He fought the human once before, and even something like him plus all the human souls they have couldn’t keep them down for good. If they want that to work, they’re going to have to find a way to make it really tough, and good luck with that because it’d probably take the equivalent of all monsterkind to have a shot at taking that killer down.

…The equivalent of all monsterkind.

That…is an idea.

A terrible idea, horrible, unthinkable, no one wants to discuss that further.

Until.

The RESETs continue.

Death, again and again and again.

Suffering, with no hope of an end anywhere in sight.

Desperate times…do call for desperate measures, and eventually even the most ghoulish way out of it is given its due consideration.

So…what if they do use all of monsterkind?

What if everyone pooled all of themselves—their magic, their souls, their hopes and dreams—everything, together with the human souls.

Could that be enough?

With the few faint memories Flowey has of a pacifist timeline, he posits a less than confident, “Maybe?”

It’s not a no, and it’s the best they have to go on.

They have to try something.

A vessel of some kind will be needed, something capable of containing all of monsterkind. They have an excellent roboticist in Alphys, who has already made one robotic body for a monster to occupy and is relatively confident she can do it again.

The logistics will be different from that, of course. It was simple enough to make a shell for a willing ghost monster to occupy, but they’re all out of ghost monsters capable of taking on a body, so…

It’ll have to be piloted…the way Flowey occupied his vessel.

Monster dust laid onto the vessel and brought to life by DT.

Someone needs to volunteer to do it, to be resurrected into a soulless body after their death, to give intent and sentient function to the vessel of everyone’s hopes and dreams and use their power to bring an end to the perpetual terror hanging over monsterkind.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Undyne is the first to volunteer.

…Then Asgore.

And Toriel.

Papyrus.

Mettaton.

Many others.

It won’t take.

The human runs through several presumably confusing yet intriguing timelines where the Underground has gone empty, save for Flowey trying to distract them and Alphys in her lab trying desperately, fruitlessly to get her mysterious project to work.

At least, before they kill her and begin it all again.

Eventually, Alphys manages to at least figure out what the problem is, why the vessel keeps malfunctioning and the volunteer monster’s dust never seems to properly take.

She determines that when DT extract is introduced to the volunteer’s remains, it awakens and joins with whatever existing DT that monster had in life. This amount is typically small, as most monsters can’t handle high concentrations of DT, not the way humans can.

But this time, it happens to be doing the same to the vessel—a construct made of nearly every monster in the Underground.

Flowey was a different equation, monster dust added onto an inanimate vessel with zero DT of its own, and now with a vessel overbalancing the amount of the unstable element, it’s not working.

But it could.

If…

If the volunteer monster were someone with extremely low DT, so that there would be less to activate when the extract was introduced…

Suddenly, everyone in the room is looking at Sans and he is less than enthused.

Dying over and over again was one thing—he was just about used to that, at this point—but dying and living again? As something neither monster nor human? With the grand responsibility of avenging the entirety of monsterkind, nearly literally carrying everyone’s hopes and dreams on his shoulders?

That sucks.

There was a reason he didn’t volunteer, but now it seems like he’s being voluntold—nobody’s saying it, but…he has to, there’s no one else with DT as low as his and everyone knows it, the numbers from the machine being what they are, the human already bearing down on them for yet another assault, they’re all counting on him to agree.

So, he says—

“NO.”

Papyrus refuses this option point-blank.

There is no way in hell that he is letting his brother do that alone—he will have to be there too!

He is spoken to and encouraged and pleaded to be reasonable. All of monsterkind’s peace is at stake, of course he cares about his brother, but he must see that everyone is making sacrifices to end this horrible cycle once and for all.

And yes, certainly, Papyrus can see that. Obviously, he can—he’s made a lot of moral concessions himself over the past few time-looped years, he and Sans both have fought and been killed and willingly sacrificed themselves, and all manner of other terrible things, over and over and over again.

And they’ve been happy (for a given definition of ‘happy’) to do so!

But this is the line.

His, anyway.

He will not let Sans do this thing unless they can find some way for him to be there too, and he’s not budging—so figure something out.

(Sans could’ve protested and just willingly damned himself, but grateful for Papyrus’ interference, he…didn’t.)

So fine, apparently this is the hill that everyone will die on—again and again and again and again—if they don’t ‘figure something out.’

The problem is now how to make it so that Papyrus can ‘be there’ after he chronologically needs to have been incorporated into the vessel with all the other monsters.

Well… his soul needs to be there.

Does he need that to exist? To be present?

Sans won’t have that and he’ll be around, if this works the way it’s supposed to.

Flowey doesn’t have that and he’s around.

Maybe…

Maybe there’s a way to take a snapshot of a living monster—a scan of their knowledge, their memories, their experiences and thoughts and personality—and save it, like a program, or…an AI?

It wouldn’t have a soul but clearly that isn’t a requirement for sentient life, functionally it should be all but identical to a person’s continued existence.

…It raises a whole lot of ethical and philosophical questions, certainly, but if it can be done, it could be a very, very good thing.

After all, monsterkind was more or less going to be gone after this, a Pyrrhic victory to finally end their never-ending nightmare at the cost of all their lives.

This way, they could be preserved, in a digital space or a virtual reality, after their physical bodies and selves were gone, and that’s worth something, isn’t it?

At least a notch above total, permanent extinction.

Many monsters agree, previously resigned to total cessation and hopeful to carry on in some form, to have scans of themselves done when the tech is sorted.

Papyrus is of course among their number, and entirely too smug about it since all this was his idea…or at least, Alphys wouldn’t have developed it without his ultimatum, so it’s basically the same as being his idea!

And ultimately, with the assurance that he won’t be alone on the other side…

Sans agrees to volunteer.

The human’s final timeline is a very different experience than what they’ve become used to.

Sans, resurrected into a body filled with truly godly power, is their only opponent, one they never would have had a chance to beat.

With ease, he removes all of their options—refusing to allow them to FIGHT or to use MERCY. He blocks their path, corrupts their SAVES, and severs their connection to whatever entity has granted them to power to do what they’ve done…permanently.

The human falls, like a puppet with its strings cut, and simple as that…

It’s all over.

The barrier is broken, almost as an afterthought, and the few remaining monsters that can go up to the Surface.

Monsterkind itself exists almost entirely virtually now. As a species, they’re on the down-low with regards to humanity, off the grid, as there’s only (currently) three among their number who exist physically and trying to establish anything official with so few feels…trivial.

Some monsters are looking forward to obtaining robotic bodies of their own to begin interacting with the surface world, but others are content to remain digital.

It’s not exactly a happy ending…but it’s not an ending, and monsterkind has transcended from one phase of existence to the next, and will adapt accordingly.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans)

A soulless consciousness inhabiting an exoskeletal body that at least mostly resembles his old one—a favor from Alphys—shining chrome and white plating with prismatic flecks of rainbow that catch in the light. Heavily dysphoric about his body and averse to seeing ‘himself,’ he's always covered up and tends to avoid reflections.

No longer reality-bendingly strong, without the power of the human souls, but still in possession of the condensed power of all monsterkind and fully capable of unleashing terrifying strength and magic if needed. …He would rather not.

Because he lacks a soul, his emotions are distant and muted, and because he was resurrected and not scanned in great detail, his memory is mostly intact but can be spotty—especially with regards to things that happened between RESETs.

Spends a lot of time thinking about personhood and existence—is he who he was before, now that he doesn’t have a soul? Can he claim those memories, that self, or is he too different? Does he even count as ‘alive’?

Trying to find meaning in his current state of being, roaming the Surface and seeking small pleasures and maybe the hope of some kind of inner peace out in the world.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus)

Technically not The Original, a scanned digital copy of everything that made Papyrus…Papyrus—and completely fine with it, entirely bypassing the philosophical questions his brother dwells on. As far as he’s concerned, he’s himself: he has all of his thoughts and memories and feels like himself, so he is! Easy, why make it so complicated?

Exists mostly in a virtual state and can traverse through and access most any electronic device, but he can also manifest physically as a hard-light projection via any device that emits light. He has access to most of his brother’s systems and can communicate or project himself through him as a conduit…unless said brother has intentionally blocked him out

A bit different than he was before all the RESETs, a little looser with his moral code and more of a wisecracker—he lived a lot of years under siege and had to adapt to an enemy that really couldn’t be better and didn’t want to try, and filling in for the jokes his brother had become too downtrodden to tell

Spends his time everywhere and nowhere, surfing the ‘net and making a splash as a holographic DJ and periodically checking in on his brother to make sure he’s as okay as he can be—basically doing everything he wants to do, whenever he wants to do it

…Possibly nurturing a slight god-complex, but mostly just enjoying a new phase of his life with near-limitless access to anyone, anything and anywhere, totally untethered by all of his previous mortal limitations (…okay yeah, it’s a god-complex, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it)

[kindoffruity]

Smitten - Final Chapter

Summary: Neteyam is all patched up, it's time to mate.

Warnings: This is definitely not canon compliant, this is my world. This chapter is technically rated M. Now, I have incorporated enough stuff rated T to balance out for those of you who are not into smut. Because let's be honest, not everyone likes it. With that, I marked it "-The Bond-" to signal when there will actually be sex. Also it's pretty long.

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Smitten: Final Chapter - Bond - Both Perspectives

Aonung learned about six new things about Neteyam in the days he was injured.

 First, Neteyam was not a morning person. 

Every morning, Aonung would wake up to the sun creeping in. Neteyam would be fast asleep in his arms, Aonung could barely escape without Neteyam sort of whining. “I need to go..” Aonung would whisper trying to break free from his sleeping lover's arms, “No.. Just five more minutes.” Neteyam would sleepily beg. But it was never just five minutes. Aonung had fallen for it too many times, giving in to five more minutes he would wake up an hour later to his father yelling outside of his home. It always left him rushing and running around, even while he ran around, Neteyam would sleep peacefully. 

Neteyamn would usually wake up confused just before he needed to actually move, he never actually recalled Aonung leaving the bed. He usually rolled over to Aonung’s spot and bundled in real tight.

Second, Neteyam would sometimes get nightmares. 

It wasn’t often, but twice in a row, Aonung was woken up to Neteyam shouting and clutching his chest. It would take Neteyam hours to fall back asleep, usually they took a walk on the beach to pass the time. “I’m sorry I woke you.. You can go back to sleep, I will be fine.” Neteyam would reassure him that he could go to sleep, but Neteyam still had bandages on his stomach. Aonung worried that anything could happen, the stitches could come undone. He didn’t need to sleep that much. “What was it about..you had the same dream yesterday?” Aonung would hold him from behind and Neteyam relaxed against him. 

“Since I was younger.. I’ve had a recurring dream.. More like a nightmare, I guess. We are at war,” Neteyam starts his eyes closing as he recalls the dream vividly as it has haunted him since he was 15. “We are gathering materials, ammunition and weapons, we are supposed to keep watch but we don’t. We go to help the warriors get the guns, we should have kept watch- they attack us.” Neteyam takes a deep breath, opening his eyes and promising to himself that it’s not real. “In my dream, I was shot. I have never seen the end of the dream, I usually wake up as soon as the bullet hits me. It feels so real sometimes.. But I know it’s not.” Neteyam expressed, he was holding onto Aonung’s arms to ground himself down. 

“You must think I am childish, having these silly dreams. We have not been at war for sometime- let us go.” Neteyam had never shared that nightmare before, he was embarrassed to be so vulnerable. “I don’t think you’re childish.. I’m sorry that you have those nightmares. I wish I could protect you from them.” Aonung genuinely means this. Neteyam can only think that Aonung is a great listener that makes him feel safe.

“Growing up, I had a nightmare where I was drowning. Ironic, right? Because I am a good diver now. But I am in the ocean, and I am trying to swim up. However, no matter how fast I kick my legs, I am not moving. I am stuck in the same place, feeling helpless and unable to take a breath.” Aonung explained, “But right before I pass out someone grabs me and yanks me out of the water. I never get to see them, I never even get the opportunity to thank them. I’d like to thank them one day.” Aonung wanted Neteyam to know he wasn’t crazy, sometimes even he had dreams that scared him. 

“It was probably me, I’m pretty much a hero.” Neteyam joked, bringing up Aonung’s hand and pressing a kiss to it. “You might be right, Forest Boy. But I think those baby lungs of yours would have collapsed.” Aonung teases, though part of him feels like it could have been Neteyam. 

“Knowing that, I’d still go to save you regardless.” Neteyam admits with a small smile, turning around in his arms for a hug. Aonung knows Neteyam means it, while it is endearing the thought scares him. Aonung knows that if it came to him, Neteyam would sacrifice himself for him. 

Thirdly, Neteyam did not know how to be taken care of. 

Despite the obvious injuries that he had retained, Neteyam was adamant about making himself useful. He would try to sharpen Aonung’s spear for him, or set aside his armor and riding gear. Neteyam should have been in bed resting, but would get up to clean, organize Aonung’s things and would even leave the Marui limping with his bow and arrow, practicing to polish up his skills.

