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s-brant · 3 years

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The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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whosjunglejim4322 · 3 years

Text

Bramosia | J.Seo (m)

Genre: pwp, knight!au, smut, fluff, he is, and I can't stress this enough, madly in love with you

Warnings: loss of virginity, pussy eating, mutual pining and longing, it's forbidden but who's gonna stop u??? Exactly. Inaccurate descriptions of the time period probably, inappropriate use of the word princess, he fucks you to tears, this is so self indulgent I gotta blast

The moons unearthly luminescence bleeds through the windows that sit directly above your wing of the old castles corridor, a reminder of why he bears the heavy sword that hangs off of his hip, of why he's here in the first place.

He rolls his aching neck, blinking his dry eyes a few times in an attempt to dampen them. He's usually not so worn by now.

Perhaps the two of you had gotten too carried away last night, it's too easy when you're with eachother. Effortless, like that of a flowers perianth traveling wistfully through a summers breeze. It's easy to forget.

He's here to protect you, nothing more, as he is was a proffesional in all that he does. He is a knight, after all. One of the best. Your father wouldn't have requested him from a province so far away if he weren't damn good.

Six months ago, it seems like a lifetime away and yet the memory of seeing you for the very first time is so vivid behind his eyelids, tangible as if he could reach out and hover his palms over the warmth the halo around you seemed to emit.

He smiles to himself, the image keeping him sane and distracting him from the ache in the soles of his feet. He knows you're probably not sleeping, he wishes you wouldn't worry about him. He's doing it to himself, really.

He is a warrior but he is only so strong, so resilient. He has never been stricken by such a force as to have his bones feel as weak as they do when he looks into your eyes, when you cup his face in your hands like he is the most delicate thing you have ever seen.

Sure, he hadn't been the most nonchalant. His eyes barely left you even during the brief moments in which his life is not sworn over to do so, and you being you, caught him almost every time. You'd smile, fleeting enough for only him to notice.

You never get the credit you deserve, he had come to find out over the past several months. Being a princess, as fawned over the title may be, it wasn't meant for you.

You'd scowl at the name of every prince your father mentioned might come visit, which he'd take pride in secretly. You wouldn't even scold him whenever he'd been clearly protective in a manner than suggested that it was more than just the job that inclined him to act that way.

Perceptive, and clever you are. And to think, you might feel even a fraction of what he feels, it causes his heart to thunder loudly behind his sturdy ribcage, momentarily reducing his fatigue.

You are the only one in all of his twenty five years of life that has threatened to shake his very foundation, like you've found a way to wind yourself through every ridge of his skeleton like vines of Wisteria.

Sundays are always the hardest, you're still so fresh in his mind, on his skin. It's like every inch of him has been permanently marked, he can still feel the weight of your body against his and the warm puff of air from your lips against his earlobe as you sing his name.

His sigh is quiet in the vast, empty space around him. He shouldn't be thinking of you so late, when he's so tired. It makes him ache for you all the more, make him wish life was anything but what it is now. That he could be with you unabashedly.

That he could be your protector, and not just in a way that could be be permanently devastated if anyone were to find out about the two of you.

He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes, not until he has to peel them open and search for the source of the soft voice he's just heard whisper his name into the dark.

He furrows his brows as a stream of warm candlelight spills through the crack in your door from your room, your form coming into a few just a moment later, as if beckoned from his dreams.

"You're really going to stay out there, John?" He foresees your incredulity, smiling at the hand thats propped up on your hip.

"Those are my orders, princess." He has a hard time not staring at you, even in such poor lighting you are still the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

He's always stubborn about breaking the made up rules you two have put in place, like only meeting in private on Saturdays. Despite his inability to resist you he still needs to keep you safe.

"My father is a whole wing away, don't you know," you emphasize your point by stepping out past your doorframe, tiptoeing at an almost imperceptible pace towards him. "and if danger were to arise, how much more convenient need it be, than for you to be right there with me?"

You're standing right in front of him now, weaking his resolve eith each syllable that passes those pretty lips of yours. It's strange, how he still wonders if your feelings for him are resolute as his are for you, when you're the one always asking for trouble. Eager to have your way.

When you reach out to grab his waist, he breaks.

"Princess, if someone were to see that I'm not outside of your room guarding as I'm supposed to,"

You interrupt him, pressing yourself closer until he can feel your chest against his, the barrier of his clothing suddenly a burden far heavier than before.

"Who? Who might see? Everyone is asleep, you should be."

You stare up at him and he can't seem to resist the pull, meeting your eyes and unclapsing his hands from behind his back to stroke the apple of your cheek with his knuckles.

You heel into his touch, beaming as you realise you've already gotten your way, evident in the way he sighs your name as if the word fills him with oxytocin.

"You really are trouble," he cups your face, calloused fingertips swiping a fallen lash from underneath your eye. "trying to lure me in, like a siren. I'd be willing to go, anyways."

You lift yourself to the tips of your toes, pressing a brief, featherlight, kiss to the surface of his lips. Just enough to bring forth warmth to his cheeks.

"You're silly, I'd be too selfish a siren to do any damage. I'd have to keep you all to myself."

His arms are strong and steady as the encapsulate you, the fears and worries of outside intruders fading with each second spent in eachothers presence. It's like nothing else exists.

"Please, Princess. It's hard enough already, to be away from you," he's on the verge of losing any bit of hope for his sanity, but as anticipated, you won't have it.

"And you don't think it's hard for me? You think that I enjoy knowing that it is prohibited for me to be like this with you? I am many things but I am not selfish, so if you don't want to come with me then I won't force you."

He has to bite back a laugh, or maybe a scream of frustration and agony all at the same time. Here you are, so close he's sure you can hear how his pulse pounds beneath his skin at your presence, actually accusing him of not wanting you. It's preposterous.

You glare up at him when his arms don't loosen their grasp.

"You must be mistaken, sorely mistaken. If you think that any moment spent without you is even the least bit pleasant for me, you're wrong. So wrong it's a bit humorous," he kisses your cheek, and then the other. Your skin tingles where his lips grace.

"You may not be selfish but I am. So selfish that I'd give into my own desires even if it meant that one slip up could ruin it all. Don't you see that?" You sigh blissfully, in spite of his words, when he kisses your nose.

"Well I think that's stupid, I'd never let such a thing happen. I've lived here my whole life, I'd be able to predict the likelihood of someone coming up here during such a late hour."

He doesn't miss the pitch of sadness that comes with talk of the castle, he knows that there is so much you still have yet to experience. So much you'd like to do, so far away from here.

Still, he can't deny the truth in which you speak. You're right, and he knows that you're as careful of these things as he is. He trusts you, as you trust him. And what is he going to do, say no? He'd never have the willpower.

His broad shoulders relax, his hands suddenly engulfing yours.

"Alright, you don't have to pout anymore. You know I'll end up kissing it from that pretty face of yours anyways."

You suppress a giggle of elation, squeezing your fingers around his as you turn to quietly pull him into your room, peering into the the hallway once more to make sure the coast is clear, before you ease your door shut.

And then at once, he is what you taste on your tongue.

His lips always leave you breathless. The way he kisses you, it's as of you are his only source of oxygen and his lungs burn with the need for air. He is fierce, but so very concise. You almost forget that he so ruefully pretended to put up a fight.

Your arms mold around his neck as he slouches the slightest bit in order to make the reach easier for you, knowing how you like to bury your hands in his hair and tug at the strands whenever he does something that you'd like more of.

Your eagerness is a bit more exuberant tonight, normally you'd still be a bit bashful, giggling between pecks and having to turn your face away before kissing him again.

But you haven't pulled away from him yet, not even for a breath and suddenly his skin is sweltering towards what feels like a hundred degrees. He's pretty sure you've just whispered his name.

He's already gone, helplessly lost in the way you're clinging onto him with all your strength.

"John." Just his name falling from your lips in the form of a sweet sigh has his knees buckling.

He's careful, hesitant even, when he cups the back of your knees and allows you to fall atop your bed, the sight almost too much to bear. He can never catch a break.

But he has to look at you, has to see the look in your eyes, the gleam that shines in your blown out pupils as your fingers tug at the clothing hanging loosely on his body. He fights back a groan.

Of course things have gotten intense between the two of you, but nothing more than over the clothes petting. And, even then, that drove him to the brink of insanity. He didn't think he could ever be putty in someone's hands until he met you.

It feels like everything is happening so fast yet not slow enough, it seems as if you're blooming like a lotus before his eyes and he wants to capture every little detail. Just incase one day his memories are all he has of you.

You pull him back down to your mouth, legs suddenly looping around his trim waist, knees locked on either side. You practically purr as his hands, large and tender, grace your thighs only to be met with bare skin where your nightgown has risen up.

He's breathing heavily when your mouths depart momentarily, his doe eyes an onyx pit of desire and emotion as he stares down at you, lips ruby red.

You nod, as if reading his mind and answering the dozens of unanswered questions that sit unmoving at the tip of his tongue. Still, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration, in tentative restraint.

"You can touch me. Please, touch me."

Your skin is heavenly underneath his trembling touch, from the soft hair atop your thighs to the way you so perfectly mold around his fingers. You're a gift of the most ethereal kind, here in front of him.

You coo at him with a voice of an angel, pulling at his face in an attempt to have him kiss you again. He's been too busy ogling, and repays you with the press of his mouth against the crook of your neck.

You lift your chin to allow him more access, eyes fluttering closed and thighs tightening around his middle when you feel the warmth of his open mouth against your throat.

"You're so sweet, so pretty." He mumbles, practically floating.

He nips at your collarbone, and you can't stop your hips from bucking up against him, your clothed center meeting his hardened length through the material of his bottoms.

The air is thick with tension now, you can feel it buzzing through the both of you like ths thrum of a thunderstorm. He sucks in a breath, lips ghosting over yours.

"I want to make you feel good, If you'd allow me." He tries to control the shake in his voice but he's not sure he's succeeded. What a mess you've made of him.

You kiss him for what seems like the hundredth time but feels like the first, still sending jolts of electricity through your body and causing heat to swirl in your loins. You can barely speak.

"Y-Yes, yes I'll allow you."

Your voice is foreign to your own ears, clouded with desire and a desperation that is as overwhelming as it is strange and new.

But having him here, knowing he's the one whose hands are touching you, it's comforting in a way that leaves no room for doubt that he is nothing but kind. Nothing but adoring.

It's hard to tell with just the luminosity of a single candle on your bedside table, but you're almost certain you can feel him shuffle. At least, his weight seems to have shifted, his arms suddenly caged around your waist, upperhalf between your legs.

And then you feel it, the plushness of his lips just above your knee as he lifts your legs by your calves, placing them over his shoulders. You're not sure you can focus on anything else now, breathing suddenly heavy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" His voice is so close, yet far away in an unfamiliar way. It has butterflies swarming your belly.

"I'm so lucky, so so lucky..." He trails off between kisses, shifting from one thigh to the other, slowly but surely making his way towards your center.

It's only now in your bird brain that you're beginning to realize what exactly he's about to do, and it's like some switch inside of you has been flicked on, toes suddenly curling in anticipation, wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

The desire isn't just in your belly now, its everywhere. All consuming, when he pushes your nightgown up and bunches it around your hips, the air cool against your skin. You shiver, and his cheek brushes against the crease of your thigh.

"Have you ever been touched like this, princess?" He's curious but not pushy, just wants to know. When you shake your head, he swallows.

He's slow and steady, pulling your underwear off your hips and down your legs, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. You don't clamp your legs shut, despite the instinct to shield yourself. You've never hidden yourself from him, and you know there's no reason to.

Esepcially not when he's looking at you like he is right now, like a man starved whose just been presented with a meal of his favorite kind. He glances up at you, with eyes that shine with gratitude, and awe alike. You reach out to stroke his hair.

And then, suddenly, his face is gone from your view. You feel it, first, before you register that it's happening. A gasp leaves your lips the moment your back arches ever so slightly off of your mattress, his hands keeping your thighs apart as his tongue licks another flat stripe through your folds.

You feel exposed in a way that only feels as intoxicating as it does, because he's the one with his mouth on your cunt, suckling your bud between his lips and swiveling his head side to side. You tug at his hair.

A guttural groan resonates in his throat and the vibration serves as direct stimulation, a mewl leaving your mouth as you buck you hips up against his skilled tongue.

"Shhh baby, stay quiet for me," you furrow your eyebrows, looking down at him with stars in your eyes. "I know, I know sweetheart." He reads the pleading in your eyes, soothingly rubbing your hips as he delves back in.

It's not easy to stay quiet. Not at all.

If you'd thought him rubbing your clit through your clothes was something to be noisy over, nothing prepared you for this.

He's so good at it, so generous with every lap of his tongue. The sounds are lewd and loud in the shared space, and his tongues pace only increases when you reach down to find his hands. He intertwines your fingers before you give him the hint.

You try to keep your volume low, your whimpers almost inaudible but loud enough to spurr him on, to have his hips rutting against the bed while he kisses your cunt with passion only a lover could have.

Bliss overcomes you faster than you expect, and swallows you whole like a vicious, unmerciful hurricane.

Your thighs tremble against his strength as he keeps them parted when they threaten to close, your fingers twisted in the comforter as tears well in your eyes.

You're not sure if you're making any noise, the light too bright behind your eyes, bones suddenly weightless as his tongue licks you clean. You twitch, aware that you've let out a whine. The feeling is agonizingly pleasant.

You're still throbbing when his hands suddenly grasp your jaw, head lolling in his direction as he presses his lips to yours. He's serene, slipping his tongue into your mouth, humming.

You're certain, now. Certain that you need to have him in every way there is to have someone, for your heart may forever be unsettled if it doesn't get to taste what it's like to love him wholly, completely.

"I want to-" you've got his rapt attention, as you always do, and he stares down at you with a lovesick expression as you struggle to find the strength to say it out loud.

He's grown accustomed to reading your countenance, only time allowing him to grasp the meaning behind every crease and line that forms on your face, he's certain you could give him one look and he'd instantly know what it is that you're trying to say.

One perk to having a secret rendezvous, though he still needs to hear you say it. He'd only take your word for it regarding something like this, something that he's dreamt about more times that he'd like to admit.

He can't hide his surprise, thumbs stroking your face.

"You want me to..." he quirks an inquisitive brow, nearly becoming distracted when your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. "you want me to be your first?"

Even the words have you latching onto him tighter, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Yes, I want that very much...do you...also want that?"

