#might be back in a few hours but also it could be longer so bear with me <3

[brailsthesmolgurl]

DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Arvia doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

Sequel here: Retribution

Parallel Universe Ending is up! Read through Retribution and you shall find the link for the parallel not-so-angsty ending!

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part ten

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, sad rafe, idk i might be forgetting something

author's note: this chapter is both long and not entirely proof read so bear with me lol. i also wrote this at like 4 am so please. anyways, i want to start making the chapters a bit longer for you guys since i've been away for so long. enjoy!

"Y/n, what's wrong? What's going on?" You could feel Rafe's tangible consternation right through the phone. Your chest felt like it was caving in, accompanied by the growing, nausea-inducing pit in your stomach formulated from your feelings of guilt. The way his typically baritone voice was strained and quiet, presumably from the unexpected "emergency"phone call you had presented him with.

"I-I got into a huge fight with JJ," you fibbed with the help of the crack in your voice and a sorrowing tone that could only make Rafe crumble right in your hands, "it's a long story, but I need to get out of here. I can't be in this place any longer, Rafe." You fraudulently sobbed.

"Okay, okay.. Just breathe, yeah? I can come and get you in a second I just really have to finish this thing with my dad fir-"

"Rafe, please. I need you now." You pleaded as though your life depended on it, which in a way, it did. You realized that had your attempt to lure Rafe into your arms failed, your friends would be in a heap of danger.

An audible sigh was heard from the other sign of the phone, along with muffled chatter that you assumed was Rafe and Ward talking. The conversation, or what you heard of it, sounded like back-and-forth bickering for the most part, which caused a wave of anxiety to wash over you as you began to pick at your nails. Seconds felt like hours as you waited to hear Rafe's voice again on the other side, but it sounded as though the conversation continued. You stayed on the other side of the line in complete silence, not wanting to interrupt the matter, but the longer it took your nerves ensued.

"I'm on my way." Rafe suddenly responded, taking you off guard after not hearing him address you within a period of time.

"Thank you." You whispered, a small smile of satisfaction present on your face at what you had managed to accomplish. Perhaps Rafe was more infatuated than you imagined, you thought.

*NEW MESSAGE FROM Y/N to KIARA CARRERA: done.*

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Time passed by quickly whilst you waited for Rafe's arrival. You paced the living room back and forth a few times, wondering how you were going to pull off such a stunt despite the pit in your stomach growing and your hands trembling with unease. Your mind became your worst enemy as you thought through everything that could go wrong as you anxiously waited for the time to come, replaying every bad scenario through your head over and over again - until you were practically sick.

Your pessimistic thoughts were cut to a halt by a loud knock at the door, one that sounded more like someone was pounding on the other side. The noise made your body jump as you immediately turned a heel towards the door. You approached hesitantly, trying to kill as much time as possible before you'd open the door, but as time progressed the knocking became quicker and louder thuds that raddled the chateau.

"Y/n. Are you hurt? Did he do something to you cause I'll kick that son of a bitch to a pul-"

"No, Rafe, I'm not hurt. Not physically, at least." You shook your head, forcing out your voice in the most pathetic tone you could possible mimic. Rafe frowned in response as he noticed the way your head hung low and eyes stayed glued to the ground.

"What did he say to you?" Rafe softly asked, approaching you with caution and ease as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing a familiar sense of butterflies to errupt and flutter around in your stomach.

"He just brought up a bunch of stuff about my family and called me a traitor for spending time with you. For being with you, basically." Your vision became blurry as tears clouded your view, unsure of how they got there, but you mentally applauded yourself for such a performance.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. C'mere." Rafe cooed sympathetically as he pulled you into his arms tightly, possibly the tightest embrace you've felt in your life, but in a sense it felt good to be held like that. Like nothing in the world could hurt you while you were wrapped up in Rafe Cameron's arms, as insane as it sounded to you.

Your body relaxed in his arms, eyes closing as you soaked up every bit of his warmth. You nearly hummed in such delight before stopping yourself, not wanting to feed into Rafe's ego more than you already were just by calling him over for help. But it did feel nice, a feeling that came as a shock to you.

"I wanna get out of here, Rafe. Please." You sniffled, looking up at the brooding figure with those sad puppy-dog eyes that could make any man melt in your hands.

"Of course. Do you want to come back to my place? You can spend the night with me if you don't feel like going home."

You shook your head, "I don't wanna go home, especially not like this. Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah 'course it is. Besides, my dad probably wont be back tonight and Rose and Wheezie are with him so I'll need the company. I'd prefer yours over theirs anyways." Rafe flashed you a small smile, hoping to diminish the frown that clouded your features as he rubbed your forearms gently.

You trailed behind Rafe on the walk to the car, watching as he held the door open and gestured your inside. You gave him a weak simper and a head nod as a symbolism of your gratitude at his sentiment. You'd be a liar if you said it didn't make your heart flutter at how caring and gentle he was being towards you, but you cursed yourself for the fact that it was all because of a lie.

"Y/n?" Rafe asked, snapping you out of your trance while you gazed out of the window.

"Yeah?"

"You aren't upset with me for earlier, are you?" He inquired, biting the inside of his cheek.

"No, why would I be?" You tilted your head, brows furrowed as you made eye contact with the blue-eyed Kook.

"I don't know. I guess I just thought you seemed a little dry when I was dropping you off earlier, s'all." Rafe coughed out, noticing how he scratched the back of his head as he spoke feebly.

"Oh, I see." You blinked, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off that way. I've just been a little tired I guess."

"No, don't apologize. It's okay." He turned his head, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to reassure you with a thin-lipped smile. You observed as he clutched the steering wheel, veins ostensibly poking through along his arms and hands in a way that made your thighs clench together tightly. You gulped silently in an attempt to restrain yourself and regain composure - this was Rafe Cameron you were talking about. Yet on the other hand, despite his vainglorious ways and haughty sense-of-self, inhis eyes, a flicker of mischief dances amidst shadows, a daring tale waiting to unfold. He was the embodiment of defiance, a canvas of contradictions where danger and allure converge in captivating disarray. You found yourself ensnared by the gravity of his presence, a force that pulled your world into his magnetic orbit. You could keep reminding yourself to run away from him, but where would you go to hide? He was everywhere, from the depths of your mind, to every turning corner of Figure 8.

You made it back to the Cameron's residence before you knew it, perhaps too caught up in the thought of Rafe to realize what was happening around you. However, once the car came to a halt and your surroundings stopped moving, reality soon greeted you once again.

You hopped out of the car, following behind Rafe like a lost puppy who didn't know where it was. You felt out of place, and a bit on edge. You wondered if your friends were okay, praying that your decoy tactics were doing them good. The other half of your nerves came from the fact that you were doing something that went against your moral code, and challenged your ability to lie to the face of someone you.. Care about?

"Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea, a soda?" Rafe asked, making his way to the kitchen with you in close pursuit.

"I'm good." You passed off his offer with a half-hearted laugh and a weak smile. As you watched him, the ambient light of the fridge casted a soft glow on his silhouette. His movements were casual, effortless, as he navigated the contents in search of a drink. The way he tilted his head slightly, the lines of his profile against the cool light—it’s a fleeting portrait etched into your memory. You found yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment, the way his fingers grazed the chilled bottles, his easy familiarity with the space. There was something mesmerizing about the way he handled the mundane, turning the ordinary into a scene worth cherishing. It was as though time slowed, encapsulating this small interaction, making it feel like an eternity. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed, captivated by his presence. The faint hum of the fridge was a backdrop to the symphony of your thoughts, all centered around this magnetic figure before you. In that unguarded moment, as he stood there unaware, he became the focal point of your world, drawing you deeper into the allure of his ordinary yet enchanting actions.

"Didn't realize I had an audience," he chuckled, catching you watching him with an amused glint in his eye. There was a playful energy in his tone, a sense that he knew he had inadvertently drawn your attention.

Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he exuded a relaxed confidence. "If watching me rummage through the fridge becomes a regular show, I might have to start selling tickets," he teased, trying to lighten the moment but also displaying a subtle curiosity about what had captured your interest. His ego slowly peaking through, as usual.

"Oh, absolutely riveting," you retorted, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as you met his amused gaze. "Your fridge exploration was the highlight of my day, truly." Your lips curved into a wry smile, eyes dancing with playful mockery.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes softening as he met your gaze. "You know, watching you watch me... it's kind of different," he began, his voice a touch softer, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual ease.

"I mean, it's not every day someone looks at me like... well, like that," he admitted, the words stumbling out with a hint of uncertainty. His gaze briefly faltered, a struggle evident within him as if battling between speaking his mind and holding back.

But before he could continue, he stopped himself abruptly, a shadow of hesitation crossing his features. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make things weird. Forget I said anything," he deflected, a faint tinge of regret coloring his words as he tried to backtrack, a sudden unease settling over him.

As he hesitated, you caught the shift in his demeanor, a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath his usual confidence. "No, don't," you interjected softly, reaching out to gently touch his hand, your eyes imploring him to continue. "Please, whatever you were going to say... I want to hear it."

In that suspended moment of vulnerability, he gathered the courage to speak what had been on his mind for far too long. "I... I've always felt something different around you," he confessed, his voice softer than a whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

"It's not just the way you look at me, but... how you make me feel," he continued, his gaze locking with yours, each word chosen with care, as if he was navigating uncharted territory. "There's this warmth, this comfort that settles in whenever you're near." He paused, the air thick with anticipation, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest. He struggled to find the right words to express the depth of what he felt, a mixture of fear and longing flickering in his eyes.

But as the moment hung between them, poised on the edge of revelation, he stopped himself once more, the weight of his unspoken feelings heavy upon him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," he murmured, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he withdrew, fearing he might have crossed a line.

You were stunned, his words piercing through the air, carrying a weight you hadn't expected. Your heart fluttered in response, a mix of surprise and a tinge of something deeper stirring within you.

"I never realized," you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside. His confession had caught you off guard, unraveling a part of your own feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

"There's always been this... something," you confessed, your words coming out in a rush, a newfound realization taking hold. "A connection, a pull towards you that I couldn't quite define."

Yet, before you could explore this uncharted territory further, you sensed his hesitation, his retreat from the vulnerable moment you had both stepped into. The abruptness left you reeling, an unspoken ache lingering in the charged air between you.

"I didn't mean to make it awkward," you murmured, regret coloring your tone as you witnessed his uncertainty. The unspoken sentiments hung heavy, a silent conversation begging to be continued, the depth of emotions left unexplored.

In the hush of that moment, you found yourselves locked in a silent exchange. His gaze, an ocean of depths, met yours with an unwavering intensity, drawing you in like a force. You perched on the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface beneath you, as he closed the distance, a dance of proximity that felt almost orchestrated by fate.

Closer, step by deliberate step, until the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Rafe's presence enveloped you, a shield from the outside world, as if the space around you had collapsed into a world of its own. You felt his warmth seep through the inches that separated you, a silent harmony of shared breaths.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stand still. Your breaths mingled, creating a delicate rhythm of anticipation. His hand moved with a tenderness that spoke volumes, gently enclosing you within the confines of that intimate space.

And as his closeness eclipsed the distance between you, your eyes locked in a silent conversation, saying things that mere words couldn't articulate. The world outside faded into insignificance as the universe shrank to just the two of you, suspended in a timeless embrace of unspoken longing.

Your breath hitched, Rafe's minty-breath fanning over your skin as his lips lingered a few inches from your face. You felt a flutter in your chest as his eyes bore into yours, each glance a revelation, unraveling layers of unspoken emotions. In the depth of his stare, you sensed a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

Before you had time to think, his lips connected with yours, passionately but with a delicacy that made it seem like if he pushed too far, you would break. You took in his affection, pulling him in by the back of his neck as he hungrily devoured the cherry lip balm off of your glossy lips. Rafe kept the pace slow, but his movements were eager and greedy for more of you. His large hands trailing up your open thighs, stopping at your hips as he gripped them and squeezed at them lightly.

You moaned into his mouth as you longed for more of him, a testimate you figured you'd regret doing later, but in that moment, you needed him, and he knew it.

Rafe responded with a smirk against your lips, letting out a deep, low chuckle from the bottom of his throat that sent tingles down your spine. You arched your body towards his, caving into his touch and practically begging for more. You weren't exactly sure why you were so taken over by such feeling of lust, but you wouldn't dare brush it off.

"God, I love you." Rafe groaned, murmuring his words against your neck yet they came out plain as day. Your eyes, previously shut as you took in the bliss of what you were experiencing, now shot wide open and you stared ahead.

"You.. What?" You stammered on your words as your throat seemingly went dry.

In the wake of his sudden admission, you were left speechless, the air heavy with the unexpected weight of his confession. His words lingered in the space between you, a revelation that seemed to have shifted the very ground beneath your feet.

You looked at him, shock etched in your features, mirrored in the stunned expression on his face. In that suspended moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you, a shared astonishment at the sudden revelation.

Time seemed to halt, the air thick with a mix of emotions, leaving you both stranded in an uncomfortable silence. His confession hung in the air, and you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, trying to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

The shock of his abrupt admission left you reeling, unsure of how to respond, as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted. The air crackled with a charged tension, a profound moment that had unexpectedly unfolded between you, leaving you both standing at the precipice of an uncertain new chapter.

"Y/n-I... It was the heat of the moment." He was lying right through his teeth.

"Rafe you don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'." You stated, face still covered in shock.

"I know, I know," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and sincerity, attempting to backpedal. "But sometimes... things just spill out, you know?"

You looked at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, the shock still painted across your features. "You don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'," you stated firmly, your voice carrying a weight of conviction.

He met your gaze, his eyes searching for a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. "I guess... I might have gotten carried away," he admitted, a hint of remorse coloring his words. "But that doesn't mean I don't mean it, Y/n."

His attempt to retract his words faltered in the face of your unwavering response, leaving an uncomfortable tension hanging between you, the unspoken truth lingering in the air, too palpable to be ignored.

"I messed up, saying it like that," Rafe sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone as he struggled to express himself. "But the truth is, I've been feeling this way for a while now."

You watched him, the shock slowly morphing into a mix of confusion and a glimmer of curiosity. "Rafe, why now? Why like this?" you questioned, seeking clarity in the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed both of you.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, a turbulent storm brewing in his thoughts. "I didn't plan it, it just happened," he confessed, a sense of urgency in his voice. "But... being around you, it's like discovering something I didn't know I needed. And I don't want to pretend otherwise."

The vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and a hint of desperation to convey what he truly felt. The intensity of the moment lingered, a raw and unfiltered exchange leaving you both exposed, suspended in a realm of unresolved emotions.

The sudden confession left you reeling, a storm of conflicting thoughts raging within. His words echoed in your mind, but beneath the shock, a sense of unease crept in. You couldn't ignore the inconvenient truth—you had approached him under false pretenses, a lie woven into the fabric of your interactions.

As his feelings spilled out, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time. Guilt tugged at your conscience, reminding you that your connection with him was built on a shaky foundation. How could you entertain the possibility of reciprocating his feelings when the truth had been veiled behind a facade?

His sincerity clashed with the dishonesty looming over your encounters. The weight of regret settled heavy on your shoulders, wishing for an alternate reality where honesty could pave the way for genuine emotions to blossom.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, you grappled with the turmoil of regret, longing for a different circumstance where the truth could guide the course of your connection with him.

"Rafe.. you don't know what you're saying." You shook your head, voice quiet as your head hung low while guilt proceeded you.

"But I know how I feel, Y/n."

He watched you, a sense of helplessness clouding his features as he realized the weight of his confession. "I get it if this is too much, too soon," he murmured, a mix of sincerity and a hint of pleading in his voice. "I just needed you to know."

There was a pang of regret in his chest, knowing that his impulsive admission might have pushed things too far, too quickly. He hoped for understanding, for a chance to rectify the situation, but the gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncertain tension between you both.

"Rafe, please.. Don't do this." You continued shaking your head at him, your body deterring his words away from you.

Rafe’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and a longing to make things right. "I didn't mean to make things complicated," he said, his voice laced with regret as he recognized the distress in your plea.

"I'll back off, I promise," he assured, a sense of resignation coloring his words. "I'll give you space, whatever you need."

He took a step back, giving you a gentle nod as if to affirm his commitment to respecting your wishes. Though the weight of his unspoken feelings lingered, he understood the importance of honoring your request, his regret palpable in the ache of the unspoken words he left hanging in the air.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Rafe. I just - I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."

Rafe's features softened once more, a glint of understanding in his eyes as he absorbed your words. "I hear you," he replied softly, a tinge of regret lacing his voice. "Maybe I jumped the gun."

He took a step closer, a reassuring gesture without encroaching on your space. "I get it, Y/n. I don't want to complicate things for you," he acknowledged, a sense of empathy coloring his words. "I'll... figure it out."

There was a lingering sadness in his eyes, a realization that the depth of his feelings might have inadvertently disrupted the delicate balance. He offered a faint, understanding smile, silently conveying his acceptance of your decision while grappling with the weight of unspoken sentiments swirling within him.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, the turmoil of emotions swirling within you as you watched Rafe navigate the complexities of the moment. There was a pang of empathy mixed with a tinge of regret, knowing that his heartfelt confession had collided with a reality too intricate to unravel.

His genuine vulnerability struck a chord within you, the sincerity in his eyes a poignant reminder of the depth of his feelings. Despite the complexities, there was an undeniable longing in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

Yet, amidst the ache, you held firm, knowing that conceding to the whirlwind of emotions might only deepen the intricate web you both found yourselves entangled in. The ache in your chest was a silent testament to the conflicting desires to both embrace and pull away from the vulnerability that lay bare between you.

With a gentle resolve in your voice, you offered a solution to diffuse the tension hanging in the air. "I'm going to go to bed. I'll sleep in the guest room if you'd like for me to," you softly stated, your gaze fixed on Rafe, awaiting his response.

Rafe met your gaze, a mix of gratitude and regret flickering in his eyes. "I appreciate that," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "But you don't have to do that. You can take my room; I'll take the guest."

There was a sense of mutual understanding in his response, a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken boundaries between you. As you turned to leave, a bittersweet atmosphere lingered, the weight of unresolved emotions hanging in the air, leaving both of you to navigate the uncharted territories of unspoken sentiments.

Your heart urged you to offer more, to say something that could alleviate the heaviness in the room, yet words eluded you. You wished to ease the ache in Rafe's eyes, to erase the tension that had woven its way between you both.

But the weight of the moment held you captive, words caught in the tangled threads of conflicting emotions. You longed to express understanding, to mend the rift caused by the unexpected turn of events, but the complexity of the situation left you grappling with the silence.

With a heavy sigh and a lingering gaze, you retreated, knowing that sometimes the silence spoke louder than any words you could muster, and hoping that time might offer a balm to heal the unspoken wounds that lingered between you and Rafe.

As you made your way to Rafe's room, guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders, each step a reminder of the tangled web of emotions you found yourself entwined in. The faint echo of your own footsteps seemed to resonate with the uncertainty that clouded your mind.

Slipping under the covers, the warmth of the room offered little comfort against the turmoil within. You couldn't shake off the guilt, a relentless companion that followed you into the darkness. The sheets felt colder than usual, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

Lying there, your thoughts tangled in a maze of regret, you replayed the events of the evening, questioning the choices that led to this poignant moment. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Sleep remained elusive, your mind restless, grappling with the repercussions of your actions. The guilt lingered as a constant reminder of the complexities that now defined the fragile dynamics between you and Rafe.

As the night ebbed away, the soft hues of dawn painted the sky, signaling the arrival of a new day. You descended the stairs, a faint unease lingering from the events of the previous evening, unsure of what the morning would bring.

At the foot of the staircase, you were met with Rafe, his presence an unexpected yet anticipated encounter. There was an awkward tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unresolved emotions that hung between you both.

"Morning," Rafe greeted, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, the weight of the unspoken words from the night before lingering in the air.

"Morning," you replied softly, the air heavy with an unspoken understanding, a palpable sense of discomfort threading through the atmosphere.

There was an unspoken agreement to navigate the morning with cautious steps, each movement tinged with the residue of the unresolved emotions that lingered between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, leaving both of you searching for a semblance of normalcy in the midst of the palpable awkwardness.

"I'm gonna head back to the chateau in a few, JJ said he wants to talk to me," you mentioned, trying to break the palpable tension hanging in the air.

Rafe's laughter was dry, a strained sound that echoed in the room, a stark contrast to the ease that once defined your interactions. "Seems like he's got a lot to talk about these days," he remarked, a hint of bitterness seeping into his words.

You sensed the unease in his tone, a reflection of the awkwardness that enveloped the space between you. The weight of the unresolved emotions lingered, casting a shadow over the interaction, leaving the air heavy with unspoken sentiments.

The apology hung in the air, a quiet admission laden with the weight of remorse. "Rafe... I'm sorry, okay?" you uttered softly, the words an attempt to ease the strain that enveloped the space between you.

"Sure," Rafe replied, his tone notably drier, a touch of guardedness in his response. The weight of the situation lingered in the air, his words carrying a subtle hint of distance as he navigated the delicate balance between acceptance and reservation.

The conversation seemed to falter, leaving an uncomfortable silence that underscored the unspoken tension. Despite the attempt at reconciliation, there was a palpable hesitance in his demeanor, a reluctance to fully embrace the offered apology, adding another layer of complexity to the already strained atmosphere.

"I didn't say it because I don't care about you, Rafe," you asserted, hoping to clarify the sincerity behind your actions.

Rafe's response was more confrontational, his confusion apparent in his tone. "Then why?" he questioned, a hint of frustration seeping into his words. "It's just... it feels like nothing's adding up."

There was an edge to his demeanor, a palpable frustration stemming from the unresolved tension between you. The attempt at explanation seemed to only complicate matters further, leaving both of you grappling with the tangled web of emotions that refused to find resolution.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt," you explained, your voice soft yet firm, hoping to convey the underlying concern that had guided your actions.