It was probably the second time Aonung could recall a serious argument. 

He had returned from the reef, as usual, he carried a shell or something pretty that reminded him of Neteyam. He had caught Neteyam outside, firing his arrow against a specific part of a tree as target practice. Aonung wouldn’t have had a problem with it if Neteyam hadn’t tried to climb the tree to gather his arrows. 

Neteyam nearly slipped, wincing as he pulled out the arrow from the tree and tossing it back on the ground so he could continue. 

“What are you doing?” Aonung was annoyed, he didn’t even bother to hide it. “I am practicing, I do not wish to be soft by the time I heal.” Neteyam would explain as he jumped down off the tree to his feet. Neteyam tried not to wince as his legs hit the ground, he knew Aonung would have a heart attack. Aonung didn’t understand him, he needed to always be ready. 

“That is enough.” Aonung warned him, clearly just concerned. “You are not my parent, I love you. And I would do anything for you, but you need to respect that I need to do this, I cannot be cooped up in a house as if I am a damsel.” Neteyam didn’t turn back to look at Aonung as he picked up his arrows. 

“If you cared about  me, you’ll put your bow down. I don’t care how often you practice once you are healed- but you will never heal if you are out here climbing trees.” Aonung tried to be level-headed, he did. Neteyam turned around, his bow at his side as he stared at his lover. “If you cared about me, you’d let me do what I need to do.” Neteyam countered. Aonung growled at his lover, dropping the vibrant pink shell he had collected for his lover. 

“Why are you so stubborn? You are not at war! You do not need to be constantly on edge, this is extreme even for you. You have nothing to prove!” Aonung shouted, he couldn’t recall ever really yelling at his lover. “You do not understand! Aonung, I cannot lie here like some useless thing- I can never explain my thought process. This is just how I am, I need to be useful. I need to be strong. This is a symbol of weakness!” Neteyam pointed to his injury with regret, “if I was stronger, it would not have happened!” 

Ah, there it was.

Neteyam had blamed his injury on himself. 

“Ma’Neteyam.. Come here.” Aonung sighed softly, opening his arms up to his lover. Neteyam dropped his bow and immediately attached himself into the others arms, hugging him tight and burying his head in his chest. Aonung smelled like saltwater. Weird, he never thought this scent would be home to him. “Do not blame yourself for your injuries, you did very well for being on your own. You must give yourself credit. I never once thought less of you, in fact, I admire your strength, I wish I could be as strong as you.” Aonung ran his fingers through his braids with a small smile as he held him close. 

“I know I can’t force you into bed.” Aonung needed to think of something that would work for both of them. “How about we train together? You can target practice, but with me here so I can get the arrows for you. This way we’re both happy. You won’t hear me complain about your injuries and you get to practice.” Aonung decided to compromise, Neteyam was stubborn and he wasn’t going to take that away from him. 

“I’d like that..” Neteyam felt spoiled as Aonung kissed his forehead and then retrieved every arrow for him for the next few hours until he felt satisfied with his training for the day. 

Aonung could admit, he didn’t realize how much he needed to polish his climbing skills until Neteyam was behind him laughing at him.

Fourthly, Neteyam seemed to love his tattoos. 

At night, when the couple should have been sleeping. Neteyam would often spend time tracing the series of lines that adorned his arms. Aonung would pretend to sleep while his finger seemed to admire every droplet of ink. Neteyam did this when he couldn’t sleep, “I wonder if it hurts..” Neteyam would talk to himself quietly. 

Then his attention would drag to the tattoo on his chest, his fingers were more delicate there as the ink was still fresh and even a bit tender as it was the newest piece to adorn his body. “Protecting home?”  Neteyam questioned, his words were slurred as if he was ready to pass out while his fingers guided over the ink. Aonung had taught him the meaning of the different tattoos and placements, there were so many that Neteyam would summarize as easily as possible. Aonung tried not to smile as Neteyam finally thought of the reef as home, though the Forest was always his home. Aonung respects that. 

This whole thing made Aonung’s heart melt, he couldn’t tell Neteyam he was awake the whole time. Neteyam had fallen into a nightly routine of tracing the ink on his body. Aonung would wait until the finger stopped moving all together, a minute later usually he would hear a soft snore and he knew Neteyam had fallen asleep.

Aonung’s eyes opened up to admire his sleeping lover, planting a kiss on his head. He knew one day Neteyam would kill him for pretending he was asleep while he did these cute things. Aonung wouldn’t dare tell him anytime soon. 

Fifth, Neteyam loved all gifts. 

Aonung had been in a relationship briefly, it was difficult for him because nothing he had ever done was good enough by their standards. Once he had a shell thrown back on the ground because “anyone could get a shell”. Those moments always stuck with him. It was why Aonung worked so hard to get the nicest things, he’d only get the best for Neteyam. 

But Neteyam was grateful for everything. 

Aonung had returned home once with a singular flower, it only grew in a specific cave so it was unique. Aonung was eager to give it to him because Neteyam was at this point just about fully healed. Except, on his way back to give him the flower, he had been tackled by some kids and it dropped, one accidentally stepping on it and squashing it. 

Aonung knew it was an accident, so he didn’t get upset. 

“Teyam, I’m home.” Aonung called out as he stepped inside, squished flower in his hand. “Welcome back! Look at the bandages, gone. Stitches, removed.” Neteyam was practically running around now that he wasn’t injured anymore. (Plus Aonung couldn’t be mad if he was all healed and running around).

Aonung swore he had leaped and jumped in his arms. “I take it my mother did a good job with you?” Aonung asked with a laugh as he held him close. He gave him a tight squeeze, just celebrating the others' health. 

“What is that? Is that for me?” Neteyam asked, reaching for his hand he pulled the squished flower out of Aonung’s hand. “Well- it was but.. Some kids squished it- I can get you another one.” Aonung didn’t know why he felt nervous that Neteyam was going to be upset or hate the flower. 

“No, it's perfect. I love it. Thank you so much for thinking about me.” Neteyam accepted it with a large smile, pulling away towards the bed and taking a seat on the ground to grab a box. Aonung stared wide. He hadn’t expected him to be that eager for a squished flower. 

 Neteyam had saved every single gift, no matter how small it was. It was all there in this box. “You saved it all?” Aonung asked stupidly, his mouth hung open as he watched Neteyam pull out little gifts from years ago when they first met. There wasn’t much from that time, but a rock and a few notes that they had passed along. 

“Yeah, I save everything you give me. Like this, you probably don’t remember but years ago, you gave me this scale. Remember, we didn’t know what it belonged to, only that it glowed in the night.” Neteyam held up the scale, probably the same size as a pearl. “You know.. I think I must have always had a crush on you.” Neteyam looked up at him with the largest smile as he held it out to him. 

Aonung was so in love, he dropped down to his knees and immediately hugged Neteyam, practically squishing him with all his weight. “Why are you this perfect?” Aonung never thought he would have gotten this lucky, Neteyam treasured even the dumbest things he had given him. Of course he was appreciative of a squished flower. “You always bring me the nicest gifts.. It really brightens my day to know you’re always thinking of me.” Neteyam admitted, just laying underneath the other with absolutely no protest. 

Aonung loved adorning Neteyam with all sorts of gifts, but there was no greater satisfaction than Neteyam saving even the smallest things. Aonung could see that Neteyam was starting a collection of shells and sea glass. Aonung would need to create a space for him to place the collection. Aonung buried his head in Neteyam’s neck.

They spent at least an hour just laying on the ground and cuddling while going over all of the items. “Which one is your favorite?” Aonung asked, admiring the assortment he had gathered for his lover. “Probably the crown you made for me.. I never get to wear it but I love it so much.” Neteyam admitted grabbing the headpiece and placing it over his ears. 

Aonung loved the way it looked on him, it was definitely his favorite too. Neteyam was usually beautiful, but he seemed almost like a dream when he wore the delicate headpiece. Neteyam looked up at him with big eyes almost expectantly, his hands gently scratching at his back as Aonung finally got the hint. 

Neteyam wanted a kiss. 

Aonung caressed his face, just admiring his beauty before he pulled him for a slow and sensual kiss. No matter how many times their lips pressed against each other, the spark never faded, it only intensified. Neteyam clung to him, learning to love the heavy weight of his lover. Aonung using an arm to prop himself up so he could properly kiss. 

Aonung pulled away, his heart throbbing at the sight of Neteyam underneath him. Neteyam couldn’t hide his emotions at all, his eyes begging for more, cheeks flustered, his hair framed his face beautifully. Aonung wishes to memorize this moment for the rest of his life. 

It led him to the sixth conclusion about Neteyam. 

Neteyam was a huge tease. 

 Now granted, Aonung had said they would wait to mate until Neteyam was all better. For some reason, little things kept getting in the way. He was pulled to observe the reefs in the evenings, it made it hard for him to actually plan. Because everytime, he had set aside time for them, just a two day vacation or a romantic trip to the spirit tree. 

Something always got in the way. 

The Ilu had run out once, they had to gather them before they were eaten. 

An Akula lurking too close to home. 

Lo’ak picking a fight with the neighboring clans- which was an awful story on its own. 

Nothing seemed to go right when Aonung tried to plan it. 

Neteyam had practically moved into his Marui at this point, which was lovely, really. Except, Aonung would come home and Neteyam would pounce on him. Neteyam would kiss him hungrily and wrap his legs around him to pull him on the bed. 

Aonung loved it, every second of it, every kiss and playful bite. 

But it always left them both unsatisfied because they wanted to wait to do it right. Aonung always pulled away with such great restraint, Neteyam still pulling at him. Aonung knew it was a blessing to have someone as eager as Neteyam. 

Neteyam had once pushed him down, climbing on top of him and pinned his wrists down. “Neteyam..” Aonung would call out half-heartedly because he didn’t want him to stop. “Shhh.. No speaking.” Neteyam would smirk down at him, planting a heated kiss on his lips and pulling away to trail hot and steamy kisses down his neck. Aonung let out a shaky sigh as Neteyam bit down and marked his neck. The hickey itself was Neteyam’s claim on his body. 

Aonung’s hands grabbed at his thighs and then rested on his butt, Neteyam’s tail wagging excitedly as he marked his lover's neck up. “What will they say tomorrow, when you show up to the hunt covered in marks?” Neteyam would purr into his ears, Aonung could only groan in response. Neteyam had possessive tendencies sometimes, Aonung swore it was because he hadn’t mated him yet. 

“Yo bro, could I borrow some beads-“ Lo’ak should have learned his lesson, but he never did. He walked in on them, immediately screaming like a child in horror by the sight. Neteyam usually would have jumped off embarrassed, except he didn’t. He turned around and glared at Lo’ak, grabbing the bag of beads and throwing them at his head. “Get out! You don’t know how to fucking knock- Stop screaming!” Neteyam shouted climbing off of Aonung and shoving Lo’ak out, Neteyam heard him fall out and the beads spill. 

Aonung could tell Neteyam was pent up and frustrated, and Lo’ak was probably traumatized. Hopefully, he learned to knock. 

“Ma’Teyam..” Aonung reached for him, pulling him close to cuddle. “Soon… I’ll give you everything you want.” Aonung promised, kissing his neck and spooning him from behind. Neteyam pouted, arms folded in annoyance because they had been interrupted so many times. 

- - - 

“I plan on mating with Neteyam. I have decided to not proceed with our traditional methods of bonding in front of our clan. I would like for us to have our bond between ourselves and Eywa.” Aonung spoke at dinner, Neteyam hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest. If he was honest, he had forgotten traditionally they would mate before their clan members. Neteyam didn’t speak, he just ate, too embarrassed to even look up at his parents. 

“You know, for it to be-”

“It will be before Eywa. And that is all we need. With that being said, we will be unavailable for the next week.” Aonung needed to speak now, everyone seemed surprised by the mention of needing a whole week. Even Neteyam tried not to choke on his food, a week was excessive. He could feel eyes pouring into him. 

“Very well, we will proceed without you for the following week.” Tonowari spoke, Ronal seemed like she was going to protest their methods. “Neteyam has nothing to do with this, I have realized that I do not need an audience to acknowledge my love. Only Eywa.” Aonung paused with a smile, “Plus I don’t want anyone else to look at my mate.”  

Neteyam actually choked. 

All eyes were on him as he rushed out, unable to excuse himself as he was coughing and sputtering from embarrassment. Aonung was pleased with himself. Aonung took a final bite of his food and excused himself to rush after Neteyam. 

“Aonung! A-A week?” Neteyam sputtered on the way back to their Marui, shaking his head, still baffled by the whole conversation. 

“I could ask for two if you’d like,” Aonung offered with a smile as he hugged Neteyam from behind. “You act like you haven’t been trying to jump my bones everyday since you healed. The least I could give you is a week for just the two of us.” Aonung walked slowly as he held onto Neteyam. 

“And ignoring tradition?” Neteyam asked leaning against as they stepped together, it must have looked so funny as they were moving as one. 

