#shoreline discussion got HEATED

[dragonpropaganda]

Rain World Lore Iceberg

Verified by a team of insane lore scholars and one low level, peripheral DLC developer

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Beast II

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Angst and allusions to torture and death.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You sat on Eris’s bed, your gorgeous dress crumbled beside you with the crown resting on top of the heap. It silently mocked you as you wrapped his robe closer around your body, burying your face in his scent. You shut your eyes and looked away from the door where Bryaxis was currently pacing on the other side.

Eris, Halvor, and Aurelia had been gone for two hours. Locked away in his official chambers discussing the matter of your bond with Azriel. 

“My Lady-” 

“Don’t call me that, Myrah.” The blademaiden had similarly tossed aside her glittering gown of silk and metal, choosing instead thin armor of bronze and soft leather. It was better suited for her slick style of fighting. She didn’t say anything as she climbed onto the sheets behind you and began to brush the tangles out of your damp hair.

“He won’t send you away.” She finally said after your hair had been brushed, oiled, and braided.

The bond fluttered as if in disappointment. You shoved it deeper, willing it to disappear entirely. 

“He may not have a choice.” 

Autumn couldn’t risk another war. Prythian couldn’t risk another war. But if Azriel dared to invoke the Blood Duel, no matter the outcome more blood would be shed.

No, he wouldn’t do that. You thought to yourself. Would he?

You’d heard of males doing worse things for less and Azriel was no male to be trifled with. And… He was in pain. 

As much as you tried to ignore it, and as much as he tried to shield you from it, Azriel was hurting. You felt muted waves of it through the bond like washes of tide against the shoreline.

If only you hadn’t chosen tonight to wear the crown or the dress or to subtly declare yourself the future Lady of Autumn. If only you’d had them leave sooner or… maybe this had all been a mistake. Maybe all the time you’d spent in Autumn had been a mistake, even if you were happy. Maybe… 

You looked around the room. The bedposts soared into the sky, disappearing into a ceiling that had been painted to look like the forest canopy. Colors of the sunset swirled down like wind. The roaring fire spread its molten heat across the warm wood furniture. Everyone spoke of the cruel beauty of the Forest House, its opulence and the disloyalty it housed within amber-encrusted walls. But you had only ever felt safe here. You’d fallen in love with all its old-fashioned peculiarities and the tales that had written themselves into the wood without anyone ever knowing. 

There in the corner was a dresser with burned handprints crawling up the sides- courtesy of Eris sneaking into the room to visit his mother after he’d just learned to walk. There above the vanity were two magnificent elk horns, altered to look like wings in flight. Lucien had found them shed by the river when Eris had first taken him hunting. Little trinkets you’d bought for him littered the room alongside the additions Myrah, Halvor, and Aurelia had gifted him over the years. Your own belongings filled the spaces previously left cold and empty, just like you spent most nights filling the empty spaces in his bed.

You set your jaw.

“Myrah,” She looked at you with wide eyes, “I think it’s time I got dressed.” 

“Eris specifically said not to let you out of his room. It could be dangerous.” Myrah said with a half-concealed smirk, walking beside you as you made your way towards Eris’s office. 

The Forest House was impenetrable… but a Shadowsinger could get into places others couldn’t. You felt the bond within you, daring to follow the string to wherever Azriel lay on the other side. The smallest tug and Azriel was stirring. You pulled away almost immediately. He wasn’t anywhere near the Forest House.

“He also said you were to be my blademaiden. Remind me of what that entails.” You said, refusing to slow down.

“To protect you with my life. To follow your orders… To care for you as my best friend.” 

You blinked and shot her a look. “The last part isn’t in your oath.”

She shrugged, “It’s not in my oath as a blademaiden… doesn’t mean I don’t have personal oaths I adhere to.” 

You squeezed her hand and she squeezed back harder.

Whatever conversations had been going on when you burst through the door died immediately. Halvor and Samson - third in command and Autumn’s spymaster - bowed when you entered, looking like a storm on a mission to render the room to splinters. Aurelia dipped her head, eyes shifting between Eris and you with a hint of sadness. It shaved away at your confidence.

“I need to speak with Eris. May we have the room?” You said, phrasing it more as a command and less of a question. 

Halvor nodded, making his way out with Samson and Myrah in tow. Aurelia lingered behind, squeezing Eris’s shoulder before waltzing out.

“What have you been discussing?” You said once the door had shut and you felt Eris’s magic wall up the sound in the room.

“I think you already know.” Eris said, standing up behind his desk and rubbing away the pressure building behind his eyes. He still wore his clothes from dinner and although he’d taken off his crown, a greater weight seemed to have fallen onto his shoulders. 

Eris swallowed. He had a letter crumpled up in his hand, half-written and blotted with ink spills. It began to smolder and burn.

“We weren’t sure-I wasn’t sure…” his voice trailed off, “I wasn’t sure if you’d already made up your mind.”

“About?” “About going to him. About being with him.” The words sounded strangled, like they were beasts that had fought against being spoken out loud. “He is your mate.”

“I don’t care.” 

Eris closed his eyes, “Y/n, I’m not-” “I said I don’t care.” 

He refused to look into your eyes, hands splaying out on the table as he fought back the fear in his chest. He didn’t want you to go. He’d given more of himself to you than he’d ever dared to before, and you had protected that trust with a fierceness he’d never seen. But this was something wholly out of his control. Something that had been dictated by the Mother. Who was he to stand between you and your mate? “What if… If you choose me, what if you come to regret it? What if I can’t give you what a mating bond can?” He said softly, as if he’d already given up on the hope that you’d stay. It lit a fire in your soul.

“I don’t care what the powers-that-be say about us.” You said, storming around the desk, “I don’t care if some force decided I am his equal or that we would make strong children together.” 

The bond was a sacred thing, more precious than anything land, gold, or blood could buy. But it was no guarantee of happiness. No guarantee of love. You would know, because you’d already found your happiness and love elsewhere.

You rushed forward, taking Eris’s face in your hands and feeling immediate relief when he didn’t move away. He leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss the palms of your hands with reverence.

“I choose you, Eris. This hasn’t changed anything. Not for me.” You said with conviction.

“It hasn’t changed anything for me either.” Eris sighed in relief and touched his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing sweetly in the space between you two. 

“I would choose you.” He whispered fiercely, “Every. Single. Time. I would go to war for you, my love. Come hell or high water.” 

“I know,” You smiled, gently kissing on the lips and sighing when his warm hands traveled up the skin of your back, holding you to him, “I would do the same for you. But let us hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

Eris showed you the letter, the corners singed and flaking, and you smoothed it out on the mahogany table. Rhysand had been quick to request another meeting. Tension and worry were scratched into the curves of his flowery handwriting as he explained the situation in diplomatic terms: 

He was sorry for not attending the dinner. The Inner Circle had been unaware of the mating bond until it was too late. Azriel would behave himself and only come if called. The decision was yours. Whatever you chose, they wanted to continue being Autumn’s allies for the good of Prythian and to have you in their lives as friends, not enemies. It was delicate. Hopeful. A letter from someone who wanted peace as much as you did. Peace for his family. Peace for his son. 

The letter placed you in a position where you could wait for the tidal wave to settle. But just like the last time, this was not an issue you could ignore forever. An ax would always linger over your head, swaying dangerously close to your neck until you spoke with Azriel. So although you didn’t agree to another visit with the Inner Circle, you did allow Azriel to come to Autumn again.

You stood by the border, whispers of frost bitten wind snaking through the white gaps in the trees and reaching for your ankles. 

Samson and twelve of his best males and females stood behind you, archers at the ready and swordsmen with their hands gripping their hilts. They were more for Eris’s comfort than your own, and you would have your privacy when it mattered most.

Azriel emerged from the blizzard beyond like an ink stain on porcelain paper, bleeding into existence with his shadows swarming around him. He hadn’t been sleeping - you could tell from the faint bruises beneath his eyes. Somehow the imperfection made him more handsome, more mysterious. But you hadn’t had eyes for him in a long time.

“Come on.” You said, tilting your head towards the river that rushed and danced in the distance. You walked in silence, Azriel trailing behind like the shadow that he was and matching your shorter footsteps. He didn’t want to alarm you by overtaking you. Still, it was even more unnerving to know he was behind you without hearing or seeing him. You could only feel that bond tying you together, pulling you towards the male who walked ten paces behind.

You glanced back and he stopped, teeth clenching tightly as he looked at you. You were beautiful, shining in the burning forest like a flame. You’d always been beautiful and he had known this, but he hadn’t fully recognized it until it was far, far too late.

“Will you be slinking behind me the whole time like a kicked dog or will you walk beside me?” There was a biting humor in your voice that eased the tension in his shoulders. He walked beside you until you finally led him to the river. Any concerns that he might take this opportunity to survey the Autumn Court disappeared. He had his eyes on you the entire time like you were the only thing left in the world.

You sat down on the slick rock, dipping your bare feet into one of the clear streams that branched off from the river beyond, tumbling over boulders and stones with crisp clarity. Azriel took the cue to lower to the ground as well, his knee barely brushing against yours as he settled his magnificent wings on the cool stone.

“I’m sorry about Elain.” You said after a while of staring at the water. 

Azriel winced.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. It was no secret that five years after the Autumn Court war ended, Elain had quietly moved to the Sun Palace and mated Lucien. You’d met her briefly when he’d visited Eris, and as much as you wished you could resent her, she’d been lovely and kind, and kept good on her promise not to say anything about you to her family. You understood why Azriel had loved her… why he’d chosen her.

“I didn’t… I didn’t continue things with her after you were gone.” He said, choosing his words with care. His voice was rougher than usual, the sound rumbling out from his chest like the rolling of thunder. “It never felt right… I never felt right. I suppose I understand why now.”

He looked at you hopefully, hazel eyes wide and uncertain as he gently sent his thoughts down the bond. You shivered, feeling echoes of his love and longing for you along with the shame and guilt that accompanied it. 

He hated himself for the decisions he’d made. He had thought that Elain was meant for him - three sisters for three brothers. It seemed so simple, so obvious. So with each year that the mating bond hadn’t fallen into place, dark voices had whispered in his mind that he wasn’t truly a member of his family. Always an outsider. Always alone. It was why he’d traded you for Elain. A choice born out of a desperate desire to be loved and accepted. It was the worst mistake he had made in his life. 

“Azriel. I can’t.” You said, shaking your head and breaking eye contact.

“Can’t, or won’t.” He hadn’t touched you yet, but you saw his scarred hands flex out of the corner of his eyes, inching ever closer to where yours rested in your lap.

“Both.” 

You thought back to the first days you’d spent in the caves: Your wounds fresh and bleeding, the itching and pulsing of your burned flesh somehow getting worse as they healed, the desperation that came from existing in complete and total darkness. The only sounds you’d heard being the crunch and moans of the other poor souls that Beron sent down. 

It still hurt to think about and you didn’t believe it would ever go away.

“I learned something the day you left me.” 

“Y/n. Please-” He whispered, begging. His hands reached out for yours, and you let him.

You smiled sadly, tracing the scars that marred his hands. All the terrible past things that still clung to him. Things he could never forget. 

“Please.” He didn’t even know what he was begging for. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. He didn’t deserve the right to call you his mate. But… he could hope.

You traced over the scars once more, then let go of his hands.

“I learned I was never part of your family. Not truly. I was the one you were willing to sacrifice, not the one you’d burn down the world for.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly, pulling back on the shadows that had escaped his control and had begun to curl around your arms and your legs. 

He shook his head, “That’s not true. You have always been a part of this family. You will always be a part of this family.” 

You stayed silent.

“Is there… is there any chance at all for me to fix this?” Azriel asked. His hands now rested in between his knees, clasped so tightly together the pale skin of his scars blended into nothing. “To convince you to come back.” 

“No. No, I don’t think so.” 

He closed his eyes and deflated. A tear streaked down his cheek, dripping onto his lap. 

“I won’t leave him, Azriel. I won’t. Not for anyone. Not even for you.” “I know.” He whispered.

“I don’t… I don’t hate you. I never did. And I’m glad that Elain is alright. It probably was the right decision to make. I don’t know if Beron would have let Elain live. Not even as his prisoner.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that just to spare my feelings or to try and make things better.” 

“That’s not why I’m saying it.” 

Azriel stood up, furiously wiping away his tears and burying the feelings deep. He buried the bond even deeper and for the first time since the bond had snapped into place for you, you felt silence. 

You looked at him sadly. He hadn’t changed since the last time you saw him. He still loved deeply and hurt deeply too. 

You stood by his side, watched the river wind its way through the woods.

“It’s a beautiful place.” Azriel said softly, “I can see why you love it. And I… I understand why you love him. I do. I just wish it was me.” He swallowed thickly.

“You’ll find someone else, Azriel. I know you will.” You said, offering him a small, sad smile. 

He didn’t return it. Just looked at you for as long as he could, drinking in the sight of you. 

The next time he saw you he’d be calling you High Lady of Autumn. You’d be bound to this place and its magic, and he would never see you like this again. Gone were the days when you’d collapse on his office couch, chatting his ear off to help him forget the terrible things he’d done, or the days where you’d perch by the window in silence just to remind him he wasn’t alone. Gone were the nights where he’d gather you in his arms and shoot off into the sky to count the stars and find peace. He wanted those days back. He would have done anything to get those days back.

“No. I won’t.” Azriel said quietly and then said nothing more.

You took the cue and led him through the woods, tracing a path between the trees no one from outside the Autumn Court would be able to recognize. 

Samson bowed when you reached him, signaling his warriors to fall back. You would have your privacy.

When Azriel stepped over the threshold back into the Winter Court, you felt the magic in the air change, sealing the Shadowsinger out of your home. He pressed his hand against it, momentary panic freezing his lungs as he saw that you remained on the other side. 

You breathed in deeply, steeling yourself for the words you were about to speak.

“Azriel, I will say this once, and only once. If you so much as lay a finger on Eris or my home, I will never forgive you. I won’t hesitate to protect what’s mine.” 

“I know.” He said. The small smile he gave was full of heartache. He wished he’d done so many things differently, then maybe he would have been so lucky to hear you threaten someone to protect him. It was a terrible fate to be on this side of things.

“If… if anything happens - anything at all - know that I will always be here to help you. Promise me that you know.” “I know.” You said sadly. “I hope you find someone, Az. I really do. But that person will not be me.” 

He nodded. 

You didn’t look away, not as he held up both hands and pressed his forehead against the barrier. It was his own silent way of saying goodbye. Then, just as he had appeared, his shadows swallowed him whole, carrying him away to the Night Court where you hoped he would find a life that would make him forget all about this pain.

“Goodbye, Az.” You whispered.

But he was already gone.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Might write some Azriel x Reader oneshots to make myself feel better after wrecking my own heart.

Sorry for this chapter, everyone. But Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate. Lol.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters @kalulakunundrum @chasing-autumns-chill @brujitafantomatico @emptyporsche @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @saltedcoffeescotch @djdjdhdheh

[macbethsymphony]

Cherry Girl | Chapter 2

Eustass Kid x Reader

Chapters: [1] [3]

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, eventual smut, slow burn-ish

Chapter wc: 2.1k

Summary: Eustass ‘captain’ Kid was in a shit mood. He was pent-up, irritated and you… you and your pink mini denim skirt wasn’t helping. OR You and Kid obviously pine for each other but you're both idiots.

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Wanna read it all? it's completed over there

Chapter 2: The Nickname

It was around noon the next day when the lookout shouted he’d seen land. Kid had emerged from his workshop in a frenzy as soon as the words had floated down from the mast.

“Fucking finally,” he had screamed, a manic grin adorning his lips. 

Your heart had skipped a beat at the sight of his majestic self, laughing in the glowing sun.

The anticipation and joy from the whole crew was intoxicating. An excited smile graced your features at the thought of the first place you’d ever see beyond your island. As the shoreline grew nearer, everyone got busier and busier. You yourself had been slightly overwhelmed as you made the inventory of the food stock, discussing with Killer the amount of supplies you’d have to buy and what you were missing from the infirmary.

Saying you were nervous as you put your foot down on the wooden dock of this new island was the understatement of the century. The ground seemed to shift beneath you, sending you stumbling right into your captain’s back. 

“Having a hard time on land, kitten?” his arm snaked around you almost protectively. “The sea’s gonna do that to you,” he chuckled as his touch roamed to your hair, ruffling it ever so gently before heading towards the bustling streets of the town. “Try not to fall over, kitten.”

You felt Quincy’s hand on your shoulder. “Oh you’re down bad for him, aren’t you? Girly pop?”  she observed. 

You sensed the heat rise to your cheeks at her words. 

“Don’t worry, everyone gets over it eventually. Find yourself a good fuck or something,” her wild laugh hit your ears slightly too strong. “I know I will!”

The bustling streets of the town enveloped you in a whirlwind of sights and sounds. The evening air was thick with humidity and the scent of spices foreign to you was intoxicating. Your captain strode ahead, his presence scaring everyone away from his path. He navigated the crowd skillfully, eyeing shops in a desperate search of something. Your eyes wandered over the different stalls, all your senses feeling overwhelmed. Quincy laughed at whatever Wire had just said to her. She moved to your side, her arm draping on your shoulders, making sure you didn’t get lost in the bustling currents of people.

A booming ‘yes’ came from Kid as he stopped before a building. The loud sound brought your attention back towards the crew. 

“Drinks on me tonight!” Your captain shouted as he opened the door. 

Everyone around you yelled in excitement, an echo to the red-head’s enthusiasm. You couldn’t help the smile that plastered your lips in that moment.

The tavern was alive with the energy of the night, music and laughter drowning out conversations. The Kid Pirates had already crowded over a corner of the establishment, their raucous voices mingling with the clinking of tankards and the strumming of a nearby lute.

Captain Kid was the center of attention, his magnetic presence drawing all eyes to him. Two extremely beautiful girls had quickly taken place next to him as he regaled them with tales of his adventures. You wished for a moment that it could be you sitting there on his lap as he gave you all the attention of the world. But you knew he didn’t see you in such a way. 

He looked like a painting with those stunning women, they fit his intensity and boldness perfectly. It hadn't taken long for his flesh arm to snake around one of the girls’ waist, tightly pinning her down to his chest as she unabashedly kissed his jaw and whispered you didn’t know what in his ear. His smile was cocky and the glint in his eyes made your heart throb.

In the periphery of your vision, you saw Heat swing to the sound of the music with a pretty girl. Her laughter rang out like a bell above the tune as she spun and twirled with reckless abandon. Dive was already dancing on a table, a crowd slowly gathering around her. Your gaze searched for somewhere a little less chaotic to sit down and relax. You spotted Killer on a stool in the back.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, making your way over to him.

He gestured to the empty seat next to him. Whatever answer lost in the din of the tavern. 

You settled yourself next to him in silence. You were used to his quiet nature, it felt comfortable to you. 

“I guess I’m not really one for this,” you said, laughing softly. “It feels overwhelming to me.”

Killer’s head turned toward you. You wondered what his face looked like under that mask. Did he mind your rambling? You supposed he’d tell you if he did. It’s not like he endured anything he didn’t feel like enduring. A smile made its way to your lips, this wasn’t so bad.

“Oi, you fucking losers!” Kid shouted as he made his way over to the both of you. “I’m heading back to the ship,” he threw a bag of gold towards Killer. 

One of the girls he’d had on his knees, glared you up and down as she settled her hand on his chest, the other was hugging your captain’s arm ignoring all else as she felt up his muscles. You noticed how Kid flexed ever so subtly. He was showing off. It made you smile. 

“This should do it for the night! Have some fun Killer, unwind a bit would ya,” his grin was manic.

Killer caught the bag of gold with ease, his expression unreadable behind his mask. “Have fun, Kid,” he replied simply, his voice calm and composed in the chaos around him.

Kid flashed Killer a cocky smile before turning back towards the door, the girls in tow. “You too, Kitten! Loosen the fuck up for once will ya,” he threw the words at you over his shoulder with a hearty laugh. 

You felt your ears heat up.

“Damn fucking right captain!” Quincy shouted as she marched over to where you were seated. “Ain’t no fucking way these two idiots are gonna escape me tonight. Let’s have some fun!” she howled.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, you groaned and tried to bury your head under your pillow. Your head pounded, threatening to split your skull in two. 

This wasn’t going to do. 

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly forced yourself to sit up, your vision spinning as you fought the urge to throw up. You looked around, eyes squinting against the light. Quincy and Dive were still asleep, snoring loudly in their respective cots. 

Water.

You needed water. 

You made your way out of the shared women’s quarter. Nearly falling down as the full power of the sun hit your eyes. You almost retched. With a hand trying to hide the blinding light off your face, you beelined to the kitchen. The faster you got there the better.

You poured yourself a tall glass of water and downed it immediately. You wished the effects of your abuse of the night before would pass quicker. The night before… you didn’t usually drink this much. You knew you were a lightweight. You hadn’t blundered this bad since your teenage years. You rubbed your temples as you tried to remember. 

Ah, right. 

You cringed as memories started filling your mind.

“Alright, lads and lasses. Who’s up for a gold ol’ fucking game of truth or dare?” Quincy had shouted the moment Kid had disappeared through the door of the tavern. You’d tried to escape but she’d snaked her arm around your shoulders in a deadly grip.

“Come on you pussies,” Heat had added. A wicked grin on his face, he’d laced his own arm around Killer, keeping him in place. “We have a new girl on our crew,” they all cheered, you blanched.

You groaned at the memories.

Quincy’s smile had widened as she’d asked, “Truth or dare, girly pop?”

You’d weighted your options. “Truth,” you’d answered unsure.

Her expression had looked downright evil at your choice. “Tell us,” she had started. “What’s the lewdest fantasy you’ve ever had about our captain.”

“You traitor!” You had shouted as soon as the words had left her lips, your face a bright red. 

Wire and Dive had howled.

“You can always drink,” Quincy had offered in a sing-song tone as she’d poured you a glass of amber liquid right to the rim. “But you’ll have to down that. The steamier the question the more you’ll have to drink.”

You’d downed the contents without hesitation.

Fuck. You poured yourself another glass of water. They’d never let you live it down. You tried to remember the rest of the night.

Killer had recounted something about a mermaid and a misplaced bottle of rum when he’d chosen truth. Wire and Heat had added to the story making everyone laugh.

You’d started feeling drunk around that time. Dive had had you at a dare and you were now sitting on Heat’s knees, his large hand settled on your thigh as you comfortably reclined against his chest. The crew had been out on a hunt to get every bit of information out of you.

“Truth or dare?” Dive had asked you, gaze intense.

You’d hesitated. “Truth,” you’d chosen.

“You know (y/n), to me,” she’d dragged on the question, her speech beginning to sound slurry with intoxication. “To me you really seem like a virgin, so,” her smile had been playful on her cute face. “So if you’re not, recount to us the best fuck you’ve ever had,” she’d stared at you expectantly, looking proud of herself for that question.

Your mouth had hung open, your mind struggling to catch up to the words that had been about to spill out of your lips. “I’m not a virgin,” you’d answered before thinking. “But if I’m honest,” you had taken your time trying to remember of the last adventure you’d had, you’d let out a tiny intoxicated hiccup at the memory. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a good lay,” you’d admitted with a small laugh to yourself, feeling bashful. “Hell” you’d added. “I’ve never even had someone go down on me.”

Quincy had gasped at your confession. A glint of mischief had crossed her eyes as she’d said playfully. “You know, if you lean that way, I can give you a good time and change that.”

Heat had laughed behind you. The hand he’d had on your thigh digging into soft flesh as he whispered in your ear. “And if you don’t, I can do the same for you. Cherry girl.”

Your face had gone red at the offers. “I’m no cherry girl”, you’d protested your voice indignant. Both Quincy and Heat had doubled over, laughing hard at your prudishness.

Cherry Girl. That’s right, you’d earned a new nickname. You hoped no one remembered. You groaned. As if that’d ever happen.

As if on cue, Heat and Wire banged the door to the kitchen open. They looked almost as worse for wear as you did.

“Mornin’ cherry girl,” they muttered in unison, grabbing the water pitcher you had in front of you and pouring themselves a glass.

You dropped down to the floor in embarrassment. “Don’t call me that,” you begged, your voice groggy.

Heat and Wire exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter. “Aw, come on, cherry girl, it’s all in good fun!” Wire teased, chuckles echoing off the walls of the kitchen.

You buried your face in your hands, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole. “Can we all please just forget last night?” You pleaded, your voice muffled by your palms.

But Wire and Heat showed no signs of relenting. Gig opened the door next and issued a grumbled ‘mornin’ cherry girl too’. You groaned in despair, their laughter only grew louder. 