Rafe's demeanor softened slightly, a flicker of surprise mingled with a trace of understanding in his expression. "Hurt?" he echoed, a hint of confusion still present but tempered by the sincerity in your words.

"Yeah," you continued, trying to articulate the protective instinct that fueled your choices. "Things are... complicated, and I didn't want to add to that."

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an attempt to bridge the gap with honesty and concern, hoping to offer a glimpse into the complexities that had led to your decisions. The air, though still charged with tension, held a trace of empathy as you navigated the fragile balance between candor and reservation.

"Do you think I care if things are a little complicated, Y/n? My whole life has been complicated," Rafe responded, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and a hint of frustration, a glimpse into the complexities he had grown accustomed to.

His words held a weight, a testament to the tumultuous experiences that had shaped his life. Despite the tension, there was a raw honesty in his admission, revealing the layers of complexities that had become intrinsic to his existence.

"Yeah, but it's me, Rafe. I'm a Pogue from the Cut, do you really want that? Your family probably has this whole plan set out for you to end up with a Kook, anyways," you expressed, a tinge of vulnerability woven into your words. "This, I, am way too complicated for your lifestyle. That's more weight than you could bear."

Your words carried the weight of societal expectations and the stark contrast between your worlds. The lines drawn by society's standards seemed insurmountable, adding layers of complexity to an already intricate situation. You highlighted the disparity between your backgrounds, emphasizing the potential burden it might pose for Rafe, intertwining concern for his well-being with an understanding of the societal barriers dividing you.

"I don't care, Y/n. I don't care what they have to say because I care about you. Why can't you just accept that?" Rafe's voice carried a raw honesty, his words cutting through the barriers of societal expectations.

Your heart skipped a beat at his unwavering declaration. "Because it's not that simple, Rafe," you replied softly, your voice laced with a mix of emotions. "There's so much more at stake than just us. Just trust me on this. Please."

"Y/n, please just listen to me. It doesn't have to be this way. We can make it work, whatever I have to do, I'll do it," Rafe pleaded, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency and determination.

You met his earnest gaze, torn between the desire to believe in his words and the weight of the obstacles you both faced. "Rafe, it's not that simple," you murmured, the turmoil evident in your tone. "There are things beyond our control, things that won't just change because we want them to."

The ache in your chest mirrored the conflict in your mind, the yearning to embrace his offer battling against the harsh realities that seemed to impose barriers between you.

The scene unfolded before you, and you witnessed the subtle tremble in Rafe's lip, a poignant display of the emotions he struggled to contain. Sorrow etched into the depths of his eyes, a vulnerable expression that laid bare the depth of his feelings.

Your heart wrenched at the sight, a surge of empathy flooding through you as you recognized the pain reflected in his gaze. The weight of the situation bore heavily on him, and the turmoil within him was palpable, painting a picture of raw vulnerability and unspoken longing.

Despite the complexities that stood between you both, the silent plea in his eyes tugged at your own emotions, evoking a whirlwind of conflicting sentiments that left you grappling with the ache of shared sorrow and the unyielding barriers that seemed to divide you.

"I need you, Y/n," Rafe's voice was tinged with desperation, a raw plea that echoed in the room, laying bare the depth of his emotions.

"I've got to go, Rafe," you whispered, your voice laden with sorrow, each word a painful admission of the necessity to part ways despite the shared longing.

Walking out of Rafe's house, tears blurred your vision, emotions swirling within as you grappled with the weight of the encounter. As you stepped outside, your friend Kiara awaited in the car, a knowing look in her eyes that spoke volumes without a single word exchanged.

Kiara observed your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. Without needing to speak, she unlocked the car doors, a silent invitation for you to seek solace in the comfort of her presence.

With a heavy heart, you slid into the passenger seat beside Kiara, the warmth of her presence offering a sense of solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The unspoken understanding between friends enveloped the space, allowing for a moment of silent companionship amid the storm of feelings that surged within.

"I did what you guys asked me," you stated flatly, the weight of your actions hanging heavily in the air, your voice tinged with resignation.

Kiara glanced at you, her expression a mix of concern and apprehension, recognizing the strain in your voice. "Are you okay?" she inquired softly, her tone laced with a gentle concern, understanding the difficulty of the task you'd undertaken for the sake of your friends.

You remained silent for a moment, the weight of the recent events settling heavily on your shoulders. "I will be," you finally replied, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty, as if unsure of the aftermath of your actions and the impact they might have on the intricate balance of your relationships.

The journey to the chateau was enveloped in silence, a heavy curtain of unspoken thoughts that draped the car's interior. Each passing moment seemed to stretch in the weight of the quiet, the air thick with unexpressed emotions that lingered between you and Kiara.

You fought to hold back the tears, a silent war raging within, the ache in your chest a testament to the depth of the emotions that surged beneath the surface. The weight of recent events bore heavily on you, and the silent car ride provided a fleeting refuge where tears threatened to breach the dam of your composure.

Despite your efforts, a lone tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, a silent testament to the emotional storm that raged within. You discreetly wiped it away, hoping to shield your vulnerability, the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears weaving an intricate tapestry of inner turmoil.

The car rolled to a halt near the chateau's entrance, the engine's hum fading into the quiet ambiance of the estate. Kiara cast a glance your way, a wordless assurance conveyed through her eyes, a silent understanding that transcended the unspoken.

As you stepped out, the familiar sight of the chateau greeted you, its grandeur contrasting sharply with the weight of emotions carried within. The walk to the entrance felt longer than usual, each step echoing the turmoil within, the unspoken conversation hanging heavily between you and Kiara.

Approaching the door, the details of the chateau seemed to blur, your focus consumed by the emotional tempest raging within. With a deep breath, you turned the doorknob, the heavy wooden door creaking softly as it opened to welcome you inside.

Stepping into the foyer, the chateau enveloped you, the coolness of the air offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the emotional turmoil within.

As your friends turned to greet you, their expectant smiles faltered into a puzzled expression as they registered the turmoil etched on your face. Their eyes mirrored a blend of confusion and concern, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere that typically enveloped their gatherings.

A fleeting moment passed, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken as your friends exchanged glances, a silent communication that conveyed their awareness of the unspoken turmoil lingering beneath the surface. The chapter's end was marked by the unspoken tension, leaving an uncertain ambiance that hung between you, hinting at the complexities awaiting their reckoning.

taglist:  @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrapap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Kinktober day 19/20: Housewife/domesticity kink + service - John Price x reader

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, being married and a bit of being a house wife. Mentions of pregnancy at the end. Reader is also slightly a clean freak coded/gets hyper focused on cleaning- because who doesn’t, tbh. Fluff, then smut at the end.

Price’s favorite things about coming back from deployment.

Of course Price looked forward to coming home- seeing his wife after a deployment was what kept him going through the roughest parts of his job. But- in addition to the obvious reason of just missing his wife- Price had a particular fondness for those first nights back.

When he walked in, your eyes would light up- and he’d almost always find himself nearly tackled by your hug. He’d always laugh, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight as he teased you for your enthusiasm.

During that first hug, he wouldn’t let go immediately. He’d press a kiss to the top of your head- keeping his lips against you for a moment longer- just to breathe in the comforting scent of you. He’d keep one of his hands wrapped around your shoulders, and the other one either nestled against the small of your back or dip of your waist. If you were wearing a shirt, he’d slip his hand under the fabric to run his rough, calloused hands over your soft, warm skin.

If it were up to Price, he would keep you wrapped tight in that bear hug the whole night- or at least till he decided it was time for him to scoop you up and take him to the bedroom. He’d only (reluctantly) let you go once you mentioned that dinner was going to burn.

On the nights when Price first got home, you’d always fuss over him. You’d insist that he sits down- bringing him a beer and making sure to take care of him as best you can.

You’d always try and press the TV remote into his hand, telling him to sit back and relax while you finished dinner. But he’d just smile and shake his head- content to watch you hurry around the kitchen and worry your sweet little head off over dinner. It was one of the few times he’d let himself give into your worrying and fussing- he might as well enjoy it.

He’d sit back and light a cigar, eyes following your ass and admiring the way the tie of your apron cinched around your waist. He’d smile at the way you bit your lip and frowned when you pulled dinner out of the oven- adoring how desperate to please you would get on nights like this.

He may even let you work yourself up about it, probably chuckling at the way your brow furrowed when you find a spot you’d missed while doing your regular before-price-gets-back-from-deployment cleaning spree: something he had, to no avail, tried to assure you multiple times was not necessary, and only discovered the existence of upon getting back a few hours early, planning to surprise you, and found you half way inside the oven. You were cleaning it, you said- although Price was a little concerned by the fact that you’d apparently been at it for nearly two hours.

At this point, he realized that there was nothing he could do to stop you, and just found it cute that you’d get yourself so worked up over getting everything perfect for him.

Of course, he wouldn’t let you stay worked up. Especially on nights like this, he was sure to kiss and praise you all he could. And at the end of the night, you’d always find yourself pressed firmly into the mattress underneath your husband. With Price’s fingers laced together with yours as he thrust slow and deep into you, murmuring against your skin about how perfect you were- how you didn’t need to try so hard to please him, not when just your smile brightens his entire day.

As his thrusts would stutter and he neared his release, his voice would go rougher and he’d suck a hickey beneath your ear and behind your jaw bone- making sure to tell you how much he loved you, how lucky he was to have such a sweet little wife. He’d tell you how he was going to fill you up with his cum and give you a couple of his kids, how he was gonna make you a momma so you’d hopefully stop worrying your pretty little head off over keeping the house spotless- “calm ya’ down a bit” as he put it.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[queerly-autistic]

Right, I think it's time for some positivity, and also a reality check (and I mean that in the most loving way possible) regarding the campaign to save OFMD. I've seen a lot of people saying 'it's been nearly a month, we should have been picked up by now', and whilst, yes, some cancelled shows have received very quick movement to other streamers, it's absolutely not the story for all of them. We've seen numerous shows follow different journeys from cancellation to pick-up, and there's no way of knowing what journey we might be going on.

Are we in the fast lane where we get picked up the next month (lookin' at you, Lucifer and The Expanse)? The middling lane where it takes months for a pick-up deal to be hashed out (lookin' at you, One Day At A Time, The Tourist, and Warrior)? The slow lane where we keep pushing for years and then eventually crowdfund a film (lookin' at you Veronica Mars)?

I think we have to consider the fact that OFMD being cancelled was a last minute thing that blindsided the cast and crew (and shocked people across the industry). So we're going into it in a different position to other shows that had maybe had a hint/suggestion that cancellation was coming before it happened. This is because if there are rumours of cancellation circling, it gives a chance for feelers to be put out to other networks/by other networks before the actual cancellation is confirmed. That didn't happen here. Which is important.

It's not just wham bam thank you ma'am and now you've been picked up by Netflix (or insert streamer of your choice). It's a negotiation. It's a process. It takes time. There is a very good reason that people heavily suspect that Brooklyn 99 had already been picked up before the cancellation was officially announced, and that the cancelled-to-new-home-in-24-hours thing was pretty much just a marketing stunt. No way was that all negotiated to the point of announcement within a day,

There are many reasons why any potential pick-up elsewhere might take a bit more time. For example, if David is (hopefully) juggling interest from multiple different networks, then that has to be hashed out and negotiated to make sure the best deal is reached for everyone. Also, OFMD is potentially a more complicated show to negotiate than we imagine: at a very basic level, it has a large ensemble (a large international ensemble), which would need to be discussed and negotiated, and it's filmed in New Zealand, which would need to be discussed and negotiated. That doesn't work against it in terms of 'it's more complicated, so it won't be picked up' but it could very well mean that the time needed to negotiate a pick-up is longer.

Remember: One Day At A Time had a much smaller cast (which wasn't an international cast) and it basically had one single studio set (being a sitcom), and that took three months to be saved.

I chatted with my friend, also a fan, who has worked in television production previously and is currently working as a screenwriter, and she confirmed just how much time, discussion and negotiation this stuff takes. She basically said: yep, this all takes time and this is very normal. And this is coming from someone who is very firmly in the 'I am refusing to get my hopes up because I can't bear to get hurt again' camp of trying to save the show.

On that note, I think it's important to address David's silence, because I've seen a few people panicking about that. There's a very good chance that if he is in negotiations right now (and I do not know if he is, he might not be!) then there would be a lot he wouldn't be able to talk about. And he knows that we dissect every single syllable of his posts, so posting anything would be risky. Negotiations are tricky things that involve juggling multiple balls (and torches and knives and chainsaws), and a lot of push-and-pull, back-and-forth, variables-upon-variables, and so going silent on social media would be absolutely what I would expect from him if that was happening.

It's eerie for us because we had a burst of activity from David, a lot of noise and a lot of confidence, and then...nothing. That's jarring, and anxiety-inducing. But I want us to think of it this way: David did a big post about being back in New York, about things looking up, and then he went uncharacteristically silent, which is what would happen if things were going on that he couldn't talk about. I have no idea what, if anything, might be going on, but it's important not to see this as a bad thing.

As someone on Twitter, who also works in the industry (they work as an actor) said the other day: in this business, no news is good news.

(also important to note: if he suddenly reappears on social media, that also doesn't mean that any negotiations have fallen through, and we should all panic; anything could be happening, and I know we're little anxiety gremlins - me included, bigly - but until we are definitively told that this is over and there's no hope, then it's not over and there is hope)

There's no way of knowing what is going on, or how long whatever is (or isn't) going on might take. This might be a sprint, but it could just as easily be a marathon. The show not being picked up immediately does not mean there is no hope, as we have seen with numerous other shows. Look at fandoms like Shadow and Bone, who are still fighting tooth and nail for their show because they refuse to give up on it. They haven't given up, and neither should we.

We need to decide if we love OFMD enough to fight for it long-term, to settle in for a long battle, and keep pushing for as long as it takes. And I think, as difficult as it might be, we all know that this show, and its cast and crew, is worth it.

[collywobbles-n-whatnot]

Extra Extra! (various yandere x reader)

Trashy Journalist! Reader x Rich nepo! Yanderes

You were a journalist (if you can even call yourself that) for gossip rags, infamous for getting the scoop no matter the danger. So when the opportunity comes along to go to the exclusive Hail Mary college you take it. Your contact set you up with a fake identity and background to make sure you’d fit in just so. This was the school for the elite and a last ditch effort of parents to straighten out their kids before handing over the keys to the kingdom. While being higher education this place much more reflected high school with its strict class requirements and uniforms. Most people haven’t even heard of it — it’s not even google-able, that’s how exclusive this shit is. Cracking this case wide open would mean you and your parents would be set for life. Little did you know that this would change your life forever but not in any way you could fathom. 

There was Clayton, one of the first friends you met when starting. He focused on sports and shared his American snacks with you. It was hard to smuggle that sweet sweet red 40 but it was worth it. Soon he asked you to come to his games, he played as many sports as he could get his hands on and excelled in all of them. Practically, wrote the book on golden retriever energy. The sexy southern drawl made sense since his family were frackers in the oil trade. Games turned into study sessions, into movie nights, into sleepovers. He was just a touchy guy, it’s not like it meant anything. It was hard to get the scoop on others without blowing your cover with him all up in your business, but he was protective in an older brother way that felt useful for now. 

You knew Hendrix before you even met him. Somehow even though he was just about as old as you, he had already reached rock god status. He always knew a way to sneak out of class and a new place to hide a flask. Not to mention you could throw nearly any instrument at him and he could bang out a melody that could make a secret service agent cry. That isn’t the only banging he’s fond of either. His extra circulars included Carmen, Tiffany, Pauline, Brooke, etc… He even tried to sway you the second time y’all bumped into each other. In a low moment you might have let it happen a time or two but that was the end of that. He was okay with putting an end to it as long as being friends was still on the table. Hend was a little gossip and loved to talk shit with you so you kept him around. 

Arthur took more time to ware down than you’d like to admit. He began as your tutor in just one subject and then he realized that you were utterly useless in nearly all of them. Letting a dweeb like you under his care fail would besmirch his good name so he set aside a couple hours every day to go over the material with you. He was an academic at heart, a real old money type. Doesn’t need to try for much of anything and can just skate by knowing he is better than everyone else. You were the first person not afraid of his title, when he tore into you- you’d give it right back. The study sessions got longer and eventually branched out from the library. Sometimes it was a cafe in town or a bookstore, maybe your dorm or his. 

Brayden was a loud personality tolerated by few at this school. He was new money and not worth anyone’s time. That is, except yours. His wealth may only go back a generation or two but his tree still has some bad apples and questionable soil. The good news is that he’s really actually brilliant! Unfortunately, he’s also spoiled beyond belief. He wants what he wants when he wants it. He texted you, like a lot. Memes, texts, u up?’s, anything and everything. He was clingy with a capital C. He’s always leaving little gifts around for you. A little robot that dances for laughter, a watch that doesn’t tell time but shows various pictures of him like a slideshow, even a camera disguised as a teddy bear. You failed to understand the inner machinations of his mind but couldn’t help but respect it, weirdness and all. 

Haruki actually walked you around your first day and stuck around ever since. He was an extrovert if you’ve ever seen one. Despite his minimalist and conservative clothing style it didn’t stop you from noticing the crazy ink he had all over his body. The tattoos peeked out around his neck and wrists even though he tried to cover it up as best as he could. He would have to try a lot harder if he wanted to hide the fact that he was primed to take over the yakuza for his father. It was hard to imagine this guy drawing blood, he was just so down to earth and chill. While his family was clearly suspect it seemed like he planned on doing things his way and while you can respect it, it doesn’t make for good ratings. When you tried to pull away he would always pull back just a little harder. 

Liam was just a normal guy. It seemed that the fame and riches didn’t effect him at all. His family had a generic generational wealth of one patriarch using the last’s money to create a business and passing it down, wash, rinse, repeat. While this appears like a dead end, there’s a sort of edge to him that keeps you coming back for more. He knows the secret passage ways in the school and takes you through them regularly. Sometimes to get extra dessert from the mess hall after hours or to over hear a conversation in the den, he was a real one and usually down for just about anything. And I mean anything. It definitely bothered him that he didn’t have any particular skills or any real motivations but you were supportive in a way he wasn’t used to. It never really mattered if he tried because there was no real winning or losing. You were his rock in his uncertainty. 

Your English professor preferred that you call him by his first name, which then he clarified that he wanted the whole class to because if it were just you that would be weird and not appropriate. Anyway, Lysander was tweed jackets and Oxford shoes. A typical round glasses wearing teacher. He helped you out with a point or two on a test and sometimes you have tea with him at his house just off campus. You helped him find his lost cat one evening and he found your company preferable to the silence (which wasn’t usual for him). The more times you visit him the more you get the feeling that he’s hiding something though. You have a radar for this of course. It’s not something he wants anyone to know, which meant you were going to do anything in your power to find out. He was of humble origins like you but a story is a story nonetheless. 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

König w/ a Pregnant S/O

Warnings: Pregnancy, implications of smut, Fem Reader, FLUFF, profanity, very brief paranoia/angst, etc.

He'd always wanted to be a father; he'd made it no secret to you.

But he was terrified of the implication - the fact that he may not be equipped to handle the responsibility of raising another human.

He'd also made no attempt at keeping that a secret from you, either.

"Come on," you said, folding his laundry. You spared him a smile. "Big guy like you scared of an infant?"

You were joking, of course, and König couldn't help but crack a smile.

You sighed. "I know it's a big change for us, love--" you turned and took his hand in yours and placed it over where your child was.

"But I have every confidence that we can do it." Your smile widened, and König could only wait until your child would be here to see if that were true.

In the meantime, König began making preparations.

Quite early, one might add.

You stumbled into the spare room one day to see half a crib and König sat beside it, reading the instructions upside down.

"Still can't make sense of it," he said, and you couldn't tell if it was to you or himself.

He looked up at you, a bashful smile crossing his features.

"König, honey, don't you think it's a bit early to be setting up the nursery now?"

König looked at you as if you'd grown another head.

"But there are only thirty-four weeks left until they're here! We want to make sure we're prepared, don't we?"

You couldn't bear to dampen his enthusiasm, so you tried to help with the nursery as best you could.

And by 'help', König had resigned you to sitting on a bed of cushions he'd made for you nearby while he did all the work.

"Really, König, I can still move around just fine-"

"I'm not having my wife do manual labour while she's carrying my child." He didn't even turn to look at you; his tone was absolute and stern - something you rarely heard from König. It made you feel safe. Protected.

Hours passed and the crib was finally constructed.

You'd secretly helped by finding stray screws which had migrated to your corner of the room, placing them next to König when he wasn't looking.

And there he stood, a gleaming smile on his face as he admired his handiwork. Pride is what you would call it.

You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso, feeling his muscular abdomen beneath your hands.

"Seeing as you've done such a good job," you began, voice low and playful. König's back straightened, like he could anticipate what you were going to say.

"How about a reward?" You swayed behind him, as if trying to influence his judgement; Justice's scales.

König peeled your hands from his front and took them in his, turning to face you.

"I would love to, believe me, I would! But..."

"But...?" You couldn't lie; the paranoia of König baseless decision to no longer be intimate with you because he found you unsightly due to your pregnancy crossed your mind.

He chased away your fears immediately, a despairing glimmer appearing in his eyes.

"What if it'll hurt the baby?" He said it in an almost-whisper, as if his unborn child could hear him.

You let out a smile of relief and sighed.

"Köni, sweetie, that's not gonna happen," you said, smoothing your thumbs over the back of his hands. He cast you a cautious glance.

"Are...are you sure?" he asked. You nodded, smiling up at him.

You tugged König towards the hallway, and he followed, still holding, and dwarfing, your hand in his.

"Come on, big guy," you said, voice almost lulling König into a trance. "Let me show you how grateful I really am."

Amongst...other activities, you and König partook in a few new hobbies, replacing the ones you could no longer indulge in now that you were pregnant.

König had taught you how to crochet a while ago, but now with all this spare time on your hands, you could crochet together for hours on end.

König told you he was making a blanket for the baby.

"I'll make it yellow, since we don't know the gender yet."

He made your heart melt with his attentiveness.