“I don’t want anyone else to hear you or see you. They already think you're perfect, wait until they hear you whimper,” Aonung pressed a kiss into his ear and Neteyam shuddered, shaking his head embarrassed at the thought of that. “Whatever will I do with you..” Neteyam didn’t hate it though. 

————

The remainder of the week left Neteyam on edge, he was excited but nervous. Constantly restless, reality had settled in, they were finally going to mate. 

Neteyam set aside time from his regular duties to redo his hair, even shine the pearls he had been gifted. Neteyam was worried it wouldn’t be perfect, what if he wasn’t as good as he wanted to be? Maybe he’d disappoint Aonung? The second those intrusive thoughts hit, he tried to shake them away. 

Aonung was probably his biggest fan. 

When the day came, Neteyam felt self conscious almost instantly. Aonung had gifted him a new garment, it was white and sheer, with sewn in pearls. It covered his chest, leaving his back open, the thin fabric left little to imagine. With the new top came a new loincloth, the material as soft as silk. It hung low on his hips, a pearl white. Aonung even added an anklet for him, now from pretty much head to toe he had been dressed by his lover. 

Most people didn’t even get the amount of gifts he received. 

 Aonung had left him to get ready, Aonung was waiting by Yam, such a ferocious Tsurak with the funniest name. Neteyam let out a shaky sigh stepping out of their Marui, Neteyam was flustered as he walked slowly, worried the beads were suddenly too loud or that he’d trip over and eat sand. 

Aonung turned to face Neteyam, his jaw practically dropping as he took in his features. Neteyam was always beautiful, but he was practically glowing. It was unreal, Neteyam was walking slowly to watch his step but everything was already playing in slow motion in Aonung’s head. 

Aonung couldn’t believe this was his mate. The garments and accessories framed his body well, emphasizing Neteyam’s best features. His small waist prominent, the curve of his ass, and at the top his broad shoulders wrapped delicately in the thin sheer fabric. 

Neteyam could feel Aonung’s eyes staring at him, it made the uneasiness fade away. Aonung really liked what he saw, it made Neteyam feel confident. 

“I have imagined this countless times.. But my thoughts were nothing compared to your actual beauty.” Aonung spoke once he realized Neteyam was standing right in front of him. He reached to help Neteyam on his skimwing. “You think so? Well don’t get used to this.” Neteyam teased, his confidence skyrocketing as Aonung pressed a kiss to his hand. 

The ride there was difficult, the waves weren’t bad on anything but it all felt so surreal. Neteyam swore he would wake up, or perhaps he had already died and these were just his thoughts. 

Aonung’s arms squeezing his waist and pulling him close reminded him that this was real. Neteyam sighed softly, just admiring the beautiful day. The vibrant sky, smooth waves, and everything was just perfect. Neteyam’s hands rested over Aonung’s as they rode. 

Aonung was absolutely excited, he was so happy that nothing could even remotely ruin this. As they approached the cove of ancestors, he could feel Neteyam twitch and that baby tail wagging excitedly. Neteyam was just as excited as their destination became closer. 

“I hope you remembered how to breathe.” Aonung teased, now it was time to release Yam. Neteyam suddenly forgot how to breathe, letting Aonung help him down. Neteyam immediately clung to him, his arms wrapped around him. “And if I forgot?” Neteyam returned the tease, the two staring into each other's eyes. Aonung swore he could get lost in those golden orbs, so he instinctively pulled him closer. Neteyam smiled, immediately caressing Ao’nung’s face and gently pulling him for a soft kiss. 

It was chaste, but it had probably been the most exciting kiss yet. 

Aonung led the way down, their hands locked as they swam to the spirit tree. Neteyam was glad they elected to do this on their own. It was much more romantic, Neteyam admired the tree, thanking Eywa for everything. For this life he lived, his beautiful new home, and his amazing mate. Neteyam’s eyes closed as he thanked her. Once he opened them, it looked like Aonung had been doing the same thing. It gave Neteyam the opportunity to admire his lover, his strong arms and his handsome face. 

Aonung slowly opened his eyes, smiling at him as they pulled each other closer. Their legs intertwined, locking each other together, they were unable to speak underwater but both of their gazes alone held so much love and respect for one-another. It was all they needed. 

The two shared a moment, heads pressed together, just admiring each other. Aonung reached first, his hand reaching for his braid, pulling around his queue. Ao’nung’s eyes locked on Neteyam’s as he mirrored him. Neteyam’s free hand intertwined their fingers together. There was a brief moment where they didn’t move, almost stunned with emotions.

They both simultaneously take the extra inch and they have connected. Nothing could have mentally prepared them for what it felt like to be one. If Neteyam could breathe, it would have taken all of it away. Neteyam’s body shuddered from the emotions, his hand squeezing tight on Aonung’s, nails just digging in from the overwhelming feeling. His body felt hot. Neteyam couldn’t keep his eyes open as he practically curled into Aonung, barely able to steady himself from the intense wave of pleasure and emotions that rushed through him. 

Aonung knew he had to be strong here because Neteyam was weaker in the water, he focused a lot of energy on his core to keep them treading. Aonung felt his entire body stutter as the bond was made. Their connection was so intense, Aonung felt like was flying, everything was heightened. He and Neteyam were one, he returned the firm squeeze of Neteyam’s hand before releasing it and pulling him closer, his hand locked on his waist as Neteyam’s legs wrapped around him. Aonung’s eyes closed briefly as the two seemed to just float in a pool of one another. But when his eyes opened again, he couldn’t help but admire his mate's delicate features. Neteyam’s face hid nothing, the pleasure was written all over it and Aonung could tell his lover was running out of air. 

Aonung gently caressed his face, pulling him for a sensual kiss. Aonung made sure he was pumping some air into his lover's lungs. Pulling away, he had Neteyam wrap his arms around his neck. Neteyam held where their braids had connected in his hand to keep them locked in place. Aonung allowed the other to cling to him so he could swim them up to air, before he left he thanked the great mother for allowing him to mate with Neteyam. 

The second they reached air, Neteyam gasped out, he was almost desperate to breathe. “H-Hah..Aonung..” Neteyam spoke in between shaky breaths, his body was on edge, he had been struggling to breathe and their connection itself made him want to whimper from the intensity of it. Neteyam’s legs wrapped tightly around Aonung, as if he didn’t want to let go. Aonung pulled his whimpering lover for another kiss, this time more heated- it was almost desperate as they clung to the other in the water. 

Aonung struggled to maintain his composure as Neteyam practically whimpered in his ear from their connection. Aonung pressed a kiss to his neck as his hands dragged from Neteyam’s thighs to his back, just feeling him. Neteyam was officially his now, they would be together for life. Aonung nipped at Neteyam’s lip, sliding his tongue in eagerly as they’re hands explored each other's body. Everything was so sensual, the smallest brush against his nipple left Neteyam practically shaking. Aonung could relate, his length hardened underneath the weight of his lover. 

The couple spent some time, treading in the water and just making out when Neteyam pulled away first, his cheeks flushed and lips practically swollen from the intense kisses, at this point their erections were just pressing into each other. “Aonung.. Let’s go back.. I want you..” Neteyam whispered boldly to him. Neteyam was just about ready to burst, Aonung instantly agreed. He had just been waiting for Neteyam to be ready. Aonung had already planned for them to continue everything at home. He couldn’t put Neteyam’s lungs through sex in the ocean.  Their first time needed to be comfortable. 

————

-Bond- 

———-

Aonung called for Yam, the second he straddled the skimwing he felt instantly tortured. Neteyam was still clinging to him, Neteyam’s length pressed firmly into his stomach while all of his weight and his ass sat right on his loincloth. His own length practically wedged between his mate’s cheeks. The two could feel the heat quickly brewing and intensifying as they rubbed against each other. Neteyam’s nipples pressed against the sheer fabric left them feeling almost raw in the most pleasurable way. 

“I love you..” Neteyam was squeezing him tightly, he didn’t want to let go any time soon. Aonung’s hand rested on Neteyam’s waist, gently trailing his hand over a particular sensitive spot, he had learned his favorite spots. “I love you more.” Aonung gently challenged him as he saw their home approaching. 

“Aonung..” Neteyam’s voice was needy, Aonung knew exactly where Neteyam was. He understood though, they had waited for so long for one another and now this ride back was so long. 

Aonung quieted his lover with his lips, nipping at his lower lip and pushing his tongue inside to taste his mate. Neteyam didn’t even hesitate to open his mouth to Aonung, a muffled moan against his lips. Aonung wanted to hear more, his free hand playing with the bouncing tail. Neteyam pulled away flushed, a quiet moan threatening to escape as his tail was another sensitive spot Aonung remembered. 

“My love, we have arrived.” Aonung maneuvered them off the animal. Neteyam pulled him for another kiss, almost causing Aonung to stumble in the sand. Aonung steadied himself, his hands on the back of Neteyam’s thighs to hold him up while they walked. Neteyam was so eager, Aonung struggled to watch where he was going. “I’ve waited too long..” Neteyam whispered against his lips, pulling away to kiss Aonung's neck. Each kiss left a burning trail of pleasure on his. “As have I..” Aonung gently reminded himself, he would drop Neteyam if he didn’t watch his steps. 

Aonung had set up their home, adorning it with special flower petals and new blankets for them. Once they were inside, it was like a switch was flipped within Aonung. He had tried to be calm, but now they were here, he didn’t have to hold himself back. Aonung gently placed Neteyam on the bed, Neteyam was panting already. 

They had just gotten started. 

Neteyam’s golden orbs filled with want as he looked up at Aonung, his legs spread to welcome him in between them. Aonung eagerly accepted the invitation, immediately attacking Neteyam’s neck, he bit and suckled on the skin leaving the prettiest marks to claim his body. 

The kisses and marks  traveled from Neteyam’s neck, all the way down to his calves. Aonung paid extra special attention to his inner thighs, leaving all sorts of steamy kisses and especially bites there. Neteyam was already his, but Aonung still felt the need to mark him now that he could. 

Aonung’s eyes dropped to the new loincloth that seemed to be already soiled with precum, “So soon, my love?” He teased as his hands pulled at the sides of the cloth and wriggled it off, revealing Neteyam’s body. Neteyam wasn’t even embarrassed at this point, legs spread out, his cock resting on his stomach, the head glistening with beads of precum. 

Aonung had to take a second to admire all of it, Neteyam caught this and smirked at him. “Do you like what you see?” Neteyam asked, despite it being their first time, Aonung had done wonders for his self confidence. So all that worshiping and praise he had received from his lover left him like this. Neteyam did feel flustered being on display but Aonung had made him confident regardless. 

“How could I not?” Aonung pressed a kiss to the dripping head of Neteyam’s cock, causing him to almost instinctively close his legs but Aonung held them open. “Now isn’t the time to be shy, Forest boy.” Aonung gently reminded, Neteyam bit his lip, he hadn’t expecting to feel that sensation, 

“Keep your legs open for me.” Aonung reached over his body, pulling out a small vial and pouring some of the contents on his fingers. “Nung..?” Neteyam watched him, wondering what it could have been. “It’s to help it go in easier, I don’t want to hurt you.” Aonung explained, planting a kiss on his forehead before rubbing the other's entrance with the substance. Neteyam shuddered at the foreign feeling, but he had wanted this for so long, he held his legs open for Aonung. 

Aonung watched his mate’s reaction carefully to see if there was any discomfort before he slipped his finger in. Neteyam seemed to tense for a moment, unused to the feeling. Aonung tried not to get excited by the thought of how the inside of Neteyam would finally feel. He thrusted the digit slowly to allow him to get used to it, then added a second finger so he could really start to stretch him out. The lube on his fingers was created to trigger Neteyam’s body to lubricate itself. In essence, the more turned on he became the slicker he’d become. Aonung watched Neteyam struggle to decide if he liked the feeling. With that being said, Aonung reached his free hand to jerk his cock slowly at the pace of his fingers. 

Soon enough, the weird feeling of fingers inside of him disappeared and it was replaced with intense pleasure as Aonung hit the best spots. “Aonung..” Neteyam started to speak but it was cut off by a soft moan, “Please.. Please stop teasing me.. I just want to cum with you..” Neteyam’s voice was dripping in pleasure. 

Aonung watched as his fingers unraveled the male underneath him, he knew it was pretty much time for Neteyam, his insides were nice and wet, a mixture of the oil and now his body was self lubricating. Neteyam’s hands reached for his loincloth and immediately pulled them down. It was Aonung’s turn to be embarrassed for a split second, his cock springing up and hitting him in the stomach, extremely eager to be released. Aonung saw Neteyam blush at the sight and he swore he heard him gulp at the length of it. 

“I uh.. I don’t think it’s going to fit..” Neteyam knew Aonung was big, but seeing it uncovered, it was a little nerve wrecking. “We can go slow.. Just relax, I promise I won’t hurt you and if it does hurt, we can stop.” Aonung reminded him gently. Neteyam still looked nervous, despite all the confidence and want in the beginning, it was their first time. It was a little scary. 