“Sorry, cherry girl,” Heat said between chuckles. “But I don’t think the crew’s gonna be forgetting anything about last night anytime soon.”

You sat on the floor, wallowing in your humiliation, the weight of embarrassment feeling heavy on your shoulders. “The fuck are you all even doing up so early anyways,” you asked, tone laced with irritation. “Y’all are never up early.”

“Captain’s loud,” Gig answered. “Can’t sleep.”

“Huh?” you grunted confused.

“Those girls are giving him competition too,” Heat said next, a scowl on his face at the thought.

“At this point they’re really just showing off,” Wire added.

With their laughter down. You could faintly hear the moans of a girl coming from the captain’s quarters. “Oh!” your cheeks heated up in realization. “Hadn’t noticed,” you grumbled.

They all laughed. “Cherry girl really suits you, heh,” Heat observed with a grin.

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[brebreluvslove]

Heyyy i wanted to ask if you can write a lo'ak x f reader story? Like I want that lo'ak is a bit of bottom. Maybe the reader is the oldest child of tonowari and Ronal and that she is telling how hard it is to be the eldest.? And I would love to read how he would blush bc the reader is kissing him. I hope I dont ask for to much :_)

Don’t Be Shy 🧸 (Lo’ak x Metkayina Reader)

notes; literally the second I saw the details of this request I immediately knew what I was gonna do!! This was so fun for me to right! Hope you enjoy <3

warnings; nothing but fluff 

word count; 716

Being the eldest daughter of the Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina was just as it sounded. Your father, Tonowari, was always telling you to prepare for your future role as a Tsahík. That also brought up talk about who’d your future mate would would be, which was a whole uncomfortable conversation for you to have with your father. You were secretly in a relationship with Lo’ak so every time he brought up mating you just had to smile and nod. He would never approve of you and Lo’ak.

I mean he wasn’t even a true Na’vi. Nonetheless your still and continue to be infatuated with him. No matter how many fingers he had or the amount of eyebrow hairs he had you would always have a devotion to him. 

And you made sure he knew it too…

Lo’ak had asked you to meet with him by the shoreline. You agreed without hesitation, alone time with Lo’ak you would always agree too. You were walking down to the shoreline when you saw your mother, Ronal, talking to your father. You couldn’t help yourself, so you listened in on them. And you definitely shouldn’t have…

“Tonowari when is our daughter going wed…” she whispered. Your father was clearly disappointed at the question but answered nonetheless.

“She’s just taking her time yawne…be patient with her…” you were happy he tried to defend you but she was right. You need to find a mate…

As you finally made it to the shoreline you saw Lo’ak. With that big bright smile he always has when he saw you. You were happy to see him of course but he could tell something was wrong.

“Hey (Y/N)…what’s wrong with you?” He teased only slightly to lift the mood he felt from you. You looked up at him staring deep into his gorgeous amber eyes.

“Overheard my father and my mother talking about me…” you said continuously looking deep into his eyes. His ears moved up in response.

“They want be to mate with someone…” you continued a smirk plastered across your face. You saw a small blush come across his face, you chuckled at his nervousness.

“Really?” He asked the warmth in his body was immeasurable at this point. You just nodded at smirked at him with a glint in your eyes. You had already discussed with him your responsibilities and how you would be the future Tsahík. He was self-conscious about it, he knew in order for you to become Tsahík you would need to mate with a Metkayina which he was not. You didn’t care in your mind he was your perfect match.

“Yeah…but there’s no Metkayina that pleases me…” you purred in his ear as you got closer to him. He was a flushed mess as you got closer, when you were right by his lips you continued to speak.

“…but there’s a Na’vi that pleases me just fine…” you whispered as you pressed your lips against his. He in seconds returned the kiss grabbing your waist and deepening the kiss. You would not let your parent’s expectations affect your love for Lo’ak never has and never will. 

You had to break for air eventually so when you broke the kiss you just placed you head on his and just stared into his eyes. There was heat in his body and your as well. He knew if you said jump he would say how high, if you wanted him to kill he would do it, anything you wanted you just needed to ask him for. His only weakness other than his stubbornness was you and he knew that. He was scared of leaving him but your body language, your lips, your hands, helped ground him. 

“You’re all mine Lo’ak…I don’t care if I become Tsahík or not…” you looked into his eyes with nothing but love. He could tell by your tone your were serious. Not one lie left your mouth. He melted from your words just frozen with a gushed look on his face. You just giggled at his response.

“Don’t be shy now Lo’ak…I’m all yours too…” you continued he was still stunned but a smile started to grow as he images your future together. All you did was stare into each other’s eyes as you smothered one another.

[storiesbyrhi]

Vintage Reeboks - Chapter 6: Operation '86

Eddie Munson x Reader More Eddie fics here

4519 word count

Warnings: Canon typical violence; reference to physical child abuse; discussions of being queer in the 80s

Synopsis: The gate at the bottom of Lover’s Lake was meant to spit the quartet out in the Upside Down. Steve, Nancy, and Robin were meant to be there. He wasn’t meant to be alone. But when Eddie comes to on the shoreline, you’re there. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s not Lover’s Lake. It’s not 1986.

Previous Chapters: 1 - Lover’s Lake; 2 – Hey, Siri; 3 - World Wide Web; 4 - Cemetery Drive; 5 - Red Bull

Chapter Synopsis: Welcome back to Hawkins, old friends. Get out your whiteboards and red string. Keep a look out for the ‘Exit 2022’ sign. Buckle up, because this is the penultimate chapter.

Author’s Note: I am hugely grateful to everyone who gave feedback about the Gareth reveal. I’m glad you love him, because he’s here and friends… he’s queer. Pls see the end note!

1985 - 1986

Gareth knew he loved Eddie. He loved every performance. Lunchtime drama. Hellfire campaign. Corroded Coffin show. He loved every act of kindness. Rides home when it was raining. Arms around the shoulders when Gareth turned up to school with a black eye. Taking the heat when Jason Carver was in the mood to beat the freak out of someone.

Yeah, Gareth knew he loved Eddie. Was in love with him. He’d done a pretty magnificent job at pushing all that down though. He’d resigned to a life of longing, hoping that maybe the world would be different or maybe when he could get himself out of Hawkins.

Then, ’86, baby. That was the last he saw Eddie. The scene was imprinted so vividly in his mind. The magazine. The table tops. Dustin and Mike. Army crawling towards a D, and it was going to be his year.

Everything happened kind of slowly and all at once after that. People were saying that Eddie murdered Chrissy and that Hellfire was a cult. The town was losing their collective shit and Gareth was frozen into inaction.

After Jason smashed Gareth’s head into the ground, snarling with the pious venom of a man possessed by grief-stricken denial, Gareth sobbed. He threw things around his bedroom, swore at his sister, and got his second beating of the day.

In the aftermath of the earthquake, Gareth found all the other members of Hellfire, but not their beloved dungeon master. Dustin, always larger than life, seemed so small as he told Gareth that Eddie was missing.

Something broke in him that day. Whatever hope Gareth was holding onto for a better future was snuffed out.

He watched his sister leave Hawkins and he was happy for her. She had started a family; he loved his niece. You were rambunctious and comfortably weird and totally yourself from the get go.

Gareth never left, and although he never spoke of his teenage years, he was constantly reminded of them. Hawkins made sure of that.

Then, his sister moved back, bringing you. You with all your questions and interests and outspoken queerness. Gareth liked having you and your mother there though; it was the least lonely he had felt since before Eddie went missing.

2022

Eddie.

Eddie who was standing in front of Gareth, looking the exact same as he did back in 1986.

“Gareth?!”

Dustin Henderson’s voice was loud as he called over the fence, “Guys? We’re here!” The group let themselves through, congregating just outside the pool house’s open door.

He couldn’t take it; Gareth took a wobbly step backward and ran for the house. Eddie went to go after him but you put your arm out to block his way.

“Let me… Let me go talk to him. You deal with them,” you told Eddie, motioning to the group of ragtag adults standing in your backyard.

Giving Dustin a kind of ‘hi/bye’ smile, you left them to head inside. You could hear the reunion behind you, thirty-six years in the making.

You found your uncle in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring down at the sensible shoes on his feet. Carefully, you entered the room, sitting next to him.

“You knew Eddie… in high school?”

He took a while to answer, barely moved as he spoke. “I was… I was in Hellfire. And… Corroded Coffin.” Gareth hadn’t said those combinations of words in so long, they felt foreign on his tongue. Bitter to taste.

“Do you want to know-”

“No. No. I don’t want to know anything. I can’t do this again.”

There was no correct amount of time to let pass in silence. What could you possibly say to explain the presence of Eddie and how he was – unchanged and in the pool house? Although, it wasn’t the time travel that seemed to be impacting your uncle the most.

“We’re going to send him home,” you eventually whispered. “They’re gonna fix this.”

Gareth moved then. He turned to look at you, the sadness replaced with a sort of fearful realisation. “You’re sending…” He struggled to say his name. “Eddie back?”

When you nodded, Gareth stood, his mind ticking over a million miles an hour.

“How does that work? He goes back and-and history’s just… rewritten? What if it changes everything? Or does it… I don’t know, create a new reality?!”

“Woah, woah, I don’t know? Okay? That’s kind of Dustin’s thing?” you said, standing too.

“Dustin’s thing?!” Gareth repeated, all the images in his head of Dustin Henderson flashing through his mind.

“I know this is a lot… But surely it explains some things, right? Eddie said when he found out that, like, the supernatural was real, it freaked him out, but it made sense. And now you know that Eddie didn’t kill anyone. And where he went,”

“I knew he didn’t kill anyone. And we all knew something was wrong here. That there was something wrong with Hawkins. That’s not why- That’s…” But your uncle, who apparently you didn’t know at all, couldn’t explain why he was on the cusp of a panic attack.

Gareth paced and you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to hug him. Desperately, you wanted to ask a million and one questions.

“I’ll… let you process. I got a new phone, so message if… if you need anything. Or want… I don’t know. I’m sorry, Uncle G… I didn’t know.”

Gareth watched you leave, the same moxie in you that he saw in the kids he grew up with. It scared the absolute shit out of him.

…

“You’re Gareth’s niece?!” Dustin said when you got back to the pool house.

Before you could answer, Eddie was up and hugging you. His face was buried in your hair, and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault. He’ll be alright. I think. I don’t know. Let’s just focus on this right now.”

Letting Eddie go, you looked around the room. “Um… Hi. Everyone.”

Dustin moved to pull you into a bear hug. “It’s good to meet you in person. Guess you’ve been family all along, huh?”

“Hawkins is… small…” was all you could say.

“Small and evil. Let’s do this. I wanna get out of here,” a voice added to your statement, prompting Dustin to let you go.

“Didn’t expect you to show up, Applejack,” Eddie said, nodding to the owner of the voice.

“Yeah, well, let’s be real. I’ve always been half the brain of this operation, and someone needed to watch out for these idiots,” she said. “Hi. I’m Erica,”

“Sinclair, right?” you replied, taking the hand she’d offered. Erica nodded.

Lucas’ kids had snitched on him; they had told their cousins about his trip with Uncle Dustin back to Hawkins. Erica had called her brother as soon as she heard. “What on God’s green earth has possessed you to go back there?!”

“It’s Eddie. Eddie. He’s there,” Lucas had said.

That’s all it took. Eddie had been nice to Erica. She still remembered his graceful bow to her when she took out Vecna in Hellfire Club’s final session.

Honestly, that’s all it took for them all. Max, Steve, and Robin all remembered Eddie’s terrified eyes. They remembered the week he spent cold and hungry and hunted in Rick’s boat shed. They remembered how sick everyone was guilt and grief when he never came through Watergate. They remembered Dustin never being the same again.

Of course, his name was all it took.  

After the introductions were had and the shock of seeing Eddie unchanged had waned a little, Dustin asked, “Do you have, like, a whiteboard?”

“No. No, I don’t. No red string and pins either. Sorry,” you replied.

“Yeah, man. You already look like you’re having too much fun with this,” Eddie chimed in. He was leaning against the bar, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes kept flicking from person to person, trying to make himself recognise his friends.

“This is a trip,” Robin said, for the third time.

“Yeah. Can you like, stop staring at me though?” Eddie said. “Harrington, can you do something about her?”

Steve looked from Robin to Eddie and back again. “Uh… No?”

“Good to see you’ve not changed,” Eddie told him, patting him on the back.

“Time travel’s real,” Robin stated. “Like, real real,”

“After everything, that’s where you draw the freaky line?” Max asked her. Robin just shrugged.

…

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you had no hope that any of the ideas were going to pan out. They were already clutching at straws and it was only the first day of Operation: ’86.

Dustin, Lucas, Erica, and Steve had taken Steve’s rented car and headed back to the lake. Although you had gone diving looking for the gate, they figured they knew what they were looking for. They were going to the site of all the gates that had ever existed. As far as they knew, Eleven had closed the rip between here and the Upside Down but it was worth checking out.

Max and Robin set up at the bar. Robin was on the phone to Nancy Wheeler, who wouldn’t step foot in Hawkins, but agreed to do what she could from New York. Max was calling anyone else who may have ideas, information, or supernatural spider senses.

“I feel useless,” Eddie said.

The couch had returned to its sofa state, and you sat next to him, holding his hand.

“I don’t think there’s a whole lot you can do,” you told him. What you wanted to add was that maybe he needed to be prepared for the fact that there might not be anything anyone can do.

Eddie was leaning forward, his free hand rubbing his face and shaking.

“So, my uncle…” It was purely a distraction attempt. But it worked.

“Christ. Yeah. Gareth. He isn’t a part of… all this,” Eddie told you, pointing to the two women at the bar. “He is… was… my friend. Known him almost my whole life, you know?”

“What was he like then?”

Eddie grinned. “He tries real hard to be a tough guy, but he’s the sweetest kid. Wicked drummer. Like, he’ll always have the songs down first. Always says we could go harder. Faster. And, uh,” Eddie paused to chuckle. “Always picking splinters out of his fingers. From his sticks,”

“I didn’t even know he played,”

“Guess having a murderer in your band takes the shine off the rockstar dream,”

“Eddie. He knows you didn’t do anything. He said he knew then too,” you tried to reassure.

Eddie nodded. “Gareth the Great…” he mumbled. “Cautious player, but smart…”

You’d succeeded in distracting Eddie from the task of time travel, but you’d replaced one trauma with another. What kind of life was waiting for him back then? What had happened to the rest of Hellfire Club, now the pitchforks were sharpened and the town mob’s torches were lit?

Eddie had hope though. You could tell. It wasn’t just that he spoke in present tense, like his life still existed, ready for him to step back into. There was a brightness in his eyes that Dustin and co. had switched on.

By the end of the day, it had dimmed.

There were no gates. There was no Hawkins Lab. Redevelopment and gentrification had claimed much of the land that once seemed critical to the fate of Hawkins. There weren’t any old buildings for ghosts to find home in. There was nothing.

Max and Robin came up short too. They’d even tried to get in touch with scientists, people with some level of credibility studying anything remotely related to time travel.

“They either thought I was crazy or they were too interested,” Max reported.

“Too interested?” you asked.

“Like kidnap Eddie and keep him in a lab interested,” Robin clarified.

Eddie didn’t like the déjà vu he was experiencing. Dustin sat on the coffee table in front of him, trying to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about.

Max was quiet; Robin not so much. “We’ll be able to figure this out, right? Even without… everyone. He’s not just stuck here, is he?”

“Na. No. Of course not. Right? Dustin? Right?” Steve said, the only one willing to answer Robin. Steve stood with his hands on hips. He was too old for this bullshit, he thought.

It was all too familiar, besides Erica and Lucas sitting side by side on the end of your bed. And you. Eddie turned to look at you, one hand still in yours and the other rubbing the back of his neck.

He began to shake his head. There was nothing you could say though.

“We need to stop with the phone calls,” Steve decided then. “We don’t know how you got here, but we know the type of people who involve themselves in this sort of thing,”

“This sort of thing?” you asked.

“Trust us. We know about… this sort of thing,” Robin asserted.

“Last thing we need is to be on anybody’s radar,” Steve continued.

“Too late,” from Lucas.

“Excuse you?” Erica said, leaning back to look at her brother, entirely unimpressed.

“Not me! Him!” Lucas accused, pointing at Dustin.

“Don’t worry. It’s not about this,” Dustin said like it was going to answer any questions. All eyes were on him. “I’ve been… tinkering. With some ideas. Prototypes. Nothing big. It’s just got me noticed. Nothing to worry about,”

“He’s on the C.I.A.’s watch list,” Lucas clarified.

“What?!” Steve yelled. “Our kids are friends, man!”

The group erupted into the type of bickering only possible within a group of people who loved each other dearly and had been to hell and back together.

Eddie remained silent, leg bouncing, deep in thought.

“Ed?” you whispered, pulling him back to reality.

He looked over at you, a myriad of emotions in his eyes.

The group settled into a moment of silence. Then Steve asked, “Does that mean you could, like, build a time machine?”

“How’d you get dumber with age?” Dustin replied, staring in disbelief.

They stayed until well after the sun set. In the end though, they still had nothing. The finality of that was settling into your consciousness as you served pizza up on paper plates to Max and Robin.

“I don’t wanna jinx it,” Robin started. “But if… If we can’t find a way, are you going to… keep him?”

“He’s not a lost dog,” Max laughed.

You looked over to where Steve and Eddie were engaged in conversation on the sofa. Steve was talking and Eddie was just watching him, his brows knitted in confusion but the edges of his mouth turned up in a dead giveaway indicator that he was amused.

Dustin, Lucas, and Erica had ventured inside the main house, going to see their old friend and hopefully provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m just asking because you seem close… already,”

“Uh, I don’t- We haven’t, like, talked about that. We’ve just operated under the assumption that he is going home,” you told them.

“But if he can’t?” Robin pressed.

Max gave you a knowing smile. “Kind of makes sense that he stays here. Gareth can like, bridge the gap. And you like him,” she reasoned.

Eddie had reached out and pulled Steve into a hug. He glanced up at you though, smiling wide.

When the others returned and the pizzas were demolished, the room fell into a sad quietness that was meant for Eddie, and only Eddie, to break. He cleared his throat.

“So, that’s it then,” he said nodding his head once, his hands clasped together in his lap.

“No, man, we-” Dustin went to say.

“No. Don’t… don’t bullshit me, man. We were making it up as we went along then. Still doing it now,” Eddie interrupted.

“If we knew why the gate spit you out here…” Lucas tried.

“There’s no why. It doesn’t make sense. Gone through it all. Vecna. The Upside Down. Eleven. Creel. Fuckin’ hive mind. I don’t think this was on purpose,” Eddie stated more matter-of-factly than emotionally. The emotions would come later.

“It was random. There’s… anomalies in everything. Maybe you just got really unlucky, Eddie…” What Max had said made a lot of sense; she was right. Every law of science and the supernatural had exceptions. One offs. Strange things. Unexplainable events that couldn’t be repeated.

“Eddie, you’re welcome to come back with me. We got a guest room all set up. You can teach the rugrats Dungeons and Dragons,” Steve said, his words spilling out fast in a desperate attempt to fix the problem.

“Nah, Harrison. I think your days of adopting people way younger than you are over,” Eddie joked, that emotion starting to seep in now.

“What he’s saying is that you have family here. The offer is the same for me. Suzie already said if you needed a place to go, you’re always welcome,” Dustin told him.

“Same with us,” from Lucas.

Eddie was going to turn them all down and you knew why. He looked at you.

“He stays here,” you announced to the room. “He…” Eddie’s eyes were glossy with tears. “He belongs here. We’ll figure it out.”

They stayed for a beer or two, then made their way back out the gate and around the front to their cars. Staying away from their lives – partners and children and careers and C.I.A. watch lists – couldn’t be justified when there was simply nothing to be done.

As soon as you were alone with Eddie, he was on you, pulling you into a tight hug. He was shaking and holding in whimpers.

“I mean it, Eddie. We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”

…

Once Eddie could stand without leaning on you, you ushered him into the tiny bathroom for a shower. Leaving him to it, you went back inside the house, finding your mum had returned home from work.

“Eddie Munson – THE Eddie Munson – is out in the pool house?!” she yelled as soon as she saw you.

“Why does it seem like the issue is that it’s Eddie, not that time travel happened and there’s been fucking monsters in Hawkins this whole time?”

“Oh, of course all that magic monster stuff is real. It was either that, or my brother was truly an agent of Satan and believe me – Gareth is the last person Satan would want as the face of the company,”

“That… feels like an insult?” Gareth said.

You were standing in the kitchen, your mum not pausing her vegetable preparation despite the conversation being what it was. Your uncle was sat at the table, picking at his nails.

“Right, well if you don’t think Eddie is the devil, why are you acting all high and mighty about it?” you asked her.

She sighed and shot her brother a look. The silence was heavy.

“I’ve done a super good job at not asking you guys about, you know, Hawkins or how you grew up or my grandparents or anything. And now that I know about some of it, I get it. It fucked you up. But I just met a whole group of people that were smack bang in the middle of it and they’re willing to talk about it. They went on with their lives, you know?”

“Now who’s being high and mighty?” your mum mumbled under her breath. You were too much like her.

You couldn’t have known but you weren’t being fair. You weren’t even being factual. Yeah, you’d met some people who made it out of Hawkins semi-adjusted enough to forge lives. But you didn’t know Nancy or Jonathan. You never knew Eleven or Mike. And you sure as fuck never knew Will Byers – who had so much in common with your uncle but could never shake the violent cold of the Upside Down.

Gareth was not unkind though, and he didn’t want you to be angry or feel lied to. Maybe it was time to let go of what he had been holding onto his whole life.

“Eddie was the first person I ever loved,” he said. Your mum put her knife down and looked at her brother. He’d never said it out loud.

“Like, loved loved?” you asked.

Gareth nodded. “Yeah. Straight away. He walked up to me one day, said he liked my shirt, and told me about D&D… Didn’t know about it before him. But, ah, changed my life, I guess. That and the band. Gave me something to… Focus on.”

The revelation made you desperately sad, but it began to glue together pieces of information you knew.

“You know why we don’t see your grandparents,” your mum added. “If you think they’re bad now, with their Trump bullshit, you should have seen them back then when it was okay to be like that. The way they-” but she couldn’t finish the sentence, her words swallowed by memories.

You understood the subtext of the conversation. For the first time in your entire life, you were on the exact same page as your mother and uncle.

“Do you want to… see him?” you braved the offer.

“It’s been a big day,” Gareth said, smiling up at you. “Maybe tomorrow. Sounds like he’s going to be stuck here for a while, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe. Probably. Dustin’s meant to be the smart one and good with… this stuff. But I don’t think he has any idea really,”

“Well… Maybe it’s for the best. You have no idea what sending him back could do,” he replied, echoing what he had said earlier in the day.

You nodded.

After kisses on the cheek, you left brother and sister in the kitchen of their house. Your mum went back to cutting vegetables, but Gareth knew her better than that.

“Something you want to say?” he deadpanned.

“Well, this could be a good thing. Resolve all the ‘sad gay boy loses love of life and never recovers’ thing,” she said in one breath out, like she had been holding it in for years.

Gareth looked at her. “I think that was hate speech.”

…

Eddie was still in the shower when you stepped back into the pool house. You got changed into something more comfortable, including Eddie’s new/old Gremlins shirt that didn’t smell like him but it was as close to ‘girlfriend feels good wearing boyfriend’s clothes’ as you were going to get.

When he did make his way out, eyes crying-bloodshot red, he lit up at you.

“Thought you bought that for me?”

“Sharing’s caring,” you sing-songed back.

“Guess if I’m… sticking around, I better figure out a way to make some money of my own,” he said, jumping onto the bed in only the towel that hung low on his hips.

“2022 has a surplus of drug dealers. What’s your backup trade?”

“Heavy metal.” The reply was instant and his expression blank for a few seconds before he grinned ear to ear. “Seriously though… My plan was to graduate. That’s taking longer than first anticipated. Then, I don’t know. Get of Hawkins.”

You thought for a second. Eddie was scared that maybe you’d judge him; maybe his lack of a five year plan and real life adult skills would be unattractive. But when you spoke again, there was still the same softness and affection in your voice as before.

“Can I be honest with you, Eddie? Like… Really honest?”

He nodded, eyes flicking over your face, trying to find clues that would tip him off to what you were about to say.

“I’ve been thinking about the whole time travel thing. Something my uncle’s said a few times. If you go back-”

“I could fuck everything up for everyone? Yeah. Yeah, I keep thinking about it too.”