He grins, widely and for a moment you forget he was born to be made of steel, that he's fought all of his life and has bruised his skin for the sake of his kingdom. You want to kiss away every bad memory in his head.

"How could you even think you have to ask? I want nothing more, just you. You're all I'll ever want."

The veracity in his voice, suddenly hoarse, makes your skin feel like it's being tickled by a million, tiny feathers. You never knew anything could feel like this.

A heartbeat later, your hands are slipping underneath his top to make an attempt at pulling it off, your excitment not a good match for your lack of coordination. Of course, he doesn't mind helping.

He slips his sword from his hip while you stare up at him with wide eyes of reverence and desire, so much of him being exposed at once causing a swelter of heat to boil underneath your skin.

Your hands are hesitant, hovering around his lithe hips as he sits back on his haunches, chest rapidly rising and falling as the atmosphere begins to soak into his pores. He can't believe he gets to make love to you.

"You can touch me, princess," he's the one reassuring you now, knowing that beyond your headstrong personality when you're with him, you're still so timid; trembling like a leaf in autumn.

His dexterous fingers gently grasp your wrists, placing your palms over his abdomen, keeping your gaze all the while, head nodding in encouragement.

He's soft, soft on the surface at least. The soft down that covers his honey colored skin is like silk underneath your fingers, a juxtaposition to the rigid muscle underneath that flexes as your fingertips move upwards towards the broad planes of his chest.

You hook your fingers around his shoulders, and pull him down to your mouth, determined as your heart bellows inside of your body.

It's wilder this time, the wet sounds loud in your ears, his tongue waltzing with yours. You rake your nails down his sides, and he damn near growls.

It's a blur, the way he slips the straps of your gown from off of your shoulders, before removing the garment completely and throwing it behind him. Somewhere in between he pulls the covers out from underneath you, sensing the chill that runs through you like a tremor from the exposure.

It's during that brief moment when you're too drunk on adrenaline, that your fingers begin pulling at the buckle of his bottoms, too eager again and not being able to unfasten it correctly. Always the gentlemen, he does it for you, again.

He's careful now, not completely planting himself against you yet when he kisses your neck and takes your breasts in his massive palms, squeezing indulgently.

You pull him up by the ridge of his jaw, wrapping your legs around his middle as you had previously, letting out a small gasp as his hard length suddenly comes to lie heavy between your legs when you beckon him closer by your heels on his back.

"You're sure you want me?" He slips his hand that's not cupping your cheek, down in between your bodies to rub your clit with his middle finger, actually expecting you to be able to speak coherently. He supresses his gasp upon feeling the abundance of your essence.

It's hard to focus, when he's looking down at you like that, when you can feel every ridge and curve of his naked body against yours. Perhaps it's being able to to tell that he's feeling the same way just by the way he speaks, that makes it so intoxicating.

"You're all I'll ever want." You echo his earlier words, and his laughter fills your ears like a lullably. You reach out to push his dark hair out from in front of his eyes, his lips catching your palm and placing a kiss to the center.

"It'll hurt, I'll go as slow as you need me to." You see the worry creased between his brow, and you soothe it away by clenching your thighs around his waist, silently beckoning him.

"Please, please fuck me."

It takes him by surprise, cock twitching against your sex. You sound so sweet, so angelic even when you're requesting something so filthy.

He lifts himself on his forearms, reaching down to grasp his shaft. Your hands are in his hair a the while, fingers tracing shapes across the nape of his neck. You suck in a breath when he rubs the tip against your clit, arousal leaking from your slit.

He rubs his cock against you like this, through your silken folds and back up to your sensitive nub, until your head is thrown back against the pillows, face turned to the side and canorous mewls slipping past your lips.

Your eyes flutter open when he kisses you, finally prodding your entrance, readying you. Your teeth gently sink into the plush surface of his bottom lip, as if urging him to continue.

Your mouth falls open when he begins to push himself inside of you. You have to brace yourself by clinging onto his biceps, reminding yourself to breathe.

If you weren't as wet for him as you are, you're sure it would be more painful. It still stings, even more so as he begins to bottom out, using every bit of self control he has as to make sure he doesn't accidentally rut into you with too much force.

He meets your eyes when he's fully sheathed inside of you, your fingernails leaving crescent moons in his skin. He doesn't mind it one bit.

"Are you alright?" The tenderness in his voice is accompanied by his lips across your cheeks, down your jaw, over your eyelids.

"Mhm. J-Just stay like this, for a second, please." Your walls flutter around him and his eyes fall heavy. He stays as still as he can for the moment, fingers massaging your soft hip.

"I never thought...never dreamed we'd get to do this." He speaks in an irrevocable way, swelling your heart over two times its size with how he talks about you. Like you're truly something magical.

You wiggle your hips, his gaze searching for yours and lighting up with newfound determination when you give him conformation to move. He slowly drags himself out, before pushing himself back in.

"If you only knew...how much I truly think of you." You speak steadily despite the wave of pleasure that ripples through your body, from the pit of your stomach outwards, touching every nerve.

He's big, bigger than you expected, but curved in a way that has you fighting a cry. Your lungs ache with the need to make noise, to express how it feels to have him inside of you like this. You squeeze around him, and he smashes his lips against yours.

You never thought it would feel like this, you'd heard mixed reviews but clearly none of them had ever experienced what it's like to have someone like him demonstrating their skill.

He's precise, a little shaky but only because he's concentrating on not literally cumming after two minutes. You're everything he's ever wanted and more, you're soaked and warm around him, chest pressed flush against his. Your hardened nipples threaten to distract him.

His hair tickles your forehead as he begins to create a steady pace. He's got one hand behind your right thigh, cupping it and hiking it up just the slightest bit while he fucks into you, curling his hips.

He swallows your moans, tasting the sense of surrealness on your tongue. He feels it too, groaning when you tug a tuft of his hair.

"You're mine, all mine, fuck." His voice is hoarse, hips stuttering as he begins to rock into you, not completely pulling himself out of you before nudging your cervix again. His mouth catches the edge of your jaw, then your earlobe.

He buries his face in your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his hair as you keep yourself quiet. He can still feel the way you're shivering, the whispers of cries that are audible when you breathe.

"I'm yours, I'm yours." You're not sure you could ever feel this way about someone else, and not just because he is all that every single one of your senses seemed to be attuned to.

He's deep inside of you, reaching places you never would be able to by yourself, and still holds you like you're the entire world. Despite the need that consumes you both, he takes his time.

You feel him everywhere. On your neck, your throat, down to your clavicle where his hot tongue soothes over the mark he's just made.

You can almost feel him in your belly, the tip of his cock nudging the sweet spot of nerves deep within you causing your body to jerk in his hold. He takes note and is determined to drive you over the edge, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

He's yearned for it too long, and nothing his mind could have conjured up would ever compare again.

He lets go of your leg only to bring his hand to where your bodies are connected as one, your face contorted into a mask of pleasure as he begins to rub at your clit, in circular motions, with the same rythym as his thrusts.

"John, ohhh, you f-feel so good." You're slurring your words, high off of his affection. Your belly feels hot, a pressure just behind your navel leaving you writhing, trying to match his pace.

"Yeah? Feels good to have me inside of you?" He's being cruel now, already knowing the answer by the way tears are swelling in your eyes for the second time tonight, irisises shining back at him.

Your hands roam his sides, settling on his hips as you turn your face to hide it against his bicep. He kisses any expanse of skin that he can reach, till the wet spots leave a trail of chills along your body.

You're close, and he knows it. You're already leaking onto the bed, dripping down his shaft.

"J-John...p-please." You're blubbering now, and his fingers circle your clit faster, just enough to have you breathless and unable to speak as his strokes become inconsistent, cock throbbing.

"Shh, I got you baby, gonna make you cum okay? Want you to let go."

Looking up into his eyes, it's hard to resist. Suddenly it's the first time you've met and you're awestruck by his beauty all over again, by the sharp planes of his face that you'd come to realize are soft underneath your touch.

You're kissing him again for the first time, and his lips are as plush and pillowy as they look, his hands big and wsrm as they hold your face steady against his mouth.

You realize you're in love with him for the first time again, staring into honey colored irises and listening to his velvet voice, aware that when he's gone it feels like a piece of you has been taken along with him.

Your body suddenly stills, save for your back arching and his body, sturdy and whole, there to anchor you while you forget you breathe. Your orgasm is all the more powerful this time, with him inside of you, and it's like once youre unraveling it doesn't stop.

He holds the back of your head and allows you to muffle your cries against his chest, fingers latching onto any part of him you reach first, as if you might fall of the face of the earth. He's still rubbing your clit, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear.

You don't pick up all of it, only vaguely aware of the tremor in his tone as he says your name.

And then he's locked against you, every muscle in his body rigid and hard as a strained, muffled whimper resonates from beside your head. He's biting into a pillow, as warmth fills you to the brim and he sloppily fucks it into you.

You're still reeling, when he kisses you like someone who hasn't seen their lover in years and is finally getting the chance to touch them again, to wordlessly express how enamored they are. Wholeheartedly, and irreversibly.

He says it first, which surprises you, considering in your dreams you're always the one professing it to him, stroking his skin or petting his hair and whispering it in between kisses.

But you're sure this is real, you can feel ache in your bones, the throb of your centers where they're still connected.

"I love you." His voice is even more beautiful when he's speaking in such a simple, yet profound way. There's a quiver, but not because he's not being honest. He'd swear on his life, for his conviction.

"I love you too." You reply, looping your fingers round the nape of his neck, toying with the soft hair there.

Maybe he shouldn't be so shocked, but he is. His face can't hide it, the quirk of his full lips, the furrow of disbelief in his brow. You want to kiss his stupid face a thousand time over.

"I love you." He repeats it, as if the words bring forth sunshine on a day shrouded by the darkness of rain clouds.

He repeats it again, when he's hovering over your lips, breath warm against your skin. He repeats it again when he's placing kisses to your forehead, when you giggle and stroke his cheek.

"And I love you, silly silly man." You remind him, willing him by the longing in your voice, to believe it as you believe him.

He repeats it again, when a tear cascades down your cheek like a diamond shaped declaration of your honesty, and he kisses it away, claiming it for himself.

You love him, and he loves you.

And maybe, no matter what happens, that'll be enough.

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jaycewrites-192000 · 3 years

Text

The Rest Of Our Lives

Levi Ackerman x Reader

It had all finally came to an end, the world could finally try its best to heal from years upon years of death.

Speaking of healing, he had gone through the worst of it over the years. And finally, he has the rest of his life to heal.

But he can't do it alone...

(Spoiler Warning!!! This story contains spoilers for the end of the Attack on Titan manga!!!)

It had been three years since that fateful battle. So many lives had been lost that day, good and bad, friend and enemy. Even the majority of the human population, eighty percent to be specific, had been wiped out just for the slim chance of peace, and even then, it wasn't completely guaranteed. But for now, all was calm. That day, was the battle between titan and human, heaven and earth. The day the dreaded rumbling had began, and soon ended. It resulted in many deaths and plenty of injuries, the worst landed upon Levi Ackerman. Humanity's strongest soldier was nearly killed, but he wasn't given that title for nothing. He was still living today, though missing a few fingers, a working eye, and finally his permanently damaged leg. It wasn't too much of a problem, as there were no longer any titans to fight. Though, it was somewhat, shameful in his eyes. That after everything, a busted leg is what holds him down. He wasn't even elderly, and yet he needed constant help. He grateful for the help however, though he wished he didn't have to burden people with his problem so much.

But, it wasn't a burden or a problem to her.

She was there by his side for as long as he can remember. She fought by his side during expeditions, comforted him during his low points, and even risked her life over and over to keep him safe and alive. He can't say he's never done the same for her. Maybe it was her constant attention and care, that made him fall in love with her. At the time, it was horrible. He fell in love with someone he could so easily loose, but now in a world free of titans, he could love her as much as he wanted. And the same goes for her. They both confessed their love for each other shortly before the rumbling began, then he proposed to her after everything settled.

And so, here they were, in their own little cabin next to a beautiful lake, surrounded by tall pine trees. They both were outside today, rested on the bench that sat right before the lake. Hand in hand, her head leaning on his shoulder. Their gentle breaths in sync with one another. The calmness of the quiet air, aided to their ease. For once in their lives, they felt no need for worry or panic, or when the next attack from the titans would be. And they would never need for such worries again.

Her eyes slowly opened, she smiled as the first thing she saw, was her soon to be husband. Even with the scars, he was still as handsome as ever. Though, his eyes were distant and somewhat empty. Why? "Levi?" She spoke softly. "Are you ok?" Levi finally blinked, sighing softly he looked down at you. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" She sits up to meet his gaze. "You seem, a little distant. Are you tired?" Levi shakes his head before placing his hand on his scar. "Just thinking." He muttered. Was that what this was about? This would happen every now and then, Levi would just stare at himself in the mirror. Well, less himself and more at his blinded eye, the two long scars that covered it. It started from the top of his eye down to his lip. He considered himself lucky, that explosion Zeke Yeager caused could have just killed him all together. But it only costed him an eye and a few fingers.

Still she wondered, did he hate how he looked now? He never commented on it before, so she just assumed he didn't care. But the way his overall expression would falter anytime he saw it, or tried to lifted his hand, or even when he tried to stand. "Levi? You know I didn't think less of you because of those scars." She placed her hand on top of his damaged one. "Or your hand. Or your leg. I still love you. I always have and I always will. This doesn't change a thing." Y/n say softly, trying to reassure him. "I...I know that Y/n. But....it's not that...not this time." Levi looks up at the sky. It was a soft orange, signifying the end of the day. "Every time I wake up, I wonder when it will happen." Y/n blinks a few times, not really understanding. "When what will happen?" She asks. "When they will come back. The titans. Before, at any moment, we could die at the hands of those giant bastards." Y/n would be lying if she said she hadn't felt the same at sometimes.

"But Levi, that was before. They're gone now. There are no more titans, we're safe." She explains to him.

"For how long?"

The panic in his voice was clear. Y/n took both of his hands and held them in her own. Her eyes full of sincerity as she spoke. "Levi, I know how you're feeling. But, you were there that day. We both were, the titans are gone. They died along with Eren." It still pained you to say it. Though in the end Eren was acting rash and out of hand, you still remembered him as the same young boy with hope in his heart that one day, the world would be a one without titans. It was a shame that he let it go to his head, and because of that, he was responsible for nearly exterminating all of humanity. Therefore, he had to face the consequences of his actions and pay the ultimate price. Poor kid...