“My love, just focus on me..” Aonung pressed a kiss to his lips, not as rushed as the first ones, slow and sensual. Neteyam’s arms wrapped around his neck, practically surrounding himself with Aonung. The kiss distracted Neteyam while Aonung lined himself up, Neteyam tensed a bit when he felt the warm head pressing into him. Next thing he knew, Aonung was slowly pushing inside of him. Neteyam’s nails dug into Aonung’s back as he tried to ground himself. At first, it hurt to be stretched. He had never felt this before, but it still slid in without too much resistance probably from all the lubricant. Neteyam took a shaky breath and pulled away from the kiss. “Nung.. Slower please..” Neteyam whispered, his mouth hung open as he tried to breathe and get used to the length. 

“I know, my love.. I’m almost all the way in.. You’re doing great.. I’m so fortunate to have you as my mate..” Aonung whispered against his lips, it took a lot out of him to go so painfully slow, easing inch by inch inside his lover, but Neteyam being comfortable was far more important than his own needs right now. The nails at his back left a burning sensation where they dug into him. Aonung pushed all the way in, peppering kisses on his lover's face and lips as he whimpered at the feeling of being so full. Aonung couldn’t even hold back his own groan at finally being one with Neteyam. 

Everything felt surreal. 

“Neteyam.. Is it okay to move?” Aonung asked, waiting for his lover to find words, Neteyam nodded shakily and clung tighter onto Aonung. Aonung pulled his hips back, nearly pulling all the way out and then pushing back in. Neteyam let out a huff of air, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Neteyam.. We can stop..” Aonung gently reminded him but Neteyam shook his head no. “I don’t wanna stop.. It’s just so much..” Neteyam tried to explain but Aonung didn’t understand. Was it too much dick? Or too many emotions? 

“My love.. You’re doing so great..” Aonung whispered in his ear, it was everything Neteyam always needed to hear. Aonung knew Neteyam always responded well to praise, so he whispered all sorts of endearments in his ears. The nails on his back slowly stopped digging painfully, Neteyam pulled Aonung for a kiss just as Aonung had started to settle in for a nice pace. Aonung returned the kiss, his hands exploring Neteyam’s body, resting on his length as he slowly jerked his lover off in sync with his thrusts. 

Neteyam at first found it hard to breathe, Aonung was well endowed. But, the compliments and hand on his length helped him. The compliments made him want to keep going, it motivated him. It wasn’t long until Neteyam could breathe easier, a little too easy, as moans just seemed to fall out of his lips left and right. Aonung was moving freely now, Neteyam didn’t even feel pain, it felt amazing. 

Aonung noticed that Neteyam had gotten accustomed, “Nete… Can I go faster?” Aonung had been really holding himself back, but Neteyam was enjoying it now. It was well worth the wait. “Please.. Yess.” Neteyam responded instantly, a loud moan escaping as Aonung hit a special bundle of nerves. Aonung made sure to remember that. 

It wasn’t long until the couple had found a rhythm that worked for them, first times were always hard in the beginning, they had just started to learn each other's body. Aonung realized that while Neteyam liked a sweet and slow start, it somehow ended with him being rough. 

Aonung had no complaints as the Marui filled with fast skin slapping and loud moans, Aonung wincing as the nails dragged all the way down his back. Neteyam whined and mewled, telling Aonung how much he liked it.

“Nung.. I’m going to cum.” Neteyam warned his lover, his legs wrapping tighter around him to keep him locked in. “It’s okay, you can cum we’ve got all week.” Aonung teased, as if he wasn’t just ready to burst. Neteyam tried to hold out so they could cum together, it only took one thrust to have him spill all over his stomach.

Neteyam swore he was seeing stars. 

Aonung was going to pull out since Neteyam had cum but the legs around his waist wouldn’t let him move, “Inside..” was the only thing Neteyam breathed out, Neteyam’s eyes were dazed with lust and he looked absolutely ravished by his lover. It took Aonung back to hear him say that, it sent shivers down his spine. “Are you-” Aonung was just checking to see if he was sure but then he felt Neteyam clench around his cock and he couldn’t help but groan in pleasure. Neteyam knew exactly what he was doing. 

Neteyam was very sure of what he wanted. 

With Neteyam clenching on him and taking some notes from Aonung’s books. “Please cum in me.. It feels so good, Aonung..” Neteyam’s voice was fucked out as he mirrored Aonung’s voice. Aonung wasn’t sure if he also had a praise thing- or if it was because Neteyam sounded soooo good. 

Aonung barely lasted a few more thrusts before he came inside of Neteyam, it took all of his strength to not give out on Neteyam. He used his arm to steady himself as he came down from the high of an orgasm. Neteyam shuddered, feeling the warm liquid filling him. The couple laid intertwined with one another, just catching their breath and admiring each other. 

Their first time was something else, it was a little nerve wrecking but certainly filled with love. Neteyam didn’t let Aonung pull out for a good hour, before their tired bodies decided it was time for bed. It was difficult for Aonung to clean up while still connected but he managed. Neteyam had instantly passed out after Aonung pulled out. It left Aonung awake spooning his lover with a content smile on his face. 

————

— The Bond —

———— 

The next week really was a blur, Neteyam proved to be quite the animal in bed. Aonung thought he would have been the one who was insatiable but their first morning together, Neteyam had practically sprung up, climbed on him, and rode him. Aonung should have known what to expect, but Neteyam surprised him.

The return back to reality was harsh, they could just lay in bed the whole day just whispering how much they loved each other. It was back to their usual responsibilities, hunting and basket weaving, protecting the reef. 

“Welcome back..” Tonowari greeted his son, he looked proud with a knowing smirk. Aonung sporting half healed scratch marks down his back and faint hickeys. Neteyam had enough respect to allow their bodies to heal from embarrassment. “It’s nice to be back, I suppose we should hunt?” Aonung asked with a smirk. He did miss hunting a bit. 

“Yeah I suppose we should,” It was Neteyam. 

They always say, you can tell when someone has been held. The person’s body becomes more beautiful, they practically glow and even their hair becomes shiny. 

It was the truth, villagers and members of the clan immediately noticed how Neteyam grew more beautiful in the week that had passed. Neteyam noticed the eyes on him, a little concerned he had been walking funny or had something on his face. 

“Shouldn’t you be-” Aonung started. 

“You’re not the only one with a Tsurak.” Neteyam smirked, walking past his lover. His tail swishing as he passed him, he did feel his knees buckle for a split second. He had been trying to pretend like his body wasn’t aching but this last week was more of a work out than anything. His thighs burned with every step he took.

“Why is Neteyam walking kind of funny?” Tuk commented amusedly, kicking her legs at the edge of the water. 

Lo’ak had learned his lesson of messing with the couple, he did notice the almost side step Neteyam had taken, “Neteyam has been rock climbing, right Aonung?” Lo’ak commented through gritted teeth. They were mated now, he couldn’t do anything to stop him.

 If you can’t beat them, join them. 

Aonung was too distracted by the large Tsurak that was by Neteyam, it was larger than Yam, and even seemed more feral. “When did you?!” Aonung was baffled by this secret. 

“Don’t worry, meet Ao.” Neteyam introduced the large animal to Aonung who was still processing. “I hope you didn’t think because we mated I was going to stay at home and wait around for you. I am not some male wife.” Neteyam reached for his bow. 

Aonung wasn’t surprised by this decision, he was more surprised that Neteyam had tamed a feral skimwing and hadn’t told him. It was then he realized that this marriage was just the beginning of some crazy adventures together. 

“I never thought that for a second, let’s go hunt.” 

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (pt.1)

A Matty Healy Fanfiction

cw: nightmare, boring plot set up (I promise Matty comes in, pls bear w me)

Chapter 1

I woke up shivering. Sweating. Stomach-churning. Sitting up and shaking my head, I grabbed the book from my nightstand and started reading to distract myself before I could register what I had dreamt and let the tears that had welled up in my sleep fall. I knew the pattern well and I wasn't going to let it ruin yet another morning. Thankfully these dreams happened less often than they used to, maybe once or twice a month now, yet somehow they never seemed to upset me any less.

After a few minutes of reading, I picked up my phone- 48 minutes until my alarm was meant to go off. 

Well, I guess it could've been worse. I sighed to myself. 

Trying to ignore my exhaustion, both emotional and physical, I tore off my sheets and hopped out of bed to start my day. 

Shuffling into the bathroom in my oversized sleeping shirt and thick knit socks, I turned the tap on and plugged the sink, letting the water pool. Splashing water on my face I tried to shake off the sleep that still bogged down my mind. 

The dreams definitely didn't help much with my terrible sleep schedule, though they weren't always the cause of it. I'd always struggled with sleep, ever since I was a child. I was always an anxious kid growing up which led to countless restless nights. I'd gotten better as I'd grown older, but my recurring nightmare set me back into my old habit of staying up too late and waking up too early. Unfortunately, it's something I've grown accustomed to.

As I looked up at myself in the mirror, I saw two green eyes with dark circles under them staring back at me. My dark brown curly shag haircut was messy from the tossing and turning in my bed, the ends dripping wet from the water I'd splashed on my face. 

Suddenly I wasn't there anymore, my vision was replaced with a flashback to my dream, black eyes staring back at me. 

Gone as quickly as it appeared, I once again stared back into my own green eyes, now filled with panic. I dove back into the basin to splash more water on my face. 

I took a deep breath and turned back into my bedroom. Determined to not let my recurring nightmare dictate the rest of my day, I decided I would treat myself. Today I would put on my favourite clothes, do up my hair and makeup and take myself to my new favourite coffee shop.

I opened up the door to the beautiful handpainted wardrobe I'd just bought last week and began to sift through all the hanging fabrics. Picking out my favourite jeans and a long sleeve shirt, I closed the door to my wardrobe and stepped back to admire my new apartment.

I had just moved to London a month ago for a six-month-long residency at an art gallery. I had been shocked when I was first offered it but jumped on the opportunity immediately. A six-month trip to London with free housing and endless hours to work on my art? It was a dream come true. 

The housing that the gallery supplied me with wasn't anything extravagant, but it was definitely charming. My apartment was on the top floor of a three-story walk-up, boasting giant slanting windows that brightened the single-room apartment even on the gloomiest of London days. I had found various charming vintage pieces of furniture and art to spruce up the bland basics I'd originally been supplied with, and it had finally started to feel like a home away from home. 

As I glanced one last time into the full-length mirror, I admired my outfit. My vintage light-wash perfectly worn-in Levi's fit me like a glove, and my new beige fitted long-sleeve mock neck looked effortlessly sexy, the semi-sheer knit material showing my black bralette in a casually immodest way. After I put my thin black sunglasses over my now brown smokey eyes and slid on my black vintage cowboy boots, I popped my AirPods in as I locked my apartment door.

Singing along to the opening lyric of an upbeat playlist, I started to get excited about my little trip to the coffee shop. I had just discovered it last week, finding out that they sold what I believed to be the best cookies I'd ever had in my life. Noticing the sun peaking through spotty clouds, I quickened my step down the stairs into the tube as I decided I'd take my coffee and cookie to a park to finish my book and maybe draw up some new ideas for pieces to make. 

Twenty minutes later I found myself saying "I'll have three cookies please" to the friendly barista, trying and failing to not blush at the fact that I knew that the extra two cookies I was buying for later wouldn't even make it home. 

Excited that they hadn't run out of cookies yet, I stood at the counter, humming and letting my toes tap along to the music in my ears while I waited for my iced latte. Considering how my day had started, I was positively chipper. 

I had already begun to daydream about some new pieces I wanted to sketch out as I stepped out the door of the coffee shop. I was about to turn to walk towards the park when suddenly something slammed into me and I lost my footing, falling straight to the ground. 

Disoriented, I gasped for breath as the air had been knocked out of me. Looking around to see what had hit me, I was met with a pair of chocolate-coloured eyes. 

"Oh fuck! I am so sorry! Are you okay, darlin'?" the eyes asked me earnestly.

I opened my mouth to answer yes before I noticed the searing pain that engulfed my entire chest. 

I winced, and then, I blacked out.

[readerwithsalt]

Does anyone think the concept of tsats would have been better if instead of going to save bob or whatever the book was just set in camp the whole time. Like maybe during those six months Jason had been alive and our favorite characters were still at camp.

Like since Riordan pretty much agreed to it for fanservice and bc people wanted him to, it would’ve been WAY more interesting and satisfying to watch how Nico lives within the camp now. What friends he’s made on his own outside of Wills cabin. What he likes to do now at camp, like training other kids with weird techniques that no one’s ever really seen, him making strange looking clay sculptures in arts and craft, therapy sessions with Dionysus etc…

We could’ve read about those things Jason had wanted to do with him at the end of BOO, like eating together in the palivion, sleepovers with that creepy Zeus statue in Jason’s cabin watching their every move, playing capture the flag and for the first time ever people see Hades symbol appear across the fabric when Nico gets it to the top of the hill (instead of Athena or ares).