You and talked through the possibilities; while acknowledging that anything was possible, there were two more likely outcomes of a time traveler returning to their original place in time and space.

First: multiple universe theory. Eddie would leave your known reality, and return to his, setting it on a different path, but leaving yours unchanged. That was best case.

Second: rewritten history theory. Eddie would leave 2022 and return to 1986, thereby changing history entirely. Given he was now armed with all known information about Vecna, the subsequent events in Hawkins, and not to mention – everything that has happened since ’86, that could be very dangerous.

“Can’t even pretend I’d go back and not use what I know,” Eddie said. “And if I don’t go missing, if all that shit doesn’t happen to Gareth and your mum doesn’t leave Hawkins and… What if I like, unmake you?”

It really wasn’t funny, but you laughed. “I mean, it could be worse, I guess?”

“How? How could it be worse than you not existing?”

You were cringing before you finished speaking. “Let’s say you go back. You hang out with Gareth more, because, you know, he loves you so much. You get to know my mum. My mum is kind of amazing. Like, she’s super sassy and likes metal. Heart of gold. You fall in love with-”

“Stop! I get it!” Eddie almost screamed, standing up and grabbing the towel before it could fall to the ground. He busied himself finding clothes.

“Eddie. What if you married my mum?” You were just teasing at that point.

“Sweetheart, I’m warning you.” Eddie was half naked and pointing at you, dead serious but looking ridiculous.

You lowered your voice and scrunched up your face in a disgusted expression. “You could end up being my dad.”

Eddie froze, his head tilted just enough that you knew he was about to do something. Then he did; he leaped across the room in a few long bounds and you barely made it out of the way.

“Take it back!” he yelled, chasing you.

“No! Time travel’s fucked up! Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?!” you squealed back, laughing until Eddie caught you.

His tickling very quickly turned to peppering you with kisses. “I.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Understand.” Kiss. “That.” Kiss. “Reference.”

Sighing, you playfully kicked him away, sitting up. “Eddie. I don’t think you’re going back there.”

He sat opposite you, holding both your hands in his. “Yeah… I know. Even if Gandalf’s eagles get here, I can’t go back to the Shire now. They were happy. Today. Everyone. They’ve made it, you know? Dustin has his own little freak Hendersons. I can’t risk that…”

You agreed with him, entirely, but felt suddenly compelled to offer an alternative perspective. To give him options.

“You could go back and be the hero though, right? Save the others? Mike, right?”

Eddie winced at the name. It hurt to know that not long after he went M.I.A., little Wheeler, with his lanky arms and steadfast obliviousness, had died.

“I’m no hero,” Eddie whispered, looking up at you, the saddest you’d seen him since you pulled him from the water. “I’m more of a liability than anything else. I can’t go back.”

End Note: Anybody wonder what Steve and Eddie were talking about? Hmmmmmm. One chapter to go, so please place your bets and put in your requests for any final details you wanna seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Taglist (open): @fangirling-4-ever @nushy @writers-hes @onceuponathreetwoone @alexfms97 @goldencherriess @tpwkstiles @getbillzoned @soapbar99 @da-disappointment @medusaslilsister

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Hiii! For the fanfic asks game you recently shared, would you mind answering 2 and 20? I'm looking forward to your vision, especially for 20. Feel free to dissert 😊

fanfic writer asks

2. What is your favorite paragraph from (insert story title you want to know about here, or leave it blank for writer’s choice)? Is there a reason it’s your favorite?

Going to go with my most recent fic for this one. The final paragraph from What the Future Holds haunts me a little ever since I posted the fic:

Her heart throbs when he flips his hand around and interlaces his fingers between hers in a tight grip. It’s all they can do for now as a cloud passes over the moon and the laughter continues outside.

I loved how this turned out. I love the bittersweet image it conjures up in my mind. Toshiro and Momo sit silently against the wall in darkness, lamenting on the future and trying to find hope, all the while the world continues on without them outside - the moon, their only light source through the gap in the doorway, vanishes behind a cloud, and the Shinigami carry on around the fire, laughing and chatting and being normal. It's a sharp contrast that puts their situation into perspective, and somehow makes them even more lonely in their struggle. The future only has one certainty at that point: that Toshiro will die sooner than he should. All they can do in the present is hold hands and hope in silence.

20. Is there anything about any one of your fics that you have been dying to discuss but haven’t had the chance to?

The process for writing On the Shoreline was absolutely wild! I allude to it in the author's note, but seriously, this fic just kept transforming until it reached to what was posted.

My original intent was just to do a purely fluffy fic about Toshiro and Momo going to beach by themselves, doing all the typical beach stuff - shaved ice, walks on the beach, swimming the ocean, collecting seashells, and so on - with Toshiro being a grump but wanting to be supportive for Momo's sake. Momo gets caught up in the excitement of being at the beach and wanting to do all the typical beach things she read about in World of the Living magazines and books, but seeing Toshiro isn't coping 100% well with everything she wants them to do, tries to steer the activities into things that involve cooling him down.

However, midway through writing a scene at sunset, an image of Toshiro just standing in the water, staring out on the horizon, and Momo unsure how to approach him, suddenly came to mind. It interested me, because I don't think the beach would be a place where Toshiro would contemplate something - he'd be too bothered by the heat and everything he doesn't like about the beach - and Momo looking unsure what she should do. I pursued the idea, and at first came up with the idea that he's reflecting on something he'd done on a mission, on a failing of his. He came to beach with Momo because he wanted to escape thinking about it, but it only made it worse; not only is reflecting on this failing, he's also self-critical about trying to not think about it and 'escape' from it. I came to a halt with this idea though when I got stuck on the moment Momo wades through the water to get to him, and I didn't know what to write to get him to say what was on his mind to her; it felt like he would be really guarded about this.

I have this section of scene tucked away still in the deleted scenes of the fic:

With her lips in a tight line and a fist over her heart, Momo walks down to the shoreline. She concentrates on Toshiro shadow, watching it ripple and warp with each wave that bobs and crests to the shoreline. She raises her other hand to shade her eyes against the sunset's glare. Even when she finally wades through the water, he doesn't turn around.

She finds the edge of his reiatsu's influence, the water around her shin's becoming icy cold. With a shiver that rattles her teeth, she lets out an iota of her own reiatsu. It's take several seconds, but when the the sea's temperature is bearable, she continues towards him.

She thinks to speak up, alert him to her presence if he isn't aware, but nothing comes out of her mouth, even as she stops an arms length away from him. He hasn't moved a muscle, as if he'd turned into one of his own ice sculptures. Somehow, though, she knows he's aware she there. Maybe it's in the fact he hasn't turned to her, that whatever is making him like this is something he wants to hide from her.

If that's the case, she should turn around, go back to the inn and wait for him. But she can't move, doesn't want to.

She does what feels natural, and lifts her hand to his shoulder. "Hitsugaya-kun?"

So then I went back through what I'd written prior, and realised all this fluffiness it now didn't fit with the later scenes. I went through and edited them to include hints that Toshiro was being troubled by something, but it didn't work.

I returned back to the scene in the water, and wrote backwards from that scene. I then had a fic set during the ten year timeskip where Momo wanted to take a break from the Soul Society reconstruction and Toshiro came along. However, this didn't get too far as I thought it'd be out of character for them to take a break like this in the World of the Living, specially if it's over multiple days.

I thought more on the fic in the next few days, with a few images coming to mind - Toshiro fanning himself outside an inn while a commotion is going on inside, Momo and Rangiku shopping for clothes in a store and stepping out to a beach view, and Toshiro walking aroudn the inn to get fresh air, ending up in a courtyard with Renji also awake. For those that read the fic, you'll know the first idea made it into the fic, the second one didn't (but may or may not be included in a future sequel fic ;D) and the last got modified with Renji not involved - I think this idea came to me because I think an interaction between Toshiro and Renji would be interesting.

The image of Toshiro outside of the inn again showed him being pensive, reflecting on something. Again I got to thinking what would make him be like this, at a beach of all places! But then I thought about the commotion going on. Was he annoyed by the noise? What was the big deal that caused whoever was in there to get into an argument?

But then came the question that more or less set the story on to it's path: why the heck are there so many characters here? It lead to me questioning what time period would this be? I think this, combined with 1) the fact I wanted to write about the revelations from the No Breathes From Hell oneshot, and 2) I had an idea to write a fic about Toshiro visiting Jushiro's grave, made me realise Toshiro was reflecting on what happened with Jushiro's Konso Reisai and what might happen if he dies before they can figure out how to stop the Captains from ending up in hell.

The rest is more or less history. So in the end, the setting determined where the fic would go. Told you it was wild! XD

Thanks for sending these in! :D

[angryschnauzer]

Full Mast

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a mutiny... what will your husband do to save you from the pirates grasp?

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Very Dubious Consent, Dub-con, public fingering, public sex, shackles, imprisonment, very corny word choices that echo back to the romance novels. 

Full Mast

You resisted the strong arms that pulled you along, the rough blindfold shielding you from your destination, and yet you could hear the call of the gulls so you knew you were near to the shoreline. The cloth tied tightly around your mouth to gag you overwhelmed your senses, the rich musk of male sweat reminding you in no uncertain terms that these were far from civilised men that had snatched you away from your husbands rose garden as you’d been quietly cutting blooms in the dewy morning light.

The ground beneath your feet changed from loose earth to cobblestones, and you could smell the stench of the docks; of the gutted fish and the slop buckets, of the morning after the night before sailors' tavern. You had never been inside but had heard tales of the men that frequented it; dark and dangerous, men that circled the globe as well as the law. Your husband had regaled you with stories of such men, no doubt to frighten you from wandering off, but the man your father had arranged for you to be married to was but two generations your senior, old enough to be your grandfather, and rarely finished a story without veering off to start another. You’d had no say in the matter, the Lord had paid your father a princely sum for your hand in marriage, ignoring your pleas and protests. It had been three months since your father had hopped upon a spice ship returning to Europe with his gold, forgetting about his only daughter.

“Almost there” a gruff voice uttered, and you were suddenly hoisted over a wide shoulder

“Mmmmfff!” you exclaimed around the gag, but your protests were not heard as the men climbed the gangplank and aboard a vessel. Soon you were tied and thrown into a small room, left alone in the darkness as you heard the ship being prepared for sail.

-

The ship was on the open water when you were pulled out into the bright daylight, having managed to work the blindfold lose you were now wishing it was still in place, the bright carribean morning sunshine now blinding you as it glinted on the crystal blue waters. Big men stared hungrily at you as you were dragged across the deck to a small staircase that led up to the ships wheel and that’s when you saw him;

“Captain! Here she is!”

The big man at the wheel grinned, his bushy beard and cropped hair doing little to distract you from his piercing blue eyes that shone with a marked interest. Nodding to a young dark haired man he handed the control of the wheel over before quickly descending the stairs and landing steadily on his booted feet just inches from where you stood. With a toothy grin he looked down at you, his gaze falling to your heaving bosom where the stays of your corset had become loose in the struggle, licking his lips before he addressed one of the men gripping your arms;

“Well ain’t she a peach… caught a good one here Constable”

Your attention snapped to the man at your side and you suddenly realised who he was; Walter Marshall; the town constable. His wild and unruly hair and stone cold stare had kept order in town for as long as you’d lived on the island, but you recalled the last town meeting that had been held at your husband’s mansion had been far from smooth, with a number of towns people getting into a heated argument with the lords and gentry, Constable Marshall being one of them.

“You can still smell the roses on her Sy” the man on your other side commented.

The Captains beard tickled your cheek as he leaned forwards and inhaled, his nose brushing against your bare neck and sending a shiver down your spine, the whimper that escaped your throat barely audible and yet he pulled back, a faint look of surprise on his face that was quickly replaced with a smirk;

“She might be smellin’ of sumthin’ else once we’re done with her” he paused and nodded to the man on your other side; “Walker, shackle her to the rigging chest, we’ll be in the shadows of horseshoe cove shortly until it's time to do the sail past… her husband will realise paying the towns folk their dues is the only way to ensure he can live his idyllic life”

-

An hour of being chained to the enormous storage chest had given you time to watch the goings on of the ship, the way the men worked together, and you’d learned a thing or two about what had seemed to be your boring and idyllic island life had in fact been a town of corruption and mutiny. Captain Syverson had been a Navy Captain, retired once injured but seemingly now fully healed. Walker had been Infantry with the Fusiliers and was a crack shot with both a pistol and a rifle. Of course you already knew of Constable Marshall, and from eavesdropping the conversations you’d learned that they had scuttled the entire islands ships; anything the gentry owned was out of service and unable to sail. With the fishing fleet having left for open waters at dawn there wasn’t a single seaworthy vessel left on the island. Covert operations had meant the fuses for the island’s canons had all been removed in the dead of night, meaning a quick attack would be out of the question. Captain Syverson planned to sail just out of shot reach of your husbands mansion, the ransom note having already been delivered that morning an hour after your disappearance, and only the sign of a yellow flag being waved would ensure your safe return. 

When the dark haired deck hand suddenly came to sit next to you, you were surprised as he started to remove the scarf that still acted as a gag;

“Don’t scream, ok? Capt’n has told me to make sure you drink, he doesn’t want you passing out from thirst”

You nodded and the younger man carefully untied the scarf, before taking the earthenware flagon and lifted it to your lips, the cool ale it held soothing your parched throat. Tipping it a little too much it spilled from your mouth and onto your chest, his eyes going wide in fear;

“I… I can’t touch you… Captain’s orders”

“It’ll dry, its hot out today”

“You’re surprisingly unafraid”

“Should i be afraid?”

He shrugged;

“Dunno. I’m Mikey by the way”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Pirate?”

Mikey shrugged;

“I guess it was just the inevitable”

Through the conversation that followed you found yourself telling him all about yourself; how your father had basically sold your hand, how your husband was literally only on paper, having far more predilection for the handsome young footman than for you. Mid sentence the Captain’s voice boomed across the deck;

“Mikey! Back to work!”

“Yes Capt’n”

-

When you heard the bells chime of the church on the hill to say it was noon you were moved, the ship sailing around the side of the island and into position 100ft from the shoreline of your husband’s property. With your arms pulled above your head, you were tied to the base of the mast, the big captain coming to stand at your side, his eyes glancing at your breasts as they threatened to spill from your corset that had become loose and had slid down your ribcage.

“What do you see Walker?” 

Peering through the spyglass the moustached man paused before he spoke;

“No yellow flag Captain… wait a moment... they’re using semaphores” He was referring to the message flags that the Navy used to send messages from passing ship to passing ship, each small triangular flag each meaning a different seafaring reference; “Hang on… ‘No duties owed’”

The Captain roared and grabbed the spyglass, peering through before grunting  and handing it back;

“Lets see if we can change his mind, eh?”

Pulling his knife from his thigh holster he hooked the blade beneath the stays of your corset, tearing the garment in two and watching as it fell to the deck at your feet, your breasts now on full show and greeted with a wild cheer from the crew. Syverson turned to Walker;

“How about now?”

He peered through the spyglass before letting out a defeated sigh;

“Same again… no duties owed”

“So, he’s sticking to his guns… let’s kick this up a level”

Turning back to you he smirked;

“This ain't personal sweetheart…”

To your surprise the big man started to gather your skirts, your eyes wide as he pulled up your petticoats and his large hand slid between your silky thighs, finding you without your undergarments and he cocked an eyebrow;

“Your men found me before I had dressed fully for the day”

“I ain’t complainin’ sweetheart, makes it easier to find…”

His hand found your petals and you groaned quietly as he discovered you slick and ready, his calloused fingers seeking out your clit before he slid two into your velvet channel, filling you more than your own fingers ever had;

“Tight little thing, aren’t ya? Your husband got a small dick?”

You turned your head to face him, emboldened by the wanton display;

“I wouldn’t know, i’ve never seen it”

The Captain froze;

“Fuck”

His hand stopped, still inside you and you could feel your walls trembling with excitement around his digits as his men approached, Walker and Marshall both having heard your admission;

“Sy… we gotta continue, we’re owed for three months pay from the Lord…”

He nodded to the mansion;

“What’s the message?”

Checking again, Walker sighed;

“Return Cargo. No duties owed”

The Captain roared with anger;

“The fucking bastard! Every single man on this ship is owed half a years wages, and for what? Keeping his idyllic island life”

The look on his face had changed, and you finally saw the Pirate in him as he approached you, wrapping a big hand around the back of your neck and kissing you roughly. When you willingly opened your mouth and your tongue pushed against his it gave him the green light to go ahead, his body pressing you to the mast and you could feel his hardness pressing against the thin layers of your petticoats. With a flurry of hands he pulled your skirts up and unbuttoned his breaches, revealing his fat length, almost as thick as your wrist and patterned with veins. 

You may never have lain in the marital bed or known the intimate touch of a man, but you had sought your own pleasure with your fingers and even the occasional candle from your husbands drawing room. But you’d never had anything as large as the Captains throbbing length inside you. You hooked your leg over his hip, pulling him close even though your hands were still tied, and let out a cry of pleasure as his hot flesh speared your soaked cavern.

Syverson ravaged you against the mast, fucking you with such a fury that you could feel your body start to tighten around him, and with a cry you came, pressing your head back against the hard wood, a blissful smile across your face as you had your first ever orgasm that you hadn’t given yourself. You were vaguely aware of him pulling out, fisting his shaft and spilling his seed over your bare thighs, before your skirts were dropped and he was fastening himself back into his breeches;

“Well?” the Captain demanded of his men.

Constable Marshall cleared his throat;

“There’s a new semaphore… Cargo Abandoned”

“HE WHAT?” you spat out, filled with anger that your husband would just leave you to the Pirates.

“Very well” Syverson nodded; “Hoist the mainsail, we sail for Kingstown”

He turned to you whilst addressing his men;

“Get her down and have her taken to my cabin” he turned to you; “You ever sailed before?”

“Spent a decade on spice ships Captain” to which he nodded.

“At least you have your sea legs then”

Mikey had unshackled you and was stripping himself of his vest, helping you to slip it onto your arms so you could cover your naked chest.

“Michael?” the captain boomed; “... find her some of the chests of finery we took from that French vessel a couple of months ago”

“Yes Father”

“He’s your father!?”

Mikey nodded;

“Welcome aboard The Cavillry. We’re like one big family here”

Just then the bow hit a wave as it reached the deeper waters, spray splashing up and soaking you, much to Mikey’s amusement;

“You’ll get used to being wet here”

Part 2 Link HERE

-

I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​  and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new.

Masterlist can be found on AO3, link HERE

[lunarastrobabe]

Rafe Adler x F!Reader- “Mr Adler”

(Warning: NSFW) (Some fluff/a little angst) 

Scotland 

“Nadine, it’s bad enough the Drake’s are involved.” Rafe said in frustration, walking alongside Nadine on their way to the cathedral. He clutched his handgun in his gloved hand, the snow crunching underneath his feet.

“You’d be surprised at how skilled she is, including knowledge on the treasure. Just give it time.” She replied, ignoring his tone of voice, she didn’t much care about his opinion, his funding to Shoreline was of the utmost importance to her. 

“Alright. Fine.” The snow gently falling in his hair and covering his shoulders like a blanket. 

“Good.” Satisfied, she made her way through the doors, following behind him into the cathedral and holstered her gun. 

You were invited to Scotland by Shoreline to accompany Nadine, your long-time friend and her partner into looking for Henry Avery’s Treasure, a 17th Century pirate who was known for pulling off the biggest heist in history back in 1695, known as the Gunsway. Rafe, now her partner in this hunt, you had only met him a few times, mostly at fancy events such as auctions and to make business deals considering how close him and Nadine were, she brought you along every time. 

You pulled your black furry jacket around you as tight as possible to stay warm as you waited in a room for Nadine to arrive with Rafe. It was dark, with a stone tomb in the middle of the room - quite small in size, and a map of the area. A large light stood in the corner of the room near the door, shining directly on the map, and a Shoreline soldier stood next to you. Multiple Shoreline cases piled up around the room, most likely filled with climbing equipment, ammunition and explosives, as you had known from working with Nadine, they’ll find any excuse to use dynamite. 

Hearing muttering outside the room, you darted your head back towards the sound, trying to stop yourself from shivering from the dropping temperature. Cold wasn’t even the right word to describe it, your limbs were numb and you just wanted to be home, curled up by the fireplace and watching tv or reading a book. 

Nadine walked through, pushing open the heavy doors and grinned at the sight of you in front of her. 

“[Y/N]!” She walked over to you and opened her arms and pulled you in for a hug, the sound of her boots echoing. “Nadine! I’ve missed you!” You were glad to see her again, it had been so long since you had seen each other, she was the one friend you could always count on whenever you had a problem. 

While you two were catching up, asking about each other and what you were both doing with your lives, and Rafe slowly walked in, an ill-tempered look on his face, completely ignoring your presence. You paused your conversation with Nadine and you both turned and look in his direction. 

“Rafe, any luck with those manuscripts?” She asked him, looking down at the map.

“Can we have a minute?” He lifted his head and stared at the wall, sounding calm. You looked over at Nadine and shrugged, as she gestured for you to leave while she spoke with him. The Shoreline soldier escorted you out and you waited patiently outside the door, trying not to eavesdrop but you also wanted to know what they were discussing. 

“Did you hear? They found a whole annexed area under the cathedral.” Nadine’s voice muffled because of the stone wall blocking your hearing. His voice was quiet, so not much could be heard coming from him, along with the sounds of explosions in the distance. The Shoreline soldier left your side and went to attend to an apparent disruption in the graveyard. You easily guessed who that could be.  

Thinking about what was going on outside, you hadn’t been listening to half of the conversation, until you heard him raise his voice, which caught your attention. 

“Well, I didn’t think he’d show up.“ You furrowed your brows, getting lost in your thoughts until a few minutes had passed and Nadine had left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

“I’ll come by later and we can go over everything.” She laughed a little. You could tell she didn’t like working with him, just from the stressed look on her face when she walked over to you. 

“Okay, wish me luck.” You said jokingly, giving her another hug before she left, two soldiers standing either side of her for protection. 

You turned back to the door, taking a deep breath and knocking first. Last time you had seen Rafe was at an auction in Paris. He was dressed in a black suit and a bow tie, handsome being the perfect word and the rest of that night, you had enjoyed the company of each other. 

“Come in.” His voice was soft, it made your heart skip a beat as it always had whenever he was around. 

Stepping back inside the room, letting the door close itself, noticing the map and the photographs were laying on the floor beside his feet. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. You kept quiet, slowly walking over and bending down to pick up the mess. He watched your every move, not taking a single eye off of you, then relaxing his muscles as he realised who you were. As you gathered up the pictures, he crouched down beside you, and as he did, you looked in front of you and met his. They were still a beautiful blue, green colour, just as you remembered. 

“Here, I got it.” His voice quiet and deep. He kept his eyes on you, snapping out of your trance from getting lost in his eyes, stuttering to find the right words to say. The way he looked at you, or when he’d speak to you or say your name, it always gave you that butterfly feeling in your stomach, everything about him made you weak. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t in love with him, because goddamn, you definitely were. 

“Long time no see.” You said, standing up with him, watching him put the pile back on the stone tomb. You couldn’t help but admire his features, his slicked back dark hair, and that smirk that made you swoon. 

“Nice to see you too, [Y/N].” He spread out the photos and made sure the map wasn’t creased or damaged. He was always polite and kind towards you, more so than he was with the people who worked for him. He took a quick glance over at you then back at focusing on what he was doing. 

Flashing him a smile, “So, I see you’re looking for Avery’s treasure, huh?” You rested your gloved, frozen hands against the stone, raising an eyebrow. 

He chuckled with slight anger in his voice at the slow progress he was making, “For the past fifteen goddamn years, yes.” Turning his body to face yours. “Although, I heard your knowledge could be of great use to me.” You two were extremely close, you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body to yours in the distance that was between you. Now it was his time to admire you, his eyes travelled up your physique, scanning every inch of you, looking at your neck, then your lips, then your eyes once again. 

Rafe never really fell in love with anybody throughout his life, maybe once or twice, but his mind and motivation to focus on his parents business and now hunting for Avery’s treasure was something that he now had pushed back and instead, keep his view on you. That night during the auction in Paris, seeing you all dressed up and elegant, he had feelings he hadn’t felt for an extremely long time, feelings he couldn’t describe, and keeping up his mean, tough exterior, he had a soft, loving side to him, which he kept to himself. Being around you, he was able to let his guard down. 

“You could say that.” You smirked at him staring at you, his eyes fixated back onto your lips, silence filling the room. 