He rarely let you out of the house even during the early stages, terrified of the most improbable yet valid situations.

"What if someone comes and punches you for no reason? What if you slip on a skateboard and-"

"Köni, my beloved, I won't have to worry about that if I have you with me."

You make him feel strong - reliable (more so than he already is).

He couldn't help but feel pride swell in his chest whenever he carried your shopping for you.

Or when, once you'd begun to show, you'd get stares from people who'd noticed your glow. And then they'd see König and immediately put their head down.

König also got satisfaction out of telling everybody you were his; especially apparent to them now as they saw your bump beneath your dress.

He definitely forces the 141 to listen to him go on and on about how excited he is to be a father.

And they all sit there politely like 🧍 because they can't just leave.

They've all promised to look after you in König's absence, though.

"We'll be like your guardian angels," Soap said. His gaze drifted to Simon sat next to him. "Or ghosts."

You Soap were the only two who found that joke funny.

And you know you'll be safe with all of them, though König has had a few little sulks in bed, muttering about how "You won't need them because you have me," to which you've shown him just how much you need him.

This man is top-tier daddy material, btw.

Absolutely fuck-off Goliath of a man; NOBODY is messing with his kids.

Or you.

He cares for your every need, taking your body language to heart and rushing off to seek whatever you may want (even before you've asked for it).

He's head over heels in love with you, and he can't imagine having a family with anyone else <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[kyeomniscient]

seventeen ao3 fic recs

other rec lists

pt. 2 (completed shorter fics, <10k words)

pt. 3 (incomplete fics)

so i recently got into reading svt fics and this is a compilation of a few of my favourites :) all recs here are completed (yay no cliffhangers)!

these are mostly minwon, but there are some other pairings as well and i'll be updating this as i go~

also props to anyone who writes!! both fics and in general bc writing is not easy and the creativity and flair that some of these authors have... simply unmatched

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all-time faves (last updated 9/5/2024)

as y'all can tell i love the longer fics bc they are j so immersive and memorable esp when the characters capture the essence and little quirks of svt so well sooo here goes

Catch the Stars (minwon, 150k words, completed)

this is often hailed as one of the top 3 minwon fics of all time and i wholeheartedly agree!! this might be my fave fic of all time - i really love the city boy x country boy trope, where the mcs form a connection in spite of their different backgrounds and life experiences hehe also random but some of the scenes reminded me of cmbyn (small town italy peachy summer vibes) lolol

Kalon (minwon, 200k words, completed)

my heart broke for wonwoo in this fic and it was absolutely worth the read :"") it's by the same author as catch the stars and her writing is just *chef's kiss* really loved how each conflict and setback was handled and built upon, and wonwoo's inner conflict due to his fear of relationships was really well-depicted and realistic, and the intimacy of them spending time together in the spectacle shop after hours was everything i could've asked for

Love Stuck (minwon, 200k words, completed)

don't usually read parent aus because i prefer stories where the mcs are closer in profile to the actual pair but this was very well-written!! loved how the author handled the struggles of single parent-child dynamics as well as the slow burn - each character was really fleshed out, the chapters didn't feel repetitive despite the fic being quite long and it was all in all a vv wholesome fic hehe

'til kingdom come (minwon, 160k words, completed)

this was a historical au and the writing was so poetic!! and exquisite!! not forgetting the tension and drama of it all, how the world-building was so intricately wrought out, the language so befitting of the period, the development of the entire war arc beyond the romance, each character so original yet still bearing hints that remain true to their persons, the chapters being well-paced, the epilogue that wrapped things up so beautifully... i can't even begin to fathom how long it took the author to come up with this gripping masterpiece askshdfjkdsf i'd give a million kudos if i could

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others (in order of descending word count)

the sun and the silver lining (minwon, 60k words, completed)

this one made my heart feel things :"") really loved this author's descriptions (the metaphors in this fic were unparalleled) and how they give nuance to the internal thoughts and feelings of the characters!! slight b99 vibes with policeofficer!wonwoo x paramedic!mingyu lolol

Like the Beginning (minwon, 55k words, completed)

this was heartbreak/comfort with a second-chance romance and slight hospital playlist vibes lol i relish in the pain of reading about wonwoo trying to go back to how things were, mingyu being torn between indulging him and wanting to keep his distance, that feeling of looking at someone you once loved only to realise that you never moved on in the first place ugh

in defense of the side character (minwon, 55k words, completed)

actor!mingyu x scriptwriter!wonwoo - super well-written and it even has art!! the scripts made it all the more realistic and i have a soft spot for fics on the entertainment industry bc the overall atmosphere is always a little different from the slice of life/school aus like there's this underlying tension of being under public scrutiny and the pressure of being public figures and i j love when the fics capture these nuances in the story hah

Change of Ends (soonwoo, 52k, completed)

tennis!au - this might actually be my favourite soonwoo fic ever?? loved how their relationship was fleshed out over the years with the use of a non-linear narrative to sprinkle in memories from their past between their moments at present, and wonwoo was so sweet and loving here and it was such a refreshing take on his character bc he is usually the colder one. also, the level of detail for the sport was incredible and made the reading experience extra immersive so highly-recommend!!

A Mighty Stranger (minwon, 50k words, completed)

a fantasy minwon au for a change! really cool concept for a fic and there was so much effort and research that went into this bc the story spanned across different continents and time periods so i'd recommend this to those looking for smth diff

The Times We Fell (minwon, 46k, completed)

this one definitely did things to my heart :"") loved the visuals of hockeyplayer!mingyu x figureskater!wonwoo, the development of their enemies(?)-to-friends-to-lovers arc, how their relationship remained strong and steady throughout despite being met with various obstacles and external pressures along the way, how Mingyu rekindled Wonwoo's love for skating not once but twice, just them being a healthy and supportive couple - a beautiful read!

cut to the feeling (soonwoo, 44k, completed)

this was a character study on emotional self-torture and every chapter was an absolute sucker punch to the gut - loved the sadness and pining for the drama but i also felt like plot-wise the events didn't really justify the intensity of it all as much as the author's other piece :"/ writing was still amazing though!!

gold fever (seokgyu, 43k words, completed)

archer!seokmin x weightlifter!mingyu in a college au - really liked the vibes and writing in this fic :) seokgyu fics are rare and i feel like it's bc their dynamics on-camera mostly revolve around teasing/bickering it's hard to picture anything else, but the slow-burn element brought smth fresh and new to their dynamics and it was such an enjoyable read!

just let me know (i'll be on the floor) (verkwan, 30k words, completed)

soft and sweet friends-to-lovers fic that made my heart so warm!! really loved how their relationship unfolded over time, how they took care of each other as roommates, with seungkwan's obliviousness and denial and vernon being so patient with him throughout - 'twas a lovely slice-of-life read that brought comfort and joy :)

A (Revised Guide to Lab Safety) (soonwoo, 25k words, completed)

askjfsds this was an amazing mix of soonwoo peer dynamics in a college au + science!! their lab partners-to-friends-to-lovers arc was really too cute so i'd highly recommend this to soonwoo enthusiasts

tu me manques (minwon, 26k words, completed)

this really captured the feeling of watching 90s & early 2000s romcoms (think before sunrise, chasing liberty, serendipity etc) and was written so beautifully i might cry :"") really loved the travelling aspect of it, the scenic descriptions of each city made the fic so immersive, like i was there along w them sigh

also wonwoo has slight manic pixie dream boy vibes and mingyu is just there lolol

snowflake, i'll catch you tonight (minwon, 25k words, completed)

this was really cute!! just soft and fluffy vibes in general and characterisation was super on point bc wonwoo is literally winter personified lmao

a mix of sun and clouds (soonwoo, 24k words, completed)

lovelovelove aus with interesting professions, and this time they're both working at a weather station! soonyoung being a weather nerd is such a delight to read, and wonwoo's emotional constipation + little acts of service never gets old hehe geguri is amazing

Paradise Lost (minwon, 24k, completed)

sad fics have a chokehold on me and this one definitely takes the cake... was left in tears and i would risk it all to experience it for the first time again

despite this being a post-apocalyptic au, the development of the romance arc was treated softly and gently, that the moments of tenderness between the mcs shone through the violence and ruin that surrounded them. it was a really refreshing take on domesticity, one that took me by surprise, and it's a pity that the author only has 2 works!! i need MORE

Bend (and Break) (seoksoon, 23k words, completed)

fwb-to-friends-to-lovers seoksoon?? another wholesome fic and i loved the build up in this fic, where the mcs are basically doing all but admitting their feelings for each other UGH so cute

175°C for 60 minutes (seokgyu, 23k words, completed)

vv cute baking rivals au!! love how little clues were sprinkled throughout the story and came together at the end to tie things up nicely hehe

Lie Again (gyuhan, 22k words, completed)

the best gyuhan fic (that i've read so far) !! aka the chronicles of one (1) emotionally-unavailable yoon jeonghan where he learns to embrace the notion of Having Feelings ™ ft some of my other fave ships seoksoo and soonwoo

stillness and motion (seokhao, 21k words, completed)

give me a fic about emotionally-repressed characters that yearn and do everything but communicate and i'll eat it up!! the tension built up between (former) teammates in sport aus are a different breed and i'm absolutely here for it

For Want of Glory (woncheol, 21k words, completed)

secret agent au! loved woncheol's dynamics here, and it's really endearing to read from coups' pov because i love the way he just PINES

you make me feel good (i like it) (soonwoo, 18k words, completed)

no spoilers but this was an absolute beast of a fic that DESTROYED me the best way possible :"") each chapter was succinct yet packed a punch, loveloveloved how the element of time travel was weaved into the storyline!! op you are a genius for conceiving and writing this

Storm Warning (wonhui, 18k words, completed)

jun as a manic pixie dream type here is everything!! ww's feelings are so valid bc if jun was my neighbour, i too, would fall in love right away HAHA

now i'm covered in you (soonwoo, 16k words, completed)

it's the art of dealing with grief and moving on in a sweet and tender fic - highly recommend!

full ten (minwon, 14k words, completed)

super adorable strangers-to-roommates-to-lovers fic!! i really loved that they each had their own lives (preferences, habits, jobs and interests) before they met each other, and coming to live together only made their lives better - there's just something about the intimacy of co-existing in the same space with someone, bonding over simple weeknight dinners, developing a shared routine over time :"")

favorite (minwon, 14k, completed)

this was a v lovely friends-to-lovers fic - really loved the timelapse of small moments between them from both perspectives!

helios (minwon, 13k, completed)

a literal masterpiece - great execution of a cool concept, and wonwoo's persona as an artist was really well-crafted!!

day ones all i keep around me (minwon, 12k words, completed)

established (secret) relationship where minwon tries to soft-launch their marriage but their fans are too dense to realise LMAO this was really cute, and i loved the dynamics between streamer!wonwoo x soccerplayer!mingyu hehe

Flowers In My Path, My Love (seokwoo, 12k words, completed)

this was the cutest college meet-cute aka hotpoetryclassguy!wonwoo x cutepoetryclassguy!dk - it really captured the moments of fumbling, awkward shyness when interacting with crushes so well and bonus points for describing dk as sunshine bc he really is the brightest boy!!

light the way home (and i'll follow) (minwon, 10k words, completed)

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feel free to rec any fics based on what i've shared!! would really appreciate it thank you hehe

[imtrashraccoon]

Ooh could you perhaps write something for cross? Like an X reader? I haven't seen many of those- like- at all, and it's incredibly sad because the boy deserves love :c

Feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna do it <3

I'm so sorry for the wait, Anon! I didn't realize it had been almost a month since I received this! In my defense it took me like two weeks to figure out what I wanted to write in the first place. I hope this doesn't disappoint because it's way longer than I intended it to be...

A Gentle Soldier

Cross!Sans x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,875

You were simple person, just doing what you could to get by in the world. It wasn't an easy or comfortable life but you made the best of it.

After your father passed away, you were left with the cabin he'd built that had been your childhood home. It was a small one room building with a loft for sleeping and a fireplace set into one wall, which was especially nice in the Winter when the stone bricks it was built from radiated the heat throughout the entire cabin.

You kept a small vegetable and herb garden out back and regularly hunted or trapped animals for meat year round. You also preserved anything extra for the cold months when you might not be able to leave the cabin during bad storms for several days. Other than the occasional trip into the nearby village for rifle ammo and a few other things that you couldn't make yourself, you were self sufficient and almost never interacted with anyone.

Maybe one day you'd meet someone and start a family, but they'd have to be adaptable because you weren't about to just abandon the life you'd worked so hard to build for yourself. You liked to think that you were a reasonable sort but there were some things that you wouldn't compromise on. Moving back into the village was one of them, so unless you had no other options, you were going to hang on dearly to your little piece of paradise.

Today was a bit of a gloomy one, but despite the heavy rainfall the previous night, many dark clouds still remained overhead. There was a cool breeze as well, but you figured the inclement weather would hold off for a few hours at least, which was enough time to check your traps.

After putting on a thick coat for warmth and in case you were wrong about the rain, you shouldered a rucksack which held extra traps and some small tools. You also slung your father's hunting rifle over your shoulder, which while you didn't think you'd need it, there was always the possibility of running into a hungry bear or wolf this time of year. You were a decent shot, but hopefully if you did end up missing, the loud noise would be enough to scare them away.

While checking each of your traps, you thought it was strange how quiet the forest seemed today. Not even the occasional birdsong interrupted the silence and none of the traps had even been touched. That was disappointing, but you still had some meat you'd smoked previously and you had enough flour to make some bread so you wouldn't go hungry tonight at least.

You were on your way home again when you heard a loud noise.

It was like several trees had been knocked over or like a landslide had been triggered.

That wasn't something an animal could do.

You checked that your rifle was loaded but kept the safety on for now as you carefully made your way towards the strange noise. You only wanted to take a peek, just in case someone had gotten hurt. Although, it soon became apparent that whatever or whomever had caused the disturbance was still in the area and, as you drew closer, you began to hear people shouting as if they were in the middle of a fight.

You stopped at the crest of a hill and peered down into the little valley below.

There were at least four monsters below you, three of which were seemingly working together to attack the fourth. They all looked like skeleton monsters, however there were some anatomical differences between them and human skeletons. They were dressed completely different from both each other and from any monsters you'd ever seen before too.

The first was a skeleton whose outfit was rather intricate but it was also completely black and white. It was hard to describe with all the layers of clothing, but the basics of his outfit seemed to be a white parka with a fluffy hood, a narrow white cape with black edges, and a pair of black shorts with white stripes that were shaped like an X. He had twin bone daggers with hollow blades and even from here you could tell that he was quite experienced with them.

The second skeleton was wearing a metal chestplate, a light blue bandana tied around his neck with matching gloves and boots, and sturdy looking jeans. He kind of looked like a warrior from an RPG to you and the large maul he was wielding only solidified that thought in your mind.

The third skeleton was a bit shorter than the others and he seemingly flitted about like a leprechaun with what looked like a giant paintbrush. His outfit was mostly brown but some of the straps holding it together were bright yellow and green. He also had on a pair of fingerless gloves and sported a very long brown scarf that somehow didn't impede his movements at all.

Their outfit choices seemed to be representative of their personalities since you couldn't think of any other reason for the variety on display. The first struck you as the strong and silent type, with the second seeming like he was dependable, and the third looked almost carefree and yet also rather bubbly at the same time.

Their opponent though, just looking at him seemed to fill you with dread, and while you had limited experience with people, even you knew he was bad news.

He was several inches taller than the three, not counting the numerous black tentacles protruding from his back. His bones and clothing also seemed to be completely black, in such a way that gave him the appearance of having been dipped in ink, except it didn't seem to leave a mess everywhere. Speaking of clothing, while it was hard to differentiate where his bones ended and clothes began, his outfit looked like it consisted of a fancy overcoat and you could see that he was wearing a gold circlet and several rings on his phalanges. He seemed to only have one working eye socket, which had a piercing cyan eyelight, if the way he kept guarding his right side was any indication, but other than the uncountable number of tentacles, he didn't appear to have any weapons of his own, not that it seemed to be a problem for him.

You knew in your heart that you shouldn't be sticking around and risk being caught in the crossfire, but at the same time, you couldn't help but want to continue watching. It was almost mesmerizing with how fluid their movements were and even though each had their own techniques, they all seemed to work flawlessly together. Their opponent seemed frustrated in comparison and yet he was managing to hold his own against all three at once. You didn't know what the stakes were or how the fight had even started, but you couldn't help but silently cheer for the three skeletons to win.

The monochromatic skeleton was suddenly grabbed by a tendril and sent flying until he collided with a nearby tree. You watched in horror as his body slumped to the ground and when he didn't move for several long seconds, you felt the sickly feeling of dread beginning to pool in your stomach.

The other two skeletons were too busy to check on their compatriot and you could tell the nightmarish looking one would send each of them flying as well if they lost focus for even a second.

You had to see if he was hurt and how badly.

Not caring if you were seen anymore, you scrambled down the steep incline, scattering loose stones and dirt under your boots in a mini landslide as you did so. Somehow you didn't lose your footing but it certainly did slow you down.

Although, before you could reach the fallen skeleton, there was a flash of bright light and another one appeared by his side.

This skeleton was a bit taller than the others, but still shorter than the scary one, and you almost had to squint to even look at him. His presence almost seemed to warm up the immediate area and, rather confusingly, just seeing him made you feel calm and like you should be happy. Considering the situation, it also felt unnerving but you couldn't place exactly why that was.

Somehow, he was dressed even more fanciful than any of the others. Over a form fitting black body suit, he had a loose white outfit that kind of resembled a tunic with bright yellow accents. The best way to describe it was like he'd stepped out of an ancient Egyptian mural, only he was somehow more beautiful.

This new skeleton knelt down by the first and placed his gloved hands on his still crumpled form. A soft yellow glow flickered from between his fingers before the monochromatic skeleton's body jolted awake. The bright one then stood up and said something you didn't quite hear, which the other nodded in response to.

He summoned a gorgeous longbow with a string made of glowing blue energy. Then, he appeared to notch a similarly glowing arrow and turned as if to join the fight, before his gaze locked with your own.

You were completely awestruck and for a moment you found yourself lost in his golden eyelights. You felt like you should be overjoyed that he'd noticed you but the disinterested look on his skull quickly quelled those thoughts. He looked like he was about to say something to you, when a shout from the nightmarish skeleton interrupted him.

"Dream! So you've resorted to collecting pawns now?!" his voice thundered across the little valley.

The bright skeleton, whose name was apparently Dream, let out a tired sigh and turned to face the antagonizing one. "I'm tired of fighting, brother. So I'm here to finish this once and for all," he responded in a tone that, while much calmer, still held a certain level of venom and he'd notably ignored the accusations.

The two brothers practically leaped at each other and their resounding blows echoed throughout the surrounding area. Dream was far more agile than you'd expected and his arrows seemed to burst like a firecracker as they found their mark. His brother seemed to transform into a form that struck so much more fear into you than his first had, so much so that you couldn't bear to watch them any further.

"hey, are you alright?"

You startled and glanced to your left to find the monochromatic skeleton had hauled himself to his feet and apparently had also noticed you.

He looked rather banged up but fortunately didn't seem to have any broken bones or other obvious injuries. Although, there were several tears in his jacket, which you could now see was actually short sleeved and that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath. The ends of his cape were also frayed but you could tell they were already like that before he'd been whipped into a tree.

However, the most striking details about him were his white eyelights, that almost seemed to have a soft purple glow at the center, and an old jagged red scar under his right eye socket. He seemed genuinely concerned about you too, which was a little odd since you were the one who'd originally been concerned about him.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I think..." you managed to respond.

His bonebrows knit together in a way that seemed to suggest that he didn't fully believe you. He didn't choose to press you further though and instead retrieved his daggers from the ground where he'd dropped them earlier.

"okay then, but you should probably try to get as far away from here as you can. as you can see, things get messy fast when these two meet."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

With one last glance to make sure you really were okay, he charged back into the fray again, leaving you to figure out how you were going to get back up the hill. The rain had left the already steep slope much softer than usual and even if you crawled up on your hands and knees, there was no way you'd make it without sliding back down.

Which meant you'd have to find another way.

While you were trying not to focus on the terrifying fight going on, you couldn't ignore it completely. Still, you did your best to make as little noise as possible and hoped that they were all too occupied to notice you.

Just as you'd found a place with decent looking handholds to haul yourself up, you heard someone shout a warning from behind you.

As you turned to see what was going on, your vision was engulfed in a bright blue light.

You heard something impact the rocks behind you.

Then you heard a crumbling sound and felt some small stones hit your head.

[...]

When you came to, you were lying on your back staring up at the grey sky. You could still hear fighting so you must've only been out for a few minutes. You started to sit up but a firm hand on your shoulder kept you from doing so.

"easy there." The monochromatic skeleton was leaning over you now and he still looked rather concerned. His pale eyelights flitted over your face looking for injuries before focusing on a spot just above your right temple.

Your head was throbbing in such a way that you knew you'd get a headache later and when you gingerly ran your fingers over your scalp, you discovered that you were bleeding. Whatever had knocked you out had apparently been sharp enough to give you what seemed to be a nasty cut.

As soon as you'd registered this, the skeleton quickly tore off a section from his cape and wrapped it around your head to serve as a makeshift bandage. He also applied a firm but gentle pressure in an attempt to stem the bleeding. You couldn't help but admire how calm he was as anyone else would probably be a little panicked in this situation. It was almost like he had done this many times before.

"What happened?" you finally asked.

His cool demeanor faltered for a moment to be replaced with a tight frown. "you were spotted by nightmare and he tried to grab you, but dream stopped him..."

You noticed his phalanges twitch as if he wanted to clench his fists before stopping himself and continuing to try to patch you up. Sensing that there was something else that he wasn't saying out loud, you tried to press him further.

"I'm grateful of course, but what's bothering you about it?"

"he was careless and if his aim had been off just a bit more, he could've actually hit you," he grumbled under his breath.

He closed his eyes and took a long-suffering breath. When he seemed to have calmed down some, he made eye contact with you again.