We could’ve seen the Stoll brothers remembering him from TTC when they’d tried to get him into poker and now they keep trying to keep him to do a bunch of illegal stuff and pranks on the other cabins because he can be the ‘getaway driver’ and shadowtravel them away. We could’ve seen Clovis helping Nico with some of Nicos dream magic he displayed in BOO and helping Nico navigate even some of his worst recurring nightmares.

We could’ve had Hazel visiting and having adorable sibling moments. We could’ve had the hunters visiting and Nico being kinda distraught about Reyna joining them but they talk about it and patch that up. Also with there being four big three kids at the camp at one time (Nico, Hazel, Percy, & Jason) camp half blood FINALLY wins a game against the hunters for the first time lol. With Hazel and Nico being the ones to get the hunters flag lol.

We could’ve had a scene of Nico babysitting baby chuck and being strangely very good with babies and his gentle and sweet side coming out and it makes some of the campers see him differently.

The progression of Solangelo could’ve been wayy smoother as well. With Will nonchalantly revealing being open about his bisexuality, and Nico realizing how many other kids were out in camp as well and finally gaining his own confidence by seeing kids his own age being themselves.

We could’ve had Will thinking Nicos darkness is cute in a way and it’s revealed embarrassingly by Kayla that all Wills past crushes have always been, like, hella goth.

We could’ve had scenes with Nico helping Will with gory injuries and Nico being delighted at the many colors wounds can take on (flashback to little Nico talking about Percy’s wound in ttc “ooh, it’s green!” Nico said with delight.’) and Will thinking it’s cute how Nico keeps commenting on the fluids leaking out of someone’s dismembered leg and the patient in question just screaming in pain while Will makes heart eyes.

We could’ve had a scene where Percy and Nico talk about Nico having that crush on him and Percy always forgetting about him and calling on his help but never truly appreciating it and they make up satisfyingly for once. (But Percy’s still a bit miffed about how much better Nico’s friendship with Jason is than with him lol)

We could’ve had another chariot race but this time with Nico and Hazel in one and everyone thinks they look terrifying. BECAUSE THEY DO.

Like, honestly we didn’t need this kind of book about the most lethal place in their universe but then have it practically only talk about couples therapy and how to like the person you’ve literally been dating for a year…. 🙄😒

Like sometimes less is more if you know what I mean.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

If you're still taking the sleepover thing, I'm bored and have a story about some weird shit that happened to me.

My childhood home was on a side street that know one knew about unless they lived there. It was on a pretty bad side of town, with a lot crime so my parents were fairly protective and the neighborhood was very strange.

All the houses were super old and decrepit. Like over a hundred years old with little to no upkeep decrepit.

My house was one of the oldest and weirdest. Our landlord never took calls and we would have to go physically find him to broke fixed and even then rarely would he actually fix it. The place was moldy and gross that one year my mother had to pull mushrooms out of the bathroom floor. There were also weird quirks like a a door that opened to literally nothing (I am fairly certain it was once a balcony that was removed but the door was left) and a set of stairs in the kitchen that led to the ceiling.

But what was way weirder was what happened at night. On the first few nights my mom had recurring nightmares about a little girl crying and asking her why she was there. When I was about six I apparently constantly claimed to see a man pouring milk in the kitchen one night.

I had severe sleeping problems when I lived in that house and if I could get to sleep I would often wake up convinced someone had been screaming at me when my parents had heard nothing or suffer sleep paralysis where that girl stood over me and begged me to be her friend, even called me by name.

On the morning we moved out, there were two bats in the bath tub and a gutted animal of some sort had been left on the porch (I never saw it very well because my stepmom covered my eyes).

All the buildings around that house have taken down and replaced with condos and apartments but hhe house itself is still standing last I checked. There's apparently been a few break-ins there and no one has been caught yet. I haven't had a single sleep problem of any kind since I stopped living there.

I don't know if it was really haunted or if I just was going through some shit from ages 5-11 but I think about it a lot. I kinda miss her, I feel bad for her too, she was so lonely and now she must be even worse, now that the entire world around her has changed.

Sorry for rambling or if this is too weird. I just really like to talk and this Era of my life is the first that comes to mind.

damn; that sounds horrifying. I hope you and your stepmom are okay.

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n @arcticversed (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis : Since surviving the Aruba assassination attempt, you've been plagued by recurring nightmares. Amado's attempts to comfort you begin to unsettle your mind, blurring the line between duty and desire. (Soft Amado,Fluff,Hurt/Comfort)

------------------------------------------------------------ 

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next (Soon)

[8]ᅳ 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐬 ✟

Walt is not the only one facing nightmares. Everyone has their own nightmares—those born from imagination, from guilt, or from memories.

And on the remote, solitary island of Aruba, thousands of kilometers away from the violence in Mexico, nightmares haunt you too. 

Throughout the tormenting periods of pain and unconsciousness, under the influence of painkillers that need to be taken every six hours, you're not sure what they are. If it's not Nalbuphine [1], it must be something stronger and nerve-pressuring, helping to alleviate the symptoms but also potentially addictive, just like drugs.

Every time the bitter pill slides down your throat, the foggy veil of memories rises, like the wrecked ship stranded in the depths of pain and the haze of painkillers. It becomes hard to distinguish between dreams and reality. Often, you wake up with rapid, shallow breaths and a racing heartbeat, unable to remember what you dreamt, but it leaves you scared and crying every time you sleep. The moist face and teary eyes upon waking up are clear evidence of this.

However, there are many times when you can feel it during the twilight of sleep, between endless nightmares and midnight screams. Someone comes to embrace you tightly, providing warmth enough to calm you down. That was the only time the nightmares seemed to fade away, as if they had never existed before.

Initially, you thought it might just be layered dreams—tiny good dreams sneaking in to erase the pointless nightmares. But you soon learned the truth when your body was strong enough to move, and Amado decided to take you outside for short walks to exercise. When his arms wrapped around your shoulders to support you, it felt warm, just like a dream. You realized that all of that was real. He had been there with you every night. But he never mentioned it in front of you, and you never thought to ask him about it either.

It's embarrassing for you. To be in such a state, fragile both physically and mentally, and unable to help yourself in any way, Even walking to the bathroom requires much more patience than usual. You try to remain indifferent to the sharp pain in your abdomen, clenching your teeth in frustration and bending down to splash water on your face before reluctantly raising your head to look at your reflection in the old bathroom mirror above the sink. There, you see what you've always seen—a mentally fragile and confused young woman, unsure about her choices and actions.

“Mija, you shouldn't be moving around by yourself. Why didn't you call me to help you?”

Your eyes shifted away from the mirror, and you looked at Amado, who was standing leaning against the bathroom door frame. He was dressed in his usual black shirt and still looked as good as ever, hardly resembling someone whose life had been in danger, especially when compared to your recent appearance reflected in the mirror.

“I had to handle some personal matters. Do you want me to change my clothes in front of you?”

Amado shrugged. “Why embarrassed? I've seen it before, you know.”

“When?” Your eyes widen in shock. Your surprised face made Amado break into a smile—the kind of smile that had been annoying you all week.

“I'm the one who cleaned your wounds and stitched them up, Mija. I probably wouldn't be able to do it if I didn't take off your clothes first.” Amado's tone was calm when he spoke. like seeing your naked body is not important to him. 

You tapped on the wound that had started to heal. The rough stitches would later turn into a repulsive scar. Amado told you yesterday that it was almost time to remove the stitches, meaning you would have to take off your clothes in front of him again.

Shame has long vanished from your thoughts since you've been with him here. However, it was still somewhat annoying to think, "Gracias, but I'd rather do it myself."

“But I don't mind. You can take off your clothes now if you'd like.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at the tall man with a face that wanted to slap him if you weren’t already injured. And Amado knew well what you were thinking. He laughed heartily, amused by your sour mood.

That's a part of what has been happening between you and him since you started living together here. You both constantly exchange words, like a married couple living a boring life together for many years. Perhaps that's Amado's only way to alleviate boredom; he never misses a chance to tease and provoke you.

You want to be more angry at him, but you can't. You're exhausted from everything. And more importantly—something you don't want to admit—Amado has taken care of you as best as anyone could in such a dire situation. Always helping with small things that you couldn't manage yourself or bringing painkillers even when he risks going outside. He also comforts you from nightmares at night. Part of an unbelievable tenderness from the dangerous man who makes you calm enough to sleep dreamlessly.

Maybe it's due to the haziness caused by the pills, making your emotions more fragile than usual. Just temporary sensitivity. It's not empathy, not attachment—nothing more than that. This is what you've been trying to convince yourself of.

"Hey, Mija, is everything okay? You don't look well."

"It's nothing serious," you deny, better than letting him know what you're thinking. "But do you still have some pills left?"

Amado looks back with a knowing glance.

"You're becoming a junkie, you know?" he says. "But today, I have something better than pills."

Amado refuses to say more about what it is, only insisting firmly that he'll take you to see it for yourself.

'Something' that Amado mentioned was placed on the wooden table in the house when he took you there. It was a regular whiskey bottle with two glasses. You quickly turned to look at him in surprise, seeing the smile he sent back with his words, "No need to thank me."

A bottle of whiskey might be something commonly found, costing at least three hundred pesos [2] in Mexico. But in your eyes, it looked no different than an oasis in the middle of a hot desert. You missed whiskey as much as you missed cigarettes, and your old life before ended up in this place with Amado. 

At least having a bottle of whiskey made the present life a bit more bearable.

Amado poured the liquid into both glasses equally before handing one to you. His eyes locked on yours as he sipped from his own glass. "Reminds me of our first date in Cuba."

"You told me Cuba had a terrible mezcal." You chuckled, slowly sipping the whiskey.

"Because the mezcal from my hometown is the best." Amado paused before raising his glass for another sip. It wasn't just you who missed old life; he missed it too. "Once we get out of here, I'll take you to taste the mezcal there."

It wasn't a casual remark like before. You felt the whiskey taste even more bitter when meeting his sincere eyes.

You didn't immediately respond. You glanced at the nearly half-empty glass of whiskey, deliberately avoiding his gaze. However, Amado noticed the subtle anxiety beneath your calm facade.

"Do you think it's possible?"

Your voice cracked slightly, carrying multiple implications in that statement: Is it possible to survive this? Is it possible for us to be together after this is over? Is it possible that there won't be any more losses?

"We'll make it out together, and I promise it won't happen to us again."

Promises were a curse for you because every time there was a promise involved, it often ended up being broken.

Ever since Farris promised over the phone to come back to you safely, he ended up facing torment and dying at the hands of the criminals. And Janet, the friend who promised revenge for you, A promise that never came true, especially when you were the one who decided to bury a bullet into your own friend's head.

Everything that has happened has made you distrustful of anyone's promises.

But this time, you couldn't help but hope that Amado's promise would be true.

You felt the warmth from his large hand holding yours and the gentle squeeze that conveyed comfort without the need for words. You locked eyes with Amado again in silence. At that moment, you felt something, just like the time you locked eyes with Walt. Something delicate was emerging between you and him.

Some things you had to hold back before it got too much and before you had to regret later.

"Don't feel regret later" Amado once warned you. However, you felt no trace of regret when you made the most foolish decision—you kissed him.

Before, you had imagined what it would be like to kiss Walt, but you never had the chance. For Amado, it was different. Even if it was just a simple kiss filled with the taste of cheap whiskey, it happened amidst raw, genuine emotions without pretense. There was nothing profound or delicate about it, but it was a mixture of fear and relief revealed after a near-death experience. And it taught you the meaning of 'Fuck it'

You and him might die tomorrow, or might go separate ways without ever meeting again. At the very least, you wanted to follow your heart just once, even just once.

His dark, intense eyes were wide with the same desire as yours—a desire to feel closer and more intimate. His large hand began to trace from the shoulders, down the collarbone, and to the waistband. But when you pulled back slightly in pain, everything ended abruptly. Amado quickly withdrew from you with a sense of urgency, confusion evident in his face and eyes for a fleeting moment, before he took a deep breath, straightened up, and rubbed his own face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured just loud enough for you to hear, filled with regret and an attempt to restrain his emotions. "I should let you rest."

Amado stood up without looking at you again. But you managed to grab his wrist before he could walk away. You accidentally licked your own lips when his eyes met yours again. "You can stay with me tonight if you want," you said.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your request. Before he could accept or decline, you quickly added, "Just to sleep, that's all. It's like when you used to come and cuddle me at night when I had nightmares."

For a brief moment, you saw embarrassment in the face of the tall man for being caught. And for the first time, you began to genuinely feel that Amado was cute when he was shy.

There was no more teasing or arguing that night. Eventually, Amado yielded to your simple request. In fact, it seemed he didn't have much choice after you made it clear you knew about everything he had secretly done.

The large old bed seemed cramped when two bodies lay together. You tensed slightly as you turned your face toward Amado. He wrapped around you cautiously with both of his arms, feeling the warmth in a way you had felt from him many nights before.

Even in the darkness, it was hard to see anything, but you could vividly feel that he was looking at you, just as you could feel his breath gently caress your face. Then the man leaned in closer and gently pressed his lips against your forehead, whispering softly as he pulled away. 

"Sweet dreams, Mija."