“Cat got your tongue, Adler?” Whispering, you moved a step closer to him, feeling his clothes brush against yours. With no hesitation, he immediately snaked his arm through your jacket and around your waist, the smell of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. A stray hair fell from his head, hanging over above his eye. 

Reaching up you gently moved it and pushed it back. “Kiss me.” Was all that he said in that moment, leaning in, your lips gently pressed against his, very lightly at first but then getting used to the sweet taste in just a few seconds. His free hand met his other, pressing his body against yours and deepened the kiss. After a few minutes, he pulled back and licked his lips. 

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He leaned down a little to meet your neck and left soft small kisses on your sweet spot. A quiet moan fumbled from your throat. 

“Rafe-” Closing your eyes, melting into his touch and how his tongue danced around. “We have work to do.” You tangled your fingers into his hair at the back of his head, scratching lightly, relaxing the both of you. 

“Hm. It can wait.” He lifted his head from your neck and caressed your cheek with his thumb, then delicately tracing your lips letting the tip of your tongue come into contact with him. You grabbed the fabric of his clothing and pulled him to you, slamming your lips into his. He slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you up, placing you on the map, not caring about his mission due to the feeling as if he was under a spell. You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him close to you, the feeling of his erection pushed against your core. 

“Fuck.” His breath shaking at the adrenaline rush and the arousal he was feeling, the grip on your thighs with his large hands getting tighter, as you were rubbing yourself against him. 

Pulling back from the kiss, you shuffled back removing your jacket along with your gloves and throwing them on the floor, moving his work out the way and grabbed his belt bringing him closer to you, all you wanted was to feel him hold you, feel your skin touching, to feel emotionally connected to the man you were in love with. Rafe settled in between your legs, his arms either side of your body looking at the black soft sweater that hugged your figure so perfectly, he undressed you with his mind. 

Hovering over your body, his muscles tensing up he opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. You looked at him with a sympathetic look, biting your lip you asked him, “Is everything okay?” You rested your hand on his cheek, then running your fingers gently through the side of his hair. 

A small smile appeared on his face, he shuddered, starved for affection as it seemed, you’d think with all the parties he attends and gala’s, he’d be surrounded by multiple women, but he chose you. 

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” He smirked. 

“Who said I want to?” Leaning up on your elbows you reached over and moved your hands to undo his belt and zipper and sliding them inside his jeans, making sure to keep eye contact with him the entire time. You felt his soul burn through you, as if he was looking to you for answers to a puzzling thought that plagued his mind. He grunted a little once your cold hand found its way to his hard, throbbing cock, ready to break free from its cage. Your fingers stroking his length through the fabric of his boxers, feeling your panties getting wet at the thought of him fucking you in this room right here, right now, knowing someone could walk in at any moment made it all the more exciting. 

“Don’t stop until I say so.” He hissed, his cock twitching every time you ran your finger to his tip, the pre-cum slipping through your fingers. Getting the impression that Rafe was the dominant type, turned you on, your clit tingling and begging to be touched. You gave him a wink and continued stroking him, taking it fully into your hands, sucking in a breath he pushed you down and laid you down on your back. 

“My turn.” He said darkly, unzipping your jeans, lifting your body up to pull them down revealing the black lace underwear you were wearing. At first he rubbed your soaking wet clit with two fingers through the fabric, your hips bucked along with the movement of his hand. Your hand working on him, pumping him till he grabbed your hand with his free one gently and said, “I think that’s enough.” and pinned your arms above your head. You whined at how much he was teasing you. 

“Fuck. Rafe.” You breathed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, he now had inserted his fingers inside your entrance, the pre-cum dripping onto the stone block that you were laying on. Your legs shook as he pumped in and out, a few loud moans coming from you filled the room. Rafe didn’t care how loud you both were, he didn’t care who could hear you or what everybody else thought, he wanted them to listen to the sounds of him pleasuring you. 

“Don’t come for me yet babe.” You obeyed and he removed his fingers from you and licked his fingers, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours. He sat up and kept in a kneeled position, you felt a spark ignite inside of you, unknown to you, Rafe had felt it too. You sat up to meet his gaze, he took your face in his hands and pulled you in for a hungry kiss, your tongues attacking each other for dominance. You pulled his pants down, his cock standing up, mumbling into his mouth, “I want you so fucking bad.” 

He laughed a little at your comment, and pulled back from the kiss, moving his right hand to hold your back. “You ready?” Nodding at him and licking your lips, enjoying the flavour of him settling on your tastebuds. He steadied himself and lined his cock up with your entrance, gently pushing himself in, careful not to hurt you as you got used to his large size. You winced a little but then relaxed, another moan emitting from the both of you. He placed the palm of his left hand firmly beside you, as he guided his hips and continued pushing in and out, as he closed his eyes, enjoying the euphoria. A strong feeling of love and passion struck his heart. 

“Goddammit-, shit, I love you.” He expressed in between sweaty breaths. 

His pace now at high speed. Shocked at the words he just said, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his hot, flushed cheek and spoke, as you were about to reach your high. 

“Harder. Please.” And with that he pushed deep into you, quickly pulling out as he released himself over your bare legs, now shaking from the aftershock of your orgasm. 

Beads of sweat saturated your forehead, his hair fell and hung down, loosened from the wax and gel he had used earlier that day. Catching your breath, you sat up and grabbed some clean tissues from your jacket pocket, cleaning yourselves up. You pulled your panties and jeans back on, buckling your belt, and watching him do the same as he stood in front of you, 

“Hey, Rafe?” You slid off the surface you were sitting on and walked over to him, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. 

“Hm?” He hummed, sliding on his black jacket and zipping it up then looking at you as he smoothed his hair back down to it’s original position. 

“Why did you say that to me?” A confused look on your face, a nervous feeling in your stomach. You had so much love for him, worried your heart would break at anything negative he’d say. 

He scratched his chin and grabbed your hips holding you close to him. He chuckled. “Because I’m in love with you. Isn’t it obvious?” Now waiting for an answer. 

You let out a shy giggle, your cheeks blushing a bright red and sharing another kiss. “Well, aren’t you lucky that I love you too?” 

[igirisuhito]

Title: Writing down all the things gone wrong Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Matsuda Yasuke Rating: Teen Summary: Upon receiving a gift from Hinata, Komaeda attempts to learn more about a student who once went to Hope's Peak academy. After a strange nightmare, he contemplates the trustworthiness of his memory. Trigger Warnings: Childhood trauma, Religious discussion (I guess?), Doctor/Patient, Medical angst, regular angst, Treatment refusal, Dementia Notes: Happy birthday Komaeda. I hope you like suffering. 

[Ao3 Link]

『••✎••』

"Hey uh, do you want this?"

Hinata's hand outstretches towards him, holding a thin paperback book between calloused fingers. It appears to be a school notebook; worn, ragged, really in a complete state of disrepair. The once white cover was now a full grey, bearing smudged writing and barely recognisable symbols. If they were symbols from any other organisation, Komaeda probably wouldn't have recognised them and asked why Hinata thought to insult him with this utter piece of trash.

"I know you like Hope's Peak memorabilia, right? This isn't really memorabilia, per say, but…" As he rambles away to himself, Hinata starts to look more and more awkward. Is he embarrassed? Ah, who wouldn't be humiliated, being seen giving such a thoughtful gift to Komaeda in an act of pity.

Before Hinata can try and make some other excuse, Komaeda reaches out, pale digits barely passing over the messy kanji. "Ry…ko… Oto…'s…"

He has to pause, squinting hard at the words. He wonders if there's a chance he's reading it wrong. "Memory notebook? Like a diary?"

Komaeda takes the notebook into his hands, accepting the gift. However, he can't suppress the grin that crosses his face as he looks back up at Hinata, the desire to tease the other just too tempting to resist. "Oh my Hinata-kun… why are you walking around with a girl's diary?"

"I-I got it from the Monomono machine, okay?!" He flushes bright red, beginning to stammer as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I-It could be a guy's!"

Doubtful, Komaeda flicks the crinkled pages open, carefully separating each one with his fingers. The way the ink is washed out on every page reminds him of when you would accidentally put a receipt through the wash, full of barely comprehensible writing and doodles. An overuse of love hearts and sparkles, however, proves his theory correct.

"Even if you didn't get it from somewhere weird... I'm not sure if it's really okay for me to accept this!" Sucking in a deep breath, Komaeda grips his elbows in order to calm himself. "There must be some incredibly bad luck waiting for me! For Hinata-kun to go out of his way to give me something so amazing… haha, I feel a little tingly just thinking about it!"

"Seriously, it's no big deal," it seems as though Hinata's face is just getting hotter, he must be truly embarrassed by how much of a fuss Komaeda is making over it. "Just take it, okay? We had a good time today."

"Well, thank you, Hinata-kun. It makes me unbearably happy that you would give me a gift like this!" Smile stretching impossibly wide, Komaeda holds the notebook close to his chest, careful not to crush it.

"Go home, Komaeda."

With an aggressive nod, he says his farewells, "Well then, I'll see you tomorrow, Hinata-kun."

And with that, Hinata turns away, already running off down the beach. He's sprinting like he's trying to escape something, though it wouldn't surprise Komaeda if he was just trying to run away from any possibility of them speaking again. Unfortunately for Hinata, their time on this island isn't nearly over, and he would have to face Komaeda once again tomorrow in Jabberwock Park.

A soft sigh slips past his lips with the thought. He glances towards the horizon, the glowing sea of orange as waves gently roll up on the shoreline. The sun is setting on another perfect day. A cool breeze plays at the strands of Komaeda's hair, knocking it into his eyes. He brings a hand to his face, tucking the loose white locks behind one ear as he glances back down towards the notebook in his hands.

"Memory notebook, huh?"

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

Komaeda sits himself down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, placing his gift from Hinata at his side. It has been an unbearably long day, between spending the morning working to collect resources and the afternoon making sandcastles with Hinata, he was worn to the bone.

He leans down to undo the zips on his boots before kicking them off. As he wiggles his toes, he is overcome by the unpleasant sensation of sand sticking between them. With a groan, he begrudgingly pulls off his socks too, all too aware of the sound of the grains hitting the floorboard as he does. A mess to deal with later.

Quickly dusting off his feet, then brings them up onto the bed with him, laying back on the covers. An ache immediately begins to settle in his muscles, and a yawn forces its way out of his mouth. With the warm heat of the evening, it feels as though he could fall asleep right here and now. As pleasant as that would be, he has yet to properly examine Hinata's gift. He'd been brimming with anxious excitement to look at it the whole walk back to his cabin.

Bringing the notebook up to his side, he lays his head against the pillow and flicks it open. The first page is filled with rushed writing done in black pen, ink that has since been washed away. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely make out the characters, fill in some blanks. This is definitely a notebook once belonging to somebody going to Hope's Peak Academy.

How exciting!

He turns the page. There's a two page spread of nothing but blurry sketches and doodles, and from what he can tell, they're incredibly well done. The artist obviously had quite the knack for reproducing realistic details, honing in on fine points such as the eyes and lips.

Carefully flicking to the next page, he finds more hastily scribbled notes and drawings. It's unusual, the subject is the same in almost every occasion, and with each depiction Komaeda finds himself starting to build a better image of that person in his head.

The ballpoint scribbles illustrate a young Japanese man, bearing long shoulder length hair and meticulously detailed eyelashes. His lips are thin, often turned down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The owner of the diary was very clearly infatuated with him, and he could understand why. The man was naturally gorgeous even with such a pouty face.

And somehow, he felt strikingly familiar.

Komaeda turns through a few more pages, carefully poring over the illegible kanji and fuzzy details. No matter how hard he squints, he just can't understand what the words read, as though the information is purposefully taunting him, hanging just out of reach. With a sigh, he closes the notebook and allows his eyelids to flicker shut.

"How despairing."

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

"Your dementia is progressing quickly." Crossing one leg over the other, the doctor spun around in his chair to face Komaeda.

His demeanour was… laid-back. Much too laid back for a doctor. And mean, harsh, unnecessarily cruel. It was clear on his face that he thought Komaeda was the most revolting thing he'd seen all day, and he was probably right.

"Ah, such is fate for someone as worthless as me. Perhaps I really am meant to die." He laughed softly to himself, gazing down at his lap.

"Shut up," the doctor hissed. "Are you taking your medication?"

Komaeda stared out the window, wordless in his thoughts. The sunlight streaming through the glass felt warm on his skin, unlike the chill of metal on the medical bed beneath him. It was a lovely day brimming with hope, a day he would have liked to be out there enjoying.

"It's a nice day isn't it, M̧̩̹̗͕̮̼̆̋͑a̦̮̟̠̓͜ť̇҉̺̙s̪̦̟̋ͤ̽͗͜ŭ̺͉̖̫͍̯̪ͯ̐͠d̷̬̤̹̩̱̫̻̺͊a̵̯͙͖̙̩͇͂͛̓̊-kun?"

"Huh?" The doctor blinked, before looking up from his clipboard and out the window. "What are you talking about? Answer the damn question."

He remained silent, continuing to gaze out the window at the campus below. There were students socialising, exercising, running to class. Blurs of smiling faces amongst a sea of brown, each student filled with a sense of pride. The air is filled with distant laughter and chatter. It's too quiet in the room.

"Why don't you wear the Hope's Peak Uniform?"

There was a loud clatter as the doctor's clipboard hit the floor. Before Komaeda can react, (as if he was going to), he's risen to his feet and practically pounced on the boy. The doctor's pale hands reached for his chest, securing a handful of his sweater. A soft gasp escaped his lips, being pulled forward until he came nose to nose with the doctor, warm erratic breaths coming short and fast on his lips.

His face was difficult to see when he was on the other side of the room, but Komaeda realised that distance was not the issue. Even when he was so close the details were hazy, Komaeda only barely being able to make a deep frown etched beneath his dark bangs. Every time he tried to take in more details, it was as though he were looking too closely at a painting, unable to take in the full image beyond a few brush strokes.

"I knew it. Of course you wouldn't take them." He spit, teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed. "You just think your fucking luck is going to save you, that this is all some big plan for 'hope'."

The doctor let go, allowing Komaeda to slump back into his chair. He looked distressed, unreasonably so to the point of unprofessionalism. The doctor swept back his hair, giving Komaeda a glimpse of glaring blue eyes before he pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

Komaeda couldn't help but chuckle to himself. And before he knew it, he was laughing. Laughing raucously, in a way that made his whole body shake with dread, his mind spin with despair. His fingers wound their way to his scalp and he gripped and pulled at his hair until he could see the doctor's horrified expression looking back at him.

"Hope?" The word dripped from his mouth like venom. "There is no hope in taking that. The disease is incurable! There's no point in messing with that fact! What hope is there in waking up every day sick as a diseased dog just so I can tack a few extra years of suffering onto my lifespan? Do you want me to suffer, is that it? Does the Ultimate Neurologist truly believe he can play God? That you can cure a terminal illness? It's embarrassing, you truly don't know when to draw the line, to give up on a piece of human garbage like-!"

"What the fuck would you know about God, you demented freak?!"

Komaeda bit his tongue, a sickening grin forming on his face.

"You think some God is going to sweep you away from this? There is no damn God!" The doctor near screams the words. "There's you, me, and a miserable little pile of pills. You're the one who refuses to see an expert, you're the one who insisted on seeing an 'Ultimate', and yet you refuse to do what you've been told. I don't know why I bother, shit, you can rot in that empty skull of yours for all I care."

By the time he was done with his rant, he'd fallen back into his chair, dejected, out of breath. Komaeda didn't miss the flush on his cheeks, the way his nails dug into his thighs. What a brash display of emotion.

"I never knew you felt so strongly about God, Matsuda-kun." Straightening out his sweater, Komaeda shot the other a wide smile. "I guess it makes sense, you are a man of science, after all."

The doctor did not raise his head, remaining in his hunched over position. He was shaking, fists scrunching the fabric of his pants as he tried to regain his composure, probably to stop himself from jumping across the room and choking Komaeda to death. He thought he would have deserved it at this point.

"Do you really not understand how privileged you are? Are you doing this just to mock me, to make me suffer? I shouldn't have expected any less from Komaeda fucking Nagito," his voice trembled and cracked. "Am I the incompetent one? Should I be coming to your dorm every night and forcing the damn things down your throat? I can't fucking listen to you, I can't stand you. Every time you look at me with that stupid fucking grin on your face it feels like you think this is all a joke. What if you do die? What do you think is gonna happen to the people who love and care about you?"

Komaeda opened his mouth to refute him, but quickly snapped it shut again when a scalpel zipped past his head, lodging itself in the wall behind him with a thwunk. The doctor had raised his head, arm poised with another scalpel in hand and eyes filled with deadly intent as he glared at Komaeda.

"Get the fuck out of my office you ugly bastard."

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

Komaeda opens his eyes suddenly, silently.

It's no dramatic waking up from a nightmare, no shooting up out of bed with his lungs burning and chest heaving. Just a sudden realisation that he is awake and that he has been dreaming. Perhaps he was kicked out of Matsuda's office, but how would he know? It was just as possible that he'd risen to his feet and beaten him senseless.

…Matsuda?

It's a familiar name, but not one that belongs to anyone Komaeda knows. "Matsuda-kun. Matsuda… Hope's Peak?"

He mumbles to himself, attempting to make sense of the information thrown at him. They say dreams are pulled from your memories, so why would he have memories from Hope's Peak? Why would he have memories of a person he has never known?

"Matsuda… I called him the Ultimate Neurologist, didn't I?" He asks the question to the darkness of his room. "I wouldn't forget somebody like that, would I?"

Komaeda sits up, pushing his hair back as he brings a hand to his forehead. "Would I?"

Eyes drifting along the covers of his bed, he spots the memory notebook. "I wonder if I should start keeping one too," he chuckles.

[raindropsduringthesunset]

Painting a Beauty (TSS Fateful Fae AU)

Ao3 ~~~ Wattpad

First Part, Last Part, Next Part

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Janus, Patton, Logan, Remus (Mentioned)

Relationships: Prinxiety (Platonic), Prinxiety (Romantic?), Anxceit (Platonic), Anxceit (Romantic?), Virgil&Roman&Janus (Platonic), Virgil/Roman/Janus (Romantic?)

TW: panic/fear, arguing/bickering (playful context)

cw: food, Janus (sympathetic), Patton (sympathetic), in for a moment), Remus (mentioned) cursing, teasing, possessiveness

Request: "As for requests, may I see some Anaroceit(Virgil/Roman/Janus) content with Janus and Roman just obliterating Virgil with compliments?" ~ KorruptBrekker on ao3!