"are you alright otherwise? does anything else hurt?" he asked.

You took a second to flex each of your limbs, but other than a few aches that would probably just become bruises, you didn't seem to have any other injuries.

"No, I think I'm fine. A bit shaken up but that's pretty normal in these situations, right?"

He raised a bonebrow and was about to respond when a sound that sounded like a mix between a harsh hiss and a deep growl interrupted him. He whirled in the direction it had come from, simultaneously drawing his daggers that he must've sheathed earlier when he had stopped to help you.

Two shadows wielding battleaxes had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and they started advancing on the two of you. With the black armour they were wearing and the way they easily dwarfed everyone else on the battlefield, you knew these guys were bad news. Other than the glow of their cyan eyelights, they were entirely black and while it was hard to tell, save for their sharp teeth and claws, they also appeared to be skeletons.

Your rescuer didn't hesitate for a second before basically launching himself at them. When they responded to his assault by swinging their heavy weapons, you half expected him to get knocked back, but he ducked under one and sidestepped the other.

He moved so quickly that you could barely keep track of him with your eyes but it seemed that he was using his smaller stature to his advantage. He wasn't wearing heavy armour either which meant he could dodge pretty much every blow with relatively little effort.

In the blink of an eye, he sliced clean through one's torso and simultaneously beheaded the other.

The bodies of the shadowy skeletons seemed to flicker before dissolving into thin air.

He'd won!

"Wow..." you gasped. "I could tell you were good but I didn't know you were that good..."

He nodded and took a cursory glance around the area before letting himself relax again. He was breathing quite heavily after all that, but there was a small glimmer of relief in his pale eyelights when he looked back at you.

"thanks." He seemed to study you for a moment before approaching and holding out his hand. "do you think you can walk?"

"Yeah..." As he helped you to your feet, you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm and you were certain that you were blushing.

What was this day? You'd never seen any skeleton monsters before now and when one of them had showed this much concern for your well-being, you were reduced to nothing but a flustered mess, as if you were a grade schooler with a crush all of the sudden.

He held onto your hand for a few seconds longer than he probably should've but when he realized, he quickly dropped it like he'd been burned. Even though he looked away immediately afterwards, you thought you saw a soft purple glow flicker across his cheekbones.

In that moment, you were struck with the realization that he looked kinda cute. Unfortunately, he seemed a bit unsure of himself all of the sudden, despite how confident he'd been fighting moments prior. It was...rather endearing actually.

"Hey, um, thanks for stopping to help and...for just saving my life too."

He smiled and, while it was a small one, you could almost feel how genuinely glad he was. He let out a soft chuckle and fiddled with the wrapped handle of one of his daggers as that same purple glow coloured his zygomatic arch again.

"yeah...of course. i couldn't just ignore you, especially when you had no part in this," he muttered.

You introduced yourself before asking the one question that had been on your mind from the moment you had first seen him. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to answer when a bright light from the still ongoing battle grabbed your attention.

While his clothes had been slightly torn and dirtied, Dream stood tall with his bow drawn, ready to fire the notched golden arrow at his brother. He'd only been using blue energy arrows before, but this one seemed much more powerful, if the magic that was pouring from it like a hungry flame was any indication.

In contrast, Nightmare was in a combat ready position with his tentacles poised to strike. His clothing seemed relatively untouched, but the inky substance covering him had either served to protect him or at the very least hide any damage he'd incurred.

While both skeletons were breathing heavily, Nightmare definitely seemed like he was much more worn out than his brother. Which was probably why Dream had brought the others along in the first place now that you thought about it.

Time seemed to stand still as the golden skeleton let the arrow fly.

The world was instantly bathed in an explosion of light.

The nightmarish one let out an anguished scream and clutched his chest as he fell to his knees.

The edges of his form seemed to blur together and for a moment you wondered if he would disappear like the dark skeletons had earlier.

Then the ground suddenly erupted around the golden skeleton.

He was abruptly run through with several black tentacles.

Your hands flew to your mouth in shock as he collapsed as well.

The monochromatic skeleton next to you seemed frozen in shock but in the few seconds that he hesitated, the other two reached Dream first. They seem to briefly examine him before the one in blue gingerly picked up the injured skeleton.

The skeleton in brown swung his large paintbrush which summoned a swirling golden vortex in mid air.

"Cross! We have to go now!" the blue skeleton shouted.

That seemed to spur the skeleton by your side into action and he started to hurry towards them, but stopped himself and glanced back at you. He had a conflicted expression on his skull, as if he knew that he should go with his colleagues but he also looked like he didn't want to leave just yet.

"Cross? Is that your name?" you asked.

He nodded firmly, "yeah..."

"You should probably go with them. I'll be fine, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment longer before his skull took on a determined expression. "stay safe then," he said before sprinting across the valley to the others.

They disappeared into the portal and silence blanketed the forest once more and for the second time today, you shouldered your bag and rifle, neither of which seemed to have been damaged from the debris that had hit you.

Just before you climbed back up the hill, you glanced around the little valley. While a couple of trees had been knocked over, no lasting damage seemed to have been caused by the conflict. There wasn't even any bodies that you'd have to think about burying.

[...]

Time passed as it always did. Summer came and went without anything else out of the ordinary happening and you began preparing for Winter.

You couldn't stop thinking about the kind skeleton that had saved your life. His skills were impressive and you'd never met anyone who actually knew how to fight like he did since it really wasn't necessary nowadays. Oddly enough though, you began to realize that you also found him...handsome.

You'd never heard or met any other skeletons before him and you certainly hadn't since. Maybe they were very rare or maybe there just weren't any living in the area. Either way, it was probably because you'd never found actual skeletons scary. You never would've imagined actually being attracted to one though, monster or not.

You wished you could see him again.

But you didn't know where he was from or really anything else about him besides his name.

So you tried to it put out of your mind and focus on stockpiling food and fuel for Winter.

Today you were chopping up some firewood. You'd been doing a little at a time over the past few weeks so as to not overwork yourself and by now you'd managed to stockpile just about two month's worth. You estimated that you were probably almost halfway done but you wanted to be sure you had enough just in case.

Just as you cleaved yet another log in half, you heard someone approaching from the forest. With your trusty axe still in hand, you turned to see who or what was intruding on your little piece of rustic paradise.

To your shock, Cross was standing only a few paces away from you. He looked much the same as he did before, although his uniform had since been mended.

"uh, hey again," he said in a quiet tone of voice.

For a moment, you were tongue-tied but quickly tried to recover. "H-hey! Um, what...brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?"

A purple glow flickered across his cheekbones and he rubbed the back of his cerebral vertebrae. "i wanted...to come check on you..." he muttered. "i hope this doesn't sound weird, but i just had to see you again..."

You leaned your axe against the chopping block so as to not risk dropping it on your toes. Running a hand over your face, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"No, it's not weird. I was actually hoping we'd see each other again."

His eye sockets widened in surprise and his pale eyelights quickly scanned your face as if he didn't believe what he'd heard. After a few moments, he grinned, although his cheekbones were still flushed that beautiful purple which you thought was adorable.

"really? you don't mind that i just showed up? i mean, i would've called first but..." He glanced away from you as he trailed off.

"Well, I don't exactly get cell service out here so you couldn't have anyways," you responded with a chuckle.

Cross chuckled as well as he moved closer to you. "on another note, did you need any help here?" he asked as he motioned to the pile of wood.

"I think I'm done for now but if you don't mind, you could help me carry all this back to the cabin," you suggested and began to scoop up an armful.

He nodded and started to pick up what was left of the pile. You walked around to the front door and propped it open to make it easier to bring the firewood inside. By the time you'd unloaded your armful in the large stack you had been steadily building, Cross appeared in the doorway with a much larger armful of wood. He didn't seem to be struggling with the weight but he also didn't have a free hand to unload.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him and wondered how he'd even managed to pick up such a large amount in the first place. Still, you took pity on him and started taking off a couple of the pieces from the top of his armful.

"You didn't just bring all of the firewood in at once, did you?" you teased.

He smirked but shrugged his shoulders as his hands were still occupied. "well, it wouldn't make sense to go back and forth if we didn't have to, right?"

You shook your head and just continued helping him. He was right in a way. If he hadn't offered to help, you would've had to make probably a dozen trips, which would have been pretty tiring.

Your fingers brushed against his hand by accident and you quickly pulled back. Although, Cross didn't seem to notice your embarrassment and he finished stacking the remaining pieces of wood he had been holding.

Clearing your throat, you tried to distract yourself from what had just happened. "So, how are you doing?"

"i'm doing alright, i suppose," he hummed. "what about you? did your injuries heal properly?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I don't even think it left a scar but if it did, my hair covers everything anyways."

His expression turned into one of relief. "that's good, i'm really sorry that i had to leave abruptly like that."

"No, I completely understand!" You hesitated for a second before asking, "Was...Dream okay...?"

His eye sockets narrowed and he seemed to grow more serious for a moment. "yeah, he's fine."

"Oh, that's great to hear."

A bit of an awkward silence settled between both of you. Since he seemed like he wasn't going to expound on what had happened further, you decided to try to lighten the mood and motioned for him to sit down on the couch by the fireplace. He sat down gratefully but his posture seemed a bit stiff.

"Can I tell you something?"

He tilted his skull and gave you a curious look. "what's up?"

Rather than answer immediately, you reached over and placed your hand on his. He briefly glanced down but when he didn't pull away, you took that as a signal that he was okay with the contact for the time being.

"This sounds weird, but I haven't been able to get you out of my head for months."

One of his bonebrows twitched but his expression otherwise remained neutral.

You took a deep breath and continued. "Cross... I really like you."

He placed his other hand on top of yours and smiled. "well, that does sound weird...but i really like you too." His cheekbones flushed with purple as he spoke but he didn't look away from you this time.

You couldn't help but laugh. This conversation felt like it'd come straight from a fairytale and yet it was real. Your heart swelled with joy and while you were certain your cheeks had turned bright red, you couldn't care less right now.

Cross chuckled softly and, to your surprise, he reached over to wrap an arm around your shoulders. This brought you closer together but not uncomfortably so. Even like this, it seemed he was still being considerate of your feelings.

"does this mean i can come over again to see you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

You nodded vigorously, "For sure!"

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part nine

Words: 571 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: no warnings this time! except Steve's continued bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Turning twenty-one is supposed to be big and fun and momentous. Or at least that’s what everyone’s always told Steve, but he thinks it’s off to a rather crummy start actually. Surely that means it can only go up from here, right?

Except that part where it absolutely doesn’t do that. If anything, Steve finds his luck getting worse and worse. From missing his bus to losing his wallet to dropping his phone, it feels like one little thing after another little thing, and quite frankly he’s sick of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d blame Eddie.

But the thing is, Steve’s always kind of had awful luck, so if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his own. It doesn’t make him feel better about Eddie just always being there, though.

“Are you absolutely sure you can’t just fuck off for like an hour?” Steve asks exasperatedly and for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Trust me,” Eddie deadpans in return, looking just as annoyed as Steve feels which only serves to make him bristle more, “if I could leave for any length of time, I would. But I get dragged back here any time I try.”

If Steve were less annoyed, he might feel sorry for Eddie. Something about a lack of freewill makes him sad, angry, upset? He’s not sure. But Eddie’s annoying, so Steve can’t bring himself to feel bad for anyone but himself. He’s never done well with being annoyed.

“What if you talk to whoever the hell is in charge of you or whatever?” Steve suggests, not for the first time in the week they’ve known each other. “Surely they can give you some kind of away time.”

Sighing like the weight of the world is bearing down on his shoulders, Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t get to her if I can’t leave. And I can’t take you with me, so we’re just gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

It’s the same response Steve always gets, but that doesn’t make it any less grating. Steve wants to be alone. Preferably for a long time while he processes the disaster that was the morning after his birthday. Shoving it down, pretending nothing happened because he doesn’t want Eddie (or anyone else) to see how much it’s upset him, can’t work forever.

This time, though, a thought strikes Steve and he frowns in thought. “What if you tried your weird magic shit?” he asks. “You cleaned up a murder scene with it. Surely you can use it to allow me to be alone for a while?”

Mentioning the murder scene to someone other than himself leaves Steve grimacing, but it’s the reality of things. It also brings him that much closer to a breakdown, but he keeps it held back. He always does when the memory tickles at the edges of his brain, which is alarmingly often the longer he dwells on it.

Eddie frowns in thought, expression matching Steve’s as he considers the suggestion. “I don’t think it would hurt to try,” he allows after a few moments. “Not optimistic, but we don’t seem to need many angelic miracles right now so…”

Which Steve disagrees with, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead he just watches Eddie, watches as the blinding light fills the room just like it had all the times before, and when it clears Eddie is gone.

Steve is alone.

As always, tags below the cut. Let me know if you want added!

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddiee @penny00dreadfull @momotonescreamingg @stevesbipanicic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas

[superbat-lmao]

Roy and Jason have their own comms channel that blocks the rest of the bats.

Because, when Roy is out of commission and it’s a slow night, he says the filthiest things over the comms to try and convince Jason to wrap it up early and come home.

Warning: Mature content.

Roy, who has years of experience over Jason also has the unique delight of patrolling for two weeks while Jason heals from a particularly nasty GSW. Once Jason’s well enough to listen in over the comms, he gets an idea.

The first time he signs on to their private channel, he’s direct and slightly nervous. He doesn’t get further than, “Busy night?”

“Nope!”

“Wanna come home and fuck me?”

There’s a noise like an impact and then Roy saying, “I might have to now that you almost gave me a concussion, Jaybird.”

But after a few days Jason really considered how much work it is for Roy to just keep talking. Because Jason has sat out in the cold for two and a half hours before, completely silent, and still had Roy chattering on in his ear with lurid fantasies.

So, he waits for Roy to do actual reconnaissance, writes down a couple of things beforehand, and really lays into it.

Because if there’s one thing that Roy is that Jason isn’t, it’s that he’s shameless.

But Jason is a bat, and if there’s one thing he’s capable of, it’s completing a mission.

So Roy announces that he’s going silent on his end and Jason waits about 7 minutes before laying into his master plan. He triple checks he’s on their private comm and goes for it.

“Have I told you what I think about on patrol when you’re on the comms? What it was like the first time you caught me off guard doing this?”

“Because at first you gave me a heart attack. I didn’t realize you’d switched lines and thought Babs could hear us. You’d said something about suffocating between my thighs and I damn near fell off a fire escape.”

“But my first stakeout? You talked about me pinning you to the wall of the alley I was above, fisting my hand around your cock, and putting my dick inside you. I couldn’t breathe, Roy. I thought I’d died when the mark finally moved and got the recon of who he was working for. I had to do breathing exercises the whole way home so I didn’t come in my gear.”

After a while, Jason gets used to the silence and just describes everything he can think of about Roy. He talks about his hands, the callouses on his fingers, his arms, what it’s like to sink his teeth into his neck, the feel of his muscles under Jason’s hands, how good he feels wrapped around Jason’s cock, or in Jason’s mouth, or how he tastes clenched around his tongue, how it feels to have Roy inside him, how Roy’s hair feels in his finger tips, how he loves the taste of his tongue, his teeth. How his back curves into his ass and the pale skin he bites when he clenches around Jason.

“God baby, how do you keep your hands to yourself saying things like this. I’m hard just thinking about you.”

And he is. Jason’s sweatpants are tented where he’s seated on the couch.

His mind wanders a bit, thinking on how rarely he’s speaking these thoughts about Roy out loud. He’s an enthusiastic partner, loud even, but rarely this explicit.

“Fuck Roy, is it easier for you to say these things when I’m not in front of you? Because I swear some times I look at you and forget how to breathe.”

“When you’re here in front of me it’s like someone has shorted a connection in my brain. I would forget English if you let me. Until all I could say is your name.”

He goes on for a while longer, not quite keeping track of how long he’s been talking for. He tries to picture what Roy will be like when he wraps up, when he comes home, but he draws a bit of a blank.

Because Jason knows this script, but not from this side. He’s always been the one to come through the window, to take Roy in whatever state he finds him on their bed, and bear down on him. To fulfill any fantasy that he had been hearing for the last twenty minutes to three hours.

But when Jason finally hears their window open, he realizes how much control Roy gives him. Because abruptly, Jason feels as though he’s been waiving a red piece of cloth in a dirt ring and he can finally hear the gate open.

He gasps into the kiss Roy demands from him, smiling into the satisfaction of how riled up he looks now that he’s removed his domino. Roy’s hands move with an urgency that makes Jason laugh as he removes his armor as quickly as possible.

“Of course you would find this funny. Jaybird, I swear on Alfred that if you don’t help me out of this right now I will combust.”

So Jason takes pity on him and strips what he can reach. There’s a pull in his leg when Roy readjusts them on the couch and it seems to occur to him that Roy is usually pretty injured when Jason is on the other side of this set up. He makes a mental note to move them to the bed in the future before letting himself get distracted.

When Roy’s wandering hands press a little too roughly that he feels Jason flinch, he takes the hint and they’re in the bedroom. Roy solves the problem of too much pressure by maneuvering Jason on top of him and letting him set the pace.

After, when they’re cleaned up and enjoying the distinct fuzziness of the afterglow, Roy tracing his fingers lazily around Jason’s chest, Jason can’t help but ask.

“So, how’d the recon go?”

Roy flushed a deep red at the question.

“That bad, huh?”

“I got what we needed.”

“Really? I didn’t distract you too bad? Do I have to up my game for next time?”

“I swear you‘ll be the death of me.”

When Jason shot him an unimpressed look Roy relented and went on.

“I didn’t think it would be that hard, I’ve spent literal hours sitting here doing the same thing and you’ve never almost botched a mission because of a hard on.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know how you can keep talking for so damn long. It’s one thing doing breathing exercises on a roof top, but our living room is too damn boring for me to be stuck looking at when talking about you.”

That gets a smile out of Roy, who presses a short kiss against Jason’s slight scowl.

“Aww Jaybird, you could always tell me while I’m here. I’ll keep things interesting.”

“Roy, if you’re here there are way more important things I could be doing than talk.”

“I do enjoy putting it to use in other ways, I’ll give you that. And tonight wasn’t, I mean. God Jason listening to you say everything, I don’t know where to start. I love every possible use your mouth could be put to, just, I don’t know if I can handle the insane amount of control you’re using to listen to everything on patrol.”

Jason worked on tucking them in properly, reaching for the light so they could finally get some sleep.

“Noted. Dirty talk on the comms only when you’re wrapped up for the night.”

“Ugh, I really hope this grappling with a boner thing doesn’t become a Thing.”

Jason laughed when he kissed Roy before really settling in.

“No promises.”

[slytherinshua]

You want soft thoughts? Here's one that's been driving me crazy for a few days lol. I watched a clip of Gwangil hugging his camera after a viewer asked for a hug and the way he went c'mere and hugged the camera absolutely melted me. Then started me down the spiraling path of, how would the members give a hug. I just know the Sangyeop would give the BEST hugs (I mean look at his arms?!?) and Wonsang would give the softest squishiest hugs. Yechan I feel would also give a very soft hug, he seems very touchy compared to the others vGwangil would maybe give a firm hug? I'm honestly not sure about him. (It is entirely possible that I just need a hug lol) I hope this also drives you crazy ahaha

HOW LUCY HUGS

genre. fluff. headcanons. established relationship. warnings. none. pairing. lucy x reader. wc. 611. a/n. KSJDKS OKAY THIS ABSOLUTELY DOES DRIVE ME CRAZY GOODBYE EVEN THINKING ABT THIS IS JUST SO SOFT IM MELTING INTO THE FLOOR RN STOP 😭😭😭 also like ty for sending smth in bcuz my inbox was like crickets 😔

SHIN YECHAN

okay definitely a soft hugger i feel like he's really into side hugs or back hugs

like he would just slip his arm around your waist and hug you gently like that

it's not very involved it's so tender but it makes it so that the hug can last for longer

yechan could just sit with you on the couch while doing something else and have his arm around your shoulder or waist and hug you like that for hours

i also feel like he's the type to grab your hands and wrap them around his shoulders if that makes sense

like he's always initiating things but almost 99% of the time it's so soft and gentle

he might squeeze your waist or hand but he's not gonna bear hug you (also cause his frame is so small he's not really built for it lol)

CHOI SANGYEOP

best bear hugs in the WORLD :(

he'll entirely wrap his arms around you from the front and give you the biggest squeeze

likes it when you lay your cheek against his cheek, he'd love to cuddle like that

and you can hear his heartbeat and the soft fabric of his shirt and it's so cozy (he's so husband material OH MY GOD)

sangyeop is definitely a cuddling while in bed enjoyer

all wrapped up under the covers with you, so close and comfortable with each other

he loves being the big spoon obviously i feel like he'd be offended if you wanted to be the big spoon lol

he's just so protector coded, he needs to have his arms around you so you can feel safe and loved!!! :(

also likes sneaking in cheek kisses hehe

CHO WONSANG

wonsang spends so much time in the studio creating masterpieces so i feel like you would give him lots of back-hugs while he's in his chair

just with your arms hung over his shoulders maybe fiddling with the collar of his shirt or his necklace or his hair <3

or he'd pull you down onto his lap and hug you like that while he still works on songs :(

everything is very soft like yechan with wonsang

you'd rest your head on his shoulder and listen to him talk about his songs or his day :(

laughing together while you're snuggled close in his lap and you can feel his chest buzz

also i know that wonsang usually spends a lot of time in very soft hoodies as his casual clothes lol he's so cute

so like hugging him while he's wearing that almost every day is so cozy :(

if he was hugging you on the couch he would 100% intertwine your legs like THATS JUST SUCH A WONSANG CODED THING TO DO??