And what Amado said turned out to be true. You didn't have any nightmares throughout that night.

------------------------------------------------------------ 

[1] Nalbuphine is a medication for treating moderate to severe pain, which contains opium extract. The medication acts on the brain and nervous system to numb the sensation of pain. It has various side effects and can cause addiction

[2]The Mexican Peso is the currency of Mexico. The currency code is MXN and it uses the symbol $.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super manga Ch.68-70

It’s Granolah time.

Let me start off by saying I’ve only read the first six chapters of this arc, and I can already say that this one is leagues better than the Moro saga that came before it.  I’m sure this story won’t be flawless, but seeing how much better Granolah is makes me realize just how crappy Moro was.  I thought I was being too hard on the manga, but no, the Moro arc was just a hot mess.  

Anyway, I’m digging this Granolah story, so I feel a lot better about liveblogging it.  Let’s dive in.

We open with a moody flashback of Saiyan shock troops attacking Granolah’s home planet decades ago.  Turns out this is a recurring nightmare he has. 

Granolah’s been haunted by the invasion ever since, but there’s nothing he can do about it.  Frieza wiped out the Saiyans a long time ago, and then Frieza got killed after that, so there’s no one left for Granolah to take revenge upon, even if he were powerful enough to take revenge.  When I first heard about this guy, I was skeptical of the concept, since his vendetta would be forty or fifty years old by this time.  But with Granolah, that’s the point.  He’s been holding on to this grudge the whole time, and when he gets his chance to act, he grabs it with both hands. 

Meanwhile, Goku and Vegeta are still training on Beerus’ planet. Goku learned to use Ultra Instinct at will during the Moro crisis, but Whis explains that this is only the beginning.  Goku still can’t sustain UI for very long, while Merus could do it all the time.  And Whis is even better at UI than Merus was, and the Grand Minister is even better still.  So Goku has a long way to go, which is fine by him.

Vegeta, however, has no interest in learning Ultra Instinct, since he concluded some time ago that the ability doesn’t suit his tendency to overthink things.  He wants to surpass Goku in some other way, and Beerus offers him a glimmer of hope, saying that there’s more than one godly technique that he can learn.  The angels uses Ultra Instinct, but the Gods of Destruction follow a different path.  Beerus says he’s not interested in teaching Vegeta, but then he teaches him anyway, because Beerus is tsundere.  “I-it’s not like I want to teach you how to use destruction ki or anything, baka!”

Back to Granolah.  At the end of the Moro arc, we met Granolah as he was stealing Seven Three’s remains from the aliens who built him.  Seven Three was part of a whole series of similar androids, but he was the only one who spent any time in the field, so he’s a lot more powerful from the life experiences he had.  Granolah’s client, Elec, could use Seven Three as the template for an army of unstoppable androids, but that’s not why he wanted the android.  Elec’s what you might call an information broker, and he plans to mine Seven Three’s memory banks to find some useful data.

Granolah asks about his next assignment, but Elec doesn’t have any new work lined up, due to Frieza’s return to the galactic stage.  We’ve only gotten glimpses of what Frieza’s been up to since Whis re-revived him at the end of the Tournament of Power.  But apparently his activities have upset the status quo, and that’s hurting Elec’s business.  That doesn’t matter to Granolah, though, and he immediately demands to know where Freiza is.  Elec has his associates clobber him a little to get him back in line.  He convinces Granolah that he doesn’t need to run off half-cocked, and Granolah backs down and heads home.

After he leaves, the rest of Elec’s group, the Heeters, ask Elec why he would tell Granolah about Frieza at all.  They know how he feels about Frieza, so why stir the pot?  Elec explains that Granolah’s getting too powerful, and if he ever surpassed the Heeters’ strongest member, Gas, then that might lead to trouble.  The Heeters doubt that anyone could surpass Gas, but Elec still doesn’t want to take any chances.

So he wants Granolah good and riled up, so that when the time is right, he can manuever Granolah into a fight he can’t win, and Frieza will finish off Granolah for him. 

Meanwhile, on the way home, Granolah gets ambushed by one of his fellow bounty-hunter guys, who wants to steal the big payday Granolah just scored.  But Granolah has him completely outclassed.  First he uses his eye-piece/computer, Oatmeel, as a decoy, and then Granolah picks off all of this guy’s allies with his sniper technique.  Granolah’s species, the Cerealians, have a specialized right eye that gives them exceptional vision. 

So Granolah’s powerful, sure, but he’s no match for Frieza, right?  Well, Granolah plans to do something about that.  As he schemes, the Oracle Fish on Beerus’ planet has a prophetic vision that the “strongest warrior in the universe will soon rise up.”

Back to Granolah, we find that he’s still living on Planet Cereal, even after the rest of his people were wiped out by the Saiyans.  Since then, the planet has been re-populated by another species, the Sugurians, who lost their own homeworld at some point.  The Heeters brokered a deal to settle them on Cereal, and their domed cities are built right next to the ruins of the Cerealian cities.  I really like this imagery.  Like I said, I was kind of wary of the idea of an alien seeking revenge after so many decades, but this story really uses that passage of time to full effect.

Meanwhile, Beerus talks to Vegeta about the Saiyans, and Vegeta admits that their destructive tendencies led to their downfall.  Frieza accelerated the process, but his own father, King Vegeta III, is the one Vegeta holds responsible. 

I’ve often noted this, but I find Vegeta to be an unreliable narrator for Saiyan history.  In most stories, he’s literally the only one who remembers the Saiyan race, so his perspective is treated as gospel simply because there’s no one else to dispute it.  In this case, I think Vegeta’s putting too much blame on his dad.  I’m sure Vegeta I and Vegeta II bear their own responsibility, and it probably goes back even further than that.   But Vegeta III is the leader he remembers, so it makes sense he would see it that way. 

But he’s still wrong.  Remember the Super Saiyan God legend from the Battle of Gods movie.  The hero of the tale was trying to wipe out the wicked Saiyans, and he failed.  That story was so ancient that Vegeta didn’t even know about it, which just goes to show that the Saiyans’ problems are far older than his dynasty.

And I guess this is what sets off Beerus’ bullshit-meter, since he dismisses Vegeta’s answer as ridiculous.  He accuses Vegeta of putting the sins of his people on his own shoulders, and even if he were responsible, why do those old crimes have anything to do with his life now?  He then reveals that he was the one who gave Frieza the idea to destroy Planet Vegeta all those years ago.  Vegeta flies into a rage, but he can’t beat Beerus any more now than he could when they first fought on Earth.

Beerus’ point is that Vegeta will have to let go of the past if he hopes to master the style of the Gods of Destruction.  This is kind of like what Toppo had to do when he transformed into a Destroyer in the Tournament of Power.  He had been trying to avoid that step for a long time, but when he got desperate enough, he finally crossed the threshold, and Vegeta mocked him for it. 

And now Beerus is mocking Vegeta for failing to understand this.   Toppo got stronger because he put aside the irrelevancies and focused on what mattered.  Beerus says he only focuses on destruction, which keeps him sharp.  His advice to Vegeta is that he’ll have to destroy his own stray thoughts to build himself into something better.

Meanwhile, the Heeters go through Seven Three’s memory records and learn what they wanted to know: the location of Zuno, the galaxy’s greatest information broker.  But they also learn about Moro and the Dragon Balls, since Seven Three was involved with that business before he got captured.  Elec realizes that the Dragon Balls might explain how Frieza came back to life, and Macki recalls that there used to be Namekians on Planet Cereal before they got wiped out.  But Elec knows that there’s one left: Granolah’s housemate, Monaito.

Back on Cereal, Granolah discusses his latest job with Monaito, and informs him of Frieza’s return.  The two of them live in this remote house, far from the Cerealian ruins and the Sugurian cities.  Even though they’re on friendly terms with the Sugurians, they prefer to be removed from their tragic past.  I find it off that their house doesn’t look much like the Cerealian or Namekian architecture.  Maybe the Sugurians built it for them. 

Anyway, Granolah considers using the Dragon Balls to become powerful enough to defeat Frieza, but Monaito warns him that the Dragon Balls aren’t meant for revenge.  Besides, they don’t have a complete set on planet Cereal.  One is in Monaito’s house, but the other was lost a long time ago.  Wait, what?

To explain how Monaito has his own set of Dragon Balls, we cut to a lesson on New Namek, where Moori explains how Namekians have settled on other planets.  Those communities would have their own elders, just as Moori is the elder of New Namek.  And those elders would be empowered to create and maintain Dragon Balls. 

This isn’t exactly news, since this is exactly how we have Dragon Balls on Earth.  The Son of Katas came to Earth as a refugee, then eventually ascended to the role of Kami and created a set of Dragon Balls without remembering where he learned to do it.  Monaito’s basically the same deal, except he had a whole group of Namekians with him on Cereal, and he’s the only one who survived the invasion.  This story just confirms that there could be other Namekian communities in the universe, and any of them could have their own sets of Dragon Balls. 

What I find more troubling is that Monaito’s set of Dragon Balls is just a pair.  I guess there’s no rule that their must be seven, but it’s kind of weird how we’ve always seen them in groups of seven before, and yet this one is just two. 

Anyway, as fate would have it, Granolah turns on the local news and learns that some Sugarian kid just happened to find the lost ball and took it to a lab for study.  And maybe this is why they went with just two balls, in order to simplify this moment, but they could have just as easily put six Dragon Balls on Monaito’s shelf. 

So Granolah immediately makes his move, stealing the second Dragon Ball and sneaking off to make his wish.  I like the design for Cereal’s Shenron, or whatever he’s called.  The dragon is willing to grant Granolah’s wish to become the greatest warrior in the universe, but Granolah’s body isn’t sturdy enough for that kind of power.  However, the Dragon can make it possible, if Granolah is willing to accept a compromise in exchange.  Granolah doesn’t even wait to find out what it is.

Meanwhile, Vegeta has finally achieved some success in using the Hakai technique.  He can only destroy little grains of sand, but he can destroy them, which is a big accomplishment.  And he’s not going to rest on his laurels.

Satisfied that his wish has been granted, Granolah immediately heads back to the Heeter’s HQ and demands to know where he can find Frieza.  The Heeters don’t understand what’s happened to him, but Granolah quickly defeats Oil and Macki in combat, and Elec realizes that Granolah’s not just blowing smoke.  Maybe he really can defeat Frieza, but he can’t just tell him where to find Frieza, because if he loses, Frieza might take revenge on the Heeters.  So Elec asks for some information on how Granolah got this strong, and Granolah explains the Dragon Balls and the condition he had to agree to.  Normally, Cerealians live for two hundred hears, and Granolah’s 50 now, but in order to get his wish, he had to let the Dragon shorten his lifespan.  Granolah now has only three years left to live.

Elec convinces Granolah to wait on Planet Cereal while they track down Frieza’s position.  In reality, Elec hatches a scheme to neutralize Granolah first.  Elec wants Frieza out of the picture, but he’s worried that if Granolah does the job, he might wipe out Frieza’s goon squad, and Elec wants to take them over for his own organization.  Wait, why didn’t the Heeters take over the Frieza Force before, when Frieza was dead? I mean, it’s just as well that they didn’t do this, since Frieza would have returned and killed them, but they didn’t know that at the time. 

So how can Elec stop Granolah from wrecking his plans?  Simple, he’s going to get Goku and Vegeta to do it for him.  Having studied Seven Three’s records, Elec knows that the Saiyans fought Moro, and they should be powerful enough to defeat Granolah, and Granolah won’t turn down a chance to fight Saiyans, since he wants revenge against those guys too.  Elec is confident that Goku and Vegeta would win that fight, but what if he’s wrong?  Well, I guess he’s got nothing to lose by trying...

So yeah, to repeat what I said at the top, this is way, way better than the Moro arc. There’s a lot fewer characters, and their motive are more complex, and their plans aren’t nearly as convoluted.  We’re not sending Goku and Vegeta on a wild goose chase to like five different planets for this one.  No dead-end subplots about Majin Buu or those space crooks who tried to rob that space train. 

I also really like the way this story uses Frieza without featuring him in the plot.  The problem I’ve always had with bringing back Frieza is that he just does all the same stuff he did the first time around.  The only novelty to Frieza these days is less about what he’s up to, but how everyone else reacts to his return.�� The Heeters, Granolah, Monaito, and the Sugarians have been trying to build a life for themselves in a post-Frieza universe, but now he’s back, and that upsets everything. 

Also, it’s refreshing to see Goku and Vegeta actually learning something on Beerus’ planet, as opposed to just sparring there as an establishing scene.  I’m looking forward to seeing how this plays out. 