Summary: Roman wants to paint V. Luckily for him, so does Janus.

~~~

Roman had to be honest, he didn’t know what he was getting into when he agreed to keep V. Don’t get him wrong, he was very happy that he was around- but it was just so… different with him there.

Roman and the Duke couldn’t just mess around and spar all day without planning in advance, he couldn’t construct and deconstruct anything without warning V first, he couldn’t even create the fields anymore without talking to J. While he wished he could do all the things he used to, waking up every morning and wandering into the kitchen to see V sitting on the counter eating a piece of toast with Pat nearby was all worth it. Anything was worth it with V.

Every day Roman would walk to the lake for maintenance and foraging and see V sitting by the shoreline. Roman would smile when he would carefully dip his fingertips into the water or pick up a rock and fiddle with it. More than once has Roman considered painting the scene. He knows J would most likely poke fun at him for it- but he couldn’t be bothered to care. It wasn’t like J didn’t want a painting of V just as much as he did.

Okay yeah, it was a bit creepy but come on. V was the most adorable thing he’d seen in ages. He deserved to be immortalized in art to truly capture his beauty. Roman wanted to paint every beautiful imperfection and line every cutting edge that V had. He wanted to paint him in any circumstance; relaxing, cooking, eating, sleeping- he didn’t care. V was just always so endearing.

Roman had fallen fast and hard for V and he was far from ashamed or embarrassed to admit it. Sometimes he wanted to hold V’s face and just tell him everything was okay. Every day he walked by Roman wanted to push a piece of his hair out of his face and see him blush oh so beautifully. Roman swore to himself that one day he’d paint V.

He’d spoken to the Duke about it on one of their adventures only to get passive-aggressively pushed off with a small joke-like mutter of ‘at least he pays attention to you’. He did feel bad for his brother not getting as much attention as everyone else from V, but they both knew exactly why. Roman was the most… put together half of the twins for lack of better phrasing. As much as he loved his brother, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to share V with him. V was his; well, V was technically everyone’s but that was beside the point. His brother tended to break things he would borrow. Roman may have been second to arrive but by the gods, he would not be the first to leave V.

Linebreak

“Good afternoon, beauty,” Roman waved from where he was sat at the lake as V walked to the lake. He raised his eyebrow as V sat down a few feet away from him, putting a basket down next to him.

“Is there anything you are interested in doing today?” V shrugged and kept his face neutral as he reached into the shallow water and pulled out a pebble. Roman strained his ears to hear what V was saying but despite his efforts, couldn’t hear him.

“Could you repeat that, little one?” Roman put a hand in the water and felt around before pulling out a smooth piece of purple sea glass. He looked at it for a moment before extending his hand to V.

“I’m thinking of looking for flowers for Pat to cook with,” V said softly, taking the glass and rotating it against his fingers. Roman nodded and gazed across into the water.

“Ah, do we need more honeysuckle?”

“And lavender,” V said, looking up at Roman with a small smile. And oh, oh dear that just made him melt.

“And until then? Or do you perhaps want to do it now?” Roman asked, reaching into the water again.

“I don’t know, I’m figuring it out,” V mumbled, going back to weighing the glass in his hands. Roman pulled out another piece of sea glass- this one a vibrant red. V glanced over opening and closing his mouth before training his eyes down. Roman's jaw tightened as he attempted to hold his words- ultimately failing his small challenge and giving in.

“You can ask things little one, have we not made that clear?” Roman’s eyebrows knitted together as he put the glass in his pocket.

“Nono you… you have I’m just-” V sighed and rubbed his sleeves against his face, “I was wondering something. It’s fine.”

Roman rolled his eyes gently and reached his hands over and carefully- feather-light so that V could pull away, pulled V’s arms from his face. He frowned for a moment at his reddened face, scratched by the fabric.

“Just ask beauty. I promise I won’t be mad.”

“J told me you painted…” V mumbled, fumbling with his thumbs.

Ohhh. The weight on Roman’s shoulders lightened just a bit,

“Would you like to paint with me today?” Roman proposed, a gentle smile stretching across his face. V nodded, looking away with a small blush.

Roman drifted his hands up and cupped V’s cheeks, almost laughing as he felt his face heat up further beneath his hands. V hesitated before resting his weight into the hands, cautiously closing his eyes. Roman cooed softly and pushed a bit of V’s hair out of his eyes. He’d have to get the Duke to cut the hair for him eventually- but for now Roman gently tugged at the roots of his hair, listening to V borderline purr when he scratched his nails against his scalp.

I wonder…?

Roman reached behind V’s ear and rubbed circles into the hard bone with the pad of his finger. He was delighted when V practically keened and leaned into the touch, gently whining every so often. Roman relished in the small sounds he could draw out of V. He drifted a finger across V’s nose and chuckled as he sighed, his head bobbing slowly.

“Alright, I believe that’s enough.” Roman looked up as Janus walked over to the two of them.

“Oh? Are you growing possessive again?” He teased, continuing to scratch at V’s head. Janus pursed his lips and adjusted his coat.

Got him.

“I’m not possessive, I just do not wish for you to hurt him.” He hissed his half-truth. Roman laughed as Janus swatted his hand away. V whined and chased after the touch, opening his eyes with a small frown before he realized that there was more than one person with him. He glanced to Janus and neutralized his expression, trying to get his blush down.

Janus drifted over to V and gently rested a hand in his hair, looking down at Roman as he slowly began to thread his hand through the strands. Ro rolled his eyes and reached a hand out to hold V’s, swiping his thumb pad softly against his hand.

“To see you committing to your double standards is unremarkably unsurprising.”

“Oh, hush. Now, what were you two discussing before I arrived?”

“Only what we have planned for the day. We’re going painting later this afternoon if you’re interested in relaxing for once.” Janus scoffed and ruffled V’s hair before pulling his hand away and bending down slightly to grab Roman’s chin.

“Sass me as such and I may have to refuse.”

“As if you would refuse an offer to spend time with your favorite little thing.” Roman chimed back, a mischievous smile crossing his lips.

“Hm, I hate to bruise your ego my prince, but you simply are not what I favor,” Janus hummed, relaxing his touch slightly and gliding his hand to Roman’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb across Roman’s cheekbone with a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, I’m afraid I wasn’t referring to myself,” Roman raised a hand to gently pull Janus’ from his face, “Have you already forgotten after only just a moment?”

Janus glanced back to V who was staring at the water like it was the most interesting thing in the realm. The pink blush coated the mortal’s cheeks darkened when he noticed the two fae had finished their conversation in favor of gazing at them. J could hardly resist when he reached forward and gently cupped V’s face in a hand.

“Hello my darling,” Janus cooed. The boy breathed steadily, taking a long blink before the words registered.

“Hello,” He said barely above a whisper. Roman drifted his thumb against V’s hand once more before looking up at Janus.

“So, is that a yes to coming along with us?” He coaxed. Janus smiled down on V and rubbed his thumb against his lip, relishing in how his breath hitched.

“Must you ask?”

Timeskip

Foraging had gone well. V had almost accidentally picked a poisonous flower and panicked for a moment but other than that nothing truly notable had happened.

Janus, busy as always, was tending to the realm and mending any tears in gateways. Roman would never admit, but he truly admired how effortlessly J could weave the thin strands of reality and warp them so perfectly to create such flawless gateways. Most fae would simply construct a thin gateway in moments and allow it to fall apart whenever they got bored. But Janus seemed to take pride in his creations. He spent hours every day wandering around the realm, searching for loose strands and the occasional broken bond in the fabric of time.

It was all too existential for Roman. He had never bothered to spend time to ponder just how their realms were made. That wasn’t his job anyway. All he had to worry about was presentation and average upkeep.

“Prince?” V asked, snapping Roman out of his daze and making him look over to where V was sitting beside him.

“Yes, beauty?”

“May I… Can we paint soon?” He mumbled, shuffling with the edges of his sleeves. Roman smiled at him and stood up, brushing off dirt from his slacks.

“Of course. Bring your basket, we’ll stop by the kitchens on our way to the grove.” Roman outstretched a hand to V, helping him stand up. V adjusted his shirt and kicked his feet into the dirt before moving to pick up the now full basket.

Some time between moving from the hearth of the realm to the clearing Roman had reached over and gently took V’s hand in his. V’s hands were slightly clammy in his, squirming every so often, but Roman would simply squeeze his hand every so often to ground him. It’s okay, don’t let go little one, I have you, you’re mine, you’re ours.

“Alright, shall we go get J?”

“Couldn’t I just… call for him?” V asked, setting down his basket on the counter. Roman raised his eyebrows.

“If he actually came, I’d be pleasantly surprised.” Roman paused and looked V up and down before sighing, “Actually, considering earlier, I wouldn’t be… that shocked.” V looked back at him and frowned.

“Why wouldn’t he come? Why- why wouldn’t you be surprised?” Roman sighed and leaned against the wall.

“J… He’s never been the most sentimental. He’s all too walled-off with us. He encloses himself so tightly in a shroud of fake indifference. It was admirable for a fair amount of time, then the act just got old. But you, my beauty,” Roman laughed to himself, “You’ve broken him in.

“He seems much more fulfilled being able to care so deeply for someone. Though, I’m not sure as to why I’m so surprised. You are so precious.” V looked down, a deep blush covering his cheeks as he let out a low groan. Ro chuckled gently and pushed himself off the wall.

“Alright, alright little one. I’ll stop.” V walked toward him and stopped before stepping through the portal.

“I’ll call for him as we leave the clearing. Or if you take too long, I’ll just have him guide me to the grove.” V teased before stepping through. Roman rolled his eyes and rubbed fixed his coat before stepping through himself.

Timeskip

Sure as could be, Janus had arrived when V called. After a small bit of arguing, Roman had convinced Janus to pose for them. He, of course, seized the opportunity to open his shirt a bit and silently flirt with V. He wasn’t afraid to do a more intricate pose, laying on his side and propping his body sideways. He laid his cloak underneath him, letting some of it dangle slightly off of the stone bench.

The three knew this process would take a while, Roman would glance to V every so often to see his progress, taking in the red dusting his cheeks as he looked between his canvas and Janus.

“J, for the gods’ sake, stop looking at V like that. It’s quite distracting.” Roman huffed, flicking paint onto his brush. The bristles scratched against the canvas, barely muffling the dramatized gasp from the posing fae.

“But my dearest V seems to quite enjoy it, don’t you darling?” He hummed, sending a quick wink and flirty smirk. V hunched his shoulders and forced himself to focus more on his canvas. His strokes and breaths got ever so slightly faster. That was enough of a sign for the fae to back off. Janus softened his expression.

“I apologize little one, I shouldn’t have assumed such a thing,” He snapped his eyes to Roman as he opened his mouth, “Don’t you dare.” V chuckled, making the fae smile.

A few hours and breaks for snacks and water later, the three decided to end their session. V’s hands were dotted with different colored paints, along with his clothes as well. Roman, miraculously, had painted without accidentally getting even a drop of the paint on him. Stupid fucking fae and their magic making them all clean and stuff all the time. That’s not even fair.

“Hm, I guess your edition of my figure is… nice, could use a little work around the hair though.” Janus ribbed, laughing as Roman gaped with mock offense.

“How dare you, my art is flawless. Just because you feel you must be correct in every circumstance doesn’t mean you truly are.” Janus rolled his eyes and adjusted his hair out of his eyes.

“V darling, may I see yours?” Janus asked, pushing a side of his hair over his shoulder. V’s eyes widened as he looked back at his canvas, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

“It isn’t very good. I haven’t painted in a while and-” V rambled only to get cut off by Roman.

“Dear, I’m sure it isn’t as bad as you say. I know you’re talented, plus,” Roman and Janus looked at each other and smirked before looking back at V, “We can taste your lie.”

“Too bitter a taste for something as sweet as you darling.” J flirted, the fae smiling as V’s blush rose back onto his face. V silently stepped to the side and turned to stand by his painting. The two followed suit and stopped on opposite sides of the mortal.

“Oh little one, this is…” V braced himself, “gorgeous.”

… What?

“I must agree, this absolutely stunning.”

Wait hold on, how? This isn’t how this was supposed to go. V’s thoughts swirled, unsure as to what he truly wanted to happen.

Perhaps he wanted them to tell him how terrible he is at art, throw him away for being useless. V didn’t know what he wanted from them. As much as he seemed to want them to hate it- and in turn hate him- he equally didn’t want them to not like it.

It seemed pathetic to him that he wanted so badly for two things on wildly different spectrums, knowing full well that he couldn’t get both. Gods why was it so hard to figure out what he wanted- what he needed.

“Darling? Are you with us?” When V’s eyes focused back he found himself staring into Janus’. His heart sped up in his chest as he realized how close they were.

“May I touch you, little one?” V’s dazed nod was enough for the two. Janus reached a hand forward and rubbed his cheek, Roman moving behind V to wrap his arms around his waist.

“Beauty, I promise you that we would never and could never lie to you,” Roman said, bending down slightly to rest his head on V’s shoulder.

“I once heard someone say,” Janus and Roman locked eyes for a precious moment, “the art matches the artist, and you, my dear…”

Janus cupped the bottom of V’s chin and leaned in close, ghosting his lips against his cheek for a moment before tilting his head to the side slightly. Roman twisted his head to tuck into the little pocket that Janus had made, his breathing sending a shiver down V’s spine.

“You are as beautiful as any Renaissance painting, gods, far more beautiful than anything I’ve seen. It shows in your art how stunning you are my darling.” Janus whispered in his ear, holding himself back from kissing his cheek. Roman looked up for a moment, smirking slightly but biting his tongue. V’s blush darkened, his cheeks red as he let out a low whine. The two fae chuckled.

“What is it beauty?” Roman asked, tapping his fingers against V’s sides carefully as to not tickle him. V did not whine, he did not lean more into the touch, and he was not flustered.

Roman pulled away slightly, looking at Janus for only a second before turning V around in his arms and bringing his hands up. He propped up V’s head with the heels of his hands, gently tapping the pads of his fingers against V’s cheeks. V let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his face hot. Janus rolled his eyes at Roman’s antics and stepped closely behind V, placing his chin on top of his head and bringing a hand through his hair.

V keened, unable to tell who he wanted to lean into. It was all too much but also not enough. There was so much to just feel, and so much that he was feeling. His heart sped up and the two fae slowly moved from action to action. Janus eventually turning him back around and Roman bringing his hands to V’s hips, resting his head on top of V’s and humming quietly.

“Oh little one,” Janus took one of his hands, resting his forehead against V’s, “How you have undone us.” V whined and turned his head to rest his cheek against his.

“As much as I would love to simply stand here forever, we must leave for supper. Pat wouldn’t be happy with us if you were late to eat.” Janus chuckled and rolled his head to reconnect V and his foreheads.

“I’m not sure anyone would be happy with us stealing all of V’s attention. I wish we could just have our beautiful darling to ourselves.” V whined again and pulled his head back, opening his eyes with a small pout that neither fae was sure he was aware of.

“Alright beauty, alright. We’re done for now.”

Linebreak

Roman still hadn’t gotten that painting, not for lack of trying. He’d spent hours planning a time to ask V to model for him, to perhaps just lay down and take a nap by him, come on little one, I promise it’s safe, I’ll protect you.

“Have you tried just asking him to model?” L asked, not bothering to look up from his notebook. Roman stopped his pacing and snapped his head toward L, Of course he… hadn’t… Gods, how did he just forget? It was a painting, not even a nude one, and he was nervous to just ask his subject for a few hours of their time.

“I um… I haven’t really- I didn’t… It didn’t even come to mind.” Roman confessed, running a hand through his hair. L huffed a laugh and sent a glance up.

“Well…? Are you going to just stand around like a confused toddler or go ask him?” He teased, flipping a page. Roman pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. As much as he loved L’s wisdom, his snark was far less enjoyable.

J?

Yes?

Would you like to join me?

With what, Prince?

I’m going to be asking V if I can paint him.

Well, I doubt that he’d say no to the both of us…

Is that a yes or are you speaking in riddles again?

Do you take me for a fool? Of course.

Timeskip

Asking V to let himself be painted wasn’t very hard, actually getting him relaxed enough to be painted was extremely difficult. He was so tense- so scared that he would move and mess up. The two fae fussed about, trying to get him to just take a breath.

“Little one, come here.” Janus beckoned V as Roman fixed the easels, “Breathe with me for a moment dear, just a moment.” Janus extended a hand for V to take, drawing circled in alternating directions on his hands as they took deep breaths.

“Good, good. You’re doing perfectly darling. Look at me please- yes, good.” Janus smiled and slowly reached his hand toward V’s face, pulling back when he flinched, “Alright, I won’t touch, you, that’s alright. Just keep breathing okay little one.” Roman walked over and placed a hand on Janus’s shoulder, using him as support as he crouched down a bit.

“Is there anything we can do to make this easier? Would you perhaps like to back out?” Roman asked, a soft tone seeping into his voice like syrup into warm tea. V shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them drearily. An idea flickered behind Roman’s eyes.

“Would you perhaps like to take a nap? Just lay down and relax for a bit. Would you allow us to paint you while you rested?” Janus raised an eyebrow and nodded, rubbing the bone of his thumb against his wrist. V’s eyes moved, shifting from thing to thing as he thought for a moment. He mumbled quietly under his breath, Roman just out of earshot to hear what made Janus laugh.

“What did he say?” Janus pushed Virgil’s bangs behind his ear.

“He’s worried that he’ll snore,” if Janus would have given anyone else the look he gave V, Roman would have made fun of him for it, “Honestly my darling, you’re too precious.”

“Beauty, we would rather you be relaxed and noisy- adorably noisy at that- than awake and stressed while we paint you. Also, both of us are well aware of how late you’ve been staying awake lately. You must relax, my beauty.” Roman coaxed. V blinked at the two for a moment, his pink undertones lighting up as the words settled in his chest.

“I- Are you sure you wouldn’t get annoyed.”

“Darling, I’m not sure any of us could be annoyed by you.” Janus smiled down at V, bringing their hands up to plant a gentle kiss on the heel of V’s palm. He chuckled when V blushed and attempted to hide his face away.

“Can- can we do the uh… the sleep thing?” V asked, trying to get his brain to think through his body screaming at him to just melt into the affection and attention he was getting. Roman and Janus smiled at him. Roman reached forward and running a hand through his hair, Janus reaching behind him to rub his back.

“Of course little one, just relax.” Janus moved to sit a little away from V, gently pulling him to lay his head in his lap while he carded his hands through his hair. Roman sat down in front of them, holding V’s hand and humming softly.

It was all so… domestic. If V had been anyone else, Janus wouldn’t even have considered doing this. Of course he might make an exception for his clan- emphasis on the might- but something about V triggered every protective instinct he had. He was so small, so hurt, so afraid. Only recently the fae had been able to get him comfortable around them, though V still gravitated towards Janus. Roman looked up at him as V’s breath evened out, coming in soft puffs.

May we stay just a few more moments?

Absolutely.

Roman nodded and leaned toward V’s face, gently pushing his bangs out of his eyes before planting a kiss onto his forehead. Janus smiled and used a spare hand to ruffle Roman’s hair, chuckling when he sent a quick glare in return before looking back down.

He’s beautiful.

I’m fully aware.

I know, but it never hurts to remind.

… We’ve broken in for him, haven’t we?

We aren’t broken J, simply softened. Have you not noticed?

I’m not blind, Prince. It’s just… strange. Do you perhaps think he’s enchanted?

No, we would be able to detect that. I think he’s just… new, simply something we’ve never experienced.

Ah… Strange.

… It’s scary, being devoted to something new- something so breakable, so precious.

I have to agree. It’s also strangely nice- pleasant even.

The fae looked at each other.

May we start?

Of course.

Timeskip

The two were almost finished with the last few layers of paint, occasionally sending a quip to each other while waiting for the paint to dry. Roman had taken off his coat and folded it to be placed beneath V’s head, Janus draping his cloak gently over him. V was right, he did in fact snore. Janus was also correct in the assumption that V was very adorable when sleeping. Every so often V would stir, and cause the fae to pause to watch and hope for him to relax again.

“What are you up to-”

“Shhhh!” Roman hissed, turning his head to send Patton a small glare.

He’s sleeping.

Well, it’s also his supper time, if you could wake him that would be wonderful. We’re having salmon.

Hm, the duke will be pleased.

He’s been upset lately; jealous.

Of course he’s been jealous. His brother has been soaking up all of his new playfriend’s time.

I haven’t been soaking up his time!

Oh hush, you just don’t know how to share. One of you wake him, I’ll go set the table with L.

Pat waved goodbye and walked back out of the grove. Janus rolled his eyes and set down his pallet and brush. He gracefully walked to V while Roman collected their brushes and cleaned up.

“Darling, it’s time to wake up,” Janus placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it gently, smiling gently when his eyes cracked open just a little, “Hello there.”

“Hi,” V blinked slowly, a glossy sheen of sleep coating his eyes. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Janus reached around and rubbed V’s back, chucking when he groaned and leaned into the pressure.

“Up up, it’s time for supper,” Roman said, washing the brushes off in a bucket by his easel. V groaned louder and sent a mock-glare to him, a frown on his face as he tried to stretch while sitting. Ro rolled his eyes and smirked at him.

“Don’t groan at me, you know you have to eat.”

“Yeah, and it’s fuckin’ stupid.” Janus chuckled and patted his back before standing up fully.

“Watch your language little one, Pat wouldn’t be all too happy to hear such language coming from you.” He quipped back, the two falling quickly into a mock-argument. Roman rolled his eyes and flicked the water off of his hands.

“As much as I find your conversation endearing, I don’t feel like getting lectured. Come on, we’re already late.”

“Fine, fine, we’re getting up.”

Linebreak

Roman had finished the painting on his own time. He was almost embarrassed to say that he had memorized the exact image of V. He dragged his brush steadily against the canvas, capturing each hair and blemish. He had to admit that he wasn’t all that thrilled that Janus had put his cloak on V at the time, but it kept him warm. He wasn’t very happy that he wasn’t the only claim visible in the painting.

He knew V was to be shared between them. He knew he was supposed to let V be with whoever whenever. But he was so tired of sharing. Roman just wanted to have him to himself for… a while. He wasn’t selfish- he wasn’t!

As Roman hung the painting up on his wall, he took a deep breath. V still looked so relaxed, so peaceful, so perfect. He may be possessive, he may want to steal V away for himself, but if the others made V happy- which he clearly did-, he’d allow it. V completed them- completed him. Roman wanted V to be his, but he accepted that V needed to be everyone’s.

Even if it was the hardest thing he ever did.

Taglist: @i-read-by-lamp

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Epilogue

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

          “Alf?”

           “You alright, love? I heard you getting a bit heated over the phone.” Alfie was at the sink, gently washing the sand off Ezra’s feet. Father and son had been out on the beach that morning watching the waves and the sea birds overhead.

           “I was on the phone with Tommy.” Ella set Sofia down so she could go to Alfie.

           “I figured that much.” He replied sympathetically.

           She walked around to stand by the sink. Ezra gave her a gummy smile, squirming a bit because of the cold water on his toes. Ella grabbed a towel to give to Alfie so he could dry Ezra off. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

           “About what, love?” He asked, shutting off the sink and taking the towel from his wife.

           “Just…everything. Tommy was going on and on about how things used to be. I mean-I understand where he’s coming from. He spent all that time looking toward the future, looking at what he could have instead of appreciating what he did have. Now he regrets it because look at everything that’s happened. We’ve lost so many people. But…I like what I have now. I can’t look to the past anymore.”

           “I hate to say it, but your brother’s gone and dug his own grave, hasn’t he? He wanted power and this is what it gave him. The man doesn’t know when to quit.” Alfie wiped off Ezra’s feet even though the toddler gave him a bit of a hard time, kicking his legs and giggling like mad.

           “But we know when to step away, right?” Ella asked quietly.

           Alfie set Ezra down so he could dry his hands off. “What’s the matter, love? Talk to me.”

           Ella wrapped her arms around herself, thoroughly shaken by the world around her. When once she had been so fearless, she was becoming aware of how chaotic things could become. “I’m scared that we’re going to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

           “We’re not gonna lose anything. What are you afraid of losing?” Alfie wasn’t looking to ridicule his wife, he saw the fear in her eyes, and in turn, it worried him. One of his primary jobs was to comfort her.

           “I’m afraid of losing you, I’m afraid of losing the twins, I-I’m afraid of losing my sanity, Alfie.” Her voice broke. “I never expected any of this to happen. Th-this has all gone too far and I can’t take it anymore.”

           “It’s alright love.” He embraced her, pulling her to his chest.

           “It’s not alright, Alfie. I’m not going to give you up because of the things Tommy does. But there are things in this world that I can’t stop.”

           Alfie was starting to pick up on the root of her worry. After all, Mosley was just one man. They could deal with individuals, gangs even. But when there was some sort of movement, with an unknown amount of people following? Well, they couldn’t exactly fight off the world, could they? Even if Tommy Shelby liked to think he could. “The world we’re living in, s’not ideal, is it? But there are more people who are willing to fight this than are willing to stay quiet.”

           “How do you know that?” She asked.

           “Because I fought in a bloody war for the sake of this country.” He reminded her. “I don’t doubt that we’d do it again if we’re threatened again.”

           “But they’re here, Alfie. There are people in Britain who would rather see you hung than fight for you.”

           There were things that Alfie could brush off. He could brush off her brother’s disdain for him. He could brush off the slurs that Darby was so fond of calling him. He could even brush off that he was shot in the eye. But he couldn’t brush off his wife’s concern for him. “What would you suggest we do then, love?” He asked softly, gently petting her hair.

           “I think we should just go somewhere else.” She whispered. “We can go to America, we can put this behind us.”

           “There are fascists in America, El. There ain’t a place on this Earth that’s pure.” He told her truthfully. “America might be further away, but it ain’t much different.”

           Ella couldn’t argue with that. She knew that it didn’t matter how far she went. It didn’t matter if she changed her last name from Shelby. She would always be involved in Tommy’s game. It was her birthright. Something would always bring her back.

           “Mumma.”

           Ella drew away from Alfie so she could scoop Ezra up. “I won’t lose them.” She whispered. It had been painful enough to lose her twins before they were even born. But to lose Ezra and Sofia after she had bonded with them? Ella knew she would never be able to come back from that.

           Alfie nodded. “Well, we’ve got more than enough money to retire. We can sell the bakery, sell the flat in Camden. We can stay here for the rest of our lives.”  

           “I’m scared.”

           “I know. It’s a scary world, but you know we can make it work. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           For the next few years, Ella lived her life very removed from her family. That wasn’t to say she never saw them. She made a habit to keep in touch but wouldn’t involve herself in any business matters. She was vocal about Tommy’s mental state but there wasn’t anything anyone could do. It was all in his hands. And he continued on as the soldier he was.

           Lizzie and Polly confided in Ella often, if only to make sure they weren’t going crazy because of Tommy’s behavior. But they also respected that Ella was raising her own family and had more than enough good reasons to keep her distance.

           For the most part, she and Alfie remained at Margate with the children. Retired and happy to be retired, Alfie was content staying by the ocean. They returned to Camden for special occasions or to see friends and family. But Ella felt much more comfortable at Margate. Going back to London was just another reminder of the trouble brewing. There was unrest, not just in the city, and not just in the country. It was across the continent and Ella felt like everyone was just holding their breath, waiting for the powder keg to explode again.

           Outside of the city, however, she felt much more removed from it all. She could truly enjoy her life as being a wife and mother. She had gained the peace she had always looked forward to.

           As the twins grew, their personalities started to blossom and it was such a lovely thing to see.

           Sofia was a rambunctious little girl who loved the outdoors. One of her favorite things was to trawl the shoreline with Alfie by her side so she could find little sea critters in tide pools. Or sometimes she’d crouch in the garden, hunting for bugs and earthworms. A day without getting her clothes stained with dirt or covered in sand was not a day well spent in Sofia’s eyes.

           Ezra was on the shyer side. He became very bashful when talking to people he didn’t know well and would cling to Ella when they were visiting others in Camden. But he was curious in his own way. Often times, he would have long discussions with his father, simply asking endless questions about how things worked. Where the sun went at night, how did clocks know the time, how did the record player work, why did Cyril have a tail and he didn’t, how come birds fly, how big is the moon. Any little thing would pique his curiosity and he would rush to Alfie for information.

           Trouble was, Alfie wasn’t too sure how to answer his questions most of the time. There were some things he could explain, but most of Ezra’s questions were beyond his expertise. It was a blessing, then, that Ezra learned to read at a very young age. He absorbed books like a sponge and it was hard to get him to stop reading and go to bed.

           Their differing personalities positively enchanted Ella. Despite how difficult motherhood was, she was so happy to take the journey. Every day, her children surprised her and gave her another reminder of how blessed she was.

           It was a difficult balance, trying to keep her children safe while still allowing them to have a relationship with their kin. It was easier to have them around the people from Camden. They grew up with the other children of Ella’s friends and came to know the people they would consider like aunts and uncles.

           But with Birmingham, Ella was very cautious. She understood how easy it was to be swept up into the Shelby Company Limited. Her cousin Michael was a great example. Although raised outside of the family, once he was back in, there was no going back. Ella refused to allow her children to be roped in. Perhaps she was being over-skeptical of her own family. But she was willing to be over-cautious rather than let her guard down.

           Still, she allowed her children to attend parties and holidays with the Shelby family. It was tense, at least in Ella’s shoes. She watched her brothers like a hawk whenever they were around the twins.

~~~~~~~~~~

           One bright summer afternoon, while celebrating Finn’s birthday at Arrow House, Tommy came over to his sister.

           She was sitting in the shade, watching her children play with their cousins on the lawn. Cyril and Anthea were running around with them, just as happy. Alfie was talking with Polly a bits away. The two had grown a well-formed relationship of respect. Polly liked that he had taken care of Ella all those years and Alfie appreciated Polly’s sanity.

           Tommy took a seat beside his sister and pulled out a cigarette. He coughed a bit as he lit it.

           “Y’know, some people are saying smoking is bad for you.” She said. “Maybe you should cut down.”

           “Lots of things in life are bad for you.” He replied and took a drag from the cigarette anyways.

           “Charlie looks so much like Grace now.” Ella did everything in her power to avoid arguments at family functions. She knew there was no point, nothing she could do would change anyone’s minds especially Tommy’s.

           Charlie was kicking a football back and forth with Karl, trying to keep the ball from Anthea. He was so grown from the little toddler that he once was. He was nearly a teenager, had grown like a weed, and indeed was nearly the spitting image of his mother.