SHIN GWANGIL

most comforting hugs ever in lucy HANDS DOWN

his voice is soft and his personality is soft and his hugs ARE SOFT

i feel like gwangil would just talk about his day with you while hugging you, face buried in the crook of your neck or resting on your shoulder

his hugs would make you feel better in an instant no matter how hard the day had been-- just being in his arms makes everything better

he also would rub your arm or back to make his hugs extra comforting TT

and he would sometimes pull back from the hug to give you a kiss too :( just a little peck on the forehead omg he's so KSJDKS

but i feel like in the morning before he leaves for work he's so casual with hugs

just a quick little pull into his chest before he leaves, but he makes sure to give you a good squeeze

↳ lucy taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @evalevaeva,, @weird-bookworm,, @seunghancore,,

@chenleszone

[theobjectofyourire]

Eleventh Doctor x reader fluff disguised as smut because it’s actually the reader’s first time and they’re really nervous. But the Doctor’s incredibly sweet and patient. Kind of inspired by the Daemyra scene from episode seven? I’m still not over it.

a/n: wow wow wow I cannot tell you how much I loved this!! seriously this was so much fun to write and so perfect for my first request! thank you so so much, anon, I really hope you like it!

word count: 3.2k

cw: some angst and hurt/comfort vibes in the beginning, worries of unrequited love - but it all gets resolved, so much build up, definitely gets spicy later on, I think the request pretty much sums it up

ps. if you want The Feels, the song I imagine them dancing to is The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

A Thing Of Poetry

Your cheeks flush as reality begins to settle around you, adrenaline leaving your senses far more alert than you'd like. The chill of the ocean breeze does little to cool your skin, let alone soothe your ego, and it all seems a terrible joke that despite having a Time Lord by your side, you're incapable of erasing this moment from history.

You'd need only travel a few minutes into the past, just enough to create a distraction, some sort of loud noise that would send you both back to his blue box, or out exploring beyond the sands. It wouldn't be anything serious, not in the big scheme of things. Of course, there was always the chance that your past self would run into your current self and tear a hole in the fabric of space and time, which admittedly seemed rather an extreme risk for what essentially amounted to an embarrassment. It's also exactly why the Doctor would never allow it, and it isn't as if you could fly the Tardis without him. Not that you would want to. You can't imagine one without the other.

No, the only thing you truly want right now is for this unbearable, almost unbelievable silence to end. He's the Doctor, your Doctor, who not a few hours ago managed to talk for ten minutes straight without so much as taking a breath. The same man who once explained water in such a way that by the end of it, even the poor fish was confused. The Time Lord who has a clever, if not somewhat silly reply to everything and everyone in the whole of the universe, and yet, here and now, seems incapable of uttering a single word.

You've done the impossible in rendering him speechless, and you're not entirely sure how to feel about it. Unsettled seems a good word. Awkward, chastened, terrified, the list goes ever on, but you're trying not to dwell on it too much. Instead, you attempt to refocus your attentions by observing him, hoping to discern something of an understanding from his movements.

He stares at you with wide eyes, unreadable save for the obvious shock. His long lashes continue to flutter the way they always do when excited or nervous, and his fingers are trailing along his bottom lip as if examining a precious artifact.

You wonder if you've made a terrible mistake.

His gaze begins to wander, drifting from yours to the midnight sea stretched before you. At the end of a trying day and a few near misses, he'd asked to take you here, a moonlit beach at the edge of the world. A world, he said, where dragons once roamed. Your face lit up at the mere mention.

I knew you'd love it.

You'd nestled yourselves in the sand, just a little distance from the incoming tide. You hadn't any blankets or towels, only a knit jumper and his body heat to keep you warm. It had been, by all accounts, the perfect evening.

It might have stayed that way.

You never should have kissed him.

Your Doctor lets out a deep sigh, a sound so uncertain, you think your heart might break. You can't bear the silence a minute longer.

"I'm sorry," you choke as you haul yourself to your feet, all but running back to the Tardis.

"Y/n," he murmurs. His voice is soft and painfully kind, enough to make you consider turning back. You can't help but imagine the way he'd wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly as he kissed the top of your head, comforting and consoling you until the dawn. All you want is to snuggle into him, but you're already fighting back tears, and it doesn't seem fair to let the Doctor see you cry.

You force yourself to keep going. He says your name again, louder this time as he shuffles about the sand. You hear him curse (his idea of cursing, anyway) as he slips, unable to get a firm footing, but you keep your eyes fixed straight ahead as you trudge across the beach. Knowing his coordination, or lack thereof, you have a few minutes before he catches up with you.

You find yourself trembling as you fling yourself into the Tardis, propping the door shut behind you. She rumbles, seeming to sense your distress.

"I'm alright," you mumble, burying your face in your hands. "I'll be alright."

The Tardis lets out a low groan.

"I know," you heave a sigh. "I don't buy it, either."

You run your hand along the rails as you make your way towards the stairs. You plan on going straight to bed, but you've not made it two steps into the hall before you find yourself on the other side of the console.

You swear you can hear crickets chirping as you glance around. Did you take a wrong turn? You must've done.

You give your head a good shake before returning to the stairs, taking them two at a time and heading to your right. You end up exactly where you were a few seconds ago, steps away from the Tardis console, in full view of the doors.

"Oh, god, no." Your voice is little more than a whine. Even to your own ears, you sound like a child, but you can't bring yourself to care. "No, no, no, don't do this to me," you plead with the ship, panicking as you hear the Doctor's voice getting closer.

You run up the stairs again, though you don't know why you bother. The Tardis keeps putting you back in the console room, determined for you to be there when the Doctor arrives. Unfortunately for the both of you, you're too stubborn to simply give in.

"You're just like him, you know," you grumble as you head up the stairs, yet again. "Neither of you play fair."

The Tardis hums sympathetically. Where do you think he learned it from?

You snort as you keep walking. The whole thing becomes somewhat soothing - like walking in a circle without getting dizzy. That's how he finds you, arguing with his old girl while walking in a loop, disappearing up the stairs before reappearing seconds later on the other side.

You're too caught up in your own whirlwind of frustrations to notice the Doctor, who's currently leaning against one of the rails and smiling something proud.

Look at you.

Stomping around the Tardis, arguing with her as if she were your own, refusing to surrender despite knowing you can't possibly win...right now, you look a little less human and a little more Time Lord.

Though he tries to suppress it, you can't help but hear his giggle. You turn on your heel with a glare, staring him down. "What?" You flinch at the venom in your voice, but it doesn't seem to fluster him in the least. He just keeps on beaming.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," he chuckles as he rubs his hands together, a cheeky glint in his eye. "Just reminding me of meself."

You cross your arms. "Oh, am I?"

The Tardis gives another little rumble, which the Doctor matches in turn. "Yes," he smirks, straightening his bow tie. "Yes, you are."

You try desperately to cling to your anger, an ire so warm it's nearly burned away even the deepest of insecurities, but it doesn't stand a chance against your Doctor. His lopsided grin is already beginning to quell your irritation, leaving you more vulnerable than you'd like. Anxiety trembles in your core while shame coils itself around your heart and in an instant, you remember why you're stuck in this predicament in the first place.

You never should have kissed him.

You chew at the inside of your cheek, offering him a small smile you hope looks sincere. Of course, it doesn't help that you can barely meet his gaze.

In four long strides, he's made his way over to you, eyes alert and brows furrowed. "Something's wrong." His voice is low, a slight growl in the back of his throat the way there always is when he's serious.

You shake your head. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he mutters, looking you up and down as if you're something to be analyzed, searching for a crack in the surface. Your Doctor, always looking for some physical wound, some stretch of skin easily mended. You feel exposed when his cheeks flush, realization dawning on his features.

"Oh."

You manage a nod, gulping down a bit of tension. "Yeah."

"Oh, Y/n," he sighs as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. His breath is warm on your skin, like a campfire beneath an autumn moon. If only you could stop thinking of his lips.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

He pulls away just then, making you regret having said anything at all. "For what?"

He's looking at you with such concern, at once both gentle and steadfast. It certainly isn't a help to your poor heart, which is beating approximately five times faster than it should be. He's really going to make you say it, isn't he?

Your fingers are shaking as you run a hand through your hair, forcing yourself to look at your shoes, at the console, anywhere but his face. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

Kissed. Such a small word, a thing of poetry, and yet it feels like an awkward curse as it tumbles out of your mouth, tasting of something forbidden. You feel so tiny. So silly. You just wish you could disappear. You just wish he could say something to make it all better.

"Why?"

Well, that isn't what you had in mind.

You bounce on the balls of your feet, completely overwhelmed with nervous energy. "Why did I kiss you?"

"Why are you sorry?"

You perk up, daring to look at him as a little spark of hope begins to flutter in your chest. His brows are still furrowed, confusion etched on every line of his face, both endlessly ancient and unfathomably young. Such a beautiful contradiction, your Doctor. The way he's looking at you...

"I...your reaction," you stammer. "I thought you didn't like...I thought you didn't want..."

You trail off as he breaks into a grin, taking your face in both of his hands and again, you find yourself feeling tiny. This time, you don't mind it so much.

"Oh, Y/n." His voice is soft, almost a whisper. His thumb grazes your cheek, wiping away a fallen tear. "My silly, wondrous, Y/n."

You're about to say something, ask him a question, perhaps, but you never get the chance. His lips are already brushing against yours, immeasurably soft with a tender passion you had only ever dreamt of. Your breath catches itself in your throat as his long lashes tickle your skin, his grip on you tightening as he loses himself in a kiss filled with a lifetime of yearning.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him close until his chest is against yours and you can feel his hearts, both beating almost as quickly as your own. You can't stop yourself from moaning into his mouth as he presses you up against the rails, no more than you can help the shiver down your spine when he echoes it back to you.

You find yourself trembling as he pulls away, admiring the slight blush that still lingers on his cheeks. "I've wanted to do that since the moment you first stumbled into my Tardis," he murmurs, offering a smile as sweet as it is mischievous. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, chuckling as you suppress another moan. "I never imagined you wanted the same."

"More than anything in the world," you admit, swallowing down a shaky breath.

He gives you a wink. "Which one?" God, he's sly.

You slide your hands down his chest, wrapping your fingers around his suspenders and giving them a playful snap. You could swear he growls in response. "All of them, Doctor. I want you more than all of them."

He takes one of your hands in his, eyes refusing to leave yours. He presses his lips against the soft skin of your wrist, gentle, and yet desperately possessive. "What are we waiting for?"

He slowly leads you around the console, drawing you nearer the stairs, but despite the fact that your desire is growing by the second, you can't ignore the nervousness in the pit of your stomach.

"Doctor..."

You curse your voice for wavering, wishing you could maintain any semblance of the confidence you felt a minute ago. If you're being entirely honest, part of you is terrified. Not of the Doctor, never of the Doctor, but of disappointing him. After all, you aren't as experienced as most humans, let alone a thousand year old Time Lord.

He needs only glance at your expression to see your apprehensiveness, and it doesn't take a moment for him to spring into action. The lust in his gaze is replaced with something softer as he strokes the back of your hand. "Y/n?" he asks, his voice overflowing with care.

"I...I haven't...well, you know how some people...you know, most people..."

His forehead is all scrunched up as he tries to make sense of your words. You can't blame him, of course, you can hardly make sense of them, yourself. You hadn't thought any of this out, but you're determined to get through to the end.

"I'm what you might consider," you continue, uncertainly, "well, that is to say that I'm not one to have participated in...you know, I've never..."

Mercifully, understanding flashes in the Doctor's eyes before you manage to butcher another sentence.

"Oh!"

"Yeah."

"I see." He runs a hand over his jaw, eyes darting about the console room as he contemplates. You start to curse yourself again, worrying you'd ruined it all. You shouldn't have said anything. Why did you always have to say something?

"Oi, you," he murmurs, kind but firm. "Stop that."

"What?"

"Getting lost in that head of yours." You nod sheepishly. He's right, seeing through your anxieties as he so often does.

"Doctor?" you ask, hesitantly. "I want this. I wasn't lying, earlier. I want this more than anything, and maybe I shouldn't have told you-"

"Oi," he interrupts, wagging his finger like the silly old man that he is. "What did I just say?"

"Get out of my own head."

"Exactly." He taps the end of your nose, making you smile and squirm. "I'm glad you told me. If this is what you want-"

It's your turn to interrupt. "It is."

He smiles and squeezes your hand. "Do you trust me?"

You don't even consider your answer. You've known it all along. "Always."

He winks and snaps his fingers. The Tardis dims her lights as music starts playing from the console. A song from your world, a song he knows you love more than anything. The lyrics always made you think of him.

He brings your hand to his lips as he bows, tipping an imaginary hat and beaming when it makes you giggle. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his voice but a whisper in your ear as you dance in the heart of his ship.

"You're divine," he hums, kissing the base of your throat. Your hands slide into his hair as he lightly sucks the sensitive skin, cheeks flushed from the sensations as well as his words. You can feel him smiling as you shiver. "I want to show you."

"Show me, Doctor?" You're nearly breathless. "Show me what?"

He brings his lips back to yours, engulfing you in a kiss so longing, so endless, it cannot but threaten tears at the sheer romance of it all. It nearly shatters you when he breaks away, caressing your cheek as his green eyes, full of stars, pour into yours.

"I want to show you how brilliant you are," he murmurs. "I want to show you just how much I adore you."

You gaze up at him, lashes fluttering as you blush. The music seems quieter, somehow, and it's only when your eyes drift from the Doctor that you realize you're no longer in the console room.

The Tardis, it seems, transported the both of you to your bedroom. You can't help but giggle.

"Too right, old girl," he chuckles, looking up at the ceiling and giving her a salute. "Too right."

He takes off his jacket, draping it over a chair before shrugging off his suspenders. Next is his bow tie, which he slowly unravels and sets gently atop one of your shelves. He's undone two or three of his shirt buttons when you still his hands with yours.

His eyes are twinkling as you make your way down to the last, brushing aside the fabric to run your fingers along his chest. It's his breath that shakes, now, as you explore further, hands toying with the zip of his trousers.

He swallows a moan as he stops you. As much as he wants to know what your hands would feel like around him, it can wait. This night is about you.

With a kiss that leaves you trembling, he begins to undress you, an act that can only be described as reverent. He presses his lips against every inch of your bare skin, the shock of the cool air immediately soothed by the warmth of his breath.

When you're standing before him, all but bare, he sinks to his knees and asks once more if you trust him.

"Yes," you whisper.

He places loving kisses along your hip bones before moving down to your thighs, holding you steady when you begin to quiver with anticipation. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, gripping tight as he gets closer and closer to your aching sex.

"Please," you beg, not even certain what you're begging for.

He smiles against your skin. "As you wish."

Head between your thighs, you call out for him, your voice little more than a whine as his tongue swirls around you, sucking at your most sensitive spot all but dripping with arousal.

"Doctor," you murmur breathlessly as his fingers slide inside you, unlocking secrets even you were unaware of. He hums your name, the vibrations sending intense waves of pleasure through your core. You cling to him for dear life as you clench around his fingers, your own digging into his scalp.

The orgasm feels endless. You wonder if it is. If the Tardis is somehow looping time, or if the Doctor is simply that good. Something tells you it's the latter. The thought sends a tingle down your spine.

He licks his lips, swallowing your arousal with a moan as he looks up at you with a smile. "Do you have any idea how delicious you taste?"

You giggle as you cover your face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks yet again. He rises from his knees, kissing his way up your body until his lips are against yours, the ache between your thighs already returning. You're still shivering from his fingers, his tongue, everything he did, and it hasn't gone unnoticed.

"Don't worry, my love," he purrs. "The night is just beginning."

[lady-bess]

Fallout - Chapter 3 "Out Into The Light"

Jack Daniels x F!Reader Explicit/ 18+ (Minors DNI please) Chapter Word Count: 6.3k Chapter Tags: Description of injuries, description of hospital equipment, punishment, anger, frustration, angst, reference to trauma, reference to death, recovery.

Series Masterlist | A03 Link | Tumblr Masterlist

<- Previous Chapter (Ch. 2 - "A Curious Affair")

Still in his hospital bed, Jack gets a long awaited visit from Champ, who details the punishment he now has to endure as a result of his crimes. But even in spite of losing his moniker, and facing the wrath of Agent Tequila's anger, Jack remains positive for what his new life might look like.

2:17pm. February 8 th , 2018.

The road ahead for Jack was going to be a long one - this morning had already made that abundantly clear. His body ached and cried out in pain and exhaustion every time he tried to move any more than just simply sitting. Even stretching out fatigued muscles sent shocks through his body as his nerves and tendons all got used to proper movement again. 

After sleeping for another few hours, Clara had taken small steps with Jack to establish where he was at physically. Slowly she had sat him up in bed, taking time and adjusting the backrest of where he lay so that his body could acclimatise to being upright again, and not pass out from any more sudden movement. It took almost an hour, but she eventually got him sitting upright. 

Normally, patients who were reliant on ventilators or in any kind of comatose state, would need weaning off their oxygen steadily. Half an hour increments daily, followed by the smallest bits of exercise in conjunction. Any more could risk further internal injury, or delays in overall progress to recovery. 

Jack had a slight upper hand in that the Statesman technology which had kept him alive these last few months was far superior to any standard hospital equipment that he would have been using had he not been in the lab. His body had been preserved much more efficiently than it could have been, and as such things were not as dire as they could have been when he finally woke up properly. 

Electrostimulation had been administered gently throughout his muscles while he slept, preventing a lot of atrophy he would experience for being out cold for so long. He still would need some form of rehab to develop what had been lost, and the side effects of not breathing autonomously for so long would take a long time to be completely over. But things could be a lot more dire for Jack if he had found himself anywhere other than Statesman. 

Jack sat in silence after Clara excused herself for a moment to go run some blood tests on him - although he was smart enough to know that this was definitely a ruse to just be out of the way. He knew that Champ would need to come by soon and speak to him, but in a sense Jack could hardly bear waiting any longer for that to happen. It felt like he was waiting for his own day of reckoning, and the sooner he knew what fate he was going to face, the better. 

His prayers would soon be answered. 

The elder Statesman agent stepped out of the barrel-shaped elevator and walked down the long corridor of the labs. It had been a few hours since he’d had word from Clara about needing to be down here, but that she would need a while to make sure Jack was completely stable before he would be able to bear being questioned. 

Champ had waited as long as he could. He had spent most of the morning itching with a feeling akin to excitement, nervousness, and also dread. For as happy as he was that Jack was back in the land of the living, he knew that he was about to face up to the reality that was the betrayal of his most senior agent - not only someone who he regarded as trustworthy in the field, but also someone he had come to know so intimately that he would be able to consider him a friend. 

But he’d had the benefit of time on his side, and ever since Jack’s accident he’d mulled over how best to treat the former agent. Anger had blinded him in the first few weeks, wanting nothing more than to cut ties with Jack and send him packing at the first opportunity. But the guilt at what had caused Jack to snap had eaten away at the older man for far too long, and he’d had time to process that perhaps he had some accountability to take for what happened. 

Inhaling sharply, Champ pushed open the door to the lab and stepped inside. He had wanted to remain a confident figure of authority today, and to maintain the kind of stature he was known for - stoic, no nonsense, and would absolutely kick you to the curb if needed. But all that faded away the second he laid eyes on Jack across the room of the lab, almost stopping him dead in his tracks. 

Propped up in bed, still with a ventilator and IV tracks feeding into him, he looked rough . The colour in his face had long since faded, replaced by a look of fatigue under heavy eyes and a solemn brow. Someone, Jack looked more dead now than he had in the four months he’d been laid unconscious. 

Champ bit on his bottom lip gently as he shuffled his feet along the crisp white floor of the lab, then cleared his throat to get the attention of Jack. Two dark brown eyes scanned over to the noise before setting on Champ, and he was met with a melancholic smile from the younger man. A smile which shattered Champ from the inside. 

“Hey, kid,” he said, snapping himself out of his daze and slowly wandering over to Jack. He tried not to let it show, but Champ carried so much guilt towards the former agent that sat before him now. He had wondered, for so long since the accident, if any of it was preventable. Could he have done more to prevent Jack from going down this road? Was this the fault of the organisation Jack worked for so many years to uphold, and protect? 

Had he failed to protect his own?

Jack smiled faintly towards Champ, his brow softening as the older man approached him. He thought, at first, that he might feel differently when this time finally came - when judgement came knocking at his door. But, for as much as Champ tried, he could never fully hide his feelings. Not from Jack, anyway. He didn’t know if it was regret, remorse, or sympathy that was painted across his face, but Jack knew that whatever he was about to say would not be the aggressive screaming match that he anticipated. 

“Hey, boss,” he said weakly, his voice cracking with each syllable he pushed out of his mouth. He’d spoken in small parts to Clara and Jane since waking up, but on the whole this morning had been focused on making sure he was stable and well rested. There would be a lot of rehab to come, so he needed to save his energy. 

“How are you doing?” Champ asked, pulling an office chair across the room from an empty desk, and situating it next to Jack’s bed. He sat down, grunting slightly as he did, old age and the stress of running this organisation without his most senior agent by his side having taken its toll on the older man. 

“Been better, if I’m honest,” Jack said, just about forcing out a small chuckle. Champ smiled sympathetically, nodding in understanding. 

“Yeah, I figured, kid. Sorry for asking such a dumb question,” he said, laughing faintly along with Jack. 

Jack smiled towards the older man, someone he had respected and looked up to for so long. What he had tried to do was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to tell him that, but somehow the thing that hurt most was that he had let down Champ - a man who represented a team that had done nothing but have Jack’s back for the last two decades, and yet he still betrayed them. 

“No change there then,” he joked, winking at Champ. He smiled back at him earnestly, and for a brief moment anyone could be forgiven into thinking that there was nothing amiss between the two men. That Jack had just had an unfortunate accident, and here was his boss coming to check on his condition. 

But none of that was the case, and the sobering reality of the situation couldn’t be ignored for long. A weight sat on both the men’s shoulders the longer they chose to keep sweeping this conversation under the rug, putting it off, and off, until eventually one of them had to address the elephant in the room.  

Jack didn’t want it to be him which broke the veil of denial that lay across them both in this moment. He wanted to enjoy what could potentially be his last few civil moments with the man who he had betrayed - he had turned his back on Statesman for the sake of his own fucked up principles, and wouldn’t blame Champ for cutting ties and leaving him out in the dust somewhere. 