[happyk44]

Fun facts about the OG Mary now that I'm thinking about her separately from June and retconned Mary:

Met Hera when she was about six and immediately fell in love with her

A running joke was that one of her friends wanted her to kill her dad (because youngest kills youngest) for reasons and she was steadfast against doing this, but would ALWAYS pause for a second when the option of "hey if your dad is dead then maybe you could marry your stepmom" because oh that's interesting

The other running joke was that everyone in the godly world heard about what happened (it was a thing) and whenever a god figured out that Mary was the little kid who inexplicably screamed "I LOVE YOU" at Hera and then burst into tears before running away, they would immediately start howling "that was you???" and Mary would both plot her suicide but also be like bashful giggling, twirling her hair, she talked about me?? type energy, lol

She inherited her dad's anxiety and paranoia but hates being in charge but also wants everyone to follow the rules (i.e. whatever she thinks the rules should be) and gets very annoyed when her friends point out that her idea of law enforcement is basically being in charge

Can't lie for shit but impeccable at acting (June can't lie for shit either but she also can't act for shit)

Works part-time in the underworld at Nico's request. The initial reason was to help her build confidence in around people because she had severe social anxiety, but as the daydream went on it just kind became a thing that happened. Ultimately the underworld feels safe for her so she just. Bothers the shit out of everyone until they give her stuff to do so she'll go away, lol

Does different tasks as part of her job, including, but not limited to, working part-time as a psychopomp with Hermes and Thanatos (wartimes makes collecting the dead a busy time indeed) (she also has gear that helps her see and grab souls because otherwise she'd be flailing wildly)

Hades tried to prank her as he does with all new hires but it backfired and now she's never allowed to drink coffee that she makes herself because the way she makes it means her heart will probably explode, and, no, she cannot make it any other way

Had this recurring dream (not a nightmare, she knows what a nightmare is and this ain't that) where the end was always her being strapped to a chair while two other versions of herself forced her to eat them ('twas a metaphor for repression)

Cries so much and all the time but also can not handle it when other people cried 'cause she doesn't know what to do and will sort of panic when there is no obvious fix or solution to make the tears stop (I ended up making this a thing for her whole cabin because I thought it was funny for it to be a shared trait)

For a while I had this running joke where if someone tried to compare her to her dad she would immediately panic and try to kill them (she looked a lot like him, and there was this moment I had written in my head where the kids try to see what they'd look like older and genderswapped and she looks so much like her dad Hades is caught off guard for a second before leaving and grabbing Poseidon who immediately starts cackling because holy shit you look just like him)

Active beef with Ash, Thanatos' kid, who thinks Mary who is one of the funniest people ever even though Mary's whole thing about is her being convinced that Ash wants to kill her friends despite there being no proof otherwise and also knowing, logically, that Ash does not want to kill her friends (Ash solely developed a survival instinct because she wants Mary to be the one who kills her)

Mary does love Ash very much - she's just trapped in her intrusive paranoia even when she knows those delusions are wrong

Anyway if I did bring OG Mary back, I think I'd want to give her a new name to separate her from retconned Mary, who is her own person. Something sky themed maybe, like how Coral is an ocean themed name.

Also I think it's so funny she was in love with Hera. Imagine Nico introducing her to Jason like "hey, she also has undiagnosed autism and severe sense of justice that makes her borderline murderous, talk it up" and then Jason ends up discovering that his half-sister high-key had age-appropriate horny dreams about their step-mom pretty much up until the day she died, lol

[savemewattpad]

Snow On the Beach Chapter One

"did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?"

Summary:

Former Avenger Leila Whittaker lost everything in the snap–her chosen family, her reputation, and the love of her life. Three years later, she’s keeping a low profile in New York when Natasha, the de facto leader of the intelligence community, calls her back into the field for some undercover work. Leila finds herself paired with Scott Lang, known to the public as Ant-Man and known to Leila as some guy she met on the Raft six years ago.

This is fine. Leila is content with sticking with what remains of her team, and keeping the rest of the world at arm’s length. Most of them want to be there, now, anyway. And that’s fine. 

It’s fine, except that Scott Lang turns out to have a way of getting under her skin, in a way she can’t quite shake off. 

Chapter Summary: Scott and Leila both agree to get back in the game.

Warnings: None

Pairings: Scott Lang/OFC, past Steve Rogers/OFC

Tags: @ocappreciation @arrthurpendragon @suethor @notaboutcat (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from this list!)

FF.Net | AO3 | Masterlist

Out of all the recurring nightmares Leila’s had over the course of her life–and there have been many–this one might be the most versatile. 

Sometimes it starts differently, but it always leads to the same place. She's on a stage, being controlled by puppet strings, and she looks up and finds the person controlling the strings, and it's always different, but pulling from the same pool of people. Everyone who’s ever interfered with her autonomy. Thanos, David, Johnny. Iain Warner, one time. Her past self, with blank, emotionless eyes, a few times. Occasionally more than one person, even if the people in question never met in real life. 

It’s Thanos, this time. She locks eyes with him, and as always, she wakes up. 

Leila isn't a shrink, but it's not hard to figure out what the dream means. What's trickier, and what she hasn't quite figured out yet, is what to do about it. 

She sighs and drags herself out of bed, and tries to shake the nightmare off. Sometimes she can't; sometimes it haunts her all day. A few times she's woken up into a panic attack. Today, though, is one of her better days; she can already feel it slipping out of her mind like sand through her fingers. 

She’s on her third chai latte when her phone rings. “I'm on my way,” she lies. 

“Hello to you too.” Natasha sounds amused. 

“Thought you were Tony,” Leila replies, stirring her latte absently. “I'm heading up there today. It's Morgan’s birthday.”

“Be sure to enjoy it, because I need you to come in tomorrow.” 

Leila pauses. “So this isn't a social call,” she says, hiding her unease under a layer of snark. 

“'Fraid not, Princess.” Despite being out of the field for years, Leila’s nickname, derived from her codename–Snow White–lives on. Old habits die hard, she supposes. Natasha has been calling her that for…almost a decade, now. 

“I'm retired, Nat.”

“No, you're clinically depressed. There's a difference.”

“Thanks, Doctor Romanoff, I'll keep that in mind.”

“You can ponder it more tomorrow when you come in.”

“Make someone else do it.”

“We need someone with your specific skill set.”

“Make Talos do it.”

“He's busy.”

“Then make Gravik do it.”

“Also busy.”

“Then make–”

“Stop naming skrulls. Besides, we need someone with your experience with organized crime.”

“You have that experience, too.”

“I've got a lot on my plate, as I’m sure you can imagine.” 

And Leila can. The responsibility Nat took on in the aftermath of the snap is extraordinary. Sometimes Leila feels bad about rejecting her offer to be her right hand. Then she remembers why she did. 

It's funny, in a way, that the thing that's made her more trouble than she's worth is the one thing that wasn't even her fault. (It wasn't, right?)

“Organized criminals lost people, too. They're not gonna want to talk to me.”

“They won’t be talking to you. They’ll be talking to each other. Or so they think.”

“Yes, I understand how shapeshifting works.”

“Leila,” Nat says, suddenly serious in a way that makes Leila sit up straight. “It’s about the Trust. That’s why we need it to be you.”

Leila takes several moments to process this, making a point to take deep breaths. 

“Fine. I’m in.”

“Good. Meet me at the compound tomorrow at 8.”

“I’ll be there.” 

“Lei–by the way, just so you aren’t taken off guard–you’ll be working with someone.”

Leila tenses reflexively, and tries not to let that tension into her voice. “Who? Anyone I know?”

“You might remember him. His name is Scott Lang.”

It’s early mornings like this that Scott starts to have reservations about X-Con. He comes into his office, and something about the morning light reminds him of the single office they’d inhabited years prior, lit almost entirely by fluorescents, four desks crowded into the space. Him, Kurt, Luis and Dave. It’s him, Kurt, Luis, and a small number of employees now. 

(He wonders sometimes, which office Dave would’ve taken, and if he would’ve liked it.) 

The success of the business is great, of course. It’s great to be able to help support Cassie. It’s great to be able to keep people employed that would otherwise be exactly where Scott was when he got out of prison. And it’s great to help keep people safe. 

The only problem is that the business didn’t start growing to this level until right after the snap. Scott doesn’t have, like, hard data to prove it, but he can never shake the idea that there’s a cause-and-effect there. People, now more than ever, want to feel safe. X-Con can’t protect people against genocidal aliens, unfortunately, but it can help them feel protected. Scott knows he isn’t doing anything wrong, technically–why people give him their business is their own prerogative–but sometimes it feels opportunistic, anyway. 

He’s at his desk, going over his schedule for the day, when the door to his office swings open. “You have a visitor,” Jez announces. 

“You could’ve used the phone,” Scott says without looking up. 

“But then I wouldn’t get to spend this quality time with my favorite brother,” she replies, leaning in the doorway. 

“I’ll be sure and let Matt know you said that.”

“He knows what he did.”

If Scott had more time, he’d probably take the bait, but he doesn’t. “Can you send the client in? It’s a tight schedule today.” 

Jez gives a lazy salute and heads back to the front desk. Weeks ago, their usual secretary had resigned, and Jez has been “filling in” ever since. She’s not an ex-convict, and she didn't have secretarial experience, which makes her a nepotism hire by any definition, but she needs the work, and Scott’s been watching out for her since she was nine years old. He’s not going to stop now. Besides which, she’s done enough free babysitting for him over the years to have earned it, anyway. 

He’s also pretty sure that nobody here–outside of Luis and Kurt, who knew her pre-X-Con–has figured out that she’s never been to prison. Not that it’s a secret, but still. She’s young, but even on her best behavior, she still has roughly the same personal energy as the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Toons. 

(He remembers her first visit to him in San Quentin. “It’s weird, because I always thought I’d be the first one of us to go to prison,” she’d told him.

“Sorry, first?” he’d asked. 

“Yeah. Me, then you, then Matt.”

“Why would Matt go to prison?”

“Wrong place, wrong time. I’d be locked up on drug charges, obviously.”

“Of course.”)

The door opens. He looks up and smiles. “Hi, I’m Scott, thanks for–” he pauses, and then tries not to sputter. “Hawkeye?”

Clint Barton gives him a half-smile, the kind where Scott can’t quite tell if he’s happy or not. “Scott,” he greets. “Good to see you again.”

Leila always forgets how beautiful the sky above Tony’s home is until she’s there. It’s one of those summer nights where the twilight seems to last forever, and she knows that once the sun is finally down, the stars in the sky will be actually visible, unlike the city. She can even see a few of them now, faintly. 

It’s the lakeside that ties it all together, though. Isabella had wanted to live somewhere by water, and Tony had, as he did to any and all requests or mild whims that Isabella made, obliged.  

Isabella is some ways ahead of them, maybe ten yards, holding a toddling Morgan’s hand. Still clearly in sight, but far enough away for Leila and Tony to talk, which Leila knows is coming–otherwise they would’ve had Leila take Morgan for a walk by herself while they cleaned up the house. 

“So,” Tony says, “why’re you crashing on our couch tonight, again?”

Leila knows what he’s actually asking. Are you okay? Do you need to not be alone? Are you about to go off the deep end again? Are you trying not to relapse? She kicks a rock into the lake. 

“I’m just saying, it’s an expensive couch,” Tony continues. “I feel like I at least deserve to know. Not that you aren’t always welcome.”

“I know,” she says, and she does, both about the couch and the welcomeness. Leila could ask to move in tomorrow and Tony would have the guest bedroom decorated for her within the hour. Her friendship with him is possibly the one thing in her life that she’s never questioned. 

“I’m going to the compound tomorrow,” she says finally. “Nat wants me back in the field. It’s just easier to stay here than go home and come back up.”

Tony whistles lowly. “You sure you’re up for that?”

“No. But apparently I’m the only woman for the job.” She pauses. “It’s about the Trust.”

“The Trust? That crime ring we took down back in…” Tony runs the numbers in his head. “2012?”

“Apparently we didn’t take it down far enough. Or someone decided to reboot it.”

Tony nods. “Are you working alone? I imagine it’s hard to build trust, given…well, you know.”

“Given that half of the world hates me.” Leila can handle innuendo from anyone else, but she doesn’t like dancing around things with Tony. His straightforwardness is one of the things that first drew her to him. 

“That’s the one, yeah.”

She smiles a little despite herself and kicks another rock. “Apparently I’m going in with someone named Scott Lang. Nat said I might remember him, from the Raft back during the whole Accords thing.” Leila had only spent a few hours on the Raft, and she doesn’t remember a lot of it. Frankly, the entire debacle is somewhat blurred in her mind. “I don’t, though. Do you?”

Tony thinks. “Right. Ant-Man. He was in Munich with Cap.”

There’s that straightforwardness she loves. Tony is one of the only people who doesn’t hesitate to mention Steve around her. The good, the bad, all of–

“Sorry, did you say Ant-Man?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Why the fuck is he called Ant-Man?”

“Cause he shrinks. He can also grow, but I guess ‘Giant-Man’ didn’t have the same ring to it.”

“I dunno, I might take it over Ant-Man.”

“Because you’re the expert on code names.”

“Snow White is a perfectly respectable code name, thank you.”

“Sorry.” He gives an exaggerated bow. “Please forgive me, your highness.”

Leila laughs. “How do you even know all this?”

“I have a vested interest in knowing the names of people who may or may not hold grudges against me.”

“That’s healthy.”