"There are no trace of titans left. We're safe. You're safe. And you will never have to worry about stuff like that ever again." You bring his hands up and kiss them gently. Making sure he felt your love, even through his missing fingers. "And I won't ever leave your side. I'll always be here for you Levi. To care for you, to love you, for the rest of our lives."

A sudden wetness on your hands made you flinch. You look up to expecting to see rain, but instead, you saw Levi, crying. He sniffles a few times before leaning closer to you, until his head rested on your shoulder. You smiles and rub his back in a soothing manor. Through his sobs, you could make out a feint "thank you" from Levi.

You meant every word. You will always be there for him. And he in return would always be there for you. You two will always have each other, for the rest of your lives.

Another year has come to pass, Levi and Y/n had finally married, and proud to call themselves Mr and Mrs Ackerman. And Mrs Ackerman was expecting and due to deliver soon. There were congratulations given all around. From Armin, Jean, Connie, Annie, Reiner, even Falco and Gabi. Even Mikasa. It was a bit surprised that she came to visit. Mikasa had became distant ever since Eren died, she was the one that killed him after all. She had been by Eren side for many many years, and in the end, she was the one that put him to rest. It took quite a toll on her. But she was recovering, slowly but surely.

Y/n wished so desperately that Hanji and Erwin could have been here today. Though, she bet that Hanji would have been pretty sad without having anymore titans to experiment on. But deep down she knew, that they were still here, even if she couldn't see them. Levi knew it as well. They would both regularly visit their graves to pay respects and generally just talk about what's going on in their lives. Hanji would have been so thrilled to know that Levi and Y/n settled down to start a family. From the very beginning, Hanji had always hoped you two would get together. She even went as far as teasing her and Levi, which would normally result in a kick to the back from Levi. Not too hard though, he didn't want to break her spine. And Erwin, he would just be happy to see Levi happy with someone. And of course Levi's former squad would be happy that he was at peace with himself. They all would be so proud of him.

When it came time for Y/n to deliver, it was one of the most stressful and wonderful days of Levi's life. Fortunately, Y/n was just fine afterwards and gave birth to a healthy and beautiful little girl. She resembled Levi the most, with her black hair and her grey-blue eyes. She had some of Y/n's features as well, like her skin tone and her facial features.

"What should we name her?" Y/n spoke softly as she held her baby close. "We haven't came up with a name for her yet?" Levi mutters. They were spending more time preparing themselves for a new addition to their small family, that they hardly had time to think of one. Levi gently stroked his daughter's cheek, she gave a tiny smile in return before her face returned to a more sleepy one. It made Levi's heart race. This was his daughter, he made that! Well, really Y/n did, but it meant just as much to him. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever think that he would have children. Then again, he never thought he would meet someone like Y/n either. Levi's stone expression dropped, a smile of his own made it onto his face.

"Levi, I've actually had one in mind for a while. But, I wasn't sure if...you would be ok with it." Y/n spoke hesitantly. Levi held her hand, such a small gesture, made sure she knew she didn't have to keep anything from him. "I know how close you were to Farlan and Isabell." Levi's breathing halted for a second. "More specifically, how much Isabell looked up to you. I know she saw you as a brother, but...what I'm trying to say is, what if we named her, Isabell?" Y/n looked down at her baby, who was sleeping peacefully in her arms. It was true, Farlan and Isabell were like family to Levi, it was devastating the way they died. He wasn't there to help them, if he was, maybe they would be here today. He missed them dearly...

When Levi didn't respond, Y/n became worried. "I-I mean, we don't have to. I was just-"

"It's perfect." Levi cut her off. "Our little Isabell." He says with another warm smile. Y/n returned the smile before kissing her daughter's head. "Welcome to the world, Isabell." She whispers.

With this, Levi knew he was living for so much more. He had a woman who loved him with all her heart, despite how he looks now. And now, he had a child. Though this world was without titans, it doesn't mean there won't be another danger that was out there, just waiting to snatch his happiness away from him. But Levi wouldn't let it. Levi swore this very day, to protect his wife and daughter with everything he had. Despite injury, despite age, he would never let anything or anyone harm his family. Because for now on, it will be only them, together.

For the rest of their lives.

THE END

(This was not stolen! This story was reposted from my Wattpad account!)

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #aot 139 #snk 139 #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #spoilers #manga spoilers #anime spoilers

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captains-simp · 3 years

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Chapter 1: Audacity

The bounty of a lifetime isn't one you're about to turn down, despite the life threatening challenges and rivals. The most irritating of which is an intergalactic superhero who becomes insistent on aiding you, whether you like it or not

Two

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"For the hundredth time, I don't know where he is! Either buy something or go someplace else."

Fuck, another dead end.

You searched the bartender's irritated eyes for any trace of a lie, already knowing you wouldn't find any but still holding onto a glimmer of hope you would catch a trace of something.

Nothing.

What had hope ever gotten you anyway?

"Just some Asgardian ale." You muttered. You really shouldn't have been buying such an expensive drink. Not to mention wouldn't be able to have much of it due to your plans of not passing out drunk that night. But you were just as frustrated and tired as the bartender.

A break could help. You lied.

You paid the bartender and tried to ignore the harsh feeling of regret already being planted in your gut. At least the alcohol would get rid of that - before it got worse.

Taking the glass, you dragged yourself to the back of the bar towards the corner you thought you wouldn't be disturbed in. That was usually the kind of environment you had your best ideas and tactics planned. The noise stopped your mind from wandering and the low level allowed you to concentrate. Even the slight buzz of the alcohol had its advantages.

But there was no success that night.

The bartender knew nothing. He was your final lead who would corporate with you. The next person you visited would be far less welcoming.

You had known that would happen when you accepted the job. It was going to be the hardest one you ever did, and the most rewarding. You had to keep reminding yourself that.

You're going to make a lot of enemies. You warned yourself for the hundredth time that week. It was true, you would. The number of people you could trust would plummet. You would have your own hit on your head. Was that really something you were prepared for?

I already have. Nothing will change. I've prepared for this. This is the bounty of a lifetime.

You were staring into your glass when she sat down. Her blonde locks were a blur in your peripheral, a momentary distraction from the recognisable colours of her suit.

It was hard to comprehend it for a second. She had arrived so suddenly and caught you unaware. Something you weren't familiar with. It was unnerving.

You sat upright and met her studious gaze. She was watching you carefully, as though trying to get a read on you. You did the same.

You had always wondered, maybe even hoped, that you would meet her. You were in two different lines of business but it wasn't like you hadn't crossed paths with heros before. There was usually some kind of mutual understanding, even some respect. You were quick to learn there wouldn't be any of that from her - not in that bar.

"Y/l/n." Carol stated, as though the pair of you were already acquainted. But it was far from a warm greeting.

Part of you wondered if you had done something illegal in your last job. Usually things like that were never dealt with, no one had the time to be chasing around bounty hunters when they were practically always on the move (and you saved the authorities a lot of trouble).

"Danvers." You replied. Both of you maintaining your stoic expressions.

"Captain Danvers." She corrected. You didn't acknowledge that and made no effort to correct yourself, wondering if it would damage that ego you had heard so much about, so she continued. "I've heard you have some information that could be of interest." She said. You didn't like where that was going. "What do you know about Daexire?" Fuck all. "Working progress." She quipped an eyebrow at that and waited for you to elaborate. You hoped she would be quick to catch on that you weren't much of a talker and that you had no interest in letting her swoop in to take your bounty.

"Do you know where he is?" God, no.

You breathed deeply through your nose before you leant forward onto your arms and flicked the side of your glass. The sound carried between you for a brief moment.

"Do you really think I would be sat here if I did?" Carol's eyes flicked down to the liquid in your glass, took in your outfit then finally returned to your slightly narrowed eyes.

"I wouldn't be surprised." You put a lid on the anger starting to replace the regret in your guts.

You were about to assure her that wasn't what you did, that whoever had told her about you didn't know you at all. She started talking again before you could, not picking up on - or maybe just not acknowledging - the trace of annoyance that may have slipped. You blamed the alcohol for that.

"Do you know anyone who does?" You did. That was a long list you were working through. Daexire was a famous man. But he was also a feared and respected one. Both were hard to overcome.

"I don't." Had it been another bounty and another hero, you would have told them. However a bounty like it wouldn't come up again, it was what you needed to escape that life you had forced yourself into. And Carol's complete disregard of your capabilites was definetly something that was going to encourage you. Maybe your pride was a little fragile.

Carol narrowed her eyes at you for longer than you were comfortable with, because you both knew she didn't believe you. You also both knew that you wouldn't tell her anything different. Yet she persisted.

"Daexire is a powerful man. He abuses that power and will continue to do so until he's stopped." The seriousness of her voice had a small voice in the back of your head urge you to tell her what she needed to know. She was right. Daexire was powerful, and so was Carol. But you knew what you were doing too.

"So I hear." Was all you said as your eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"This is serious, y/l/n." Carol warned.

"So I hear." Her jaw clenched firmly at that. You were glad to see you had gained the upper hand in some way. It certainly encouraged you.

"You're in way over your head with Daexire." It was your turn to clench your jaw. She didn't even give you the benefit of the doubt.

"And what makes you think you're not?"

Without a word, Carol held her arm out at her side and aimed her fist at an area over your shoulder. Swirls of yellow light flowed around her fist with spikes of blue and red among it.

There was no time to admire the lightshow. A blast of energy left her fist and fired across the bar, sending everyone into panic.

Everyone ducked down to avoid the blast and it's damage but you weren't focused on them, or even the photon blast. Sure, it was a little close for comfort, but Carol wouldn't hurt you. That you were certain of.

"You want to distract Daexire with a lightshow?" You quipped, feigning disinterest. Carol was far from pleased with that.

"You're going to get yourself killed trying to capture him." She no longer held herself back, set on saying something to make you second guess your stubborness. "Just tell me who can lead me to him and it will all be over so much quicker." Carol was growing impatient and didn't try to hide it, or perhaps she was unable to. You had been taking the piss more than anyone had in a long time.

"I can handle myself and I can handle Daexire." Your confidence in your knowledge and abilities had never failed you before.

You downed the Asgardian ale in one before Carol could get another word in. Embracing the instant, electrifying burn of the alcohol, you stood up from your seat and left the bar without looking back at Captain Marvel.

* * *

"I don't know anything." He was lying through his teeth, which were currently tainted a light red from the blood in his mouth.

Just as you had guessed, your visit wasn't welcome. The moment he opened the door to you he tried to slam it in your face upon recognition, instantly attempting to flee through the back door. He had put up a fight when you caught him - a surprisingly long one - that had ended with him tired to his own chair while you looked around the house and asked him questions.

You found nothing. You knew Daexire never liked having a paper trail of his work, but you would be kicking yourself if you didn't try.

"What was the last thing you designed for him?" You asked as your eyes wondered across the mantelpiece.

The man, Owen, was renowned for his weapons. They weren't exactly your style, but you had seen enough close up demonstrations of those weapons to know they were efficient to say the least.

They were all overtly large and had a hell of a kick to them (and must be a joy to try out) not to mention the most expensive weapons on the black market. So it was no surprise there had been countless rumours that Owen had designed one or two things special for Daexire. Whether it was a spineless ass-kissing attempt, a try for an alliance or just fear of being on Daexire's bad side, you weren't sure.

"Nothing. I've never had any business with him." You didn't have to turn around to know he was lying. Having him in your peripheral was enough.

"You're not getting out of that chair until I'm satisfied with what you tell me." You said, eyeing the figurine of an old fashioned Earth car.

"I have nothing else to say." Owen scowled.

"Maybe we could have a chat instead?" You spun around at the sound of the cocky voice.

Carol met you with an arrogant smirk at the sight of your confusion, wanting to know how she had snuck up on you without you noticing...again!

You watched her in annoyance as she strolled across the room towards Owen.

"Seems like you do know people who can help, y/l/n."

"Must have slipped my mind." Not bothering to conceal the lie. Carol hummed in response and trailed her focus back to Owen.

"Daexire. Where is he?" Carol demanded in a no-bullshit tone. You watched Owen carefully, curious to see if he was going to respond differently to the arrogant blonde, that would definetly be irritating.

"I already told that crazy bitch," he nodded in your direction, "I don't know." That wasn't a lie. He really didn't know. That didn't mean there wasn't other things he could share.

Carol clearly hadn't come to the same conclusion. In a second she had her arm raised and fired a photon blast across the room, making a prominent indent in the wall. That's getting annoying really quickly.

"He really doesn't know." You said as you leant back against the wall, your arms crossed as you watched the interaction.

"And how are you so sure?" Carol asked, completly unconvinced.

The corner of your lip twitched into a small smile. You weren't going to let Carol in on your secrets. At least not yet.

"I just do. So leave it."

"No chance." The swirls around her wrist started up again and this time Carol levelled her arm to Owen's chest. She wouldn't...would she?

Owen seemed skeptical too, willing to try his luck. "You're not going to kill me."

"Who said anything about killing? There isn't just one level to this thing, you know? It could just hurt...really badly." Carol left her implications hanging in the air as you both watched Owen fidget in his seat.

"I really don't know where he is-" Carol's fist lit up more and a soft hum emanated from it warningly. "Because no one does." He said in a rush, turning his face away. "He knows about the bounty and he doesn't trust anyone right now." Owen explained as fast as he could.

Carol glanced over at you, much to your surprise, and you nodded. He was telling the truth.

"So he's scared?" Carol asked, still holding her fist close.

"He's preparing."

"For what? Me?" You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore Carol's I'm-the-centre-of-the-universe attitude.

"For anything." That had you wondering just how many people were going after Daexire. You had assumed it would be very few. For most they wouldn't even come close and if they did it would be certain death.

"And that's all you know?" You knew it needed to be asked, but you hated that question because you were already certain of the answer. You looked up to have your thoughts confirmed. Truth.

You walked towards Owen and took a knife from your belt. He leant away for a moment but relaxed when you started cutting the ties.

Another dead end. You pondered if the knowledge that a lot of people were after Daexire would help you at some point. You knew you shouldn't let that optimism distract you.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Carol said in a mocking business woman tone.

Owen made the smart decision of not responding and rubbed his wrists as he watched the pair of you leave with another scowl.

"So where now?" Carol asked as you stepped out the door of the house with the blonde right behind you.

"Were you following me?" You accused as you took a step back to put some space between you.