Forgotten. Unloved. But probably deserved. 

Champ didn’t want it to be him, either. He wanted to still believe, for just a moment longer, that this entire situation had been an unfortunate misunderstanding. That Jack hadn’t acted out how he did, that Eggsy and Harry had lied. 

But the video footage from the Kingsman agent’s glasses was proof enough. For as much as he wanted to bury his head in the sand, and pretend like their British cousins were lying for some reason, he could not deny the evidence so plainly in front of him. 

And now, Jack had to face the music.  

“Jack, I’m sorry to do this, but I gotta ask. What was the last thing you remember?” Champ asked.

Jack sighed softly, but nodded. The silence couldn’t last forever - this question was always going to have to come one way or another. He could see in Champ’s face he didn’t like asking it as much as Jack was going to hate answering it. He inhaled sharply, preparing himself for the words he needed to own up to; the reason he was here today. 

“I remember most of it, unfortunately. My last memory is getting into a fight with Eggsy and Galahad when I tried to stop them from releasing the antidote to Poppy’s laced narcotics. Leading up to that point, I was in a bit of a haze. Anger blinded me, Champ,” he said.

No words Jack could say could ever begin to make up for the damage he almost caused. Clara had gone over her estimations with how many people had been affected, and how many would have perished had Jack been successful with his own personal mission. It pained him to know that he almost cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocent people - something he could only see now, four months after the accident. 

Champ nodded, staying silent for a moment as he processed what Jack had said. In a way he was glad that he remembered a good portion of the details, as it made it easier to go straight into questioning him as to why he acted like he did, rather than starting from square one and having to fill in the blanks. 

Champ had an idea as to why Jack ended up snapping. He knew about what happened with Lela, and had seen over the years Jack’s defiance of anyone using recreational drugs. But to Champ, that wasn’t enough of a reason. He had to know what set it off this time.  

“Were you always like this? Were we truly just so stupid that we didn’t see it?” Champ asked, his hands clasped together on his lap. Jack shook his head.

“I never in my wildest imagination saw myself as being the kind of agent to go rogue. I still can’t believe I did,” he said, sighing to himself. All morning his mind had replayed to him the final mission he was on. What got him there, how he tried so hard to deal with the feelings that resurfaced because of it, and his subsequent idea as to how he could work against Statesman and Kingsman for his own benefit. 

“When did it start, then?” Champ queried, leaning forward slightly in his seat, asking a question Jack had been trying to answer himself all morning. He’d never wholeheartedly supported the use of narcotics, especially given what happened to Lela, but for so many years it had never been a point of contention. 

But finally, he had an answer.  

“It was just after Poppy’s case landed on our doorstep. Something just clicked in my brain. I’m not an idiot, Champ, I know drugs are all around me. Hell, I know Jefferson used them from time to time. I didn’t like it , but I at least knew he was being fairly safe with it,” he began, trying to explain his reasoning. 

Champ furrowed his brow, sucking his lip in as he mulled over what Jack had to say. He’d seen the tiffs he and agent Tequila had over the past few years in regards to drug use, but it had never escalated beyond a shouting match. Something still didn’t fully make sense. 

“So what about Poppy tipped you over the edge?” he asked. Jack gave his former boss a taut smile, followed by a breathy laugh through his nostrils. 

“Champ, this is gonna come out sounding like the most fuckin’ misogynistic thing in the world. Please, bear with me,” he said. Champ couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Go on?” he said.

“I think the fact that Poppy, a well educated woman who yearned for that traditional American aesthetic…the fact it was her behind all of this, shattered the illusion I had of what a drug dealer was,” he said, before pausing to take a breath. It was only now he realised that he so rarely spoke about his wife out loud, and to other people, that he was getting choked up at just the thought of mentioning her name. 

“Since my wife passed, and they busted the guy who had dealt those guys that meth, I think it got ingrained into my head that drug dealers were all horrible, brutish men. Guys most people would avoid on the street, you know?” he said.

“I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down, but continue?”.

“The fact this operation, one that was so fuckin’ massive it affected people globally …and it was Poppy running it…it completely knocked me for six. Suddenly this ideology I had built in my mind of what these people were was destroyed, and it was abundantly clear that literally anyone had the ability to distribute drugs and destroy lives in the process,” he said.

“So, for you, it was less about the drugs and more about the dealers?”. Jack nodded.

“I was blinded by anger, and confusion. I didn’t really care about the people who used those substances, but the ones who shipped ‘em out, even if they were harmful…they were the people I wanted to see gone,” he said.

That was always his rationale, he’d come to realise. The people who made money from those who would go on to make reckless decisions; they were the ones to blame. Tequila had shown him time and time again that drugs could be taken sensibly, if done properly. He still didn’t like the potential risks he posed to himself, but never once had Tequila acted out of sorts because of what he took. 

But those who sold it, even if they knew a client might potentially do themselves or other people harm - they were the ones he couldn’t stand. The ones who needed wiping off the face of the earth. 

The way in which he had intended for that to happen, by essentially drying up and eradicating their customer base, was not the best course of action. Jack could see that so clearly now that he almost couldn’t comprehend that it was something he ever considered logical in the first place. But blinded by his anger and grief, emotions he so often chose to bury, it all became too much to rationalise. 

Champ nodded, slowly starting to see where Jack was coming from. He still didn’t agree with his actions, he’d never be able to do that, but it was gradually becoming clearer what happened in his mind. What made him snap. He opened his mouth again to inhale, about to speak again, but the two men would have to wait for that. 

The doors to the labs burst open, making both Champ and Jack jump in their skin slightly as the door whipped back and slammed into the concrete wall. Both their heads turned to face the entrance, and simultaneously their hearts plummeted to the pit of their stomachs as they saw the younger man striding towards them.  

“Is it true? The son of a bitch is alive ?” Tequila said, storming into the room. 

Jack figured something like this was coming, though. If he had been successful, Tequila wouldn’t be here today – he deserved this anger. That still didn’t mean he was quite prepared for the rage which came tumbling towards him at a hundred miles an hour. 

Flinching at the sound of Tequila’s boots hitting the ground, Jack’s knuckles went white as he screwed up the bedding of his hospital bed in his fists. For the first time in his life he was truly frightened - something he had not been for so many years. He never had anything to lose when he hurtled himself head first into a mission, never caring about the potential ramifications to his own life - but this , Tequila’s anger, made him almost sweat. 

“Tequila I thought I told you to calm the fuck down before you came into this room?!” Clara asked, her jaw clenched with frustration as she followed her younger colleague, barely keeping up with the pace he strode ahead with. He rolled his eyes as he stormed over to the other side of the room where Champ and Jack were, not even paying attention to look back at Clara as he spoke.

“How the hell can you expect me to be calm about this?” he asked, venom laced in his words, a redness in his face creeping up from his neck as tempers rose.

“Tequila, I-,” Jack began. He wasn’t sure what he was going to try and say – hell knows he didn’t get the chance to even get half a sentence out before being cut off.

“I nearly fucking died because of you, Jack!” Tequila shouted, visibly enraged. His skin was red as anger coursed through him, and his jaw was clenched so tight that the veins in his neck were visible. Clara turned to him, her eyes silently pleading with him, hoping and praying that he would see sense and calm down. But Tequila could only see red - silent pleas were not going to suffice this time. 

“Tequila, calm down, please ,” she said softly, her hand reaching out to take hold of him by his elbow. She tugged gently, hoping the pull of her fingers around his arm would be enough to snap him out of the upset and rage he had towards Jack. But even that was no use. He shrugged his arm away from her, not even turning to look back at her as he responded. 

“No,” he snapped, his breathing sharper as fury continued to bubble just under the surface, threatening to spill out into all-out violence the longer he stood there staring at Jack. A man who, for the longest time, he trusted with his life. A man who, as he came to learn a few months ago, was more than happy to sacrifice Tequila’s life in an effort to rid the world of drug users. 

He wanted to hurt him so badly. He’d been waiting months for the chance, and seeing him lay in his bed with all manner of wires and tubes plugged into him, keeping him alive - the temptation to rip them from his body was high. But the only thing that stopped him was the hope that Champ would deliver a punishment which Jack deserved - something he could not endure if he were already dead. 

Clara could understand his anger, and for a long time she had carried that similar weight on her shoulders of betrayal. She understood how he felt, with Jack being someone she had for so long looked up to and admired. For him to turn out like this - it was still slightly beyond belief. But the one thing she would not tolerate from Jefferson was his rudeness towards her . Eyebrows raised, she retracted her hands and rested them on her hips, glaring disapprovingly up at the younger man. 

“Tequila, I will kick you out if you don’t fuckin’ can it ,” she said, now almost yelling herself. At those words, with a sharpness to her threat, Tequila finally turned his head. Clara rarely spoke ill of anyone, nor did she idly make threats. For her to have threatened to kick him out the labs, her labs , snapped him out of the daze he had slipped into. 

Turning to face Clara, with a slightly softer gaze, he shook his head apologetically.

“Sorry, doll,” he whispered, his breathing still ragged from anger. She wasn’t completely going to let him off the hook, but for the time being she’d let it slide until he was in a better headspace. She nodded, smiling taut, and Tequila returned the gesture with a small grin, then turned back to face Jack and Champ. 

“My apologies, sir. Although I’m sure you can understand where my anger stems from, I shouldn’t have acted as such,” he said, removing his stetson and tipping his head towards Champ. 

“It’s alright, kid. This day was never gonna be easy,” Champ said. Tequila nodded, placing his stetson back on his head. 

“Might I ask what punishment Mr. Daniels will be facing?” he asked, eyes locking with the former senior agent. Jack swallowed harshly at Tequila’s gaze, eyes that were so often sparkling and filled with life now pierced into him like the first harsh frost of a winter.   

Champ sighed to himself under his breath - he had imagined in his head how delivering this news would go, always planning in the back of his mind how he would speak to the man before him after all that he’d done. Like Clara and Jefferson, it was difficult to understand that Jack would ever want to go rogue, but he hoped that over time he could come to understand his reasoning. But the one eventuality he did not account for was the one in which an enraged and flustered Tequila would be present at the delivery of such information. 

“I really wish I could have done this in private, Jack,” he said, smiling apologetically down at the former senior agent.  

“Do what?” Jack asked. He had figured as soon as he had woken up, and regained the crucial memories which helped him piece together how he came to be here, that there would be some form of punishment for his actions. It only seemed right, and even Jack could see that. Whatever Champ was about to deliver would be well deserved, and perhaps not punishment enough. 

“You’ve lost your moniker, Jack. You’re no longer Agent Whiskey,” he said. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Jack nodded, solemnly, as he listened carefully to what Champ said. He couldn’t lie and say he expected to wake up and everything be okay - there would be consequences to his actions, and he had made peace with that. He might have only been back in the land of the living for a short while, but he’d had long enough to already be racked with the guilt and remorse of the actions he’d taken to get him into this position. That didn’t mean finding out he had essentially lost his identity didn’t still sting, though. 

“I expected as much. Please tell me what else will happen to me,” he asked, mentally preparing himself for what would be coming his way.

Champ shifted where he sat, looking like he was pondering what it was that he wanted to say. He gently sucked his bottom lip under his top teeth, now seemingly a bit reluctant to talk, with all eyes in the room firmly pinned on him. He sighed, softly. 

“Let me talk you through a couple of things, Jack. The initial plan was to get you healed up here, then ship you off somewhere with a brand new identity. Essentially, reinvent you, then leave you somewhere alone, with no ties to Statesman,” he said, eyes unable to focus on Jack. For as firm as Champ was, and as sure of himself as he so often was, this was one thing that he had tormenting him for months. That plan no longer felt right. 

“But, I came to see that the initial plan was something that was made only out of anger, and rage. It was a knee jerk response to the actions you had taken, and while I will never be able to condemn what it was that you did, I cannot in good faith punish you in such a way like that anymore,” he said.

Jack smiled faintly, a pang of guilt tearing through him again, and tears welled up in his eyes. Champ was a mentor to Jack, and had been such a constant presence in his life for two decades now. He would take a long time to be able to forgive himself for what he did, but his biggest regret was that he had the burden of feeling like he’d let Champ down to carry around with him. Gaining back his trust, and forgiveness, would be a hard battle to fight. 

Tequila, still thoroughly unimpressed at Jack even daring to breathe the same air as him, scoffed at Champ’s words. Jack understood why Jefferson would be so bitter towards him, and he knew if the shoe were on the other foot he’d probably be just as resentful towards him. He didn’t take it personally, but it still was enough of a visceral reaction to make Jack turn his attention towards his former colleague. 

“You’ve all gone fuckin’ soft,” Tequila said under his breath, his arms folded tight against his chest. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Clara quipped, her head snapping round to Tequila the second he dared open his mouth and interrupt Champ. He rolled his eyes at her, but did as she asked, not uttering another word for a while longer. 

“So, what’s the new plan then, Champ? Whatcha gonna do with me?” Jack asked. Champ smiled faintly, his thumb and forefinger on his right hand gently twirling the end of the bolo tie that he had on, something which all agents in the room had realised was something Champ did when he was anxious about something. 

Champ might be someone who came across like he had a hand on everything, but when it came to his closest agents, the most senior ones who had been with Statesman for over a decade, there would always be some decisions which would leave him feeling slightly unsure he was taking the right action. These people were like a family to Champ, and one wrong move had the possibility of jeopardising his adoptive family. In a job like this, where personal relations were hard to maintain outside of work, having any kind of rift in the team was never something he wanted. Life was hard enough for them without it.  

“I’m giving you another chance, Jack. You’ll undergo a course of intense psychological treatment once you’re physically healed, and all the while we’ll keep you bound to these grounds. Consider it a form of house arrest, given what you tried to do,” Champ said. 

Clara furrowed her brow, now turning her attention back to Champ. 

“Champ, I didn’t think that was part of the plan?” she asked. Tequila scoffed, again . 

“It ain’t enough, if you ask me,” he said. Clara didn’t want to detract from any point Champ might be about to give in response to her question, so she didn’t make all that much of a deal of his quip; although that didn’t stop her from muttering “ nobody asked you” under her breath. 

“I changed my mind. I want to give you another chance, Jack, but I need to be sure that you won’t go rogue again. We had guys from the FBI on our case not long after the antidote got released, wanting to know what the delay was all about. I managed to get them off your trail, but fuck , it was a close one. Put my neck on the line for you, Jack, so I gotta be a hundred percent sure whose side you’re on before I even think about giving you a proper job back here,” he said. 

“What makes you think we can ever trust him again, Champ? Are you forgetting how he was quite happy to just let me fuckin’ die ?!” Tequila said, that anger rising in him anew. Champ shrugged. 

“Only time will tell that much, Tex. But my decision is final,” he said, turning back to Jack. “So, what do you say, kid?”. 

Jack smiled faintly, nodding at the older man, choosing to ignore Tequila’s outburst. He’d come around one day - or maybe he wouldn’t; who knew? He probably deserved it if his old friend could never look at him the same again. 

“Statesman is all I’ve ever known, for so long. I want to make it work, Champ. I’ll serve my time,” he said.

Champ smiled, nodding as he stood to his feet, holding onto the lapels of his jacket as he returned to the strong stature he so liked to maintain. 

“Very well. Tequila, may I see you outside for a moment?” Champ asked. Tequila scoffed, still completely bemused at the solution to Jack’s punishment, but nodded nonetheless. He’d never been one to question Champ’s authority, so he sure wasn’t about to start now - regardless of his personal feelings towards the decision. 

The two men began walking away from Jack’s bed, but before they could leave he had just one final burning question that he needed answering. 

“Hey Champ, if I’m not Whiskey, then who is?” Jack asked. Champ turned on his heels, ignoring the fact that Tequila kept walking towards the door, and smiled. 

“Clara, can you fill Jack in on those details?” he asked, and she nodded. 

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Very good,” he grinned, then nodded towards Jack, “Rest up, kid. I’ll see you soon”. 

Jack watched as Tequila and Champ left the room, the lab doors swinging behind them as they left. A silence fell across the lab once they had departed, the gentle sound of machinery beeping and whirring behind his head the only thing he noticed for a while. Jack felt his mind slowly wandering away from the physical space in which he resided, the reality of everything crashing down around him. 

He’d lost his moniker. 

The man he fought for years to become, the stoic and immovable Agent Whiskey - just like that, gone . A part of his life, so big that he didn’t even know who he was without it, had been taken away. He didn’t disagree with Champ, he would have acted the same in his shoes - but the feeling of loss left a vacant hole deep inside his chest, and for a moment Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to piece himself back together.

Clara sat down besides Jack’s bed and sighed quietly, the weight of that conversation heavy in the air surrounding them both. She could see that he’d wandered elsewhere, his eyes almost empty as she looked over at him. This was a conversation that she didn’t want to have, especially given how heartbroken he looked - but the band aid would need to come off sometime. 

She slowly slid her hand atop of Jack’s, caressing the back of his hand while she waited for him to come back to her. He didn’t react at first, the dissociation taking hold and carrying him far out of this room. Far away from the reality he was having to acknowledge. 

“Jack?” she whispered, finally snapping him out of his daze and bringing him back to her in the room. He turned to look at her, his eyes filled with tears, but yet he still managed a small smile. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, sniffling to himself and wiping his eyes with his free hand. Clara shook her head, lacing her fingers between his and squeezing his hand. 

“Don’t be,” she said, “This is a lot to process all at once. We can always revisit this conversation another day?” she suggested, but Jack shook his head. 

“No, Clara, I need to know. Who is the new Agent Whiskey?” he asked.  

Clara bit her lip, still unsure if she felt ready to tell him. But one look into those deep brown pleading eyes, and she was a goner. Her and Jack might have never been intimate with one another, but that didn’t make her totally immune to the looks and glances he could pass around. 

“It’s me, Jack. I’m Agent Whiskey,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry”. 

Jack had never been keen on Clara becoming a senior agent, even though he knew as well as anyone else that she would have been deserving of the position. But being one of the only women he worked closely with on a daily basis for so many years, he’d so long wanted to protect Clara and keep her safe - denying her the chance to work her way up the ranks was his way of crudely preventing her from putting herself in harm's way. 

He knew it was wrong. Truthfully, the fact his old moniker had been passed to her felt like an ironic sense of justice being delivered - a karma given to him for all the times he had denied Clara the right to do what she was more than capable of, what she was more than deserving of , in the name of protection. 

Jack smiled at Clara, trying to reassure the evident worry that was dancing across her face. With her hand still in his, he returned the affection she’s given, squeezing her fingers between his. 

“No, Clara. I’m sorry,” he said. She furrowed her brow, not expecting an apology to come from his lips - in fact, she expected anger. A sense of betrayal, even, that after all this time working together that it was her who would be the one to take his moniker the second he were to lose it. But no; instead Jack looked remorseful, and genuinely sorry. 

“What for?” she asked. 

“You mean aside from causing all this mess?” he chuckled, motioning to the bed in which he lay with his other hand. 

“Oh, shut up,” she giggled, wanting to playfully slap his arm but knowing that was probably not the best idea given his current condition. 

“I’m sorry for ever denying you the chance to become an agent. You never deserved that,” he explained. 

She’d get an explanation from him one day as to why he did. That didn’t matter right now - for the first time in her life, Clara had just heard Jack apologise to her. 

“It’s okay. In a way it all worked out in the end,” she said. Jack shrugged. 

“Yes, but I should have never stood in your way. For what it’s worth, I’m glad my moniker has gone to you, of all people,” he said. “You deserve the title.”

Clara smiled at Jack, tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. He lifted her hand, still within his, up to his lips. Softly he placed a kiss on the back of her hand, all the while his deep brown eyes staying firmly on hers, his own tears starting to seep from the edges and trickle down his face. 

For Clara, it was an acceptance that she hadn’t anticipated, but one she had so desperately needed. For as long as Jack had been asleep, carrying his former moniker had felt more like a burden than a privilege. A metaphorical ball and chain clamped around her ankle, weighing her down and scraping at the ground beneath her with every step. It had been an unbearable weight. 

But looking back at Jack now, whose features seemed softer than she’d ever seen before, there was not a doubt in her mind that everything would eventually work out. Whatever became of Jack, however well he would cope with the upcoming months and years of rehab, she could leave this room today as Agent Whiskey with her head held high. Something she had yearned for since September. 

“You better rest now, Jack. We’ll be getting you into physical rehab in the morning, so you’ll need your energy. I think you’ve had enough for one day now,” Clara said. 

Jack nodded, setting Clara’s hand back down onto the bed and loosening his grip, allowing her to pull away. She stood up from his bedside and adjusted her lab coat, before heading off in the direction of the door. 

“Thank you, Clara,” Jack said weakly, smiling over at his former co-worker as he felt his body relax into the bed. She turned her head back towards him, chuckling to herself as she saw his eyes go heavy and begin to close, fatigue taking over his body. On her way out, Clara dimmed the lights, and by the time she came to leave the labs Jack had already slipped away again into a deep slumber. 

As Jack slept that night, he dreamt of his old life. A life he would no longer see again, but perhaps for the better. He had been a wayward soul for far too long, and his unpredictability had led him to ruin. For him to feel happiness again, to have a new lease of life, change was inevitable. 

“All great changes are preceded by chaos”. 

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Next Chapter (Ch. 3 - "Confinement") ->

[javiercigsrete]

bad idea

dbf!joel x f!reader.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

main masterlist

summary: teasing joel while on a road trip to houston for a concert was a bad idea. especially with your father tagging along. 3.9k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (23/40), smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, dirty talk??, shit load of pet names, banter??, gas stations, no use of y/n, cursing, readers father is oblivious ofc, not beta read we die like losers, uhh idk what else so if i missed anything lmk !!

a/n: omfg this took way longer to write than i'd hoped for but it's here !! it's not the best and it's truthfully my first fic i've completed, written, and posted so if it's horrible that's why. that and i've also never written smut before so this was definitely a learning experience, hopefully as time goes on i'll get better at it but for now it's fuck it we ball, live and learn, anyways enjoy this and also happy birthday to joel miller the loml <3

The tree leaves dance in the wind, a few cars crushing the ones that have fallen and blown into the street leaving only tiny pieces to scatter in the air. It's only the middle of August but the leaves have already started to change colors and fall. at least it's still warm out.