           “He’s been asking about her,” Tommy told Ella. “He knows Lizzie isn’t his biological mother, so he’s been asking about Grace.”

           “What did you tell him?”

           “That we lost her before he was old enough to remember her. I gave him all the photographs I had of her. I don’t know what else to do.”

           “I don’t think there’s much else you can do.” Ella shrugged.

           The siblings went quiet for a moment. Tommy smoking and Ella watching the children play.

           “Do you trust me, El?” He asked out of nowhere.

           “Trust you?”

           “Yeah.”

           She glanced over at him to gauge whether he was trying to get a rise out of her or not. But he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. “Why are you asking that?”

           “Because it seems like anytime I’m near Ezra or Sofia, you’re looking at me like I’m about to kidnap them or feed ‘em to a lion.”

           She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even say that.”

           “So, you completely trust me, then? I’m just overthinking things, aye?” He challenged.

            Ella crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

           “You’re kin, Ella. They’re kin. Fuck it, even Alfie is kin by now. You really think I’m going to bring them harm?”

           “I trust that you want what’s best for everyone. I trust that all those years ago, you made a conscious decision to help this family. I trust that maybe you didn’t anticipate all of this, and if you had known maybe you never would’ve done any of it. I know you’re a good man, Tommy. I know the person you were growing up. I just…I wish you would quit this. I thought so many times that this would be the one thing that would make you stop. But every time, no matter what happened, you kept at it. I know that if you don’t stop, you’ll be killed. And if that’s something you accept then…there’s nothing else I can do.” She sighed heavily. “But I have to protect my children from that fate. I know you don’t want this for our kids. You said so many times that if we had children, they would never grow up the same way we did. We were supposed to be the ones to stop the cycle, Tom.”

           “I know.” He said in a rare tone of assent.

           “I’m scared,” Ella admitted, trying to keep her composure for the sake of the party. “I’m so fucking scared of everything in this world now, Tommy.”

           Tommy had always known his sister to be fearless. Now it seemed that motherhood had brought up new fears in her. Maybe because she knew what it was like to grow up poor in a dangerous neighborhood. She was familiar with guns before she even went to school. She’d seen death and violence at an early age. It was only a natural instinct to want better for her children. But it didn’t mean she had to have such a crippling fear of everything. “Things are gonna be alright, El.”

           “That’s what Alfie says, that’s what everyone says but I’m not blind!” She exclaimed. “I know that it’s only a matter of time ‘fore…”

           “Before what?” He asked gently.

           Ella shook her head. “It’s a cycle, Tommy, it’s always a cycle. Do you know what I prayed for every night while you and Arthur and John were in France?”

           Tommy could only imagine. She was so young back then. “I don’t-tell me.”

           “I prayed that you three would all come back home safe. And when you did, I prayed that you’d all find nice women and settle down. I prayed that you would all have good lives and be at peace. But then I saw you at the train station and I knew that would never happen. The things you saw over there, the things that happened…I know why you three changed, I get it. But I never anticipated what would happen after that.”

           “I know.”

           Ella looked down at her hands, almost too tired to continue going around in circles with him. Facts were facts and the past was the past. “Do you think we’re going to go to war?”

           Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

           She swallowed and chewed on her lip. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

           What else could he say? His nightmares were growing more severe, the shovels were getting louder.

           “It terrifies me.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After Finn’s birthday party, Ella felt a little more forgiving toward her family. Maybe if they understood her anxiety, she could trust them a bit more. She also knew that there was no use arguing with Tommy. Both of them understood what it felt like for their sanity to slowly trickle away. They understood what it felt to have the world on their shoulders. They were too alike to blame one another.

           One night, back in Margate, Ella was coming in from bringing Cyril and Anthea out. She shrugged off her coat and hung up the dog leashes. Anthea bolted to Ezra’s bedroom while Cyril hobbled down the hall. The bullmastiff was getting up in age but still had the same docile demeanor he had when she had met him for the first time in London as a pup.

           Ella gave the old dog a pat. “Good boy.” She said softly and followed him into Ezra’s room where Alfie was reading a bedtime story to the twins.

           “My armor is like tenfold…”

           “No, Smaug is still talking so you’ve gotta do the voice!” Ezra protested.

           Alfie chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He cleared his throat and began to rumble in a deep, menacing voice. “My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail is a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath…death!” He read from The Hobbit dramatically.

           Sofia and Ezra laughed, delighted by all the voices their father did for every book he read them. It was commonplace. Alfie always read to them even if he struggled with the strain on his one good eye and often got headaches.

           The eight-year-old twins were always insistent that he read to them, and Alfie wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved their rapt expressions as he read. Sofia often laid on the bed, petting Cyril or Anthea as she imagined the scene her father was describing. Ezra cuddled up close to Alfie in the crook of his arm so he could try and read along with his father. Sometimes he’d stop Alfie and point to a word he didn’t understand, asking for the definition.

           Sometimes, Ella would sit in just to spend those last few moments of the day with her family. But that night, it had grown too late.

           “It’s late, my loves.” She interrupted.

           Sofia looked up and pulled a pout. “Nooooo, mummy it’s not that late!”

           “It’s summer!” Ezra chimed in.

           “It is quite late.” Ella walked into the room.

           “Mum’s right.” Alfie dog-eared the page in the book and began to untangle himself from the children, Ezra on his arm and Sofia sprawled over his legs.

           “But dad hasn’t finished the chapter,” Ezra whined.

           “S’a long chapter, mate.” His father stood and helped him under the covers. “We’ll pick up on the rest of it tomorrow.” He promised. “Not much left of this book anyhow, don’t want to go storming through the rest. Best we take our time ‘n savor it, aye?” He scooped Sofia up so he could bring her to her bedroom.

           Ella tucked Ezra in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight my love.”

           Cyril took his place in his bed on the floor of Ezra’s room. It was remarkable because the old dog liked sleeping in the little boy’s room. Ella guessed it was because Ezra spent so much time inside reading with Cyril snoozing beside him on the sofa. Meanwhile, Anthea chose to sleep in Sofia’s room. She was very fond of the little girl who always took her out for adventures outside.

           So, Anthea followed them as they brought Sofia across the hall. She hopped up on the bed and curled up by Sofia’s feet.  

           Alfie and Ella kissed her goodnight before retiring to their own bedroom.

           Ella sank into bed as Alfie got ready for the night.

           “Y’know, I like the voices you do too.” She commented.

           “Aye?” He chuckled.

           “Your dragon voice is very nice.”

           “Nice?” He grinned and tossed his shirt to the side. Striding over, he grabbed his wife’s ankles to tug her down the bed.

           She stifled a squeal and giggled. “Alfie!”

           “Hush now. Don’t go waking up the whole house.” He murmured in a low voice and began to creep up her body until they were face to face.

           “Or what? You’ll eat me up?” She teased; her heart started to flutter in her chest. After years of being together, Alfie still never failed to make her swoon. It felt like every night she fell in love with him all over again. Whether they made love or she simply just fell asleep in his arms.

           He laughed and captured her lips with his. One hand pressed into the bed while the other lightly grazed down her side before resting on her thigh.

           When he drew back, she wove her fingers into his hair and pecked his lips a few more times. “I love you, Alfie Solomons.” She murmured.

           “And I love you too, Ella Solomons.” He replied, looking down at her with so much adoration in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           August 1940, the Solomons family traveled out to Small Heath. The twins’ birthday had been a few days earlier but they were now going to celebrate with Ella’s side of the family.

           It was a strange time to be celebrating anything. The continent was at war yet again. It had been almost a year since Britain declared war and started to mobilize. Ella got horrifying flashbacks off the time her brothers had been at war. It was so difficult to fathom that they would live through a repeat of the Great War. But this time, eyes were turned to the next generation. The generation that had been too young to fight, now they were ready.

           Ella urged Polly to do everything she could to keep the Peaky boys off the front lines. But it was futile, not with how headstrong they all were, and not with the draft initiated.

           Now they could all only hope this war wouldn’t last as long as the first one did. They could only hope it wouldn’t be as gruesome and wouldn’t claim as many lives.

           “Erdington then Castle Bromwich,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he stood by the kitchen counter, drink in hand.

           “They’re trying to get a better target.” Tommy agreed with a grim look.

           “Enough.” Polly shushed the men, pointing a cake knife at them. “No talk of the war, not tonight. Let the children be children.”

           “Sorry, Pol,” Arthur mumbled.

           Of course, the war was on all of their minds. It was nearly impossible to ignore it.

            Polly brought the two cakes over to set in front of Sofia and Ezra. As she lit the candles, the family gathered around the table and began to sing Happy Birthday.

           Ella was ready with her camera to take a picture of them as Alfie stood behind them, with a proud look on his face.

           But the moment didn’t last long.

           A loud explosion rocked the very ground and was almost immediately followed by a high pitched siren that had become so common to hear in the cities.

           The men who fought reacted the quickest. Alfie grabbed Sofia and Ezra by the hand and hurried them to the cellar doors. Polly gathered the rest of the children as Arthur hurried them all along. Ella set her camera down on the table and blew out the birthday candles so they wouldn’t catch anything on fire. Tommy shut the lights off in the house, making sure everything was off upstairs as well.

           Once dark, he glanced out the window.

           “Tommy, c’mon.” Ella urged and grabbed her brother by the arm.

           The two headed downstairs where the rest of the family was hiding out from the air raid.

           They knew it was a possibility it was a false alarm. There had been dozens. But there was no telling either way.

           “Mummy!” Sofia wailed.

           “I’m here, I’m here.” Ella hushed her softly and gathered her into her arms. Alfie held her and the twins close, gently soothing them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           It wasn’t a false alarm. Bombs shook the city with such intensity that everyone in the cellar was praying silently or out loud. It felt like they were down there for days when it was mere hours.

           No one could sleep that night. In the morning, Ella left the house, she couldn’t listen to the radio anymore. She walked down to the Bullring and found it in ruins. The buildings had been gutted and ash was covering the ground.

           It was nearly impossible to fully comprehend. People around her stood and stared at the scene in shock as well. Some were crying, others were too lost to react.

           Ella was in such a state that she didn’t notice Tommy standing next to her for a good while. When she did, she glanced up at him.

           He saw the same scared little girl who asked her older brothers not to go to France. She was too afraid they wouldn’t come back. She was still there, the scared girl who was afraid of what war would bring her family.

           “I’ve got a few leads on houses in the countryside. Plenty of space for you and the kids.” Tommy said quietly.

           “We have Margate.”

           “Alfie wants to stay away from any city or town. Anything that might become a target. The country is the best option.”

           “You spoke to him?”

           “Last night.”

           Ella’s stomach was in knots. “Okay.”

           He nodded. “Stay in Margate until then.”

           “We will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was still at the flat with the rest of the family when Ella returned. He was sitting by the radio with Arthur, both of them silent. Ezra was laying on the carpet, drawing while Sofia sat on Alfie’s lap.

           Arthur turned the volume down a bit when his sister came in. “Alright, El?”

           “Yeah, I think we’re going to go back to Margate.” She said quietly.

           Alfie nodded. “Sof and Ez go get your things, yeah?”

           The kids got up to gather their things as Alfie stood up from the armchair. “Did Tommy talk to you about our plan?”

           She nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

           “That’s okay?”

           “We need to keep them safe.” She concluded. “Anyway, we can.”

           “Okay.” He kissed her forehead and rubbed her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

           It didn’t take long before Tommy bought the Solomons a place in the countryside. A lovely little home with a sprawling garden and plenty of space for the twins and the dogs.

           He saw them off at the train station. Most likely, it would be some time before they saw one another again. Knowing Ella, she would keep her children in the safest possible place until they were guaranteed safety in the outside world. Tommy knew he had to respect that.

           “Bye Uncle Tommy.” Ezra and Sofia chimed off, each giving him a big hug.

           “Be good for mum and dad, aye?” He said gently. “Make sure you give everyone a call once and a while, okay?”

           “Okay!”

           “Tom.” Alfie gave his brother-in-law a hearty handshake. “Thanks, mate.”

           “Of course.”

           Ella swallowed her tears as she hugged Tommy next. “Thank you.”

           “I should’ve done this for you when you asked all those years ago. When you wanted to be free and safe.”

           “I never would’ve met Alfie if you did.” She pointed out with a tearful smile.

           “I guess so.” He chuckled and let go of her.

           “Right, ready then?” Alfie helped the kids up into the car of the train then held a hand out to his wife.

           She nodded. “Ready.”  

-The end

//Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this long! It was so hard to end this but I leave the rest up to season 6 and see how things go from there. Huge thanks to my tag lists. If you’re interested my masterlist of all my oneshots and series are pinned to the top of my blog and my requests are open.I’m currently working on a new Alfie series so stay tuned. In the mean time I have a lot of Alfie one shots with more on the way as well as plenty of Tommy content. 

Thank you again!

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Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[kbstories]

Diachronic

dia·chron·ic (adj.) Occurring over time; historical.

Kidd is torn apart and Killer is (almost) too late.

(Or: Kidd loses an arm, wakes up and recovers.)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experience, Loss of Limbs, Recovery, Heat & Killer For MVP I Do Not Make The Rules

Read Chapter 1 here. Additional content warning for loss of a limb and discussions of limb amputation.

***

“Shit, shit, fuck, shit–”

“Keep going. Boss, you there? Hey.”

“So much blood, fuck.”

“We got you out, Boss. You’re safe. The Punk’s right there.”

“Wire, his arm...”

“Boss. Eyes on me, ‘kay? Killer– He’s fine. Right behind us. Just stay awake.”

“His arm–”

“Shut up, Heat, I saw it, just– Keep going. Put pressure on his neck.”

“Yeah. Okay, yeah. Where the fuck is Doc?”

“I don’t know. Hey, Boss? …Kidd?” 

“There! Doc!”

“Shit, shit. We’re losing him–”

 “What?!”

“Kidd–!!”

   *

Eustass Kidd comes to the taste of death in his mouth.

A blink, slow, perhaps more becoming-aware than waking from dream. Swirling patterns, clean lines: A wooden ceiling, he recognizes, the thought dim and far-away. The half-dark around him strains his eyes.

Kidd blinks. There’s something on his face. It itches, pulls at his skin. Stings, when he tries to move his head, all the way down to the fuzzy numbness where he presumes the rest of his body is. No point in questioning it – Kidd has had enough near-death experiences to know better.

He blinks, and realizes the world is off. Split into two, one half vague reality and the other– not, dark, a void that wasn’t there before. Blinks and blinks again, eyes squinting, attempting to focus where there is nothing.

That’s… not good, is it?

It’s a little like being underwater, this. Like when the ocean surges around him and every limb goes all loose and useless; when all he can do is search for the faint outline of the sun and marvel at the beams of light that reach for him as he sinks.

Kidd’s mind is swimming, that’s the word, and no part of him should ever be doing that. Killer will be mad, Kidd thinks.

For swimming, and for whatever is on his face, and for tasting death.

Killer will be– 

Kidd drifts.

Consciousness comes and goes like waves over shoreline sand, sometimes sliding over rocks unchanging, sometimes grabbing onto something and dragging it along. Kidd loses bits and pieces to that tide, chunks of time that sift through his fingers unchecked. A call of his name, quiet. Then – or perhaps later, much later – a gentle pressure wraps around his hand, and he notices it exists, his hand that is, and the hand in his hand. 

Making sense of things is hard but this is something Kidd knows, will always know. Everything is blurry as hell, colors and lines sliding in and out of place: Kidd finds it all the same, that flash of blue that’s inevitably there in his periphery.

Again, “Kidd?”, hopeful now. Not mad (not yet, that is) and oh, Kidd must be fucked up bad. The urge to laugh bubbles up from a place unknown, which is bad too because it’s perhaps a little deranged and because that’s when he remembers he has a body and it hurts.

Kidd can’t tell if he laughs or not. The next wave rolls in, sloshing up to his waist; the current tears at every fiber of his being and Kidd lets go, knowing strong arms will pull him all the way up to the surface soon enough.

*

“Boss. You awake?”

It occurs to Kidd that he is. Pain is all he knows, for a moment that lingers – an ache that pulses at his core like a second heartbeat, a little to the left.

(Another one of those not-good things, to be awake.)

Kidd can think, this time around, and move, and he reaches for his face because life’s a bitch and fuck the pain, he needs that shit off now. Fire runs up his spine, the telltale sting of fried nerves and bruised skin and–

“Ah shit, don’t–”

Nothing? A breath comes out Kidd’s mouth, an eloquent “Whuh?” that was meant to be a full sentence, and whoever’s with him must understand since the next thing he sees is dark-red ink and faded stitches and deep-seated eyes.

Heat.

“Welcome back”, they say, and: “Stop moving or Doc will skin first me and then you.”

Must be bandages then. Kidd’s limbs are heavy, now that he takes the time to notice, blood honey-thick and sticky in his veins; the remnants of whatever Doc shot him up with to keep him down, and Kidd relents. Listens if only because there’s genuine worry in Heat’s gaze, and because listening to them is usually a sound plan when he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. Which, actually–

“Wha’ the fuck?”

Heat huffs, “Stay awake this time and I’ll explain”, and when they push Kidd to lie flat again it’s a touch too gentle. Kidd frowns, at that and at the pinch of Heat’s brow that remains despite the clear relief to their tone. It’s on his way down that Kidd spots Killer’s mask, paint chipped and blood smeared across it like lipstick stains, left on Doc’s cluttered desk.

Where’s…?

And suddenly Kidd remembers, sees flashes of a beach and Shanks’ cold stare and the glint of a blade and painpainpain and Killer, back turned to him and staring down an Emperor–

Kidd’s gut drops and he gasps, “Fuck”, snaps into motion so fast he practically jackknifes. The world spins, little dots of color exploding across Kidd’s vision like shrapnel and he pushes through it, grabs for Heat. “Fuck, Killer–”

Grabs for them and overshoots by a mile, and Kidd can’t see shit out of his left eye but he shouldn’t have– His arm should’ve–

“He’s fine! Killer’s fine, Kidd, sit down for fuck’s sake.”

It’s not like Kidd has much of a choice: His legs give out the instant he puts weight on them and without Heat he’d eaten dirt then and there. As it is, Heat catches him and hauls him back on the cot, decidedly less gentle now.

“Boss. Seriously, just… A lot has happened.”

Kidd shoots back immediately, “Where’s Killer?”, voice rasping low, the tone he gives commands with. Heat’s eyes darken.

“Next door. Sleeping, as he should. Had to damn near fistfight him to get him away from you. It’s been a fucking week, Kidd, if you go and fuck up your stitches now I swear I’ll–”

“Okay, shit, fine. I’m sitting.”

“Good. And cut the crap with the Haki, I’m not going anywhere.”

And… okay, it’s rare for Heat to be rough with Kidd like this. They’re no sunshine by any measure of the word, just unfazed by most things life could possibly throw at them and content to let Kidd do the yelling. Here, now, Heat is– Well, stressed. Upset.

Something aches in Kidd’s chest, entirely unrelated to his injuries. “Tell me”, he says, softer and lacking that timbre. “The crew?”

The tension leaves Heat in one long exhale. They sit next to Kidd, in that void that’s really getting on Kidd’s nerves. A beat, and Kidd feels their long fingers start to pry at surgical tape and gauze.

“Shaken but doin’ okay. Worried sick about you, mostly. Punk’s good, too, before you ask. Wire says we’re two days out from land.”

“Ah.”

(It doesn’t make sense to Kidd, to dock that close in an Emperor’s orbit. Wire knows what he’s doing, though, always has. On this ship his sense for pragmatics is better than anyone’s, even Killer’s.)

There’s light in the left half of Kidd’s world, a too-bright glare that has him squinting instantly. Heat rips the rest of it off without much of a warning – Kidd bites down a groan of relief as the source of that pain-in-the-ass itch is finally gone. He blinks, blinks again, waits for his eye to adjust, bit by bit.

“Thanks.”

“Mh. How’s your sight?”

Kidd focuses on Killer’s mask, closes one eye, then the other. The contrast is substantial, the blue-white-red vibrant and sharp, then dim and off-color. “Could be worse.”

Heat snorts. “Yeah, it could. Doc swore up a storm working on your face.”

There’s a bit of an edge to that, a hint of you owe him, Boss that Kidd hears loud and clear. Here’s to hoping the island they’re headed towards knows what coffee is, Kidd muses. Keeps staring ahead, watching things go in and out of focus as his brain tries to compensate for the mismatched input it’s getting.

An uneasy feeling roils in his gut. It has nothing to do with that.

“Kidd, listen…”

Kidd sighs. “Give it to me straight, Heat. I can take it.”

Heat hesitates but not for long. “Your arm”, they say quietly, and yeah, Kidd remembers something about that too. “There was no saving it. We had to take it off.”

There it is.

Kidd… lets himself sit in it, for a while, in the notion that if he were to turn his head he’d find, what, a stump? A clean cut? Perhaps it’s all gone, his body simply stopping where a shoulder used to be. Kidd should have some sort of reaction to that, shouldn’t he?

Something more than a mind full of static and blank eyes refusing to look.

It’s a visceral thing, an instinct, perhaps, to reach out and touch first: clumsy with residue numbness and the pain he’s been resolutely ignoring nipping at the heels of every move he makes. Heat jolts like they want to hold him back, a hand brushing Kidd’s wrist as a physical reminder to be careful but they let him be otherwise.

Lingering as Kidd’s fingers trace his gauze-lined chest up his neck and the bumps of stitches there. Across the slope of his shoulder (still attached, that’s something, right?) and down his bicep until–

Oh.

Kidd looks. His hand fits weirdly against his arm or what’s left of it, to be precise; his fingers overly big and rough-looking against the white of bandages, pink where the wound is bleeding through. Cradling it, Kidd tries to make sense of the fact it just… ends, three quarters of the way to his elbow.

That’s a stump alright.

“…Boss?”

Heat’s never sounded so small, either, and Kidd shakes himself out of the existential crisis waiting to happen. There’s a lifetime ahead of him to freak out about this, which… Fuck.

“Yeah, ‘m here. Just… processing, I guess.”

There’s nothing to be done about the tremor in his voice. When Kidd glances over, Heat’s lips are pressed tight, their gaze liquid with emotion. “Yeah.” A beat of silence. “We, um. We ran out of anesthetics. So we’re– Yeah. Doc meant for you to sleep a few days more.”

Years they’ve sailed together, and Kidd can pick up on the things Heat leaves unspoken. Those little gaps in their speech like faultlines along the bedrock, microscopic tears in solid steel made to withstand a multitude of its own weight.

“It’s okay”, Kidd mumbles and it’s not a lie. It hurts something fierce but not enough to break him, and it’s not like they went against an Emperor expecting to come out of it unscathed. There’s a reason why Kidd aimed for a duel and not an all-out war.

Still: Fuck.

Whatever Kidd thinks to say beyond that reeks of empty platitudes, the don’t-worry-about-its and the I’m-fines that help no one and change jackshit about anything, so he leaves it at that. Drops his hand – singular, the only one he’s got left – and shapes it to a fist to nudge Heat’s shoulder, push them a little to wipe that sad look off their face.

“Be honest. Y’all just got bored without me, huh?”

There’s surprise and then there’s a slow blink, Heat’s expression going utterly deadpan in the span of a second. “Sure. We all hated having some peace and quiet around here.”

Kidd laughs, “Fuck off”, can’t make it not sound as exhausted as he feels but it’s worth a try, anyways. His body aches, his entire left side especially but Kidd stretches his back anyways, grunts as his spine pops in half a dozen places.

“Where’d ya say Killer is?”

Exasperation joins the mix. “You two deserve each other”, Heat grumbles under their breath, points at the door straight ahead. It’s closed, which is good because the mask is here which means Killer’s sleeping without it.

Kidd squints at it. The distance isn’t too far, maybe if he goes along the wall…?

“Stay”, Heat says, serious again. “I promised Doc a check-up. And nope, you’re not getting out of that. ‘s what you get for almost dying on us.”

Kidd’s mouth shuts on its own accord. You owe him, Boss. “…Fine.”

Shoulders slumped, Heat reaches for Killer’s mask. “And… Soldier said to get him when you’re up. So that’s happening in a few.” They lick their thumb and make an effort to wipe away the blood, eyes fond.

“Go easy on him, ‘kay? He did well as captain, no matter what he’ll tell you.”

As if Kidd would ever fault Killer for any of this. The warning makes something curl in his chest, though, the need to see his partner and making sure he’s okay – they’re okay – one he swallows down with difficulty.

“Noted. Thanks. I mean it, Heat.”