"Yep." You didn't know if it was that Carol knew you would see through her lie or just that she wanted to declare that with some pride. The smug look on her face told you it was the latter.

It has been a couple days since your meeting in the bar. You would be lying if you said Carol hadn't popped up in your mind since then, wondering if you had made the right decision in brushing her off. But you really hadn't expected her to be following you.

"Well stop. This isn't happening." You motioned between the pair of you and made your way back to your ship to consider your options.

"I helped you out in there!" Carol called out as she jogged to catch up with you.

"You did fuck all." You scoffed. She didn't have a reply for that. You weren't entirely right - she did help - but you would have been fine on your own. Interrogation was something you excelled at. It wouldn't have taken you long to get those answers on your own.

"I can help." She insisted.

"Then help yourself, Danvers." Deliberately not calling her Captain.

You remotely opened the cargo door of your ship from the device around your forearm before you turned around to get another look at Carol.

"And don't follow me." You said as the door closed. She made no objections, but something told you you would be seeing the blonde hero again.

#enemies to lovers #brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers x reader #marvel #enemies to allies to lovers #captain marvel imagine #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel series #carol danvers series #mcu

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blood-guts-and-angel-cake · 2 years

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This is my (abridged) story.

Growing up, my mom struggled with anorexia, and my dad struggled with binge eating and obsessive eating. Growing up, my siblings and I were all exposed to toxic relationships with food. My sister developed anorexia. I was always a tiny child, a scarily tiny child, but once I became a teen I gained weight (as teens tend to do. Their bodies gain more weight because they are undergoing the change from adolescent to adult, and the body needs to hold onto nutrients in order to do so). Since being very little, I always had older kids telling me how skinny I was, so this change was devastating to me. I wasn't even overweight, maybe I was 125-145lbs between any given months. When I was an older teen, I was working three jobs and got into college early, when I was sixteen. I was going to the gym everyday. I would pass out while driving, go days without eating (on purpose), and I still gained weight. my highest weight was 165 lbs. I've recovered, relapsed, recovered, relapsed, and since turning 17, my weight has yoyo'd between 115-165lbs, at least four times. I'm 22. For years, I've been aware of the negative effects of my eating problems. I've been to doctors, I've been told that my hormones are unbalanced, I couldn't drive at night because of a Vitamin A deficiency that gave me night blindness, I've had my period cycles change drastically (though they haven't stopped altogether), I've had heart problems, I've had gastrointestinal problems, I've had sleep problems. And here I am, on the edge of recovery yet again. It's hard for me. My whole life I've had displays of toxic relationships with food. I'm still trying to identify a healthy relationship with food. but I am trying.

No matter how much of an influence other people have on you, no matter how you were raised, the most important things to remember entering into recovery are these two things:

1. Once you become an adult, the influences of your youth hold no sway over you anymore. Being a adult means that you are capable of change. That you, solely, are responsible for you actions. You may require therapy, or medicine, or treatment, and it's okay to ask for help. Sometimes, these realizations and changes aren't something you can achieve on your own. But the first step into recovery comes from admitting that your actions, are your own. You are a whole person, who is capable of learning which behaviors are unhealthy. You can't blame your eating disorder on your parents, or siblings, or the internet. It is a mental health disorder, but your thoughts and emotions don't have to control your actions. You are not powerless. You are capable of so much more than you realize, and I really believe in you. I believe in me, too.

2. You only have one body. You only have one life. Engaging in toxic eating behaviors can, and will, affect your health over time. It might not happen at first, but the longer you continue down this path, it does have lasting impacts. It helps me to see my body almost as a separate being from me. My actions, lead by my emotions, do lasting damage to a human body. My body didn't decide how to look. My body didn't say 'Lets fuck with her metabolism'. My body didn't decide to starve itself. My body didn't decide to binge eat. My body has no acting power on its own. My body is not being malicious to me. My body exists as a vessel for my mind, my being, to operate in the world. It's like a car, essentially. if my car is really beat up and old but it still drives well, I appreciate it continuing to work so I don't need to buy a new one. But if my body gets beat up, and old, and the effects of my eating disorder compound on it, I can't just buy a new one. I've learned to treat my body like a small child. And while I still have problems, I understand that I need to keep working on them if I want to stay alive.

As a side note, I understand that some people with eating problems want to unalive themselves, or feel like that might be a better option than surviving. But please, give yourself a chance to relearn old habits. Give yourself a chance to relearn your relationship with food. To relearn your relationship with your own life. Any baby step you take is progress. It's hard. But the payoff is worth it. Talk to a nutritionist to see what your body needs to run at peak performance. Talk to a therapist about identifying and altering toxic behaviors. Don't let yourself be an abuser to your own body. If you really want to feel in control, you will, in time. Even if the path to starting recovery is long and winding, even if you feel a loss of control at first, even if it sucks, when you come out the other side, you will feel more in control of your life than you ever did. I love you guys, all of you, and I hope the best for you. I hope that this post touches even just one person out there. I hope that my experiences can provide insight to someone who might not be so far along in their recovery, or so far along in their relapse.

#pro recovery #eating disoder things #anamemes #love myself #love yourselves

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jackies-wearing-khakis · 4 years

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Marriage and Murder Pt. 1 (Shelby!Reader)

a/n: I'm a bit disappointed I had to post this in two parts, but alas, the original one-shot was too long for Tumblr.

summary: Things get progressively darker as you try to survive Tommy and Grace's wedding night.

words: 3101

warnings: Themes of drinking and sexual assault.

"(y/n), for fuck's sake, hurry up!" Polly shouted from the betting room. She, Ada, Finn, John, and Esme were dressed in formal clothes, waiting for you to get ready.

"Five minutes, Pol!" you called from your bedroom.

"I swear to God," your aunt said under her breath as she checked her watch. "It's her own brother's wedding and she's decided to take her sweet time."

"What's taking her so long anyway?" Finn asked, bored to death.

"She probably looks ugly as hell and can't stand to face it," John whispered, earning a chuckle from Finn and a smack to the back of the head from Ada.

"I don't care 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 she's doing, if that girl's not down here soon we're leaving without her." Polly huffed.

What Polly and the others didn't understand was that you were by 𝘯𝘰 means taking your sweet time. If anything, you were practically tripping over yourself to try and find a dress to wear to Tommy and Grace's wedding. You'd accidentally ripped the dress you were supposed to wear the night before when you'd gotten your arm stuck in one of the sleeves. Now, you were caught between a rock and a hard place; go downstairs and face humiliation, or stay in your room and face Polly. You could tell today was going to be stressful.

You were legitimately considering cutting off the sleeves of your dress entirely when Polly came bursting into the room without warning.

"Pol, wait!" you shouted, instinctively holding your arms in front of your head for self-defense.

"I don't give a shit if you're ready or not, we're going," Polly growled. She grabbed your arm, unknowingly pulling at the rip in your dress. With one strong yank, your aunt had doubled the size of the tear. The two of you froze in shock at the damaged material.

"𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, (y/n)," Polly muttered.

"I know, it's awful." you sighed.

As you stood there, Finn peeked his head into your room. Immediately, he saw your dress and gasped.

"𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, (y/n)." Finn chuckled. "What the hell did you do?"

"Go away!" you shouted angrily. You grabbed one of your shoes and chucked it at your brother, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled out of the room laughing.

You threw yourself face-first onto your bed in utter despair, sighing dramatically.

"Oh, Pol, this'll be the death of me," you whined, your voice muffled by the covers. Your aunt rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Polly spoke. "We'll figure something out."

It wasn't long before Ada and Esme had made their way upstairs and into your room. The four of you sat in silence, quietly brainstorming. Suddenly, Esme stood up.

"I've got a dress that might work," she said, and immediately rushed to go fetch it. Your face lit up, and you excitedly hopped off your bed to go with your sister-in-law. Ada and Polly exchanged glances.

You followed Esme into her and John's old room, where she was digging through her closet.

"Now, (y/n), you're a bit smaller than I am, so hopefully this won't look too awkward on you," Esme said, tossing clothes in every direction.

"Now, if only I could find the damn thing."

"What's it look like?" you asked.

"See for yourself," Esme responded, pulling out a green shapeless dress with beaded lace embroidery.

You gawked at the beauty of the thing; it was an excellent balance of elegance and youth. Not too modest, not too sexy; it was superbly tasteful.

"Oh my God, Esme, it's perfect." you breathed.

"Hurry up and try it on!" she urged, pushing the dress into your arms. With that, she rushed out of her room.

To your relief, the dress fit perfectly. You barely had any time to show it off to the others before Polly had rushed everyone out of the house and into the cramped car, practically dragging you all by the wrists.

The five of you slipped into the chapel quietly as you could. Tommy gave you all dirty looks as you scooted into the pews one by one.

"Where the fuck've you been?" Arthur whispered to Polly as she sat down next to him.

"There was a complication," Polly answered. "Nothing worth worrying about now."

"Complication my arse. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 one took forever to get changed." John scoffed, pointing his thumb towards you.

"It wasn't my fault, the dress ripped!" you whined.

"It was 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 your fault, (y/n)," Finn added smugly.

"I swear to God if you three don't 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱 I'll drag you all home by the ears." Polly threatened under her breath. Nobody had anything to say about your dress after that.

John grumbled as Grace entered the chapel.

"Here come the fucking cavalry, late as usual." he griped.

"I don't get it, why's everyone hate them?" you asked in a whisper.

"Well, first of all, they weren't supposed to wear their uniforms. Just goes to show they're disrespectful bastards." John whispered back.

"𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? That's all it is?" you questioned.

John sighed as he tried to find the right words for the situation.

"Listen, (y/n), just stay away from them. Half those men are self-righteous pricks who'll take advantage of you if you give 'em the chance," he warned.

"Hush." Esme chimed in, squeezing John's hand. "They're exchanging vows."

Your gaze turned to the men in red uniform as Tommy and Grace stood at the altar. You accidentally locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been older than twenty. Not sure what to do, you smiled politely at him. To your surprise, he smiled back.

Your exchange was cut off by the sound of Jeremiah Jesus's voice filling the room.

"I now pronounce you man and wife." he declared, and everyone in the chapel applauded as Tommy and Grace shared a kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of pride as you watched your brother smile at his new wife. There was something magical about the way he was able to just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 in her presence, especially since you couldn't think of another day Tommy wasn't trying to take over Birmingham.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, you thought wistfully, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

Unfortunately, the warmth of the wedding ceremony quickly faded as everyone gathered outside for the family photo. Nearly ten minutes went by as the Shelby clan struggled to organize themselves into a tight group.

You initially tried to stand behind Polly and Arthur to be near the other women, but that plan quickly failed when you realized you were too short to stand behind either of them. It was a tremendous effort to try to force yourself in between them, and the result left you in a painfully awkward position where you were left standing sideways. The ultimate solution was to have you stand with John's children; you were mortified.

"Christ, I look like a 𝘬𝘪𝘥," you whined, showing the picture to Finn. The two of you sat together at the base of the stairs in Tommy's house, trying your best to avoid the crowds of people wandering the halls..

"It's not that big a deal," he said plainly, taking the picture in his hands. "Nobody really cares."

"It's a big deal to me." you mumbled.

You could see John and Arthur approaching from a distance. By the looks of it, they'd already gotten their hands on some champagne.

"Finn. Tommy wants a meeting in the kitchen." Arthur spoke as he passed by.

"I should probably go with him." Finn sighed as he stood up.

"Wait, take me with you!" you pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. "I've got nobody else to talk to."

Finn quickly leaned over the stairs to check if Arthur and John had gone. Once he saw the coast was clear, he turned back to you.

"Fine. But you shouldn't say anything," he advised.

"Wasn't planning on it."

You and Finn had assumed the meeting would be family only, but as you snuck your way into the kitchen you were surprised to find a swarm of Blinders men crowding the room. You instinctively stuck close to your brother, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. The two of you slowly hovered towards the center of the room, where the immediate family gathered. There Tommy stood in the midst of it all with a cigar in his hands.

"Right. Today is my wedding day." he began, and the room fell silent.

"Yeah, and you said there'd be no uniforms, Tom." John interrupted, and a few people murmured in agreement.

"In spite of there being bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Tommy continued, ignoring John's comment. "For Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong today."

Tommy began circling the room as he spoke, making sure to lock eyes with every man present.

"And if any of you fuckers do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 to embarrass her, kin, cousins, your kids, your horses, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.."

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Tommy noticed you standing there next to Finn. He froze for a moment, then furrowed his brows. You cursed under your breath.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

You realized every man in the room had their eyes on you. You shifted uncomfortably.

"It's a family meeting, isn't it?" you grumbled. "Last I checked I was a Shelby."

Tommy sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? I'm glad you're here because there's something I should say." he began. You crossed your arms defensively.

"You've been wild these past few months, (y/n), don't think I haven't noticed."

"So?" you scoffed.

"𝘚𝘰, I won't have any of it tonight. I swear, if I find out you've been drinking, flirting, or doing 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 that might damage this family's reputation, I assure you that you'll live to regret it. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

You didn't know how to feel about Tommy's words. In a way, he was right; you'd been drinking more than usual as of late, not to mention fooling around with some of the boys you were going to school with. You didn't understand why that was such a big deal though, especially since you were a saint compared to your brothers. Really, the whole thing seemed unfair.

"Yeah, I understand." you finally answered. "I'll just spend the night boring myself to death while you boys do whatever you want."

"That's the spirit." he shot back.

"Tommy, what about snow?" Isiah asked from across the room. You silently thanked him for taking the attention off you.

"There'll be no cocaine," Tommy answered sternly. A few men in the room sighed.

Tommy took the opportunity to get back to his speech.

"No sport. No racing. No sucking the petrol out of their cars. You give them 𝘯𝘰 excuses to look down their noses."

The room was uneasy. Nobody was sure what to think as Tommy stood there, almost desperately trying to talk sense into his men.

"But the main thing is, you fuckers.." he began.

"Why are you mad at 𝘶𝘴, Tom?" Finn mumbled.

"..in spite of provocation from the cavalry.."

Tommy walked along the line of men standing around him, getting close to Arthur, then John, then Finn, then finally you.

"..no fighting. 𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨!"

And with that, everyone was sent out of the kitchen.

The party started slow, and you found yourself wandering around the house aimlessly with nothing to do. Everywhere you went people were already drinking, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to join them. The other, more sensible part remembered Tommy's warning and decided to avoid alcohol for the night. As much as you wanted to piss him off and indulge yourself, you knew getting drunk would only prove that you were irresponsible.