You've watched at least four cars pass since the time Joel was supposed to show up, your dad planned some overnight trip to a concert in Houston. You're all supposed to ride in Joel's truck – he'd offered to be the one to drive there and back – but he still isn't here.

Be nice if it was just you and Joel. It would be like a date, the two of you alone together, spending the day together and having the hotel room all to yourselves for the night.

But that could never happen.

You can hear him from where you're sitting on the porch. your dad. He's been on the phone for the past hour arguing with whoever, he'd gotten loud enough you'd sought reprieve outside, it's proven useless.

You're thankful when you spot the familiar black truck pull up along the sidewalk, you stand from the steps and make your way over to him as he steps out of the truck. “You're late,” you say.

Joel grabs up your bag, tossing it into the bed of the truck. You're not entirely sure how safe that is but you don't bring it up yet.

“Sorry baby, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic.” When he turns to you he leaves one hand on the bed and the other on his hip, you watch the way his hands flex, like he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you.

But your dad could walk out the door any second, so he doesn't.

You nod, giving a slight raise of your eyebrows. “Traffic,” is all you say.

“What?” He cocks his head, raising his own eyebrows questioningly.

“Nothing,” you mutter when you hear the screen door open and your dad's voice travels through the air.

“We ready?” he tosses his own bag in the bed, eyeing you two curiously. You both nod in confirmation. “Alright then, let's go.” He rounds the truck, hopping in the passenger's side.

You look at Joel who gives you an apologetic look as he opens the door behind the driver.

This is going to be a long trip.

Joel was right about the traffic, you spend thirty minutes waiting for it to move along the highway. You'd understood the plan of it being an overnight trip but at this rate it might as well be a two day trip.

“God damn, the hell’s takin’ so long?” You hear your dad say, finally breaking the silence that filled the car. “might have to stay longer at this rate, if we even make it,” he mutters.

“‘S why we left so early,” Joel says, there's a hint of agitation laced in his voice, no doubt from the traffic.

You feel the need to make it worse, poke the bear if you will.

“You were late,” you mumble, but you can tell he heard you from the glare you receive through the mirror.

The concert doesn't start till seven, you'd left early – far too early if you're being honest – enough so there was time to get ready, you aren't too sure how that will plan out now from the traffic but Houston isn't very far now.

You honestly wish it was just you and Joel. The car ride so far has been pretty boring, if it was just the two of you the ride wouldn't be so dull. Instead you've listened to your dad talk about sports and work while Joel nodded along, occasionally replying with a sentence or two.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you that all of Joel's attention was elsewhere. But you'd also be lying if you weren't about to make his life impossible.

Because that's exactly what you do.

It's honestly not a good idea, it's risky, but you're beyond caring at this point.

You reach over for your bag, grabbing out a few snack foods you'd packed earlier. You opt out of the chips, they're probably not the most sultry thing you could eat, instead you reach for the cream puff you'd bought a few days ago and forgot about.

You'd packed it for that reason, but now it has a new purpose.

The sound of the wrapping catches the two men's attention, your dad turns in his seat to see what the noise was when he spots the pastry between your hands. “Be careful with that, don't go makin’ a mess in Joel's truck,” he says, scolds almost.

You roll your eyes slightly. “I won't,” your eyes meet Joel's in the mirror, you smile at him as you take a bite of the puff.

His eyes track you, occasionally flitting back to the road. You can tell he's trying to figure out your game, not that it's too complicated to figure out.

You pull the pastry from your mouth, your other hand coming down to cup under your chin slightly. Joel's eyes are like daggers on you as he watches you, you can see the moment he spots the cream on your lips – you spotted it too.

Your tongue darts out slowly to lick at your lips, cleaning the mess left behind running your thumb along your bottom lip for extra measure. Joel stiffens in his seat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking to the side as he watches your little performance.

You smile innocently, but you both know what you're doing.

“Light’s green bud,” your dad's voice booms, breaking Joel from his trance as his eyes move from the mirror back to the road.

You’ve stopped for gas twice now, the first time was before you’d left because Joel forgot to fill his truck up the night before. You’d be worried about not making it on time but you’ve made pretty decent time.

You’re about half way when Joel pulls into a gas station, pulling up to a pump and shutting off the car. The sound of the passenger door opening catches Joel's attention. “We all goin’?” he asks, looking back at your dad who’s already out of the car.

“Yeah, figured we could stretch our legs and all that,” your dad says, emphasizing his statement by stretching out his body.

You’re wondering about the candy section when your dad finds you. “Hey, Joel's outside filling the truck, you almost done?”

You scan the aisle one more time, snatching up a lollipop as you nod. “Yep, now I am,” you say, following him to the counter.

You swear the line takes forever, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a gas station so busy before, you stand next to your dad as he checks out, your eyes wander out one of the windows, you spot Joel almost immediately. His broad shoulders squared as he stands next to the pump.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, turning to see your dad gesturing towards the door. You follow him out, unwrapping the lollipop as you both make your way back to the truck. “Shit,” your dad mutters, ruffling through the plastic bag. “I'll be right back, forgot something.”

You nod, leaning against the side of the truck, watching as your dad jogs back into the store leaving you and Joel to finish filling the tank.

Your eyes catch Joel's, he’s standing at the bed of the truck his arms crossed along his chest, you watch the way his shirt stretches along with it.

You can tell he’s caught onto your game, has for a while now if the way the muscle in his jaw jumps says anything.

“The hell you doin’?”

You smile, pulling the sucker from your mouth with a pop. “What do you mean?”

Joel shakes his head, grabbing the pump and putting it back freeing up his pathway as he steps closer to you. “Don’t give me that, you know what I'm talking about,” he says, crowding your space slighting.

You look up at him through your lashes, doing your best to keep your expression unreadable. “You’re going to have to be specific joel,”

His jaw ticks to the side, scanning the area quickly before gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upwards more as he leans in. “Your little stunt in the car with the cream puff, tryna get me hot and bothered, hm?” He whispers, his tone dropping an octave sending shivers down your back.

This is the closest he’s been in hours and he still isn’t close enough.

“Wanna get us caught, hm? Is that it?” His hand slides to the base of your throat, “let your daddy find out i’m fucking his daughter?”

You part your lips, his eyes drop at the movement, you want nothing more than for him to kiss you right now to run your hands through his hair while he all but devours you. He’s thinking the same, the way his hand tightens ever so slightly around your neck as his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes.

“Joel,” you breathe, you’re not sure what you’re trying to ask but you never get a chance before the sound of your dad’s voice causes you both to spring apart.

“Are we ready?” your dad asks, tossing his things in the car and looking at you both.

“Yep,” Joel clears his throat, running a hand across his face before getting in the truck.

Your legs are practically screaming at you, sitting in the back of a pickup for hours and then climbing a set of stairs is leaving your calves burning in the worst way.

You’d finally made it to the motel you’d be staying at for the night with plenty of time to spare thankfully. When you walk into the room you’re immediately met with the ac, it’s a relief on your skin from the hot air outside.

The room’s what you’d expect a motel room to be, two double beds spaced apart with two dark night stands next to them. They’re neatly made, meaning it’ll be a battle to get into. You venture further in the room, passing by the bathroom and heading towards another door within the room.

When you open the door you’re met with another room, it’s slightly smaller with no other way out of it than the main door, there’s a single double bed in the center of the room that’s made up the same way as the other two.

Conjoined rooms. It makes sense, you toss your things on the bed closing the door. You rummage around in your bag looking for the dress you’d packed, you didn’t pack a whole lot given that you weren’t staying for very long but now as you’re searching for something to wear it feels like you did.

You end up dumping the bag, your pajamas and make up layed out on the bed as you flatten out the wrinkles of your dress, it wasn’t anything too extravagant just a simple dress that fell just above your knees.

You’re just about to put your hair up to do your makeup when the door opens, you turn to see Joell standing in the doorway, his broad frame practically taking up the entire space. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d shown up this morning in, — save for the flannel he’d stripped himself of — a dark blue shirt that hugs his arms paired with dark washed jeans.

He stands leaning against the frame in silence as  his eyes rack up your body taking you in. “Y’look pretty,” he says, finally pushing off the frame taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

You watch his movements stood in the middle of the room, your heart rate picks up heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach from the way he’s looking at you. The atmosphere in the room is thick with need, you have half a mind to ask where your dad is.

“Oh, now you’re worried ‘bout your dad?” your eyes widen, you hadn’t thought you’d said that aloud. Joel crowds your space, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb under your chin as he tilts your head slightly.

“He left to get food, won’t be back for a little while,”

“It’s just us then?”

“Mhm,” 

You all but drag him down to your lips, your hands locked together around the back of his neck. Joel stumbles at your eagerness catching himself before he can fall, his hands falling to your waist bunching up your dress as he squeezes your sides.

You gasp softly when Joel pulls you closer, the prominent bulge of his cock digging into your hip, you grind your hips upwards seeking some sort of friction for the ache already forming between your legs.

Joel pulls away, you whine at the loss. “Should finish gettin’ ready sweetheart,” he mumbles, putting distance between you, his hands still firmly in place at your waist.

He’s teasing you now, getting you back for the car ride. But you’ve lost the patience to be teased right now, your core practically throbbing already and Joel is looking at you with a smug smirk well aware of the state you’re in.

“Joel,” you whine out, trying uselessly to pull him back towards you.

He raises his brows, keeping his distance. “Yes babygirl?” He says, rubbing circles along your sides.

“Please,” 

“Please what, darlin’?”

You groan in annoyance, if you weren’t so worked up you’d strangle him for making you beg, but you are. “Please, fuck me,”

Joel hums, looking up as if he’s contemplating, you’re certainly starting to reconsider strangling him. “Dunno know baby, might just make you wait til we get home,”

You could honestly start screaming, you’re running out of time and he’s just messing with you. You look up at him, his eyes already on you an almost amused look on his face.

You lay your hands on his shoulders as you plead. “Please. I’ll do anything just, please,”

“Yeah?” He steps closer, leading you backwards towards the bed, you nod slowly carefully walking til the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Joel lays you back, pushing whatever's on the bed to the floor as he follows you down, he nudges your legs apart so he can nestle himself between them. You wrap your hands around his neck again, pulling him down once more to your lips.

His mouth slots over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your body is on fire as his hands wander, sliding lower to where you need him most.

You moan into Joel's mouth, your hips grinding upwards as one of his hands slip under the hem of your dress finding your clit through the fabric of your underwear, damp from the slick leaking from your core.

He rubs gentle circles against your clit, kissing his way down your neck. You run your hands through his hair gripping the strands as you gasp and moan.

Joel pulls his hand away from your core, you whine at the loss, he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your legs. His fingers slip under your waistband, pulling your underwear down off your legs and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Joel,” you squirm under him, his eyes flick back up to yours, he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides back up your leg spreading them so he can nestle between them again.

“I know,” he rasps, two of his fingers running through your arousal, collecting the slick before sliding the two digits past your entrance slowly, your head falling back against the pillows as you moan softly.

He thrusts his fingers, a slow back and forth rhythm, curling them upward on every inward thrust. Your hips rock up encouraging him to move faster, every inward thrust paired with the rock your hips has Joel hitting the spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His thumb finds your clit rubbing circles on the bud, your hands seek purchase on his shoulders, rumpling his shirt as you ball your fists. “This what you wanted, baby?” He taunts, pulling his fingers almost completely out then thrusting them back in.

You nod, your voice lost to the moans and gasps. “Could've asked ‘stead of teasin’ me all day,” Joel drawls, his voice thick with lust, his hips slowly rutting into the mattress.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You finally breathe out.

You hear Joel grumble something under his breath, you don’t catch what before he’s back to thrusting his fingers at a fast pace, his hips grinding down matching the rhythm of his fingers.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, the warmth building at the bottom of your stomach. Joel can sense it too, his fingers working more determinedly, his thumb applying more pressure on your clit as he works to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum?” He drawls in your ear lowly, placing delicate kisses below your ear.

A soft moan elicits itself from your throat, nodding your head quickly, your toes curling up as your orgasm approaches. “Words darlin’,” he nips at your earlobe.

“y– ha – yes,”

“That's it babygirl, let go,” he coo’s gently, encouraging you, and you do. You grip Joel's arms, tossing your head back, your mouth agape, a chain of moans escaping. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body shuddering under the weight of your orgasm.

“There you go, good girl,” Joel praises softly, slowing his fingers as you come down from your high. He watches the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body relaxing into the bed. You haven’t fully come down from your high before beginning to fumble with the button of his jeans, Joel's hand lays over yours stopping your movements. “Woah, slow down darlin’,” he chuckles.

You groan in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillows once more. “Joel.” you grumble.

“Ask nicely,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

You groan again looking up at him again. “Please,” 

He pulls your hand away, carefully pinning it above your head as he deftly works open the button of his pants, swiftly pushing them past his hips along with his underwear. You can tell he’s running out of patience — and time — to keep teasing you from the way he all but hurriedly frees his aching cock.

You watch as he strokes himself, a careful back and forth motion, his brows furrowed in pleasure. He nudges your legs further apart nestling his hips between your thighs, you wrap your legs around him pulling him closer to you. The head of his cock nudges against your clit eliciting a gasp.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, closing his eyes tightly, his teeth grinding together slightly.

He lets out a breath, composing himself, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, sliding the tip along your folds and through arousal using it to slick himself up. Holding your breath everytime the tip catches your clit.

He does that a few more times, his cock only catching your entrance before pulling away. “Just, fuck me,” you huff irritatedly.

“Bein’ a real brat, y’know that?” Joel grumbles, lining his cock up with your entrance. “Should leave you like this, let you go to the concert soakin’,” he never gives you the chance to say anything before he’s pushing his hips forward, stretching you open.

You moan out your legs tightening around his hips, he sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping upwards, the head of his cock pushing further on every thrust.

Your hands find their way to Joel’s hair, pulling the strands as you toss your head back in pleasure, your eyes rolling backwards. Joel groans, his head falling on your chest, his hot breath ghosting the skin there.

The room was filled with both of your breaths, soft moans mixing with heavy groans as Joel fucked into your heat. His hand slides down your side, his thumb finding your clit once more drawing tight circles, your moans growing in pitch. Joel slots his mouth over yours, muffling your moans slightly in a heated kiss, your teeth clashing together.

“Be. Quiet.” He manages to gasp out between kisses. You mumble out what sounds like an affirmative, he moves down your neck leaving open mouthed kisses along the skin there, his teeth lightly nipping there. But he knows better than to leave any marks.

His hips continue to ground into you, his cock pushing further and further, his tip grazing against the spot inside you that leaves you breathless. “Yeah? Right there?” He quirks an eyebrow, watching as you bite your lower lip in an effort to muffle your moans.

You nod your head, unable to form any words, your walls tighten around him, you can feel yourself getting closer. His pace quickens, his hips pounding into you faster working vigorously to get you there before him. “Go on baby, le — fuck — let go,” he stutters, his hips faltering slightly.

Your legs tighten around his hips as your orgasm gets closer, the feel of his cock pushing you over the edge. Your walls clamp down, your legs practically going numb as your eyes rolling as pleasure washed over you. Joel’s movements slow as you come around him. “That’s it babygirl, there you go. Cum around me, good girl,” he soothes, a desperate moan escaping.

When you finally come down from your high Joel’s movements pick up speed again, working desperately to push himself over the edge he’d been teetering on for a while now.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, trailing kisses up his neck and below his ear, lightly biting the lobe as his hips begin to stutter. “Fuck darilin’, so fuckin’ pretty it hurts,” he rambles, his head falling to your shoulder.

He groans, his hips stopping as he cums, his warm load coating the inside of your walls. His body slackens slightly, careful not to put his weight on you. For a while the only sound filling the room is that of both your breaths.

After a few more bouts of silence Joel finally speaks up. “Should get cleaned up and finish gettin’ ready,” he says, groaning as he slowly pulls out, carefully tucking himself away before extracting himself from the bed. “C’mon,” he pats your leg, moving towards the door.

You sit up on your elbows, watching him from the bed. “What about my underwear?” You ask, Joel turns to face you from the doorway.

“What about them?” He doesn’t say anything else, never gives you the chance to say anything either before he’s out the door a smug smirk plastered across his face.

You stare out the door at a loss, eventually falling back against the bed, you know you should get up and finish getting ready before your dad gets back, but if you’re being honest you don’t think you could get up right now.

Instead you lay there staring at the ceiling, a ridiculous grin spread across your face. Teasing Joel with your dad around may have been a bad idea, but you’d do it again if it got you here.

[samstree]

there is a place where I don’t feel alone

In which Jaskier is Geralt's human-shaped furnace. (General, 4k ☆ also on AO3)

Fire and ice, Jaskier muses. It’s too cliché for his poetry, but there are no better analogies when they press against each other under the covers, a cold witcher warmed by a human bard.

Jaskier is content being Geralt’s human-shaped furnace. He learned a long time ago that witchers’ fast metabolism means they are prone to running cold. He also learned, at the same time, of Geralt’s tendency of ignoring his body’s demands. He’s happy that, after all the years of being together, his witcher is comfortable asking for help, though never with words. It’s in the way Geralt brushes their hands together when his fingers are numb, or subtly reaches out for a cuddle when the night chill settles in.

The potions make it worse. When a hunt ends and the black veins recede from Geralt’s eyes, the adrenaline drop often leaves him shivering. Warmth helps, so Jaskier prepares a bath and hot tea if they are lucky enough to stay at an inn. If all they have is a camp under the sky, he can only hold Geralt close and rub his arms and back, hoping his body provides enough heat for his witcher.

Geralt gets clingy when it happens, though he’d never admit it. Hiding in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, all he can do is cling. The world overwhelms his senses, the coldness harsh on his skin, and he never lets go first.

Jaskier cannot deny him in times like these, doesn’t want to deny him. He takes Geralt in his arms every time, blowing warm air on his cold hands, murmuring soft, reassuring words. He stays as long as needed, and then he stays even longer.

He needs to make the world less harsh for his witcher, even just a little bit.

And Jaskier’s tendency to run hot is neither here nor there. It’s only a slight inconvenience, one that can be overcome easily. He doesn’t mind waking up at night from being too warm, only to find Geralt has added a blanket to their bed. It only requires some adjusting, keeping the extra blanket on Geralt’s side.

He also doesn’t mind Geralt’s cuddling habits. During the mild seasons, he will even tell Geralt to sleep on the other side of the bed, but the distance between them always closes a few hours later. Jaskier is more endeared than bothered, really, and he can simply extract himself and fall back asleep soon after.

It’s an easy enough system. They are different people, polar opposites, as many might say. It takes a lot of practice to fit their lives together, but a few decades are more than enough time.

It’s easy, to be together, to let fire and ice coexist.

It gets less easy as time catches up to Jaskier.

His hair goes grey, and the laugh lines around his eyes deepen. His body starts fighting him from within. It begins with the rushes of hotness at night. He would wake up at night from nothing, with a dry throat and sweat soaked through his back. The healer says it’s common for his age, and the hot flashes will only get worse before it gets better. It becomes increasingly difficult to sleep in the same bed as another person, especially when that person is prone to sprawling on top of him like an oversized cuddle bear.

Insomnia follows naturally, with his sleep disrupted often. The worry makes it worse. Jaskier thought he was used to sending Geralt away on hunts for days and nights on end, but it’s harder to keep check of the anxiety when his mind is tired and irritated. He’d lie awake on their bed and imagine all the ways a simple hunt could go wrong. Even when he manages to sleep, it’s restless and full of nightmares of blood and vacant golden eyes.

His body is getting old, and with it, his heart.

Still, Geralt comes back to him. He always does. The first light of dawn brings his witcher back with morning dew glistening in silver hair, his hands reaching out for touch. Jaskier ignores the hot lava-like state of his upper body as Geralt rests gently on his chest, grounded by the feeling of skin against skin, by the rhythm of his breathing.

Jaskier’s heart feels too tender in his chest, too weathered for a human bard who’s spent most of his life on the road. He wonders how long he can keep doing this.

But then, a shiver runs down Geralt’s body, and Jaskier forgets all about his self-pity.

The path leads them to a mountain, of all places.

The air feels thinner, adding to the heaviness on Jaskier’s breastbone. They find an inn, where word of a mysterious beast up in the mountain finds Geralt while he drinks. The creature sounds more mythical than real. Geralt hesitates to take the contract at first, but is unable to say no in the end. He’s never been able to, anyway.

Jaskier’s stomach churns with the sense of déjà vu. He throws himself into the performance as Geralt prepares for the hunt. The audience is captivated soon, and before he knows it, he has been encouraged by the crowd into a rendition of Her Sweet Kiss. He’s nearly staggering as the song fades, breath shuddering with worry and past heartache.

Geralt is all packed up and waiting by the door when Jaskier finishes his set. He follows his witcher to the street, and is surprised by the tight hug that envelopes him. Jaskier is flushed hot from performing, his cheeks red and heart racing, but Geralt’s armors are cold in the mountain wind. He returns the hug, lingering longer than usual.

Geralt sees through him, worry mirrored in those golden eyes. Jaskier has felt like an open book around him for years, every shift in his mood caught carefully, but his witcher stays patient. He simply kisses Jaskier on the cheek, looking like he wants to say something. Nothing comes out in the end, and Geralt wordlessly turns away.

And Jaskier waits.

It’s just an ordinary contract, he tells himself, but somewhere in the back of his mind, panic surges out of control. It’s the memory of the last time they were in a place like this, with the wind in his hair and bitterness on his tongue. The fire burns bright in the room, but his heart is away on that mountain with his love.

Geralt returns when the moon is high, eyes still black from the potions and face deathly pale. A deep gash runs down his shoulder, bleeding sluggishly.