They wave it off with a lazy gesture over their shoulder on their way out. A hand on the knob, Heat pauses. “Hey, Kidd?”

“Mh?”

Their voice is soft, “I’m glad you made it”, a brief window into the hell they must’ve gone through while Kidd slept. Then Heat is gone, and Kidd stares at the empty spot they leave behind and finally lets his heart break, just a little.

*

The stitches are out, all wounds freshly wrapped and Kidd himself hopped up on a not-insignificant amount of painkillers by the time Killer shuffles in, yawning into the crook of his elbow. His right one, that is, the entirety of Killer’s left arm bandaged from shoulder to fingertips.

(Chemical burns, Doc had told Kidd with a grim frown. Acid, most likely, and Kidd swore himself that’s not going to be the first thing he’ll ask Killer about after almost dying right in front of him.)

“Wow”, Kidd drawls instead, a little slurred. “Heat wasn’t jokin’, ya do look like shit.”

There was an attempt not to, at least, and the way Killer pauses mid-step and shoots him a dirty look tells Kidd he failed rather spectacularly. He mutters, “Hey to you too”, sounding just as tired as he looks with those shadows under his eyes and long hair tied in a messy knot. Dressed in a shirt he could swim laps in, and Kidd blames it on the drugs that he recognizes it only after a solid ten-second stare.

“Ain’t that mine?”

“Yeah.” Dragging Doc’s desk chair behind him, Killer sets it down and collapses into it without much fanfare. “You’re awake.”

And Kidd really shouldn’t laugh, but the sheer misery Killer’s radiating reminds him of the Curry Udon Incident years ago. It wasn’t very funny back then, it’s near-hilarious now, and there’s a thousand little details that tell Kidd his partner really isn’t in the mood to reminisce. Kidd smiles all the same; Killer’s eyes are slow to track the motion, narrowing under unkempt bangs.

“What?”

Kidd’s smile turns into a grin. “Nothin’.”

Killer stares. “…Exactly how many pills did Doc give you?

“All of ‘em”, Kidd tells him and cackles at Killer’s quiet groan. “You want some? Feels really good.”

A wordless headshake is all Kidd gets for his trouble. Killer leans forward, though, nudging Kidd’s side with the elbow he braces himself on, chin in hand. There’s the beginnings of a beard there, and Kidd didn’t even notice he could grow one these days.

“Hey, Kil”, Kidd says, even though Killer’s attention is already on him. That feels good, too.

“Hmm?”

Kidd reaches for him, using all his focus to keep his hand somewhat steady as he brushes along Killer’s jaw. “I like this. ‘s cute.”

A hint of a smile. Killer takes Kidd’s hand before it drops away again, slender fingers wrapping around Kidd’s rough edges with untold tenderness. “Yeah? What happened to me looking like shit a minute ago?”

Kidd pouts. How is he supposed to keep track of this stuff? Merely keeping his eyes open is a struggle, doesn’t Killer know that?

Another try, then. “I meant like, hmm… Ya didn’t sleep at all, did ya?”

“Mh”, Killer replies, which is his way of saying yes when he knows Kidd won’t like the answer. “There wasn’t exactly time for a nap, between getting our asses outta there and watching the crew and–”

Nothing. Killer’s jaw clenches and he falls silent, gaze dropping to where their hands are intertwined.

“It doesn’t matter. Sorry I wasn’t there when you… Yeah. Sorry.”

Kidd realizes, with some delay, that Killer is an idiot and also that Heat was right. They usually are. “You’re sor–? K. Look at me. Killer.”

Killer looks at Kidd and that heartbreak Kidd was saving up for some indefinite point in time in the future? It’s not giving him a choice in the matter, not anymore. Not when there’s pure anguish in Killer’s eyes, dark and hurting where no one but Kidd can go look for it.

Kidd, who spent a week more dead than alive. Fucking shit.

“This entire thing was my idea.” Kidd squeezes Killer’s hand, pulls him closer with the little energy he can muster. “Mine, not yours, Kil. What the fuck?”

“Kidd”, Killer starts and just, no. Hell no.

“I wanted that duel. I ate shit for it, so what? We knew it’s a possibility. A risk. We can’t conquer the New World if we don’t–”

“You lost an arm, Kidd.” Killer grits his teeth hard enough even Kidd can make it out, hazy as things are. “Almost lost an eye. Almost lost your life. How am I supposed to feel about that? Tell me ‘cause I don’t– I can’t… Fuck.”

A shaky breath is all the warning Kidd gets before Killer pulls away, gets up, the hand that slips out of Kidd’s grasp going to Killer’s face and still unable to hide how his lips pinch downwards, trembling.

For a long moment all Kidd can do is stare and try to catch his mind from complete freefall. This… Not good, definitely not good.

“Killer. C’mon, don’t… Hey.”

Killer inhales, exhales. Wipes at his eyes and looks at Kidd because he can’t help it, can he? He’s always listened to Kidd, no matter if he’s dead-tired or down-and-out or pissed off beyond measure. Kidd can count the times he’s seen Killer cry on one fucking hand, and that includes the times when they were kids and Killer didn’t have a mask to hide behind yet.

Yet Killer… stands there like can’t stand being close to Kidd, not now; Kidd’s heart clenches, threatens to stop functioning altogether.

“Call me an asshole. Do whatever you want just… Don’t leave, okay? Don’t leave. Please.”

There are still tears on Killer’s cheeks but– “’m not”, the words are a wet-sounding sigh more than anything. “You’ll just run after me and fuck up”, a vague gesture to Kidd, “That. All of it. Even more.”

Kidd’s lips tug up, just a bit. “Hell yeah I will.” A pause, uncertain despite himself. “Come back? I won’t say shit, promise.”

Killer sniffs. “Doubt that.” He makes his way to Kidd much like he arrived, exhaustion written all over his shoulders, near-boneless with it. Letting Kidd grab onto the hem of his – technically Kidd’s – shirt and following the tug to the edge of Kidd’s cot.

“Get in.”

“We won’t fit.”

“Get in. C’mon.”

Killer does, his bony knees jabbing Kidd’s one too many times to be a coincidence. The cot creaks dangerously under their combined weight but it holds and, oh, this is nice. Perfect, really. Killer is right there like this, frowning down on Kidd as Kidd grins up to him.

“Hi.”

“Now what?”

“Now you sleep.” Kidd gestures to his outstretched arm with his chin for emphasis, wincing as the motion tugs at his neck. And his face. Ouch. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Kidd. You’re this close to passing out.”

“And? S’are you.”

With how stubborn Killer can get, Kidd marks it down as progress when his partner reviews their current predicament with a critical glance. “Gonna have to turn my back on you”, he mutters, and: “Don’t move. Just stay put.”

Kidd is happy to do exactly that, watching Killer flop on his side and hiss as the movement jolts his arm. This close, Kidd can feel the heat coming off the wound – he promised not to say anything stupid, so he opts to say nothing at all. Just curls himself around Killer as best as he can without touching it, which isn’t much given his own arm is– Yeah.

“Kil?”

Almost nothing.

“…Yeah?”

Kidd rests his forehead against Killer’s neck, breathing him in. “Thanks. For everything.”

And it’s enough, to feel Killer’s quiet hum against his chest. There will be time for everything else, later.

[lotr-mkg]

Prologue Recap 2/2

“Good morning! Good afternoon! Good evening, everyone!”

Freyja summons the contestants back to the Boreal Tryst's sundeck to kick off Love on the Rocks, with her first order of business being to score the icebreakers that the cast has been filling out for the past several days.

"Looks like we got some fierce competition! Was it the passion of love that made you guys so eager to fill this out? Put a little pep in your step? I know it does mine. This won't take me too long to put together and decide a winner. Sit tight for a second, ok? I’ll be done in a j—!”

Her voice abruptly cuts off.

“I’ll be done in a ji—!”

She takes a second before she attempts the line again, repeating her contemplative movement in a cycle. But when she tries it this time, it sounds… Off. Not just off, but strange. Weird. Uncomfortable, almost, as her pitch drops and becomes distorted to the point of being completely intelligible.

“I̸̽̽'̸̀͒l̷̈̊l̶͌̈́ ̵̉͠b̷̌́e̵͒̓ ̴̀̉d̸͖̃ȯ̷͝n̶͛̕é̶͠ ̷̈́͗i̵̎͘n̵͋̌ ̷̂͒a̷͒͊ ̷̈́̕j̶̋͝í̴͐f̷̺̉f̸̂̋y̴̻͝!̸̑͗”

While many of the contestants look on in confusion, some more concerned about the program's well-being than others, a few attempt to gain Freyja's attention.

She doesn’t respond no matter what you say or do to get her attention. In fact, if anything, it looks like your attempts only make it worse. Almost like repetitively left clicking a frozen browser page. Not only does she remain stuck in her two-frame, chin-tapping buffering motion, but her pixels become grainy and glitched in the process. This doesn’t last for too much longer though, because just as it happened, her hologram shuts off all together, and you’re left just… Standing there. No explanation for what happened, let alone why it happened in the first place. You could pass it off at some sort of elaborate joke if you really wanted to - if it puts your mind at ease - but when there is a slow but drastic shift in the ship's course of direction, the fact that something is very, very wrong can’t be ignored. Water in the pool and jacuzzi slowly begins to tip to one side from the sudden change in momentum, the unbolted chairs on the deck slide, and, if you’re not careful, you could very well join them. Thank god for the rails.

With Freyja missing in action, the Boreal Tryst barrels towards land, eventually striking a number of rocks along the shoreline before coming to a stop. The contestants go uninjured, save for maybe a few minor bruises from stumbling around, dazed, confused, and angry about whatever just happened.

Among the chaos of their shipwreck, they're able to spot buildings in the distance. Hoping they've lucked out on being dropped near civilization, the contestants safely climb their way down the escape ladder and make their way towards what appears to be a small town, hoping they'll be able to call the producers and explain what happened.

... A small town that's entirely abandoned, unfortunately.

The streets are filled with hollow and dilapidating buildings, with no signs of life in sight as the light dusting of snow crunches underneath their feet.

Suddenly, a familiar upbeat voice cut through the cold.

“Hello? Hellooo?”

A small display of Freyja pops up from each one of your watches, speaking in unison.

“Oh, gosh! That was so weird! My body felt all tingly and numb… My head got all dizzy... Or, it would have if I had a body that could feel tingly and numb, and a head to get dizzy in the first place. Haha!”

Questions about their circumstances begin to rise. What happened? Where are they?

"Luckily, I do know where you are, Liezel! A liiittle isolated coastal city way up north of Norway called Forsetalundr." She giggles before leaning in, like she's whispering. "Kind of cozy, isn't it?"

“My sensors are telling me that the cabins in the ship aren’t being fed heat anymore… But that’s nothing to worry about! I’ve found a nearby motel for you all to stay in, and I even took the liberty of assigning you some new roommates for a change of pace. You know, since, um, you’ll prooooobably be here for a while!”

“I guess I could [also] send out a radio signal on an open channel to ask for help, buuut… I don’t think I’m gonna do that! If someone else shows up to save you guys, that would ruin the whole show, you know? Since the whole point is to see what you guys do without other people interfering, right?”

The group begins to grow irate. What is she talking about?

"... Oh! I know this one. That sounds like disappointment, doesn't it? Anger, maybe? I know it's not super ideal, but I've been told that people say the show must go on, or something! So, we're going to keep playing the game, okay? Buuut, if you really want to go home, you can always d̶̦̚ì̴̅v̴̻̄o̵̩̕r̴̛̼c̴̆̍e̶ someone."

"It'll break my heart - and theirs, I’m sure - but if you d̶̦̚ì̴̅v̴̻̄o̵̩̕r̴̛̼c̴̆̍ẻ̶̗ one of the other contestants without getting caught, you'll get closer to me signaling for help! How do you divorce someone, you might ask? Welllll, it's simple, really!"

"You k̸i̵l̶l̸ them, of course!"

"It'll be so romantic, but so tragic! You've all read Romeo and Juliet, right? Star-crossed lovers, pulled apart by the claws of death..."

"Oh! But I know that's pretty vague, so I went ahead and updated your guidelines on your RIMEKEEPERS with more information on how it'll work. Do me a favor and read those over, will you? Thanks!”

The contestants read over the updated rules provided by Frejya, naturally outraged... well, save for a certain Shinya, who seems pretty amused by the whole thing. Hey, this isn't what they signed up for at all, is it?

As her last order of business before disappearing, Freyja finally seems to remember what started all of this-- The icebreaker! But what she adds seems... a little different than your standard dating show fare.

“Since we're probably going to be stuck here for a while, we'll need some new ground rules, since this isn't the ship, right? Our three winners of the icebreaker - the person with the highest score and two runner ups - will be this rounds very special lawmakers. They worked really hard, so I figured they would be best fit to set the bar for this lawless town. Like sheriffs back in the days of cowboys!”

“They’ll get together and discuss one rule to set into motion, for better or for worse. This rule could potentially only help them, or help the entire group if they’re feeling generous. Either way, it won’t be easy. It’s a lot of responsibility, and it’s hard to make everyone happy! I’m sure they’ll do juuust fine though.”

Before anything else can be said, her display on your watch flickers off, and you’re one again felt with how you started — alone, together. Is this… really what you all signed up for? Being stranded in a desolate town, being held hostage unless you’re compliant, and being forced to kill one another if you ever want to leave? Is this Love on The Rocks?

[lifeaftermeteor]

Private Island [location redacted] Fiji, South Pacific 17 August 211 

BANG!

Relena jumped out of her skin, half-asleep.  “Rise and shine!” Hilde cried as she burst into the room through the now-open door and jumped on the bed.

Relena groaned and collapsed back against her pillows.  She dared to glance at the bedside clock and groaned again.  “It’s three in the morning.  What the hell…?” 

“We’ve got places to go,” Sally answered as she came into view, Noin poking her head around the door jamb behind her.   

“Where—?” 

“It’s a surprise!” Hilde said. Sliding off the bed, she unceremoniously shucked the comforter off. “Come on!  Up!  Dressed!  Let’s go!”   

With great reluctance, Relena dragged herself out of bed and stumbled bleary-eyed into the attached bathroom to find a set of hiking clothes already set out and waiting. Dread slowly wrapped itself around her brain. A hike. Before dawn. Relena took a steadying breath and changed, muttering half-hearted curses to herself. 

When she emerged she found her de facto entourage in the kitchen.  Sally, Hilde, and Noin hovered over what looked like a map while her mother and Une stood nearby, filling water bottles at the sink and checking headlamps.  “We’re really going out this early?” Relena asked, stunned. 

“Only way to catch the sunrise,” Mareen told her. 

“Are you coming with us?” 

Her mother scoffed.  “Oh no. I’m heading back to bed. But you need to catch the sunrise.  Now off you go!” 

***** 

Whispers and stifled laughter alerted Wufei to the impending onslaught.  His skin itched as he allowed his assailants to draw in close, tiptoeing towards his bed. He kept his eyes shut, until he sensed a body hovering just over his head before giving himself away with a dangerous growl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Laughter met his warning and he opened his eyes to find Quatre standing over him, air horn at the ready.  Wufei’s eyes went wide even as Quatre tipped his head back and laughed, withdrawing several paces.   

“Ah damn, he’s awake already!” Duo hissed, standing toward the foot of the bed next to Trowa.   

“Can I still hit him with the horn?” Quatre asked. 

“You may absolutely not,” Wufei answered, sitting up in bed and pushing his back up against the headboard, almost defensively.  Quatre just laughed harder.  It was then that he registered Heero hovering by the door.  “Yuy, you encouraged this?” he asked, offended. 

“From a safe distance away yes,” Heero admitted. 

“From outside of the kill zone,” Trowa amended. 

“So he thinks,” Wufei answered, glaring at his once-roommate and turning his attention back to Quatre who had started sneaking in closer again. “Don’t.”  Quatre wilted, giggling. 

“Come on,” Duo said, clapping his hands before him. “Up and at ‘em.  We’ve got a lot to do today and a very strict schedule to do it in, lest we run you two lovebirds into each other.  Let’s get a move on!” 

***** 

The sun swept in over the horizon in bands of red and gold, burning away the violet twilight as the ocean shimmered beneath. A stunning sight from the highest point of their bit of land in the Pacific.  

They had spent the better part of the morning trekking through the pre-dawn forest, the hiking trail lit only by their headlamps. Still half-asleep, Relena had trudged up the side of the peak in the middle of their single-file line and had spent much of the walk wishing to go back to her warm bed.  

But when they had reached the peak and the overlook worn flat with time, Relena breathed deep and sighed even deeper. “Alright,” Relena admitted as the sun rose before them, “this was worth it.” 

“So worth it,” Hilde agreed. 

The crew set down their packs to simply watch the dawn in silence for a time, captivated. Once there was enough ambient light to see without the headlamps, however, Une unfolded a blanket and Noin opened her pack to withdraw the makings of breakfast.  Fruit and pastries and a thermos of coffee made the rounds among them while they laughed easily and stifled yawns. 

“This is fun,” Relena said, her eyes on the sky as it gave way to hints of the blue to come. 

“That’s the idea,” Noin said.  

Relena could hear the smile in her voice and it made her grin. 

***** 

Wufei’s morning had been spent weaving through the trees in parallel to the beach before turning up a path that led further inland as the early morning sky climbed higher in the sky. He and his group navigated the slick trail until it opened out onto a clearing before a waterfall and a pool that glistened as the sun crested the tree canopy. It was something out of a storybook, though Wufei would never say as much and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giving himself away. 

They had wasted no time removing their packs and clothes, dropping them unceremoniously at the edge of the water before jumping in for a swim. Before long they were goading one another to climb the waterfall.  Barton was the first and all but volunteered—repeatedly—for the honor, but others soon followed, including Wufei himself after a time.  

Refreshed and relaxed, they eventually returned to the shoreline and dried off, unpacking their supplies.  They made short work of their breakfasts, tossing playful barbs between each other as they ate. It had been a pleasant start to the day, and certainly not anything Wufei had expected when they left the plantation and its bungalows behind.  

Which made him suspicious. “I’m fairly convinced this is all a trick and the worst is yet to come,” Wufei said, eying Duo. 

“Ah, come on. Would I do that?” 

The four other men agreed unanimously: “Yes.”  The response only made Duo laugh. 

“You do have a bit of a sadistic streak,” Quatre added. 

Duo smirked.  “Speaking of…”  He pulled a piece of paper he’d sealed in plastic and checked the watch he had stashed in an outer pocket of his bag.  His grin turned devilish.  “This would be a great time to send a message to the fiancee.” 

Beside him, Heero groaned. 

***** 

“Incoming,” Sally declared with a wide grin.  

Relena looked down the line of her compatriots as they carefully made their way deeper into the forest from the rockier peaks. Up ahead she could see flashes of color between the heavy green leaves and someone darted up the trail toward them. As the runner closed in and rounded a corner, they found themselves face-to-face with none other than Heero Yuy. The man huffed as he reached them, cheeks red and skin glistening from the exertion.   

“Your boyfriends an asshole,” Une declared to him. 

“A sadistic asshole,” Noin added, sounding at least somewhat apologetic. 

“We were just discussing that, yes,” Heero told them between gasps.  He swallowed and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling it through pursed lips as he walked to Relena’s side.  When he spoke again, he seemed to have recovered.  “Message for you.” 

He passed her a glass bottle with a cork stopper. Inside were what looked like several sheets of loose leaf paper curled tightly around themselves and bound with a red ribbon. A pen rattled beside them.  Incredulous and endeared, Relena took the bottle and looked up at Heero, “Really?” 

Heero huffed a laugh. “Yes, really.”  He stepped back and withdrew a water bottle from his pack and took several large gulps. 

Relena meanwhile uncorked the bottle and shook out both the paper and the pen, untying the ribbon to see what her fiance had seen fit to send her. 

---

Rumor says your morning started much earlier than mine. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.  Try to send Heero back in one piece. 

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

---

Relena felt her cheeks warm and laughed softly, running her thumbs over the paper in her hands. How domestic and sweet, she thought. She bit her lip and considered her reply.  And then—“Hilde, drop your bag. I need to borrow your back so that my handwriting is at least somewhat legible.”  The request garnered some amused laughter from her cohort. Heero only secured his water bottle once more and started to stretch.   

---

I can assure you Heero arrived in one piece, but I take no responsibility for the state of his return.  

The group woke me at 3AM to go on a hike. I don’t plan on doing that again. The waking up before dawn piece, I mean. The hike we should do again together, once they’ve all gone. 

I don’t know where you are or where we’re going next, but if the start of the day is any indication I think I’ll sleep well tonight.

Maybe that’s part of their plan...

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

R

--

Satisfied, Relena twisted the pen shut and recurled the pages, binding them once in their red ribbon before dropping both items into the bottle. She tapped the cork into place and passed the bottle to Heero.  

He took it with a nod and turned to walk back down the hill from which he’d come. “You know where you’re going?” Noin asked as he passed. Heero gave her a half-hearted salute before breaking out into a steady run, his feet pounding the soft earth beneath him. And then he was gone, lost to the forest. 

***** 

Wufei and the rest of his escorts burst out of the cover of the forest canopy and into the midday sun on the beach. Far away from the plantation, they meandered along the beach. Low tide had left rocky outcroppings exposed and crabs scuttled across swaths of sand.  

Eventually, they reached one such outcropping that was larger than the rest and tucked up against a cliff face. Only when they reached it did Wufei realize they were staring at the mouth of a natural grotto, exposed only due to their good timing. Safely tucked away from the blistering heat, but close enough to the waterline that the shallow cave smelled like sea salt...but not oppressively so. It smelled ancient and alive. Rich. 

As the rest of the group stepped inside, chatting excitedly about the lucky find, Wufei cast his eyes to Duo. He found him watching him closely, as if waiting for a reaction. Wufei smiled; Duo winked. And then they both stepped inside the grotto.  

They spent their lunch tucked away in the cave, trading food and stories and making friends with the small sea creatures that had joined them in the cave. From the mouth of the cave they watched the waves, so far away but near enough to spot the gulls and—Wufei suspected—a few dolphins. 

As the sun dipped toward the west and the tide started to creep back up the beach in lazy waves, they ducked out of the grotto and headed down the beach once more.  But as they walked, they spied a lone figure running in their direction.  “Looks like Wufei has mail,” Quatre observed. 

The group met Sally en route, to her apparent relief. “Oh good, you’re still here!” Sally sighed, her cheeks puffing with her hard exhale.  “I was afraid I’d miss you.”  She slowed to a walk and passed the glass bottle to Wufei. “Message delivery.” 

Wufei plucked it from her fingers and opened the bottle as the others gathered together off to the side so as not to intrude. He flipped through the pages to find Relena’s new note. 

---

I’m told I’m allowed to tell you that the waterfall was beautiful, which means you’ve already been here! Who was the first to jump from the top? I have to assume it was Trowa. Hilde was our first but you would be proud: I was our second! 

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

R

---

Wufei chuckled. “She went off the waterfall?” he asked. 

Sally smiled.  “Seconds after Hilde. Seconds. She was right at her heels.” 

It was hardly a surprise, Wufei knew. Relena was as fearless or as crazy as the rest of them. Perhaps she was both: crazy and fearless. She was marrying him, after all.  That gave him something to work with.   

Twisting the pen between his fingers he asked Sally, “Do you mind.”  She nodded—clearly this was not the first time she’d served as a writing desk—and flattened her shoulders as he pressed the paper down and started to write.

--- 

Nicely done on the waterfall. It took more…“cajoling” they’d call it to get me to do the same. Not sure where we’re off to next.

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

PS: I could have deployed some horrible play on ‘taking the plunge’ or a ‘leap of faith,’ but I shall refrain.

***** 

After all the trekking through the dense tropical foliage all day, Relena was happy to see the beach and its white sand. She threw her arms to the side and closed her eyes, content to let the cool sea breeze hit her cheeks and flow through her hair. It had been a wonderful day. And ending it here, out in the open with the waves crashing and the sand sun-warmed beneath them was perfect.  Just what she needed.  

“We’ve still got some sunlight left,” Noin informed the group, checking her watch.  “If anyone cares for a swim, recommend we do so now before sunset.”  

Relena never stripped so fast.  Laughter chased her to the water, the others not far behind her as the group of them jumped into the crystal clear surf.   

Before too long however, Hilde pointed back to the beach.  “You’ve got mail, Relena!” 

Relena groaned and would have been happy to make Heero wait if it didn’t mean taking him away from his own bit of fun. “He has the worst timing,” she muttered, silently cursing her fiance. 

“I think that depends on what he wrote.”   