Dinner in the great hall was an absolute disaster. You sat between Finn and Ada, who were both caught up in their own conversations. You were starving, and Tommy and Grace had been taking a suspiciously long amount of time to get ready. Even after they'd finally come downstairs, Arthur had to get through his speech before anyone could eat.

"Now, I'm not one for speeches." Arthur began. The poor man looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

"Sing then!" John shouted. Esme grabbed his arm wearily.

"I've got a speech written down here. but it's not everything I want to say." Arthur droned on. You buried your head in your hands.

"Arthur, just read what we've written down," Tommy said softly.

"I will, Tom. But first, a few words from the heart."

Arthur gently placed the small piece of paper into one of his pockets, then cleared his throat.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." Tommy breathed.

"I'd just like to say that my brother helped me survive hard times. Trouble in my head.."

As Arthur gave his speech, you noticed Polly staring at a man who sat opposite her. He was older than she was and wore a dark suit that matched his serious expression.

"Who's that?" You leaned over and whispered to Ada.

"Kaledin something," she whispered back. "Don't bother talking politics with him, I've already tried."

Unlike Ada, you weren't interested in having political debates with strangers. Still, there was an air of mystery surrounding the man. Something about him made it impossible to look away, even when he met your eyes with his. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

Arthur's trainwreck of a speech was eventually cut short by Tommy. You felt bad for your eldest brother, but you were desperate to eat. Polly gave you a disapproving look as you scarfed down your food, but you didn't care; you were too hungry to act like a lady.

An hour had passed since the food was served, and by then everyone had made their way into the ballroom.

John and Arthur had set up a boxing area outside with Tommy's reluctant permission. After hovering around Polly for nearly half an hour, you finally gave in and went outside to watch the fights.

You were used to seeing your brothers fight, so not much could faze you in the boxing ring. Tonight was different, though. The men had such anger in them as they landed their punches. It was almost disturbing to watch Finn get knocked into the ground by a man in a red uniform.

"Gruesome, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind you. You turned around to face the very same cavalry boy you'd locked eyes within the chapel. Only now, he was standing a mere foot away from you and the two of you were practically alone.

"William. Fraser." the young man said, extending his hand.

You took his hand in yours and shook it. The dim light from the boxing ring illuminated your faces, and you were able to get good looks at each other. To your excitement, not only was he young, he was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.

"(y/n). Lee." you introduced yourself, lying through your teeth. You were done being a Shelby today.

"Mm. I thought you were a gypsy." William spoke. You raised your eyebrows in amusement.

"Really? How could you tell?" you asked.

"It's the dress. Very... 𝘣𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯," he replied.

"It was a gift, it's not mine," you assured, flattening the dress out. You suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness.

"Oh, well it suits you well enough." And with that, William placed his hand on your waist.

"What are you doing?" you asked, chuckling nervously.

"Enjoying myself."

He slowly started to pull you into a kiss when you noticed Finn in the boxing ring. Another one of the cavalry boys had landed a particularly heavy blow onto his gut, and he fell onto the ground in defeat. You pushed William away to watch the scene.

"You know him?" William asked.

"He's my brother," you responded quietly, not taking eyes off Finn.

"He fights well enough for a boy his size, I didn't expect him to last as long as he did." William retorted.

"He's really good, actually. Likes it a lot, too," you said, relaxing as you saw Finn get up and shake his opponent's hand.

William took the opportunity to pick up where you left off and started to wrap his arms around your waist. You hesitated and stepped back.

"Wait, we shouldn't. Not in front of them." you gestured towards the crowds of people who were watching the fights.

"Good point." the young man hummed into your neck.

You lead William to a fairly secluded area of the gardens. There was a small, wooden bench that was nestled in between some of the bushes that lined the back wall of Tommy's mansion. The two of you sat together; there was an uncomfortable sexual tension between you.

William kissed you slowly as his hands wandered around your torso. You kept trying to cut him off, but he was persistent. If you would grab his arm, he would use the other one to pull you closer. If you turned away, he would kiss your neck.

"William I don't think we should do this," you whispered.

"Don't worry, love. nobody's around. You won't get in trouble." he assured.

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, just stop." you pleaded.

"Relax, I promise I'll make it worth your while.

With that, you'd had enough. You started smacking your palm against his shoulder, and he finally separated.

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? I thought you wanted this!" William snapped.

"Why didn't you stop?" you asked him with a hurt look on your face. "I was 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 you to stop!"

"𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, don't act like you didn't want it. You took me out here for a reason." he countered.

"I didn't think it would happen so fast!" you shouted.

William huffed, stood up, then brushed himself off.

"𝘎𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩." he spat, then walked away.

"What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you call me?" you shot back. "Do you even know who the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 I am?"

William froze in place and turned around. He gave you a dark look as he lit a cigarette. The red glow of the tiny embers illuminated his face.

"My name is (y/n) 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 Shelby." you hissed, and William's expression changed.

"You're related to the groom?" he realized.

"I'm his sister," you spat.

The young man sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair.

"𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.. I had no idea. Let me make it up to you." he began, but you were already leaving.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶." you scoffed as you passed him.

You made your way back to the ballroom, leaving William standing there alone.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, you thought, heading straight for a bottle of wine.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelby reader #shelby sister #shelby sis #polly gray #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #michael gray

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keith-claes · 3 years

Text

Again my writing skills airnt that great this will possibly be more than one chapter too depending how well it does.

(Girl from the future)

*Chapter 1*

_____________________________

One week before Katarina started work at Ministry of Magic with Maria, Katarina walks around her family gardens alone wanting alittle time to her self, once she starts her new job she wasnt going to be at home that often and wanted to visit some of her favourite hang outs, before checking her veggie garden she took a trip to her favourite tree she likes to climb, she walks over and spots something or someone passed out up in the tree.

Katarina: "is that a girl? She doesnt seem to be moving, I better check if shes okay"

She runs over to the tree as she climbs up, shes gets a good look of her, she appeared to be breathing still which was a good sign, she takes her hand as she checks her over, she looked awfully familiar to her, she has the same blond hair as her brother, so she wondered if perhaps this is a relative of Keith's possible cousin maybe that's why shes at the Claes mansion.

Katarina: "hey are you okay, you shouldn't sleep here, you might fall"

The girl slowly opens her blue eyes same shade of blue as Katarina's, luckily she was sat up in the tree, she places he hand behind her head as she winces out in pain"

Katarina: "hey are you okay"

???: "my head hurts... where am I, last I remember I was kidnapped and dark magic was casted on me by one of my uncles"

Katarina: "dark magic?, where are you from?, maybe I can help what's your name?"

Alice: " my name its Alice Claes, but um its werid now I look at you cause you look alot like my mom"

Katarina: "Claes? I never meet you before, oh you must be one of my cousins.... wait I look like your mom?"

Alice: "yeah my mom is Katarina Claes"

Katarina: "oh my name is katarina claes too, that's pretty cool"

Alice: "that can't be right... if your Katarina and you look like my mom..... what year is this?"

Katarina: "2021?"

Alice: "Wait what! But how, it can't be unless..... I was sent back to the past.... which means...."

Her body starts to tremble with fear, katarina holds onto her stopping her from falling.

Katarina: "time travel! Wait I think I studied about that in class, theres black magic that can send someone to the past or future, if that's the case then...."

Alice: "I have to go back home, I can't say anymore with out changeing the future I've said enough"

Katarina: "from what you said does that mean your my future daughter!"

Katarina wasnt expecting this, she was in shock, but remained strong for Alice who was scared, thoughts ran threw her head, if this really is her future daughter then who is her father and who sent her to the past like this, was this part of her future doom flags. Was someone going to target her threw her future child.

Alice remained silent not wanting to talk anymore about where she came from, one wrong word or move she makes could change the future.

A voice calls out to Katarina taking her away from her thoughts it had also pulled Alice away from her thoughts too. They both looked down the tree and see Keith calling.

Keith: "hey sister we've all been looking for you, Anne has tea and sweets prepared"

Alice: "I know him to he looks alot like someone I know...."

Katarina places her hand on her shoulder.

Katarina: "why don't you join us, are you able to climb down?"

Alice: "I don't have much of a choice do I?"

Katarina: "nope, your eatting sweets with me and Keith, I guess that would be your uncle Keith right"

She teases her as she Pat's her shoulder.

Alice: "I can't say anymore, I've gave too much away already telling you your my mom"

Katarina: "wait so he might not be your uncle?, hmmmm well I will stop asking, let's go down shall we?"

Alice nods and gives her a sweet smile, she follows Katarina down the tree, Keith watches both girls coming down but was curious who this other girl is.

Katarina: "wow you really can climb trees"

Alice: "yeah my mom taught me, through my father doesn't like me doing it he thinks it's to dangerous so I get into trouble alot.... hes pretty stricken and to over protective of me"

Katarina: "sounds alot like someone I know, my mom scolds me too for climbing trees"

She giggles as Keith runs over to her.

Keith: "sister dont tell me you've seduced another one!"

Katarina: "oh no it's nothing like that Keith! Shes lost right Alice"

Alice: "yeah...."

Katarina: "hey you know, now that I look at you both you guys could be twins"

She couldn't help but laugh at there reactions as Keith and Alice look at each as there faces flush red.

Keith: "sister what are you talking about, I dont have a twin, we look nothing alike either"

Katarina: "oh that's right Keith, this is Alice Claes, shes been sent from the future and she needs help to get back home, isn't she so adorable!"

Keith: "wait what.....future! Is that really possible, I didn't think time travel was possible"

Katarina: "yeah, someone casted dark magic on her and she ended up here, oh shes also my future daughter, how cool is that Keith!"

Keith: "wait did you say daughter? Shes your future daughter?"

Alice remains silent not wanting to interrupt them. As Keith looks at her.

Keith: "if that's true then how do we send her back to her own timeline, and who's her father?"

Katarina: "who knows she won't tell me, something about changing the future?"

Alice: "if I say anything about the future it may change things..... as for who my father is, I thought maybe you might of worked that out by now based on who I resemble most"

Katarina: "hold on not twins you guys ain't twins, woah hold up, for real! I know who it is, it has to be you keith! She has my eyes, and she's clearly resembles you in looks and same hair colour too!"

Keith's faces flush red as she points at him.

Keith: "wait what!"

Alice nods as they both look at her.

Alice: "yeah he's my father, I cant say anything else about the future, enough has come out as it is, I may of damaged the future enough as it is coming face to face with you both...... I just want to go home to my mom and dad"

She clings to Keith as she cries into his chest, Keith really didnt know what to do at this point, he was shocked, but yet happy too, hearing he will one day win Katarina's heart.

Keith: "dddddd daughter, I have a daughter with........"

Katarina: "I'm shocked, Keith! I know you confessed lately but this, I never expected"

Keith: "I think we should talk about this later sister, shes really clinging onto me in tears, we should do something"

Katarina: "I know what to do!"

She goes over placing her hands on her shoulder .

Katarina: "hey, it's going to be okay, let's eat some sweets then we can go and see a friend of mine, he knows alot about dark magic, maybe he will, know how to send you home"

Alice: "uncle Raphael and uncle Sora?"

Katarina: "yeah, through maybe you shouldn't call them uncle when we see them"

Alice: "yeah your right, I don't want to mess anything up, dad will be super annoyed with me if I mess the future up, I call all my mom's friends aunt and uncle, it's a habit I have, I will try and not say it if I see them"

She let's go of Keith as she wipes her tears.

Keith: "makes sense I'd be annoyed if you messed up the future, what's been said today stays between us three for now, lord and madam can't know about this either, for now we tell them your a guest staying for a few days till we can find away to get you home"

Katarina: "oh man, wish I could tell everyone I have a really cute furure daughter"

Keith: "no sister, bad idea if Geordo and the others find out, don't you think they'd end up hurt? That could most definitely change the future, they can not know about her"

Alice: "he's right, they can't know, if they ask just tell them I'm a distant cousin, its okay to tell sora and Raphael, the rest is to stay between us, through I'm finding it real hard to call you both by your names, I mean your both going to be my parents one day"

Katarina: "hm then why dont you just call us what ever makes you feel comfortable, but only when where alone? I don't mind if you call me mom"

Keith: "Sister!"

His face turns red with embrassment from hearing her say that,this was all a shock to him still, he never expected to run into his future daughter and here's Katarina acting all normal with this situation.

Alice: "sure if you don't mind me calling you mom"

Alice smiles at her, causing Katarina's heart to flutter she has that same cute innocent smile as Keith did as a child.

Katarina: "your so cute! Hey how old are you"

Alice: "I just turned 15, so um i dont want to sound rude but, I'm getting pretty hungry"

Katarina: "yeah me too, hey Keith or should I say dad"

She nudges him in his side with her elbow as she teases him.

Keith: "hey! Sister don't call me that, its embrassing!"

Katarina and Alice both giggle at his reaction.

Alice: "he hasn't changed a bit, he even calls you big sis still"

Katarina: "what for real?"

Alice: "yeah, I asked him about it once and he said it's a bad habbit of his"

Keith: "you really are from the future huh? Which means you weren't making it all up, your really my daughter?"

Alice: "sure am, I have two younger twin brothers and another sibling on the way, you will have your hands full future dad"

She playfully winks at him as she links onto Katarina's arm. Keith's face couldn't go any redder than what it was already.

Keith: "that many, lots of kids? With sister!"

His heart was racing in his chest to the point he felt like he was gonna pass out. What struck him the hardest was being called dad, it felt kinda nice to him but also made him feel weird.

Katarina: "hey hurry up Keith, or we will eat all the sweets with out you"

Alice: "yeah hurry up dad!!!"

Keith: "ah! I'm coming sister..."

He mumbles alittle something to him self not wanting them to hear.

Keith: "does she have to call me that, I'm not prepared to be called such things...."

To be continued.

#keith claes #the my next life as a villainess #hamefura #katarina claes #fanfic

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queenofbaws · 4 years

Note

Okay last one and please don't feel pressured to do all of the prompts I've sent you! 28 - "How can you see out of your glasses with them this dirty?" - just some good old almosts banter please!

“Was that really necessary? I mean, honestly? Honestly?” Scowling, Chris pulled his glasses off and held them up to the light just long enough to see what kind of damage had been done.

A lot. The answer was a lot.

“Who does that? Who just puts their greasy hands—”

“Um, excuse me? You oughta be more careful, Cochise, you might hurt my itty bitty feelings.”