“That’s precaution.” Tony takes a few quick strides and then steps in front of her to face her. “I’m serious. Are you okay with this? It’s been years.”

“It’s only been three years. Not even that, actually,” she waves a hand. “As long as this doesn’t become a recurring thing…I’m fine. I can handle it.”

Tony watches her for a long moment, looking for any sign of indecision on her face. Finally, he nods. 

“Alright. As long as you stay up long enough to watch Tangled. It’s Morgan’s favorite right now, and she wanted to watch it with you.”

Leila smiles. “Traitor,” she mutters. “But yeah. I can do that.”

Scott clears an hour from his schedule (he makes a note to thank Kurt and Luis both for taking on his meetings that day), and makes three phone calls. 

The first one is to Hope. 

He explains the situation: Clint Barton (yes, that Clint Barton) showed up at his work asking him, on behalf of Natasha Romanoff (yes, that Natasha Romanoff) to get involved in some kind of espionage-related, superpower-related mission-type-thing. He said he wouldn’t do it without Hope (nobody can say he doesn’t learn from his mistakes.) Barton said they wanted him for his security and heist experience more than for his Ant-Man activity. Scott said he’d think about it. 

“So now I’m asking you,” Scott says. 

“Asking me what?”

That’s actually a good question. “I’m asking if you think I should agree to help,” he says, “and if you think I should do it without you.”

“I mean, you’re always better off with me there,” Hope replies easily. “But if they’re trying to keep the team small, and you trust them…I think you should at least consider it.”

If you trust them. He supposes he does. The Munich incident had involved a lot of mistakes on Scott’s part, but that hadn’t been either of their fault. Neither had the way it ended. 

“Have you told Maggie?” Hope continues. 

“That’s the next call I’m making.”

“Make it. And think about it. But if you say no, just don’t do it because of me.”

The second call is, as promised, to Maggie. 

“Hey, Scott, is this important?”

“Uhhhhh….yes. I’d say so.” He clears his throat. “I need some advice.”

“Okay, but can you make it quick? I’m on my lunch break.”

I can try? “Yeah. Totally. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

He tells her the same thing he told Hope, and then tells her what Hope said. “So now I’m asking you. Do you think I should do it?”

“No, I don’t, but that’s not the question you’re actually asking.”

“Okay, what am I asking?”

“You’re asking me if you’d be a bad person if you said no. And you’re asking me if you’d be a bad father if you said yes.”

Maggie’s ability to cut to the heart of the issue is not a quality Scott remembers her possessing during their admittedly short-lived marriage. He wonders idly if, given enough time and thought, he could pinpoint exactly when it started. 

“Okay. So what do you think?”

“I think nobody could blame you if you chose to stay out of it. And I think you’re going to do it anyway.”

Scott stays silent for a long moment, and Maggie takes it as an invitation to continue. 

“It’s who you are, Scott. Since the day I met you. You see a chance to be useful, to help someone, and you can’t resist.”

Scott sighs. “And Cassie?” he asks hesitantly. 

It’s Maggie’s turn to stay silent for a moment. Then, finally: “I can’t ask you to be someone you’re not. But Cassie’s already lost one father. If things get too dangerous, do you think you can back out?”

Scott looks at the photo on his desk. Him, Matt, Jez and Cassie. 

“Yeah. I can do that.”

The third call is to Clint Barton.

“Barton,” he answers. There’s a sort of lazy quality to his voice. 

“Hey, it’s, uh, it’s Scott. Lang. Ant-Man.” 

“Name rings a bell. Made your decision yet?”

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m in.”

[hcmiey]

though my desire is to make a really polished post about this, i know from experience that if i try and polish up a post, it simply never gets posted <3 hence my meta post about robbie valentino that's eight years in the making. and vince does not deserve that! so have a very imperfect little post about vince and his relationship with jim.

i will admit that this started out because i was thinking about that one line jim tells vince. you know the one. about how vince jokes around when he's upset. and i was thinking about how he jokes around with michelle about how he should start up his own moving company and how that "joke" is a pretty blatant cry for help. and i thought for a minute, "oh, is vince the kind of guy who has really clearly 'cry for help' humour?"

but then i went back and replayed the two scenes and i realized something very crucial. in the economics 101 flashback, vince has just had this really awful (and implied to be recurring) nightmare, and he's trying to communicate that to michelle.

and when michelle is dismissive towards that, vince immediately deflects and lies about falling asleep. interestingly enough, he does also have the option to open up to michelle later and be honest about having taken a nap. still, when he jokes around with her, it's pretty clear that he's anxious about his new job, saying he'll be living on handouts if he messes it up. and michelle does try (and fail) to comfort vince as a result. which is all fine and good, but then when i went back to replay the JIM scene, i got something completely different.

like this old man really puts his hand on vince's shoulder and says

like HELLO?!?!??! and vince's joke really isn't all that blatant of a joke. he straight up just says that girls, booze, and the fancy car jim has didn't sound like the worst things. which, if anything, is more of a little sarcastic jab. but jim immediately sees through that sarcasm to the self-loathing vince carries deep within him. and that's so important to me?? it's about i can see through it. it's about how jim vanished for thirty years and still knows vince better than his wife does. it's about how, perhaps, at his core, vince never truly changed from when he was a six-year-old kid asking for action figures to give to his bullies. it just kills me! it truly does. it kills me that jim could look at vince and just know him, even though he's been gone for a majority of vince's life, he knows him better than anyone else in his entire life.

[joiedecombat]

Thinking a lot about your unravel fic and what those kind of scenes might have looked like earlier in their relationship. Since Aymeric's interrogation by the Heavens Ward happened before they were together, how and when did the subject of his nightmares arise? How much detail has he shared with Raine? Has the Echo shown her anything and how does she feel about seeing/not seeing his trauma?

It took quite a while before they could have that conversation, for sure.

I've talked before about how Aymeric is accustomed to not really being able to show weakness. Raine always had a very general idea of what he went through at the Vault between going in to speak to Thordan and when they rescued him, but especially with everything else that overshadowed that whole sequence of events, they didn't talk about the specifics or the lingering effect the experience had on him. Even if he'd been inclined to talk through it with her - or anyone, to be honest - there were simply too many other things to focus on.

(Shadowbringers and oblique Endwalker spoilers and some tldr below the cut.)

Raine's Echo primarily shows her scenes that were/are heavily charged with either aether (use of magic or other forms of strong aetheric activity) or dynamis (strong emotion). His interrogation at the hands of Ser Charibert and the Ward definitely falls into the latter category, so yes, at some point not all that long after the Vault she undoubtedly had an Echo vision of some part of that experience. She wasn't in the best emotional state herself at that time, and her response was essentially to pretend that particular vision never happened. I imagine Aymeric at least suspected, but it was pretty much a "let's never speak of this" situation for both of them as they channeled their coping mechanisms into dealing with the crises in front of them.

The two of them didn't begin sharing a bed until after Raine returned from the First, which was over a solid year and a half at the absolute minimum from the Vault.* By that time, Raine was dealing with some recurring nightmares of her own, mostly dealing with Sin Eaters and her experiences with Light aether corruption nearly turning her into a monster, with some Final Days soul flashbacks for extra flavor. She spent at least six months in Ishgard after wrapping things up in the First, so once they started sleeping together it became inevitable that one of them was going to disturb the other's sleep… and Raine's nightmares were considerably fresher than Aymeric's.

That's what finally opened the door for Aymeric to admit to having nightmares about his time at the Vault. Talking about it was a way for him to let Raine know he understood something of what she was going through, encouraging her to let herself be vulnerable with him by allowing himself the same. Broaching the subject opened the door for some heart-to-heart conversations that both of them, and especially Raine at that time, badly needed.

He's still never gone into detail about the content of those dreams - except to explain that it's not always the interrogation; sometimes it's centered on Haurchefant's death, which he will always carry a sense of personal responsibility for - but he doesn't have to. Raine was extremely uncomfortable at the time to have experienced his trauma through the Echo, but with the distance of the intervening time to dull the edge of the experience, she's kind of grateful that it allows for that kind of understanding between them without forcing Aymeric to verbally relive the whole thing to her.

*(My personal rule of thumb is that each expansion takes about a year of in-game time, but I haven't quite worked out how the time differential between the Source and the First affects the timeline.)

[winterandwords]

📖 [short fiction] SMOKE

📝 notes

Audience age Adult Genre Experimental/literary fiction Length 999 words

Through a journey paved with fragments of break-ups and breakdowns, scorched earth and burned bridges, a heartbroken lover finds a way to breathe again.

☕ If you enjoy this story and would like to buy me a coffee, you can do that here

📸 Header image, edited and displayed under license, by Tobias Tullius on Unsplash

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

SIX MONTHS AGO

You whispered through tears, “I love you.”

ONE MONTH AGO

I stood next to my car with you, experiencing the dawning realisation that this was going nowhere. I leaned on the door and shuffled my feet as you said you couldn’t have made it this far without me, but it was too painful to be with me now. I pulled you back to when life was bad and you needed too much. A cut-throat reminder that I was enough for only some things.

Well, I hope you enjoyed that little moment, that you took it home and wrapped yourself in it, feeling a swell of pride for having broken the unbreakable.

TWENTY-NINE DAYS AGO

I found your cigarettes in the bottom of my bag. The pack was crushed. I smoked them, one by one, all afternoon until I could breathe again, the skylight open above my head. I quit smoking a year ago, but that pack, that day, was not failure or relapse. It was catharsis. I was disgusted, as much by how I still wanted you to want me as by the now unacquired taste of burning tobacco.

Lying on my bed in a haze of smoke, I remembered your smile, your eyes, all those clichés. How amazing for someone who forgets most faces in an instant. But there I was, my own eyes red-rimmed and dark-circled, skin pale, hair wild and lips bitten, picturing your particular arrangement of features with painful accuracy. I pulled my sleeves down over shaking hands with chewed fingernails and tried to hate you.

ONE YEAR AND TWO MONTHS AGO

The day we met. At work. I overheard you explode into a rant about how films and TV shows now were nothing more than remakes, reboots, reimaginings, sequels and prequels, how the whole entertainment industry had given up trying to climb out of its conceptual rut.

I knew right then that we had to be friends, so I spun around in my chair, uncharacteristically interrupting your conversation with a bewildered colleague, and said, “No-one’s brave enough to do anything that hasn’t already been mass-approved a thousand times over. Nothing’s new anymore and I hate it.”

You raised your hands in a gesture of praise and appreciation, then pointed at me and said, “See? You get it.”

ONE YEAR AND ONE MONTH AGO

You stopped at my desk, handed me a cup of coffee, and said, “I’m going shopping at lunchtime. You should come with me.” It wasn’t an invitation as much as a statement of fact. So I went. Because of course I did.

I wriggled into a dress I never would have chosen for myself, but that you decided would look amazing on me, and while I scrutinised my appearance in one of ten available mirrors, you looked me up and down and said, “You look stunning. Seriously. Stunning. You should wear things like that all the time. You should definitely buy it.” So I did.

You pulled off the sweater you’d been trying on and I saw the scars. I never asked. You never told me.

NINE MONTHS AGO

We went out to a club, and I wore the dress. Maybe it did look stunning like you said, but everyone was staring at you. Everyone was always staring at you. We shared a taxi home and arrived at your house first. You kissed me on your way out of the car and walked away without even so much as a glance over your shoulder, leaving me in shock with your lipstick smudged on my mouth.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO

You quit your job. You showed up at my door at one o’clock in the morning and said in a rare expression of vulnerability, “I’m scared you’ll forget me if you don’t see me every day. I don’t want you to forget me.”

I invited you in and made tea and toast while you curled up on the couch and told me about a recurring nightmare where a strong wind blew down the trees in your front garden and the roots tore the house apart as they ripped through the ground. You said you thought it might have had something to do with feeling like the house shouldn’t be yours, that you only got it in the divorce because your ex-husband had enough money not to care and just wanted it all to be over so he could get away from you.

You spoke of a gnawing sense of nostalgia for a time and a place that you were scared you would never experience, and how you were sure there was a word for that, but you couldn’t remember what it was.

You told me about your ex-husband and your father and how history always repeats itself and people always let it because they don’t know how not to. Then you told me how much you admired my strength and wished you could be like me instead of living in a perpetual state of emergency. You turned your face away from mine when you said, “I can’t look in the mirror anymore.”

I didn’t know what to say because I might have been steady ground, but you were an earthquake and I was quickly becoming addicted to the sensation of breaking glass and cracking walls.

You lit a cigarette and asked if you could stay. I said yes. Because how could I not? And how could I not want you to?

That was the true beginning of the tempest, the vortex, turbulent and wild. Ships shattering, thrown against rocks in the darkness of a storm and lifeboats swallowed whole. A collapsing tower, a wheel with spokes on fire, a red sky at night. A warning. A warning I completely ignored. I closed my eyes and let go. I let myself fall.

THIS MORNING

I got a voicemail from you. It said simply, “I gave up smoking. I thought you should know.” I deleted it. I hope you can finally breathe.