She begrudgingly had to give them that. It did depend. And every message in a bottle that Relena had gotten throughout the day had made her heart lighter, her smiles brighter. With a final dramatic sigh, she drudged out of the surf and back up the beach to greet Heero at their piles of clothes. 

“Sorry,” he said, as she took the bottle from his hand.  

Relena gave him a dry laugh and shook her head. “It’s fine. How are your legs holding up.”  

“Fine.”  

“Don’t tell Duo that.”   

Heero considered this and paled.  “It...it may be too late for that.” 

Relena laughed as she uncorked the bottle. “Best of luck to you then.” Sliding out the sheets of notes, she unspooled them all and read the latest.

---

Do you remember Iceland, and all the walking we did? I think I’m having flashbacks. My feet hurt so much. I would kill Duo if we didn’t need him tomorrow. 

More importantly, I think I want to go back to Iceland. Or go elsewhere really. I haven’t seen enough of the world, and I definitely haven’t seen it with you.  Come with me?

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

---

Relena bit her lip and felt her cheeks burn. “Good one?” Heero asked her, and when she looked up, she caught the knowing smile that graced his lips.  He turned then, offering his back without being asked. 

Recovering, she laughed. “Clearly a common request?” 

“Today at least.” 

Relena pressed the paper flat against his shoulders and wrote her reply.  

---

I do remember Iceland. And yes, I want to go back.I want to go everywhere with you. I can’t wait. 

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

R

PS: Don’t kill Duo. He’s the only legally certified minister on the island.

***** 

Wufei read the note in the middle of the trail and smiled to himself. Duo had been granted a stay of execution thanks to his fiancee and ESUN law, and he’d never know. He gnawed on his lip for a moment thinking of a reply. 

---

I think we’re ending the day on the summit, judging by the steady incline. I can only assume you spent your sunrise up there. I hope you had a wonderful day. 

Missed seeing you. 

Missed talking to you. 

Missed hearing you laugh.

I love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

---

He slipped the paper and pen back into the bottle and handed it to Heero.  “Off you go.” 

Heero took the bottle but seemed numb and tragically disappointed. “But I just got here.” 

Wufei clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. “Are you seriously going to whine about it? The sooner you leave, the sooner you get back.”  

Their runner turned to Duo—clearly hoping for a reprieve—but Duo only returned a dark smile. “Off you go.” 

Heero glared at him. “You might be sleeping on the couch tonight,” he threatened while Quatre and Trowa snickered off on the sidelines. 

Duo made a dramatic show of his acceptance of this blow to their relationship status with a sigh and a shrug. “I’m willing to take one for the team.” 

Realizing he had already lost, Heero hung his head and turned to head back down the trail towards the beach.   

“Bye Heero,” Quatre said as the man passed. They didn’t hear Heero’s exact reply, but all four of them were confident it wouldn’t have been appropriate for polite company. 

***** 

Wine imbibed and dinner demolished, Relena and her half of the wedding party were delightfully buzzed as the light faded around them on the beach as laughter flowed freely between them. Relena tucked herself into Noin’s side, surrounded by what she imagined a sister’s love felt like. It made her heart warm and she closed her eyes for a moment to focus on the sound of the ocean, Noin’s heartbeat against her cheek, and the voices that danced around her.  

But then there was a tap at her shoulder and the group around her erupted into surprised elation. “Heero!”  

“Heero what are you doing here?” 

“They sent you out again?” 

“Want some wine?” 

Relena turned to indeed find Heero jogging their way, glass bottle in hand.  Pulling away from Noin’s embrace, she dusted off her hands and stood to meet Heero in the sand.  “They’re making you work for it,” she said. 

“You could say that,” he sighed, passing her the bottle.   

Relena considered him.  “You’re going to help me get the final word, Heero. Come Hell or high water,” she said, determined, and uncorked the bottle. 

***** 

“Hey you made it!” Duo said, causing the rest of them to turn back.  

They found Heero making his way up the last couple meters of rock to the summit to join them. On trembling legs, he crossed the remaining distance to Wufei and handed off his precious cargo. “That is the last one,” Heero said, promptly sitting down and undoing the laces on his shoes. “I’m making an executive decision. You can suffer through until tomorrow.” He then collapsed backward with a tremendous sigh, spread-eagle, to the rest of their great amusement. 

While the others laughed, Duo walked over and tapped his beau’s hip with his toe. “And you were so worried about missing out on training for that marathon you want to do…”  Heero only groaned in reply. 

Stifling his laughter, Wufei opened the bottle and slid out their notes that had accumulated over the course of the day and rifled through to Relena’s final word of the evening.   

---

The wine my cohort brought out to the beach is having its intended effect I think.

I missed you today. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe there’s something to that...

I love you.

Good night. Sweet dreams. Till tomorrow.

R

---

Tomorrow.  It really was tomorrow.  Wufei pressed his lips into a thin line to keep them from trembling, suddenly overcome with emotion. They were getting married. Tomorrow.  

As he curled the pages up and slid them back into the bottle, he became aware of the pregnant silence around him. Looking up, he found himself the center of his friends’ undivided attention. “Yes?” 

To his horror, they all responded in unison, “Aw…” Even Yuy, who still lay prone in the middle of the summit.  

“Oh please,” Wufei said but then sniffed, which didn’t help his cause. The others only chuckled and approached from the sidelines. 

They shepherded him towards the edge, high over the tree canopy below and the group of them sat down together to watch the sun set. Together. The thought reverberated through Wufei and nearly made him shudder with its force. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, and the sky lit up in reds and violets, he chanced furtive glances at the men around him. Again that word: together. Wufei smiled and let his eyes drift to the sunset. “Thank you for being here,” he murmured.  “For all of this.”  Nothing more needed to be said.

[yoongi-sugaglider]

The story of a Goddess and a Demi God,star crossed lovers whose story was lost to the complexity of history. The truth is they were wronged. All because of the jealousy of a brother. Can they escape their fate in a modern age? Can reincarnation allow her to finally reunite with the ones who loved her?

genre: angst ; reincarnation/Greek mythology au ; werewolf au

pairing: Yoongi x reader; ot7 x reader ; ft: Ateez

warnings: abusive relationship, physical abuse towards reader, vengeful ot7, inaccurate description of Ateez as aggressive (they’re sweet babies I swear! But Eomma needed a bad guy), fighting, character death, of age drinking (more to be added mayhaps?)

word count: 3548

tag list : @w1tchcraftt 

“Apollo!” 

The sun god glanced up from the arrows he’d been inspecting, grinning brightly as he watched his twin dance along the path leading away from the shoreline. Barely breathing heavily the young woman collapsed to his side, leaning her head against his thigh and smiling up at him as she watched his deft fingers wrap the stone arrow tips with the golden strands of his hair.

“I swear you’re going to go bald one day if you keep that up.”

He scoffed, nudging her side with his thigh and shoving her away as he held up a glowing arrow. “These are the strongest and most deadly arrows in all of Olympus. Surely one would want the most unbreakable of string in order to ensure and maintain that title?”

Artemis cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning back on her hands as she eyed the arrow waving in her face. “And that involves your hair how?”

“Why the hair of a god is the mightiest of mighty!” Apollo puffed out his chest causing the sun to radiate even brighter in response as he peacocked in front of his sister.

“I stand by my statement Apollo. Bald does not suit you. Surely there are others you could harvest string from?”

Apollo strugged, tucking the completed arrow into the ever filling quiver at his side before beginning his work anew. “Tell me sister dear, it is rare for you to visit the shore. Surely you’re off on another hunt?”

Artemis smiled, her gaze softening as she glanced towards the sky. The sun hung high in the sky above them, shining it’s life giving light upon the world. Just above the horizon hung the moon, barely a spot in the sky and yet seeming to seek out the light of her brother.

“We were resting. The hunt begins tonight, but Orion wanted to visit his brothers and swim in the sea.”

“You’re too soft on him Artemis. Allowing a half blood man to accompany you. The other Gods won’t take kindly to it if you continue this any longer.” Apollo frowned, eyes following his fingers as he wove feathers into one end of his current project. All the while though he watched his sister, watched the way her face fell at the mention of the other Gods.

“They can all rot. With the amount of women Zeus alone takes to bed I doubt my hunting companion has any bearing on whether I perform my duties or not.” The moon Goddess sighed, standing to her feet and brushing away the dirt and dust on her leather skirts.

“And what about me?” Apollo barely spoke above a whisper but Artemis caught the words nonetheless.

“We used to hunt together all the time Artemis. I am your twin am I not?” Apollo glanced up at his sister, eyes filled with a pain she’d not seen in him before, and another emotion, one she hoped she was misunderstanding.

“Brother dear.” Crouching before the golden God she cupped his cheeks in her hands, sending him a soft smile as she spoke.

“Nothing can ever change how I feel about you. Favored human or not you will always be my favorite hunting partner.” Her eyes danced between his, hoping he could hear the sincerity in her voice. “You will always be my brother.”

The strange emotion intensified,causing a moment of fear to wash over Artemis. Apollo stood, arrow gripped tightly in his hand as his gaze moved from her to a tiny black spot bobbing in the far off ocean waves.

“It’s not enough.” The golden God muttered. A rage filled him, tinged green on the edges as he raised the arrow before him.

Artemis stood quickly, eyes wide and panic causing her voice to waver. “Apollo?”

“I’ll not allow a human, demi or otherwise to come between us.” A golden light washed over them as Apollo plucked his brilliant golden bow from the rays of the sun. The arrow in his hand shimmered, turning to pure silver as he allowed the jealousy in his heart to take hold.

Drawing the string on his bow he knocked his arrow, shoving a screaming Artemis to the side and letting the arrow fly free.

In an instant the arrow found its mark and the black dot floating in the sea sank from view.

***

 “Hyung, your phone’s ringing.” Tae darted over to the cd player, cutting the audio and plunging the dance practice room into relative silence besides the sound of 7 heavily breathing men and the melodic tones of Yoongi’s own piano playing as it spilled from the speakers of his phone.

Yoongi shuffled past the collapsed forms of Namjoon and Jimin, choosing to ignore their weary and somehow grateful expressions as he snatched his phone up and held it up to his ear.

“Y/n?”

“Hi Yoongi, I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

Yoongi couldn’t help the wistful smile that teased at his lips. “No, we were just finishing up dance practice. Did you need something?”

“I kind of do actually. But if you’re busy I can call back later?”

A chorus of no’s resounded through the room. Despite him not having the phone on speaker the others had heard her no problem. She giggled on the other end, not paying it much mind as this was so very typical of them.

“Alright boys, sorry to interrupt dance practice. But I’ve got business to discuss with Min Genius. I’ll be borrowing him for about an hour or two.” 

The room went from a series of relieved sighs to cheering in a matter of moments. Yoongi smiled, hanging up the call after confirming the details of their meeting place, a coffee shop the two liked to frequent.

“Hyung!” Jungkook jogged over. A towel dangled loosely from his grip as he watched Yoongi pack his practice gear away.

“What is it Kookie?” Yoongi paused in his movements, giving the younger man his full attention.

“Just, I know what you’re thinking, and I just hope that you go a bit easier on her this time around.”

Yoongi shrugged, draping his gym bag over his shoulder and sweeping the blonde locks out of his eyes. “I can’t keep coddling this Kookie. If we don’t do something…”

“Hyung, we aren’t running out of any kind of time. I know it feels like it whenever a new lifetime begins but… we have the ability to be patient. It was bred into the 6 of us. I know it’s harder for you and I know you feel like the stakes are higher for you. And maybe they are. But we all love her.” Jungkook sighed, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. “Just…”

Shaking his head Jungkook turned away, obviously irritated with himself for not being able to express himself properly. Yoongi reached out, gripping his shoulder gently and turning Jungkook to face him.

“I know. I get it.” He gave his brother a soft smile, eyes creasing as he pulled him in for a hug. “I’ll try, okay? For all of us.”

***

The coffee shop was a crowded mess of humans and smells. Fresh brewing coffee and pastries warming beneath the heated lamps in the display cases. Yoongi chose a seat at the back, close enough to the rear exist to provide an easy escape and yet aligned perfectly to give him full view of the large front window and entrance.

He didn’t have to wait long though. The faint sound of the front doorbell jingling sounded over the dull murmur of the cafe’s patrons, drawing his attention to the radiant form striding towards his table. 

“Yoongi hi! Thanks for meeting me.” Pulling her messenger bag over her head she took her seat. No matter how many times he saw her, her brilliant smile never failed to leave him stunned for words.

“Your hair…” His whispered words barely reached her over the barista shouting out his order number.

Excusing himself quickly from the table he moved to the counter, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. She’d cut her hair, something she’d never have done before. He glanced back at her as he balanced the tray filled with their drinks and her favorite pastry. It now barely reached to her shoulders and the sight of it set off all sorts of alarms in his mind. Coupled with the sunglasses she had yet to take off despite the overcast sky outside and the fact that they were indoors set his thoughts racing and his blood boiling.

“Aish, thank the stars for you Yoongi.” She wiggled her fingers towards him as he walked back to the table,her fingers grabbing at the air like a child as he chuckled warm heartedly at her antics.

Taking her drink off the tray he handed it to her. She accepted graciously, inhaling the steam coming from the mug and releasing a purr like hum of pleasure . “Mmm.”

Passing off her pastry he placed his own order on the table before returning the tray and coming to sit across from her. “So, you needed to talk to me about something?”

“Ah, that’s right!” Dabbing her lips with a napkin she reached into her bag, pulling out a manila envelope and passing it over to Yoongi.

Delicate fingers flipped open the copper prongs, a smile lighting his face as he pulled out a sheaf of papers all stapled together with her name and the title of her latest book printed on the front page.

“You finished it!” He grinned, flipping through the pages and admiring her latest handy work as she looked on with pride and an unbridled joy.

“I managed to finish typing up the last chapter this morning.”

“So my advice worked? The writer’s block is gone huh?” He paused in scanning over the ending, eyes seeking out her own and finding her mouth full of pastry and a bashful look of embarrassment in her eyes at being caught stuffing her face.

Yoongi waited patiently as she chewed, smiling when she nodded and finally swallowed.

“Yeah! I didn’t even know binaural beats were a thing until you brought them up.”

He shrugged, carefully returning the pages to their folder and placing them on the table so that he could enjoy his coffee while it was still hot.

“Most people can’t handle them honestly. The tones can make them dizzy or nauseous if they don’t know what they’re getting into. But I figured you’d be able to handle it.” as he spoke his eyes glanced towards the entrance, always aware of the number of people entering and leaving the establishment and their proximity to himself and the woman sitting across from him.

As y/n continued to rave over her newfound writing aid he allowed his eyes to wander over her form. She still had yet to remove the sunglasses and despite the relative comfort of the temperature in the cafe, her long winter coat remained in place. His mind took note the beads of sweat forming on her nose, the way she winced when one particular hand movement caused  her arm to knock into the wall beside her and the way she flinched and allowed her body to tense up from the contact and what he could only assume were bruises on her arm that she was trying to hide.

He reached out, subconsciously seeking out her wrist and watching in rising anger as she jerked her hand away from the contact. The two stared down at his open hand on the table top, his gaze intense and burning and hers guilty and almost fearful.

“Yoongi I…”

“He’s been hurting you again hasn’t he?” His tone wasn’t accusatory. On the contrary his voice was soft, words gentle as he closed his hand into a fist and slowly allowed it to fall into his lap.

She lowered her head, focus pinpointed on her lap as her mind seemed to race for something to say.

“I…I um…it was an accident. He was angry and I really shouldn’t have pushed him. I just…”

“Y/n please.” He reached for her again, grateful when she didn’t flinch away from him this time and allowed him to carefully hold her hand in his loose grip. “You’ve got to see this is wrong. That what he’s doing to you is awful and that you deserve so much better than this.”

Whispered words followed her, a broken cacophony of lyrics spinning through her mind as she attempted to make sense of what was going on before her.

Yoongi watched her mind work, knowing that what he’d just said would either turn her against him or guide her back to the joyful woman he’d fallen in love with so many eons before.

“Y/n? Talk to me…please?”

She shook her head, eyes clenched shut as if not seeing him could drown out his words.

“No Yoongi…not this time. Not right now…I…I have to go…”

Standing quickly she grabbed her bag, flinching as the chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor. She grabbed her folder and shoved it hastily into the bag, mumbling an apology and stepping away from the table, away from him. She threw him one last pain filled glance before she disappeared into the crowd and out the door.

He stared in despondence at the empty chair she’d just occupied. Once again she’d pushed him away. Once again she’d refused to hear the truth of her own reality. What would it take to get through to her? What would it take for her to see that he was only trying to save her from her own mistakes? From something that was basically killing her.

A growl escaped him, feral as the wolf within him. Fists clenched against cold unfeeling wood, claws threatening to break free and puncture the delicate skin of his palm.

He snapped to reality when the server came over, asking him to leave before his display of aggression chased away the timid customers around him. 

A nasty comment thrown over his shoulder later and he stood once more in the cold, unfeeling rain outside. Flipping the collar of his jacket up against the dripping wetness he turned towards his home, knowing the questions that would be launched at him, knowing the concern that would fill his brothers’ eyes as he told them that once more he’d failed to convince her. That once more he might have been moments away from losing her forever thanks to her hard headed determination to escape his unending concern.

“Hyung?” Jimin’s voice broke through the perpetual storm of his rage.

He glanced around, only just realizing that he’d made it home and now sat on the massive wrap around sofa in the living room of his dorm.

“Hyung did you hear me?” Jimin reached out a hand, eyes filled with sorrow for the stewing rage flowing off of Yoongi in waves.

Yoongi sighed, having to physically restrain himself from snapping at the young pup.

“Sorry Jimin. No, I didn’t hear you.”

“Ah..w…well the others are all at dance practice but…I could feel you were hurting and well I came home to sit with you…if…if you want?” The dancer reached his hand out, eyes seeming to plead with Yoongi to accept the invitation for a listening ear.

The wolf within retreated, gaining Yoongi a clear head that allowed him to reach for and clasp Jimin’s hand in his own.

“I…yeah. I’m sorry Jimin. I know how much practice means to you, I just…”

“She didn’t want to hear it again?”

Yoongi nodded, eyes closing as he leaned his head against the back of the couch. “I swear it’s like she enjoys living with all of that pain.”

“Now I highly doubt that.” Jimin chidded, lips pursed as he frowned at his weary elder. “She’s afraid hyung. Probably too afraid of what it could mean to be happy. Of what it could mean to finally be free.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Yoongi raised his free hand to clench at the blonde hair swept over his forehead. “I mean who doesn’t want to be happy?”

Jimin patted his hand, mulling over his words for a moment.

“Well. She spent her whole life in pain. Even before she met us she’d rarely ever smiled, let alone had a moment where she could just exist and be a person right? At least that’s what I understood from what she told you.”

Yoongi nodded, tilting his head to the side to watch Jimin from half opened eyes. “Her childhood was fucked, teen years were trash, young adult years were shitty. Hell even now her life is a burning dumpster fire. That’s why I don’t get why she won’t let me help her?”

“Hyung… okay.” Jimin slid forward, eyes bright as a thought came to mind. “Do you remember 70 years ago when that cult invaded our territory and no matter what we did to kick them out they just kept throwing themselves at our claws?”

Yoongi grunted, not quite following Jimin but deciding to play along anyway. “Yeah, those religious freaks even had Joon baffled.”

Jimin nodded, a slight grimace coming over him as he continued. “The problem with them was that they’d been brainwashed right?” Yoongi nodded. “They’d been basically forced to live and work and act a certain way until they basically didn’t know anything else other than what their leader told them was the truth.”

“Yeah, I remember. That sick fuck had them convinced we were demons come to eat their babies or some shit so we ended up having to wipe them all out because they just kept coming back with new recruits n shit.”

“Yeah…well basically she’s going through the same thing.”

“What?? There’s no way. I’d know if she had joined a cult!”

“Hyung, focus here.” Jimin chuckled, patting his elder on the shoulder as he’d sat up in a rage and was now squeezing the blood flow from Jimin’s hand.

“I don’t mean she’s joined a cult. Okay look. When she was a kid you said her mom used to beat the crap out of her right? Not to mention the fucked up shit her ex did to her right?”

Yoongi growled at the memory of her telling him that exact story, remembering the deadness in her eyes as she told it as if it’d happened to someone else and not her.

“Who the fuck does that to their girlfriend??” Yoongi jumped up from the couch, tugging at his hair as he began to pace restlessly.

“She told you what her mom would do right? Telling her she wasn’t allowed to think of herself as pretty, not allowed to be selfish by asking for things and always being forced to put her younger brother and sister before her own needs right?” Jimin watched Yoongi’s restless movements, noticing the shadow of his tail and ears beginning to form.

“Yeah. And then when she got with that dumb shit from podunk nowhere he did the same shit to her, beating her and calling her all kinds of names and putting her down all the time…”

“She’s been hearing her whole life she’s not worth it. Not worth the joy, not worthy of being happy. Hyung…hyung!” Jimin had to shout to regain his elder’s attention. Yoongi’s head snapped to him, eyes glowing a golden honey as his canines sharpened and his claws began to twist and bend his fingers into strange shapes.

“She was brainwashed. Just like those cult followers her psyche was warped and twisted to believe these lies to the point that anything else that’s actually the truth sounds like some made up fantasy that could threaten her very wellbeing.”

As the truth began to dawn on Yoongi his form began to waver, melting back into the soft human form of a dejected man trying his best to understand and save his best friend, the love of his life…his soulmate.

“I…fuck…” He collapsed back onto the couch beside Jimin, eyes glazed as he stared up at the ceiling. “I…how did I never realize?”

“Because you were so busy being angry for her that you didn’t take the time to see the bigger picture, the whole picture.”

“J..Jimin…what do I do?”

Jimin’s heart twisted at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. The sound of a broken man searching for a way out of this pit of despair.

“If this were a human I’d tell you to give up on her and move on but…”

“You know I can’t. You know who she is…who she was…”

“I know hyung. And we all feel it, just as much as you do. But…well she found you first. It’s always been that way.” Jimin reached for Yoongi’s hand, pulling it into his lap and rubbing his thumbs gently over the elder man’s knuckles.

“We’ll figure this out hyung. Knowing what we know now I bet Namjoon hyung has an idea of what we can do to help her. We just gotta be patient okay?”

Though the newfound knowledge weighed heavily on his mind he nodded along to Jimin’s words, finding himself far too exhausted to think, let alone argue any further.

                                                       Chapter 2

[ultimateshc]

Can i get something about going on a cute café date w rantaro?? ty 🖤

This came out a little more simple than I planned, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Time with Rantaro was very limited, he had dedicated himself to finding his sisters with everything being considered secondary. He would be gone weeks and even months at a time, only coming back to see you and to quickly plan his next trip. He had just returned from his latest expedition to Thailand and wanted to meet you at your usual cafe. It was a small, but cozy place a little ways away from the shoreline, and decorated with all kinds of plants. You both always met here whenever he’d return from one of his long trips.

You open the glass door and look around the quiet cafe before spotting Rantaro in the back. He gives you a gentle smile before rushing to give you a small hug. “I missed you” He whispers, before taking your arm and leading you back to the table he was at. You take the seat across from him, careful of the potted plants that surrounded you. “How’ve you been?” He asks as he leans forward in his chair, a little tired from just coming from the sea. “I’ve been fine, not too much going on at home, just been a little lonely without you” He chuckles and leans his head into his hand, “I promise this next trip won’t be so long, there’s just so much to explore” The two of you talk about the details of his next trip, and he promises again that he’ll spend more time with you too. 

After a second it goes silent between you two, a loving glance shared before he moves his free hand over to yours, cupping it slightly. A waiter comes to your table and Rantaro orders for both of you, some tea and a couple of pastries. It stays like that for a while before he hops slightly in his seat and turns to pull a small box out of his bag. “And before I forget, I got this for you” You take the box and pull the bright ribbon off of it. Inside was a variety of colorful beaded and braided bracelets. “I got one for you at every rest stop I was at, kinda helped make it feel like you were there with me” You smile as you drag your finger over the different materials before looking back to him. “They’re wonderful, Rantaro” 

He seems content and retakes your hand back into his. He recounts his stories on his time there and gives you an update on how far he was on finding his sisters. He swears there's a lead somewhere in Laos, however, discussion of it is cut short by the waiter. It's for the better, he always gets so heated talking about his sisters and here wasn’t the best place for it. The rest goes smoothly of you two eating cake, drinking tea, and discussing what to do with these fleeting days of him here. Finally, when you’re both full you return home to catch up on all the cuddling you missed these past weeks.