“You have known me,” Chris began again, sliding his glasses back on before fixing Josh with an exhausted glare, “For my whole life, you fucking troglodyte! When has it ever been cool to just put your grabby mitts all over my glasses?”

Josh rolled his eyes, snickering all the while. “You’re acting like I dunked them in a toilet. Just wipe ‘em off on your shirt, stop being a baby—”

“Hey, not for nothing, but…I think everyone in this room has a fairly decent idea of where your hands have been, so...” Sam held her hands up at her shoulders when Josh turned to her, but she did nothing to mask her grin, “I’m just saying! I probably wouldn’t be too happy if I had to walk around with your particular brand of residue on full display in front of my eyes all day either.”

“W-wipe it on my shirt? Do you have any idea—”

“Wow Sammy. Nice. Y’know, I was sort of under the impression you were supposed to be the nice one in this little happy family of ours, so I’m not sure I appreciate you coming out of the woodwork with these scorching zingers all of a sudden.”

“Uh huh. Well sorry if I’m messing with the group dynamic.”

“You are! You are though, you’re totally throwing it all off.”

Knowing his court-appointed moment to air his grievances had officially passed, Chris made a low noise of frustration, already working on making his way through the mental shift that came with smudged glasses. Of course none of the others gave a shit—none of them had to deal with this bullshit, none of them understood the endless cycle of pointless work that went into living behind dirty fucking lenses or the sheer force of will that was required to make it through an entire evening out knowing there was no hope of seeing anything without streaks or smears or—

“Here.”

He shook himself out of his quiet pity party to see Ashley had plunked herself down on the couch next to him, holding one of her hands out. “Here what?”

She laughed, “Here, as in, here, give me your glasses. I’m pretty sure my hoodie’s the right fabric.”

“The rig—Ash, I have like, five fucking cleaning cloths at home and none of them are the right fabric, so I appreciate the check you’re trying to write, okay—I do—but it is going to bounce, so…”

“Oh my God.” Before he could say anything else, she reached up to his face and took his glasses, quickly angling her shoulders away so he wouldn’t be able to fight her on it.

Not that he was capable of doing that. Not that he was capable of even considering it. Oh no, not when her hands had been that close to his face, her fingers just barely brushing against his cheeks before she plucked his frames from off of his ears.

Being as subtle as his admittedly awkward…everything would allow, he mimicked her posture, turning juuust a bit away from her. Would it help? Doubtful. Would she still be able to see the tips of his ears going red? No question. But old habits died hard, and while he wasn’t sure embarrassment was a habit, per se, it was definitely an old friend in that regard. “You really don’t have to do that.”

The noise she made was equal parts laugh and groan as she pulled her legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged beside him, one of her sleeves rolled up over her hand as she fastidiously polished his glasses. “Chris,” she said in the way she reserved for special occasions (read: when he was acting particularly ridiculous), the way that almost made his name sound like ‘Cress,’ “You’re not gonna be able to see anything through these.”

“They’re…” Ah, but she had him, didn’t she? Yeah, he’d already bitched about it, so there was no use trying to pretend he hadn’t. “Th-they’re not that bad.”

Her eyes rolled up to him from her lap, and while his plan had been to keep from looking directly at her until he could get the color of his face under control, the movement in his periphery made him turn back all the same. Not having his glasses on helped things a little…from that distance, she was more color and shape than actual human being. Still, years of friendship had primed him to feel the judgment in her gaze even so.

“They’re not,” he insisted.

Instead of answering right away, Ashley went and popped his glasses onto her own face, pushing them up the bridge of her nose with one finger. She leaned in closer, just a bit, so there’d be no question that he’d be able to see her. The frames definitely didn’t quite fit her face, the shape was all wrong, and overall effect was vaguely schoolmarm-ish…

But…as with most things about Ash…

…not entirely unappealing.

“They’re disgusting,” she said flatly, blinking at him once before pulling them off again, returning to polishing them with her sleeve. “And you know Josh is gonna wanna watch that awful movie tonight—” She paused, and even blurry as she was, Chris thought she’d turned to see whether Josh would shoot back some sort of snappy comeback; he must have been too invested in his conversation with Sam, though, because a second later Ashley was back to work, continuing to talk under her breath. “And God forbid you’re too distracted by like, weird lighting streaks and stuff to listen to him ooh and ahh over how brilliant so-and-so was for choosing to use, like…real human bones instead of plaster, or whatever…”

“God forbid,” he echoed, trying to keep his voice light to make up for the stupid fluttering in his stomach.

Okay, yeah, sure, fine, so she’d had pretty much the same thought as him without him having to say it, that was true. But that didn’t mean he had to get all…gooey about it. That was incredibly dumb. Incredibly, unbelievably, sappily, crappily dumb, and—

Yeah, she was looking at him. Okay.

Chris cleared his throat and assumed as neutral a face as he was humanly capable of. That probably wasn’t saying a whole lot, but he tried. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ashley said, shaking her head with a quiet laugh. She lifted his glasses to the light, cocked her head to the side, and then went back to cleaning them. “I guess I just like, haven’t seen you not in your glasses forever, that’s all. You live in these things.”

“Uh, well yeah, Ash, I kinda need them. Y’know. For the whole ‘sight’ thing.” Just not right at that moment. Right at that moment, he was perfectly content to have them off and away, leaving his vision a blurry, myopic mess. There was no way he would’ve been able to pull off sounding that casual if he’d been able to actually see her. “The good Lord above knew that with my charisma, sense of humor, and raw animal magnetism, I’d just be too powerful without an impairment or two, so…”

Though he couldn’t see it, he heard the curve of her smile in her words, and it made the fluttering in his stomach and chest that much more noticeable. “Oh, is that what it is?”

“Mhm.”

“I was wondering about that.”

“Glad I could clear it up for you.”

On the other side of the room, Sam and Josh continued to laugh about whatever it was they were laughing about, their conversation made indistinct by Ashley’s continued closeness. After another minute or two, she held the glasses up, no doubt checking her work again. “Okay, I think…here, try this.”

Now, if he had to tell the truth, he didn’t have high hopes. Just because it was Ash doing the polishing didn’t mean he had any sort of faith in it being done the right way. She’d probably do a passable job—she was nothing, if not a perfectionist, that Ashley Brown—but there were so many angles you had to check when cleaning your glasses, so many ways you had to twist to see if maybe you missed a spot, or if there’d be any weird streaking along the edge, or any number of other endlessly annoying things…

And the second he put them on, he found he had to eat all those doubts. “Oh holy shit, Ash…this is…great?” He hadn’t meant for the question mark to happen. No, he hadn’t intended on that valley girl brand of upward inflection at the end of the sentence, but being able to see again meant being able to see again (surprise surprise), and wow, she was…real close.

“Yeah?” she asked, beaming proudly. “You’re not just like, saying that to make me feel better, right?”

“I’m absolutely not, this is…for real? It’s like these puppies are brand new.”

She laughed, still obviously so very, very proud of herself…and then, as was so often the case with the two of them, things got quiet.

The moment, like many such moments before it, was palpable. Cut-through-it-with-a-steak-knife palpable. Sitting-at-the-bottom-of-the-deep-end-of-a-pool palpable. So palpable you’d have to eat it with a spoon instead of sipping it through a straw. He had to stop thinking of the word ‘palpable,’ because it was not helping. Not with Ashley sitting so close like that, the two of them basically sharing the same couch cushion, her eyes bright with a smile and her hand warm where they hovered a few inches away from his, and, and, and…

In a move he never, ever could’ve predicted, she carefully reached up again and gingerly pulled his glasses off. He could hear the quiet click of her setting them down on the side table, but wasn’t given enough time to wonder what that might’ve meant, because a moment later her palms were cupping his cheeks, warm and smooth except for the tiny silver slivers of her rings, and—oh, okay, well. Huh.

Then she was kissing him.

His first thought was panicked, not sure what to do with (or more specifically, where to put) his hands, though it had flown out the window a moment later as he leaned into it. His hands found her sides, and though he still wasn’t confident enough in that choice to pull her any closer, she seemed to melt into him all the same, tilting her head in a way that might have given him pause if he’d been wearing his glasses…but he wasn’t. She’d made sure of that.

A perfectionist and a schemer, that Ashley Brown.

She pulled away a second later, still close enough for him to feel her smile against his lips, and she was all nervous giggles as she held his face in her hands. “Sorry…” she said, sounding (in his opinion, at least) not sorry in the slightest, “I’ve kinda, um…always wanted to…do that.”

It took him a beat to find his own voice again, but when he did, he was shocked to hear how even it came out. “Understandable. It’s, uh…it’s all that raw animal magnetism I was telling you about.”

Ashley snorted a laugh. Then, less tentatively than before, pressed her lips to his again, her pulse fluttering under his hands and against his cheeks. That second kiss lingered for much longer, neither one of them wanting to be the first to move away. But of course one of them had to—they were hanging out with the others, after all, and…

And it was that precise moment that Chris noticed how very, very quiet the room had gotten.

“Do you want your glasses back?” Ashley asked with another bubbly little laugh, not waiting for his answer as she moved to reach for them.

“Well,” Chris started, “I guess, uh, I guess that depends, Ash. Are Josh and Sam staring?”

He saw her posture change then, and had he been able to see better, he had a solid idea her expression would’ve fallen. She turned over her shoulder to check…and then turned back to him. “Ooh yeah.”

“Yeah, then I’m good, actually. You can just, uh…just leave ‘em on the table. I’m good being blind for now. Just, uh…” he cleared his throat, “Let me know when they, uh, stop.”

“‘Let me know when they stop,’ he says,” Josh drawled from the other side of the room, sounding pleased as punch, “Insinuating that’s ever gonna happen.”

#elliepollie #asks #chrashley #until dawn #queenie writes supermassive #my fanfiction #ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE........several months later #the almosts #i will never EVER turn down an opportunity to write about these two being sappy dorks i stg #the life of a glasses wearer is full of many many smudge-based dangers #go clean your glasses everyone

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evening-starlight · 3 years

Text

Chances {Chapter Twenty-Three}

I cried writing this, no joke

Master List

Closure

Word Count: 1420

It was two weeks before I got of bed for anything but bathroom use. The band would come over and take care of me because I couldn't do it myself. If it were up to me, I would have died in that bed. The only reason I left was an emergency in the studio.

Naomi sits on the end of my bed, hand on my calf. "Stell, we need you in the studio."

"I don't care what you do. Do whatever you need to get the album over with." I mumble into the pillow under my head. "I've given up." Naomi sighs.

"I know, but we need the lead singer for the final approval. Please? I'll drive us there, and as soon as it's done, I'll bring you back. It'll only be a few minutes." I groan loudly as I move to swing my feet off the bed. "You don't even have to change."

"Good because I wasn't going to," I remark shortly, slipping on a pair of black slippers Tom got me so we could match. The guilt was eating me from the inside out. I haven't showered in two weeks nor taken care of myself in any sense. I felt like I was dead on the inside, so why should I be alive on the outside?

The drive to the studio is short, passing the coffee shop on the corner. The coffee shop where I met Tom. It all began at that stupid little cafe, and look at me now. I can barely keep it together passing a building.

Naomi has me walk into the room first when we arrive. "What's this big emergency I had to leave my bed for? I really don't care what we do to the album anymore. We could burn it for all I care." My eyes meet Robbie's first. He's got his arms crossed over his chest and sympathy in his eyes. I find Heather's next and they're full of guilt. Then, I find his. The last person I wanted to see. "What the fuck is he doing here?" I ask, turning to make an exit. Naomi stands in the doorway with a small smile. "I'm not above physical force to move you, Naomi."

"Just hear me out. Do you really think your band would allow me this close to you if it wasn't important?" Jared gets off the couch and stands before me. "I just need a few minutes of your time, and that's all. After that, I'll go on my own accord. Please," Jared begs. I look him up and down. He's got bruises on his cheek and a cut lip.

"You have two minutes."

"I told Tom about us," Jared starts. I throw my hands up with a scoff.

"Great, so you were the one who leaked it." Jared shakes his head with his hands raised.

"I swear that wasn't me. There must have been paps outside. I was inside thinking about what you said. And you were right, I am sick, and I need help. What I did to you never should have happened, and I can never apologize enough. I ruined the start of your life from the get-go. I met you, and I felt something I've never felt before. And I did everything in my power not to lose you, but I ended up losing you entirely instead of being your friend when you needed an adult you could trust." Jared starts to tear up, taking a few steps closer to me. "I took advantage of you that night, Jules.

"I saw you were hurting, and I took advantage of that because I knew I could keep you vulnerable and with me. I'm the sole reason to blame for your breakup. I used, abused, and manipulated you for so many years that when you finally found something good for you, I freaked out. I didn't want to lose you," Jared starts openly crying. He's never done this before, and all I can do is stand there wondering if it's all for show or if he genuinely means it. "I lost the best thing that's ever happened to me because I was scared I was going to lose her anyway. I don't want to see that happen to you, Jules." Jared's hands land on my shoulders, looking me deep in the eyes. He truly means this. He means every word coming out of his mouth.

"I went and talked to Tom," Jared gestures to his face. "He packs a mean punch, by the way." He chuckles. "I told him everything, from taking advantage of you to purposely keeping you all morning. I got what I deserved. I don't know if I did more damage than good, but I really tried, Stella. I really tried to make things right between you and Tom because he's the perfect guy for you. He really loves you."

"You called me Stella." I point out, another round of tears pricking my eyes. You'd think I'd be a dehydrated mummy with all the tears I've been crying. Jared nods with a soft grin.

"Of course I did; that's your name, isn't it? Stellaluna Thompson?"

"Just Stella," I sob, reaching for Jared to hug me. He chuckles lightly and wraps his arms around me.

"Just Stella," He repeats as he pets my hair. "Well, just Stella, I'm letting you go. I won't force myself to be a part of your life anymore." I continue to cry louder until Jared shushes me, bringing my face out of his chest to look at him. "Hey, now. There's no need for the crocodile tears. Stella, this is what you deserve. You deserve a man who makes you smile like there's no tomorrow and who sings those silly songs you do where you change the lyrics of existing songs. You deserve someone who will appreciate you as you are and never try to change you. So, I'm letting you go to find that." I pull Jared into another hug, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as I sob. Why the fuck does this hurt so much? Jared rubs my head until I calm down a little bit. Then, he pulls me up to look at him again.

"I love you, Stella. I always have, and I always will. Find somebody who loves you better."