“Basilisks,” he murmurs, “two of them. Caught me off guard.”

With that, Geralt’s knees buckle and he collapses right into Jaskier’s arms.

The blood stains both of their clothes with crimson red. Jaskier holds up most of Geralt’s weight and helps him sit down. The process of cleaning, bathing, and bandaging his witcher is a familiar one, his muscle memory working on its own, but Jaskier finds a tremor in his hands. He tries and fails to hold himself steady, and swallows the lump of fear in his throat.

“Hey,” he coaxes Geralt to sit on their bed. “Here, just sit. It’s alright. I’m almost done.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt looks faint, head dropping to Jaskier’s shoulder even before the last bit of the bandage is tied up. A pained groan rumbles out of his chest. “Cold…”

“Shh, don’t worry. Let’s warm you up. I’m here, dearest. I’m right here.”

Jaskier tucks in the bandage neatly before reaching for the blankets on the bed. He lowers Geralt onto the pillow before checking on the fireplace, and adds a few pieces of wood, keeping it burning brighter than is needed for the current weather. With a tired sigh, he finally slips between the sheets, and tucks the blankets around Geralt.

Eyes closed, Geralt’s brow knits together painfully, his muscles trembling. He’s barely awake when Jaskier settles around him, placing Geralt’s hands on the small of his back, where the cold fingers can regain some blood flow. It’s not a comfortable position. With Geralt’s injured shoulder, Jaskier has to lie on his back and support most of the witcher’s weight. He’s trapped like this, the heat gathering under the blanket.

He’s burning, almost, with a whole person sprawled on top of him. Sweat gathers on his skin, clammy and uncomfortable against the shirt.

Geralt drifts off quickly enough, catching some much-needed rest. His breaths come out in gentle puffs against Jaskier’s neck, gradually evening out.

“Stay asleep, love, please,” Jaskier mutters with relief, all the while making the slightest attempt at extracting himself, but immediately, the barest movement makes Geralt jerk in sleep. A whimper escapes his throat, too small and sad for Jaskier’s heart to handle. The arms around his waist tighten almost childishly. Jaskier huffs at the ridiculous sight of the two of them, tangled together like one. “Alright. Hush. I won’t leave, then.”

It must be the bad dreams, caused by the pain and the oversensitivity. Geralt is at his most vulnerable when his mind is muddled, and Jaskier cannot bring himself to deny any comfort he can provide.

“There.” He kisses Geralt’s forehead, accepting his fate. Being wrapped up in a cocoon of heat is a small thing to endure when his witcher is hurt.

He threads his fingers through long silver hair, and counts the moments in the quietness of the night.

Jaskier doesn’t notice falling asleep, but the familiar press of Geralt’s weight lulls him into a fitful rest nonetheless.

Blood stains his dreams, as does the overpowering sense of helplessness. It’s like a roaring flame, threatening to consume, or a ring of fire closing in, squeezing the air out of his lungs. A hot flash comes out of nowhere, radiating from the center of his back, burning every nerve from within.

Distantly, he can hear sounds of distress from his own throat. Sweat soaks through his back, his hair, but there is nowhere to run.

Suddenly, the heat disappears, all restraints gone. Jaskier drifts in and out of sleep, breathing out deeply. He shuffles, pushing away the covers on his upper body, and feels cool air hit his skin. With that, another dream pulls him under easily.

When Jaskier blinks awake after what feels like hours, his head is slow and groggy. His arms are empty and the blankets are nowhere near him. A cool breeze washes over his body like a gentle caress.

He gasps at the absence of Geralt. All sleep is chased out by a surge of panic. Jaskier reaches out for his witcher, ready to call for his name.

“Easy.” A hoarse voice rumbles above him. “I’m right here.”

Jaskier looks up to find Geralt sitting against the headboard, the pillow cushioned behind his back.

“Oh.” Jaskier heaves out a sigh, pressing his forehead against Geralt’s thigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

Another gust of wind washes over his back, loosening his muscles, and Jaskier realizes the source of it. The window next to their bed is wide open, letting in breaths of fresh air. The moon is hanging low. Soon the morning light will shimmer by the horizon. The fireplace is burning to an ember, damped by a mound of ash.

Geralt combs through the hair at Jaskier’s nape, so gently it makes Jaskier’s bones hum. His hand is still colder than Jaskier would like, so he takes it, pressing a small kiss in his palm.

“Are you alright? How do you feel now?” Jaskier blinks, observing his witcher in the low light of the bedside candle. “Feeling cold? Your hands are cold. Why did you open the window? And the fire, do you want me to light it again?”

Geralt is still too pale, the effect of the blood loss, but his spirit seems high. A half-smile warms his golden eyes when he meets Jaskier’s gaze.

“Leave the fire, Jask. That’s silly. You were overheating. Did you not notice?” he says. “You shouldn’t have kept the room so warm.”

Jaskier sits up on the bed so they are shoulder to shoulder. It is nice now, the temperature. He unties his shirt a little bit more to cool off.

“I didn’t want you to be cold.”

“I can cope.”

Jaskier pouts. “I don’t want you to cope.”

“And I don’t want you to have a heatstroke.” A frown knits between Geralt’s eyes. “You were sweating all over. Was it another hot flash?”

Jaskier looks down, absently tugging at the blanket so it covers more of Geralt’s torso.

“I’m fine,” he insists stubbornly. “It’s only one of those nights. It happens, these days. I should be used to it.”

“Hmm.”

The cicadas hum outside the window, signaling the upcoming hot days. Geralt’s eyes place a gentle weight, patient and not demanding.

“It’s just…” Jaskier cuts himself off before starting again, trying to push down the fear in his stomach. “You were in a bad way when you came back. It caught me off guard, is all, and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Geralt sags a little, catching Jaskier’s hand and threading their fingers together. “I really scared you this time, didn’t I?”

Jaskier doesn’t think he needs to answer. Nothing can be hidden from his face, not from Geralt, who knows every secret in his soul.

“Hey, come here.” Geralt’s voice softens to a whisper with understanding. He squeezes Jaskier’s hand, tugging him close so his head rests on the witcher’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“It was only a hunt. I’ve had much worse.”

Something within Jaskier shudders. “Yes, I’m well aware of the occupational hazard for witchers. That’s the problem. I don’t know how I dealt with it all this time. The terror of it all…” He huffs, self-deprecatingly. “It must be the age. I’m getting old. Too old for the foolish bravado of youth. I feel like my heart is getting weaker these days. Like it could break more easily, somehow.”

A kiss lands on top of Jaskier’s head.

“You are still brave. Foolishly so,” Geralt says, reverently, proudly.

“Never wanted to be brave. Just useful, so I can take care of you.”

Jaskier turns around, so blue meets gold. Despite the lines at his temple, despite the grey hair, he knows his eyes are still the same. He still looks at Geralt the same way as all those years ago, when he was young and stupidly idealistic. They are full of love for the man in front of him. Always full of love for Geralt.

And Geralt is looking at him the same way.

“You don’t have to be useful. Not if it means you need to push yourself too hard.” A hint of guilt tugs at his lips. “I don’t want to break your heart. Never did.”

“Well, that’s the occupational hazard of a poet,” Jaskier teases, wanting to erase the guilt. It has no place between them. “I don’t blame your trade, love. It is who you are. The path, the monsters, the way you scare the hell out of me every other day. I’ve accepted it. Old age be damned. I promised to follow you until the end of my days, and I tend to keep my promises.”

“Jask, I…”

Geralt closes his mouth, and they fall into silence, though it’s a poignant one.

“It’s alright.” Jaskier wants to steer them away from the heaviness of it all. “You should try to rest more. Meditate, perhaps. That wound is not going to heal fast if you don’t—”

“Fuck it, I need to tell you,” Geralt blurs out. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but now… Jaskier, you deserve to know.”

The interruption makes Jaskier blink. Confused, he sits up straighter. “What is it?”

Geralt’s entire posture changes, and suddenly he looks a lot more serious, which is all the more puzzling. He brings Jaskier’s hand to his chest, pulling him closer. All the tiredness from the hunt is gone, replaced by a nameless excitement.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, Geralt?”

“Don’t worry. It’s good news. At least, it’s good in my head. I think you’ll like it.” When Geralt smiles, a quiet joy lights up his face. It’s Jaskier’s favorite smile of his. It means Geralt is deeply, unreservedly happy, the kind that makes him frightened, even. Like someone could break in and take this happiness from him any moment, so he tries to not show it. “Do you remember that cottage we passed by last summer? The one we saw on the coast in Cidaris?”

The mention of the coastal trip brings back fond memories, making Jaskier’s heart warm.

“Of course. The one on the cliff, with the pretty windows. The old couple lived there for decades,” he says, still not sure where this is going. “What about it?”

Despite the paleness and the dark circles under his eyes, Geralt’s cheek grow pink with a blush.

“Well,” he simply says, “I Bought it.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“Technically, Yen bought it for us.” Geralt tilts his head cheekily. “The couple told me they were selling right before we left, so I wrote to Yen. She went to Cidaris and did it, just like that. It’s ours. It’s going to be our house. We can spend as much time there as we want. Every year, every season, if we wish to. If we get restless, the world is still out there, but we’ll have a home to return to. A place to settle down.”

The sound of the world fades away for a moment, replaced by blood rushing into Jaskier’s ears. He notices his mouth is now hanging open, but nothing is coming out. His heart grows like it's too big for his chest.

A house.

Their house. Their home.

“I—”

Jaskier, to his horror, realizes he has been rendered speechless, all the words of a bard stolen by a witcher. He stares at his witcher, his lovely, perfect, thoughtful witcher, who insists on giving him heart palpitation one after another.

“Jaskier?” Geralt softens, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice. “What do you think? Say something. Please.”

Tears blur his vision, and Jaskier chokes out a sob.

“I—”

His voice shudders with emotions, but the sight of Geralt being so unsure of himself is so unacceptable that Jaskier finds the strength to overcome himself. The sob turns into a wet chuckle.

“It’s good, Geralt. It’s the best news I’ve ever heard. You… you bought that cottage for us?” Jaskier lets the tears fall freely. Happiness tastes like salt on his tongue. “I never thought you’d ever want to stay in one place. I mean, you always said—”

“That witchers don’t retire?” Geralt catches the tears with a thumb, wiping away the streaks on Jaskier’s cheeks gently. “What else did I say?”

“That you don’t need anyone.”

“Hmm. Another lie. What else?”

Jaskier sniffles, hiding his wet cheek in Geralt’s palm. “That you don’t want me.”

Another string of tears streams down Jaskier’s face, and Geralt catches each and every one of them. He dabs them away with the edge of his sleeve, so carefully as if Jaskier could break with the barest touch.

Geralt presses a kiss at the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. It’s only a chaste thing to soothe him, but Jaskier kisses back fervently, desperately. The space between them seems too big. With an arm wrapped around Geralt’s back, still careful to avoid the bandage, he pulls them together. Salt melts between their lips.

They break apart, panting in tandem.

“You are all I ever want,” Geralt whispers, a promise carved upon Jaskier’s heart. “Just you, Jaskier. Forget the lies. I want you. I want… this, for us.”

It takes a while for the storm of emotions to calm down. Jaskier rests his forehead against Geralt’s temple, their bodies rocking together like waves lapping against the shore.

A small cottage by the coast, where the seabirds sing in the sky and the sand is cool between his toes. A place for Geralt to rest, for Jaskier to create, and for both of them to simply be.

The future of their life feels like an old, faded memory. They were always going to end up there from the very beginning. The moment they locked eyes in that small tavern in Posada, they were going to end up there.

Jaskier wipes away the last of the tears, spirit lightened.

“Wait.” He pulls away to look at Geralt, eyes still puffy. “Did you say you asked Yennefer to buy a house for you?”

Geralt winces visibly. “I may owe her a few favors again, but I’m sure she’ll be reasonable.”

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gives a look. “Reasonable?”

“Do you still doubt she has a soft spot for you, especially now that you’ve become less durable? The letters were nice enough. She even offered instructions,” Geralt says. “Told me to bring you back to the coast, make a grand gesture of sort. A nice picnic, she said, before breaking the big surprise.”

“See? Even Yen has more regard for my tender heart. Unlike a certain someone, who will put me through one hell of an emotional turmoil in one night.” Jaskier holds his chest dramatically. “It’s not good for an old man’s health!”

The laugh that Geralt lets out is better than any music Jaskier could ever write. It’s the reason for all those songs in the first place.

“I guess we are heading to the coast next.”

“Are we?”

Jaskier can’t help the grin on his face.

“Mm-hmm. For your health, old man,” Geralt teases. “I hear Cidaris is never too warm in the summer. The ocean carries over cold streams, all the way from the north. The wind is always cool. Sleep will come more easily for you.”

“But how will you cope? Won’t it be cold for you?”

Geralt hums, eyes crinkling. “I have you. I’m sure you’ll fuss enough.”

“You are damn right I will!” Jaskier begins his musing. “I’m going to make our home so cozy! Do you remember those rugs we saw at the winter market last year, the ones you said were too impractical for the road? Finally, I can get those, now that we have somewhere permanent to return to. And we shall build a garden for your herbs, and then a library for me. Plants and arts, let’s not forget! Oh, and those velvet robes you like!”

“I never said I liked them.”

Jaskier pokes Geralt on the cheek, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“You don’t need to. Your face betrays everything. You have this look when you see something you desire but don’t think you deserve—it’s how you used to look at me. I should have known you’d be the first one to suggest settling down. You always were the domestic one. The world just didn’t let you think it could be an option.” he pauses, softening. “Something must have changed your mind.”

The fondness in Geralt’s eyes melts into a golden pool of warmth. “It was someone, actually.”

He leans forward, tucking a strand of hair away from Jaskier’s face, fingers tracing the hair at his temple. A warm blush spreads across Jaskier’s face when he’s observed like this, with his crow’s feet and grey hair on display.

“That someone must be amazing,” Jaskier says, proud of his crow’s feet and grey hair when they are loved like this.

“Hmm. I don’t know. He’s very smug.” Geralt squints. “Less so with age. It wised him up, against all odds.”

They smile into another kiss as the morning sun rises, spilling silvery light into their room.

There are many things to plan in the process of building a new home. They will need to travel to the coast, for one, and then pick out all the furniture. Jaskier will insist on filling their life with soft, warm things for Geralt. Blankets, pillows, teas, and then, freshly collected flowers from their garden. Ciri will need a guest bedroom, for the girl to rest her weary feet when the path gets too much for a witcher-princess. And only the gods know when Yennefer will drop by, with her secret soft spot for domesticity.

There are many things to plan for the future.

But for now, they already have a home right here.

[steddieas-shegoes]

I come bearing a request! I need some wish fulfilment in my life, so Robin & Steve still meeting and becoming platonic soulmates even without all the Upside Down? Feel free to combine this with others or go wild with it in any direction you want. I love your writing, and I’m really looking forward to seeing all of these when they come out, I’m sure people have had so many good ideas!

THANK YOU!!!! I loved this idea. I love their friendship so much, it reminds me sooooo much of me and my person. Even though you said I could mix it in with another one, this felt like something I wanted to make the main focus. They're platonic soulmates, so they find each other no matter the circumstances or universe. I hope you like what I came up with! - Mickala ❤️

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Steve was so lost. He followed the map, or tried to at least, but still ended up by the music building instead of the library.

He was certain there was a joke there about jocks not being able to find the library, but his head hurt, and he was hungry, and he was exhausted.

His first few days of classes had been overwhelming to say the least. He’d only registered for three classes, already knowing his work schedule would keep him too busy to handle more.

It would mean graduating later, but it would also mean more freedom from his parents.

That was more important.

But he carved out an entire afternoon to go to the library this week and so far, he’d wasted an hour walking to the wrong library, back to his car to get the campus map, and then, apparently, the wrong direction.

He was about two seconds away from crying.

He inhaled. He exhaled.

He leaned back against the wall of the music building and slid down until he was sitting on the ground.

It was his day off so nothing was stopping him from just sitting here until he found the energy to walk back to his car.

Except for the person currently tripping over his legs.

“Shit! Who sits on the ground outside? Who does that?”

The girl looked at him, eyes squinting as she took in his visibly pitiful appearance.

“Dingus! Why are you on the ground?”

She sounded annoyed, but also a little amused?

“Sorry. I’m just lost and tired.”

She searched his face, probably trying to figure out how someone like him could be this lost.

“Where are you trying to be?”

“Library.”

“That’s on the other side of campus.”

“I know that now, thanks.”

He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with people, especially not someone who already seemed to not like him because he was in the way.

But she wouldn’t go away, despite the fact that she was clearly in a rush before.

“Weren’t going inside?” He couldn’t help asking, hoping she’d forget about him and leave him to mope for a bit longer.

“I was. But you’re kind of depressing and I think it can wait.”

That’s awesome to hear. He kind of felt like the tears he’d been holding back on for ten minutes now were going to fall and he’d make a bigger fool out of himself and this girl would probably call campus security thinking he’s nuts.

“Dude. You’re kind of losing it. It’s only the first week.”

Yeah, well.

“I’ll be fine. Just go to class. You’re obviously running late.”

“First of all, it’s practice, not class. I’m in the marching band. Scholarship duties or whatever. Second of all, I’m not leaving you here. You look like you’re gonna throw up and die.”

Steve rolled his eyes. This girl was incredibly dramatic.

It was definitely entertaining at least.

“I’m not gonna die.”

“But you might throw up?” The girl looked disgusted. “Do it behind the building at least.”

He was a little nauseous, but that was probably just the anxiety and exhaustion mixed with not eating in a while.

Did he even have breakfast today?

Shit. He didn’t have breakfast.

“Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna go inside and tell them there’s an emergency and I can’t stay. The director is cool, he won’t even ask questions.” The girl was waving her hands around like that would help explain her plan. It didn’t. “Then, I walk you to the library. You buy me a snack at the cafe next to it so I can make the walk back here. We never see each other again, I pretend you’re not as pitiful as you look, and you learn where the library is.”

In theory, that sounded fine. But in practice, he wasn’t gonna waste her time.

The library closed in two hours and he wouldn’t have nearly enough time to do what he needed to by the time he got there, so why waste the energy walking all that way? Especially if it caused someone else to waste their time?

“It’s alright. Go to practice. I’m just gonna walk back to my car and head to the dorm.”

“You live on campus? Which dorm?”

“Grayson Hall. Why?”

There was only one co-ed dorm on campus, so the odds of her living in the same building as him were slim to none.

“Me too! Dude, do you think you could wait for me to be done with practice and drive us both back? It’s dark when I leave and my usual ride is sick.”

Steve should’ve said no. He didn’t even know this girl’s name. She seemed kind of crazy. Like, who asked a stranger for a ride and told them where they lived?

“You don’t have much stranger danger knowledge do you?”

“I think I can take you if I have to. You’re pale and you have bags under your eyes the size of the moon. I took a self defense class before I came here. My parents insisted.”

“Uh.” Well, he couldn’t really think of a reason not to at this point. “Okay.”

“Great! I’m Robin. You are…?”

“Steve.”

“Cool. See you in two hours dingus!”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before she was in the building.

Alright then.

————————-

Robin was kind of insane. But in the best way.

Steve hadn’t really had friends since the first two years of high school.

He’d gotten the shit kicked out of him twice in a row and “fell from grace” by junior year.

He couldn’t even find a place with the nerds. He wasn’t enough of anything. Not enough of a jock. Not enough of a smart kid. Not enough of a nerd. Not enough of a bad boy.

Not enough.

But the more time he spent with Robin, the more he felt like he could be.

She teased him relentlessly, sure, but she let him tease her back.

She was patient with him when he didn’t understand something, taking time to explain an assignment that confused him.

She was a sophomore, didn’t have to take a gap year like he did. She got a scholarship right out of high school.

He cut himself off from his parents right out of high school. The moment he did, he was completely on his own.

He had very little savings, just enough to rent a room in a house with a few people he didn’t know outside of town. He worked two jobs for a while, making sure he was putting away anything extra, living “slim” as one of his roommates used to say.

He didn’t have time to make friends.

And when he got accepted into college, he knew it would be the same.

He was paying for school himself, and he wasn’t smart enough to get an academic scholarship, or good enough at any of the sports he played in high school to get a sports scholarship. That meant he had to work at least one full time job while he took classes.

But that didn’t deter Robin.

She showed up at his door every morning with a smile and some crazy story about what happened at band practice the day before.

Band kids were kind of crazy. Robin was a little crazy.

He loved her.

She brought so much to his life, so much he didn’t realize he’d been missing.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was in love.

But he did know better.

Before she even came out to him, he knew she was different. Not a bad different, just the kind that he wasn’t wanting to be involved with romantically. Something was telling him she wasn’t interested in him either.

So one month into the semester, while they were studying together on Steve’s lunch break at work, she told him.

“I’m gonna say something that will either make you hate me or make us closer than ever.”

“Okay?”

“Just promise me no matter how you take it, you won’t tell anyone else. It would be dangerous for me.”

Dangerous? Was she in the mafia or something?

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He wouldn’t. But he was a little scared he’d end up in a ditch somewhere.

“I’m. Okay so. You know how you’re into women?”

This is not what Steve expected.

“…yeah?”

“Okay. I’m. Also into women?”

Steve sat silently. Waiting for her to say more.

Robin just stared at him, nervously biting her nails.

“And?” Steve asked when she didn’t continue on her own.

“And…that’s it? I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh.”

Oh, that’s it? Nothing mafia related? Cool.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean I expected something bad.”

“You don’t think that’s bad?”

“No? Should I?”

Robin looked like she was going to cry and that couldn’t happen because they were in public and Steve still didn’t know what to do to comfort people when they cried.

“Don’t cry. Please. I think you’re amazing, Robin. It doesn’t matter if you like women. I like women so, like, I get it.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do! I mean, boobs. Am I right?”

Robin let out a bark of a laugh.

“Yeah, boobs. Hard to resist.”

They smiled at each other, then looked back at their books.

He got lucky with Robin.

He got lucky that she’d found him when he was lost and kept him going the right way since.