"Don't go," I beg, grabbing onto the front of his shirt. He smiles down at me and places his hands over mine. "Please don't leave me alone."

"You're never going to be alone again, Stella. You have your band, your fans, and you have Tom." I shake my head quickly.

"No, I don't. I fucked that up like I do everything else." Jared wipes the tears off my cheeks.

"If he's meant to be yours, he'll come back. I've always believed in that. You deserve to go find yourself, to find who you truly are and not who I..." Jared swallows harshly. "Who I groomed you to be." I fall into his chest again, crying so hard it hurts my head. Why does getting what I want hurt? I wanted Jared to leave me alone for years now, but now that he's saying he's going to, I don't want him to.

Jared cuddles me until I'm left a sniffling mess into his chest. He presses a long kiss to my forehead before pulling my body off of his chest. I hold onto his chest for dear life, wrinkling the olive t-shirt. "I'll always love you, Stella. And I'll always be here for you when you need me, but I know you've got this." Robbie rushes over and grabs me as I lose my balance when Jared pries my hands off his shirt.

"I love you too, Jared," I whisper. He gives one last small smile before walking out of the studio and out of my life. Robbie pulls me into his chest as I cry again. "Why does it hurt?"

"Closure hurts," Heather says as she rubs my back. "It hurts like a son of a bitch, but it's so good for you." I continue to cry, reaching for Naomi's hand to hold while Robbie holds me and Heather rubs my back. I'm not alone, and I won't be again. I have my own family I built, and they will be there through hell and high water. I'm free to do whatever I want and to continue growing my family.

There's one more chapter. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm talking about Tom sitting next to me while we're broken up.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #chances #og #oc #romance #love #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Original content #original character

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verobatto · 4 years

Text

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XLII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Just You and Me

(9x06)

Hello My Friends!!! How are you? I'm here again with another meta from this series. This time is time for a very Destiel one, episode 9x06 Heaven can't wait.

I know is a very analyzed episode, well known by all the FANDOM, so I will be quick with some scenes, just mentioning things that we all know, and pointing mostly how the characters felt during the different scenes.

I want to say thank you to my friend @agusvedder , she made the gifs for this meta and discussed with me the episode. Thank you girl! 😘💕

Pain-Lost-Depression

I'm gonna start talking about the Rit Zien (in enochian means HANDS OF MERCY), this different class of angels assisted in the battlefield helping angels wounded to heal, and giving peace (by ending with them) to those who were past saving, wounded with emotional damage.

Let's swim now through his victims in this episode and why he chose Castiel like one of them.

The first victim was a man who had lost his wife, so, he was depressed, he couldn't handle his lost, the love of his life. He had a huge pain he even called to suicide line. The Rit Zien appeared a vanished him, into micro molecules, and the color was PINK.

You know pink represents Happiness, so, we could infer this angel tried to give the pain a relief. To transform it into happiness in Heaven.

The second victim was a girl, who had just break up to his boyfriend, and she was saying this exactly words .. pay attention...

GIRL He dumped me, Jace. (pause) In the cafeteria. In front of everyone. It's just like ... who does that, you know? Like, why couldn't he just dump me on Facebook like a normal person? (pause) I've been destroyed. Socially and romantically … totaled. (pause) I know. I'm just so embarrassed, Jace. I could just die.

She's recalling us to Castiel, and how Dean dumped him from the bunker. And she's describing her feelings, so we can think Cas is feeling dumped, destroyed and embarrassed.

So... Then... Cas must be very upset with Dean. As we will see in the next point, he is.

But now, when the Rit Zien heard her asking for death, he just gave her death, and happiness in Heaven, as we could see when he transformed that girl in pink color.

So, two cases about two people in love, one had lost his wife, and was deeply depressed, and the second one was dumped by her boyfriend, feeling embarrassed.

And if you pay attention too to Castiel's singing to the baby, the lyrics are very melancholic... Flying away in a wing and a prayer... He misses being an angel, he said it again while he was trying to calm the baby, touching his forehead...

After talking with the baby about how it felt being a human all of the sudden, he says...

CASTIEL: (...) You know, it wasn't that long ago when all I'd need to do to ease your pain was touch you.

So... This is melancholy, sadness...

But let's come back to the logic of the victims... As I said first one... Two cases related with lover lost, a girl dumped by his boyfriend...

Then... Castiel being the third victim, shouldn't surprise us at all...

CASTIEL: It's a fever, Ephraim. It will pass.

(Cas thought the angel had came for the baby)

ANGEL (EPHRAIM): You remember my name? I was just a nobody when we met, but you – you were a legend. You've been here before. This is my first time, and it's ... intense.

The Rit Zien remarked Cas was a legend, so he felt honored he could remember his name, but also, and this is very interesting, he's talking about being surrounded by humans, and Hyman's feelings SO INTENSE. I'm pointing this, because there's a scene in the car with Dean in which Case says everything is different, about feelings, about being a human. I just want you to keep this in mind for the next points.

CASTIEL: How'd you find me?

EPHRAIM: Because you're warded? The same way I find all my patients – I just followed the sound of your pain. You have no idea how loud it is. I could hear you for miles

This has to caught our attention. Castiel is in pain, huge pain. He's depressed. He lost his grace, he had to for through being homeless, starved, facing our most deep decadency. And then he had to suffered Dean's rejection. Castiel, who had learn now what his feelings were. As a human, he's sure now that strong feeling he had for Dean is LOVE, and being dumped by him, leaving him in the streets again, is a deep pain, a deep wound, just as painful like losing his grace. So, his pain was loud.

Cas is mad at Dean, and Dean wants see him desperately

Okay, now that we talked about the case, let's focus in Destiel.

Castiel called Dean for the case... And Dean noticed Cas was kind of... Weird, and maybe mad, this made him anxious, and he decided to go to that case ALONE, and find Cas, just in case...

But really, the conversation they had by the phone is hilarious. First of all, Dean stood up and walked away from Kevin and Sam, when he realized it was Cas. Looking for privacy??

DEAN: Hello?

CASTIEL (calling from the Gas'n'Sip) I may have a case for you. (CASTIEL is cleaning the slurpee machine while he talks.) Four missing in Rexford, Idaho. (DEAN stands up, walking away from the table.) Presumed dead, but no bodies have been released to loved ones. And, there were reports of a strange substance at the scenes.

Okay, we'll just stop here, notice how Dean says HELLO but Castiel doesn't, he just goes straight to the point of his call, this is the first sign that he's mad, he wouldn't call, but he has this case, so he had to. Not a nice thing to do for him, because he would prefer no to pass for this. Not to talk with the one that dumped him.

DEAN: Oh, well, hello to you too, Cas. How are you?

Dean noticed that too, and he insists with the HELLO, and he asks how Cas is doing. He knows Cas must be mad at him.

CASTIEL: I ... am busy.

Cas cut him. He was actually, nervously trying to... Do something with the smoothie machine.

DEAN shakes his head.

DEAN All right. So, how do you want to do this?You want to meet up at the latest scene? You want me to pick you up? What?

Dean is proposing see each other, he wants to work with him, Dean wants to see him.

CASTIEL's efforts with the Slushy machine are not going well. A flood of liquid blue slushy mix spills out over the machine and onto the floor. DEAN hears the trickling sound and looks puzzled.

CASTIEL Um … I've got my hands full over here. I just – um...

And this is when Cas gets flustered and the machine is a mess of blue liquid all over the floor. Is not coincidence that when Dean offered Cas an encounter, the mess with the blue fuold happened. Is a consequence of Castiel feeling nervous, an encounter with Dean is something that gets him flustered. Nervous. Anxious. Now that Castiel is a human, he understands clearly what happens in his heart with Dean. He knows that feeling is LOVE. So, isn't that easy, being dumped, get mad, and now calling him, and now seeing him again? Too intense.

DEAN Cas? Hello?

Dean is convinced now that Cas is mad at him, so he decided to go ALONE to see him.

He invented some excuses because Sam wanted to go with him, he tries to minimize the importance of the case, but that made it more suspicious, so Sam asks...

SAM: So, he said nothing about where he is or – or what he's been doing?

DEAN: This is Cas. In case you forgot, he's not exactly Chatty Cathy.

SAM (incredulously) And you're not even gonna see him when you're in Idaho?

DEAN: Well, like I said, as long as he's catnip for angels, he's keeping his distance.

DEAN turns to continue walking, now leaving the room.

SAM: So then, what's the point, Dean? I mean, it's barely even a case.

Sam couldn't understand why his brother was almost running to that "not case" so fast, answering all his questions with not very truly answers.

DEAN (from a balcony, talking down to the other two) That's why I'm just gonna go have a little look-see, and … we're not gonna waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.

And then Kevin gave him the perfect excuse...

Dean must be thinking... Thanks Kevin, over there... Finally alone, just Cas and him.

Jilted Lover and pining boy

We know Misha Collins said producers asked him to play this scene like a jilted Lover, and he did it perfect.

We had this classic Destiel scene... Dean talking with Sam by the phone, outside the Impala, drinking a coffee, we don't see more... Till this happens...

Dean lowered his head, because he had it covered, he doesn't need his brother help, because he has Cas. And he wants to be alone with him, this gesture, he gets a little nervous over there, like... Anxious... Why? Because he's doing this... This is his cover...

This is pining, my friends, no friend stays out of the window CONTEMPLATING his handsome best friend working, like... If this isn't pining what is is then? Why he would stop by Castiel's work, watching him for so long?? He wasn't afraid, because when he finally made his dramatic entrance, he wasn't ashamed, so, he just does it because he wanted to contemplate him. Because he is pining for him. Because he contemplates the man he loves. People that are in love do that. Period.

When Dean appears in front of Cas, Castiel's fav is priceless. He's surprised, but it seems like of his heart just gave a jump! Like OMG! HE'S HERE! WHY?

Look at the deception in Dean's face, again Cas is not saying him hello. And he was waiting for a better response. But, okay, Cas is mad, some maybe not a good response, but at least a HI.

After this, Castiel gets mad again because Dean is disappointed to find him working there and not hunting. Cas names the whole situations he had to go through, because he can't believe Dean shows up as if dumping him from the bunker was nothing...

CASTIEL: My Grace is gone. What did you expect? Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to earth, I didn't just lose my powers. I – I had nothing. Now... I'm a sales associate (proudly)

Castiel is proud, he's showing Dean LOOK HOW I GOT THIS WITHOUT YOUR HELP. I DID IT BY MYSELF.

But Dean doesn't want this for Cas and mostly, he needs him back with him, even if it has to be just for one case. So he will try to convince him, just like the old times.

Then... Nora enters in the scene. At first Dean made his wtf and jealous face when he sees the heart eyes. And then he plays the NO HOMO BUDDY right there.

Trying to get some info, and the result is Cas has a date!

Flirting

After recognize the case was about a Rit Zien, Dean wants him to be aboard with him to stop the angel... But Castiel says this...

CASTIEL: But he just got here. The ebb and flow of human emotion – Dean, I've been on earth for a few years, and I've only begun to grasp it. To him, pain is pain.

And then this...

That's why I said before keep in mind the INTENSE word about Human's feelings. Cas is getting now what is this all about. He's getting know the intensity of the feelings... Love, hate, pain, depression, sadness, joy. He is experiencing all of them. That's why I truly believe he understood what he felt for Dean.

I readed once @amwritingmeta post about this scene here, and the second meaning of I NEED A RIDE and the face Dean made... And I laughed so hard, because she showed in that post the wishfully and lustful face Dean showed. Priceless. Pay attention... When Cas says I NEED A RIDE, Dean's imagination was... To... Where? Cas having a good ride? By whom? Him? Okay. Too hilarious, but Jensen did it. Jensen made that face in Dean's skin... Dirty pining boy for his ex hot angel.

Then he turned to Cas to see if he realized what he had just Sayed, and of course he doesn't!

So... Second meaning for flirting... Is not gonna work Dean...

Tony Manero

When Cas and Dean were in the car, and Castiel was about to get out on his date, Dean says this words that generally are used when someone who's in love with the person is about to having a date with a third one, says to stop him. And our hearts stopped right there... But Dean Winchester made it NO HOMO again, talking about the wardrobe.

Even Cas has a hint of hopes in his eyes, why Dean would choose those words right there? Because he was feeling like that, he was still flirting with him, he was jealous, and he didn't want to let the angel go. But his repressed feelings won't let him verbalize it. So... He plays it...

DEAN: Okay. Uh, lose the vest.

CASTIEL: What are you –

Even Cas doesn't get what Dean wants, not even Dean knows it either...

Okay this was very gay, very. And Dean drooling face calling his friend TONY MANERO like the pining boy he is for his gorgeous and hot ex angel friend.

Comparing Castiel with Tony Manero, Made us go to that movie immediately, and to one scene in the car between John Travolta (Tony Manero) and his friend, Stephanie. (Thanks to Agus for show me the scene and discuss with me this). And I know this had been talked largely in the fandom, the frames and the position of the actors were the same like Dean with Cas, but is very interesting the dialogue. Tony was helping Stephanie to move on into a new house with a married man who was using her. When Tony detects this, they both had a conversation in the car and Tony made a jealous scene. Asking for that man, saying her he was using her, and she breaks talking about how that man helped her, that she was alone. You don't know what I had to go through. Is a huge Cas parallel, when Dean starts to recriminate him about his job in the Gas'n sip. And a Jealous Tony is compared with jealous!Dean about Nora. And don't forget, Nora was using Castiel like baby-sitter.

So because Dean was jealous... He was acting like the best friend giving his buddy advices about the date. But he was being ambiguous, like half flirting and acting gay and half giving advices and no homo. The truth was, he was drooling for Cas, pining for him... Even my mom saw that!

But let's return again to Cas in his "date"...

We saw how Dean contemplates Castiel again while he was walking towards that door, collecting a rose, smiling like a dummie because Cas looks so cute doing that. And the writers showed us Cas sucking his finger because one spine hurted him? Like? Why show something so sexy while Dean is watching? Do I need to add more here?

This was a huge romantic Destiel scene, with reference to a romantic movie, and we were witness of that!

Good Bye

Another Destiel scene, and this will be the last, sorry for the extension of this meta, is the goodbye scene. We had Dean with a half I'm sorry (because he couldn't say the truth, and Cas being so sad.

Pay attention when Cas is leaving, Dean's painful expression, the guilt and the repressed feelings... He really wants to tell Cas everything and bring him home with him, desperately... But he can't, and is so painful to him. Castiel is sad too, their faces are... Just sadness and pain. They don't like to be apart from each other... Damn...

To Conclude:

Episode 9x06 was a very Destiel chapter. We had the reference to Castiel's depression for lost his grace and being dumped by Dean.

We had a desperate Dean to fix things with his angel, running at his first call, insisting for his help, desperate for having a hint just the two of them. Being jealous, flirty, and very in love with his ex angel buddy.

The car scene with the reference to Tony Manero (a bi vives character in one of the most famous romantic movies), and the two CONTEMPLATING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE scenes, marked this episode like one of the most romantic episode in the whole show.

I hope you like this meta, see you in the next!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica

If you want to be tagged, just let me know.

If you want to read my previous metas about s9, you have the links here and here.

Buenos Aires, December 18th 2019 7:37 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #vol. XLII #destiel meta #supernatural meta #season 9 meta

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manikrege · 3 years

Text

I reached out to the kid I bullied in school. It hurt like a bitch.

Moving places makes you realize how badly humans need closure. How hard we strive for the chapters of our lives to open & end neatly, one by one. And how much we hate cliffhangers, incomplete pages, or vague endings off the screen.

I tried to seek my closure yesterday. Because I'm moving away from the neighborhood I grew up in. Don't worry, it's nothing I'm going to miss. School sucked for me, as it did for most 'studious' kids.

Fat, nerdy, weird, and a bit on the 'girlish' side, it was like this boy entered the class wearing a cap that said, "Your new favorite target." Of course, the cool kids ganged up & left me broken. I felt all alone like a wet puppy abandoned in the rain.

So like a dog, I learned survival, the ugly way. I bit back, chewed on smaller prey. And before I knew it, became the very thing I hated the most. A bully.

Roy, let's call him that, had the same awkwardness that had made me a target. His only disadvantage was that he didn't want to fight back. This allowed me to slowly strangle him, one taunt at a time.

It started out as lame jokes that you'd expect from any teenager. Calling him "gay," laughing at his curves, making him feel unwanted. This graduated into mild jabs & punches. And then finally, one day, the five of us spent 2 straight hours 'roasting' him, stepping on every last piece of his self-confidence that we could find on the floor.

Turns out, he'd had enough & his father was at my door with an audio recording of what we thought was sublime standup comedy. I felt ashamed but cried victim, pushing the blame back onto him. Tit for tat.

We stopped playing with him after that day. He had become a traitor. I don't know if he found that liberating. And if he did, I can't imagine how fucked up that would be ... feeling happy to finally have no one you can make memories with.

I went abroad and forgot about Roy. Until yesterday when we were packing up and I saw him pass by. Something snapped. Like an ice cube being run down my neck.

As someone who has been through so many changes in the last few years, I felt an urgent need to prove to myself that I'm no longer the person I was years in 2014. I wanted to leave this shithole behind for good.

So I messaged him on Facebook.

Dear Roy,

I won't ask if you remember me because I know you do. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for how I treated you.

There's no explanation. No my side of the story. No excuse. And they weren't just harmless jokes.

I bullied you badly and caused you a lot of pain. Practically ruined your childhood. And I don't know if you're doing better. I hope you are.

You didn't deserve any of the shit I gave you. I did it because I felt powerless myself and needed something to fill that hollow space in my days.

We moved out yesterday & I wanted you to know that I'm aware of my mistakes and although I can't change the past, I am working to heal, both myself and others. I'm part of some NGOs that help poor kids in Majiwada. I do regular activities to put a smile on their faces.

Again, I know this isn't enough or even related but I hope someday you can forgive me. Even if you can't, I understand. And I really wish that you find love, happiness, and peace wherever you go - yes you do deserve those things. I was wrong.

Please let me know if I can do anything for you.

Thanks.

He responded with that "blue thumbs up" icon. That's all. I didn't push it, either. We didn't have a heart-to-heart conversation to go over everything. I'll probably never see him again or know how he turned out to be. It just is.

So did I get my closure? As I unpack in my new room, I'm not sure if it matters anymore. Because I think human relationships are much messier than we let on. You cannot just file them into chapters.

Sometimes they'll end abruptly.

Sometimes they'll reappear again and again, unexpectedly.

And sometimes you'll find new meanings every time you go back to old pages.

More importantly, you cannot just erase the damage you do to people. You cannot say sorry hoping everything will be forgotten and forgiven. The harsh truth about scars is that they never really heal.

But someday someone will look at those scars you caused on people, and madly fall in love with them. Someone will find that pain beautiful. Someone will turn it into a source of strength and love. And you can take the first step towards making that happen - by just saying one word.

GET TO THE POINT- If you think you hurt someone, you're right 9/10 times because we're hardwired for empathy & kindness so the moment we give in to hate, our mind sends us a small hunch. So just say you're sorry. Not "sorry if I hurt you." Not "sorry but it wasn't my intention." Just. Fucking. Sorry. Own what you did. It means everything.

DON'T FORGET IT- Yes, it's best if you repent asap but even if it's 10 years later, admitting to your fuckups is the right thing to do.

DON'T EXPECT AN OK- Your sorry is about you choosing to become better. For the person in front of you, it represents lots of trauma, heavy baggage, and painful memories that they've probably suppressed or internalized. So they may not forgive you or even respond. Please respect their privacy & feelings this time. And move on.

Trust me, this was one of the hardest things I've done as an adult. That said, I think we all did stupid things when we were kids. I think we were all MADE TO DO stupid things by a select few who understood intuitively how war works. I think most of us were a form of entertainment. Puppets. Dogs in a fighting ring. Dogs trying to fit in, or be liked, or just be left alone.

Just realizing how insanely toxic this entire game was ... is probably the most obvious sign that you're growing up. I know I am. I'm actively working to be truer to the kid I was before they took him away from me. And I know it's not going to be some beautiful transformative journey away from my past like they show in the movies.

It'll be ugly, too painful to bear sometimes. Because I'll meet parts of me that I hate. Parts you'd hate if you knew them. Parts that I'd rather not be remembered for. But you know what?

Sometimes, the first step in conquering your demons is accepting that they exist.

That they make you but don't define you. That you have a choice to be kinder, sweeter, warmer. And the only thing that matters is whether you have the courage to make that choice even when the whole world is giving you a billion reasons not to.

Be that one reason everyone needs to heal.

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madame-brioche · 4 years

Text

Title: Angel On The Battlefield part 2

Author: madame-brioche

Prompt: Heffron x nurse reader

Warning: some angst

When you found Babe in his foxhole, he was curled up like a newborn pup in the snow and dirt, wearing the dingy green uniform that the other paratroopers wore, his helmet pulled down low and his nose and mouth tucked into the collar of his jacket. He was asleep, grasping his thin blanket tightly and sniffling sharply every few seconds. His face was the color of the snow, the tip of his nose a frostbitten red. Big ash-colored circles had formed under his eyes, and as you took his hand you realized it was beginning to turn an unnatural sort of color, like they'd been submerged in hot water.

You could see that Babe looked much weaker than he'd been the last time you checked on him.

As you smoothed back sweat-drenched strands of hair, you found his forehead very warm to the touch; and when you tried to get him to wake up, you had to call his name and gently shake him a little bit before his eyes opened. Once he woke up he grabbed at his side especially hard. As you helped him get into a sitting position, his eyes sort of rolled back and his head hung loose like a rag doll.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, falling against the crook of your arm. "Jesus, I've got a deep burning pain in my side..."

"You’re burning up," you said, trying to steady his shoulders. "Doc Roe told me you weren't feeling so good. When was the last time you ate, Private? You should probably get a hot meal."

He shook his head as much as he could, which was only a little. "I ain't hungry. I've been feeling like this for a few days now, but this," he gripped his side again, "something's wrong..." As he stood up, the pain seemed to increase a little bit, and he stared down at you worriedly, bringing his hand away from his side and holding it up to reveal blood staining his palm and fingers. "Oh," he whispered, with a small wince.

"Dear God," you breathed, pulling his jacket away and seeing a rather large pool of blood soaking his shirt. You lifted up the hem to find a gaping wound on his left side, the dried blood caked around the wound telling you it had gone untreated for a bit. The blood that was pouring out now must have been the result of him standing. "Why didn't you say anything? When were you shot? You're bleeding!"

Babe looked down at the gunshot wound as if seeing it for the first time. "I'm bleeding," he repeated numbly.

"Hey, look at me," you snapped, turning his chin so he would gaze back up at you. "When did you get hit?"

He looked around in a dizzy haze, shrugging his shoulders with some difficulty. "I remember...hearing Shifty call for me...and I ran to help him hold the line...somewhere along the way, I guess..." He trailed off, looking like he was about to collapse at any second. "I don't know, I woke up to you shaking me."

Your mouth was agape as you listened, wondering how in the hell he hadn't completely bled out. He must've passed out from a combination of both the pain from the wound and his fever.

He produced a weak smile and then cringed as he tried to move. "It certainly is nice to see you."

You returned his smile with a firm look of determination and brushed some more hair out of his face. "Everything will be alright. But you’re coming with me. We need to get you fixed up."

“Whatever you say,” he managed as you placed his hand back on the wound, trying to keep pressure on it. He grabbed onto your sleeve, with the other hand, looking very anxious and maybe a little scared. "I can't, Y/N—I cant leave them, they need me, what would happen if—"

"It's okay," you said, holding on to him tighter. "I'm sure they'd rather you get better. At any rate, what good will it do if you stay and fight with an open wound and a fever?”

Nodding and then stumbling a little as you pulled him toward the Jeep, he coughed painfully, causing you and the Jeep driver to exchange a worried look.

As soon as the Jeep arrived at the remaining ruins of the town, you opened the door to a church that had been cleared out for the sick and wounded, guiding him into the cool, incense-thick air. Just as soon as he'd reached the top of the staircase, Babe slumped against the wall again, screaming in pain. But the cry itself took a lot out of him, and you barely caught him in time as he collapsed. The two of you sat down for a moment to rest, his groans of agony making you nervous about the severity of the wound.

"Y/N," he mumbled as you pulled him close to you and hugged him tightly, "I don't have one on me, but I need—"

You caught on to what he was rambling about. "Right," you said, leaning him against the stairway wall and then standing up to head for the back of the church. "You wait here, I'll get you morphine."

"N-no," he called out after me, his voice hoarse. "Not morphine. I n-need a cigarette."

As you worked your way through the crowded hall, you could feel him holding onto one of your hands, like a captain clinging to his sinking ship. One look back at him and you saw his bloodshot eyes start to look glassy with tears. And the way he was staring at you was like he didn’t really recognize who you were.

"You’re too good to me," he mumbled, causing you to pause and gently wrap your arms around him again, careful not to hurt the wound.

"You stop talking like that," You said, trying not to cry. Maybe it was the lack of sleep; maybe it was the awful scenes of carnage and war; and maybe it was thrilling rush at hearing Babe Heffron admit his fondness for you during such a tense time; no matter the reason, the very idea of his death made you sick to your stomach.

"It’ll be okay," You reassured him, looking up at him and wiping some stray tears away from his cheeks. "You can be a brave soldier for me, right? I know you can. And once this is all over," You added with a smile, "you'll be home in South Philly in time for Christmas."

He laughed softly, then shrugged as best he could. "Hopefully—hopefully you'll be there too, Y/N?" He said.

Not really thinking clearly, you could only mumble, "Hopefully. Yeah."

Seeming a little afraid, Babe whispered, "I never meant to get shot, or get sick, Y/N. I thought I was taking care of myself alright—"

"You’ll be fine," You said. "We need to focus on getting you better."

Suddenly you eyed a pile of discarded uniforms and, jogging over to them, you fished around in the pockets until you found a pack of cigarettes. You lit one and brought it back to Babe, who took liberal drags from it. He didn't complain at all when a few hot ashes fell onto his hand, reveling in the calming effect it had on his pain; but his problem with coughing only seemed to be getting worse, and it wasn't easy for him to speak.

Once he blew out a few grey clouds, though, the nicotine appeared to take hold of him pretty quick, easing his nerves enough so that you could pull him up and help him down the stairs. Alas, after a few steps, Babe trembled again and screamed, this one sounding a lot more desperate and gut-wrenching, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. The two of you were just outside the door to what appeared to be a bedroom with a single cot, and you decided the best thing would be to take him in and get him on the bed and quarantined away from the others.

"No!" Babe gasped, as you ushered him to the door. "No, Y/N, we can’t go in there! That’s the priest's cloister, we can't, it’s sacred!"

"Hey," You stopped him, gently pushing him down onto the thin, white spread that covered the cot. You'd forgotten how devout he was. "I’m sure he won’t mind." As his head hit the pillow, you scanned the room for something to warm him with, finally landing on a mosaic-like quilt that was folded up on a bench by a stain-glass window. "There," You said, tucking him in as he shivered. "You need to keep breathing slowly, in and out. Don’t work yourself up."

Even with all his shaking, Babe was able to tug the quilt up around him, nuzzling into it. "I forgot what having a bed felt like," he whispered.

You knelt down on your knees next to the bed and stroked his hair, a small smile playing at your lips. "It's nice, right?"

He groaned in pain once more, and you took the dying cigarette from his shaking fingers and put it out. You removed your cantine from around your neck. "You want some water?"

"Yeah," he said, but he just couldn't keep it down without having another coughing fit. Frightfully rolling around with his hand on his side, he whimpered out, then began to bite his lip so hard he drew blood.

You needed to treat that wound fast, and so, urging Babe to fight a little longer, you bolted into the hall and tried to find one of the other medics who might be able to help. You called out for several, but everyone was busy helping those with blown off limbs and life-threatening damage to the viscera.

Worriedly, you ran back down to Babe. Exhaling a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you realized that Babe had stopped his agonizing tremors, for the time being. You crouched beside him, holding his sweaty, blood-stained hand to your cheek and leaning into it ever so slightly.

He rolled over and offered you a half-wink. "I heard you out there. Calling for a medic..."

"One will be here soon," You said, shaking your head. Then you added softly, “Are you going to be brave for me, Babe?"

He nodded. "You’re the brave one, Y/N," he mumbled, his grin widening. "A brave angel." His eyes floating to look at the stain-glass, Babe breathed out a sharp, painful sigh. "I’ve dreamt about you taking care of me. But now that I’m living it, I ain’t sure it’s what I want. I was thinking more along the lines of you kissing a paper cut or something..." he teased with a broken laugh. Then his grin faded, worrying you immediately, until his face scrunched up into a look of confusion. “Though I gotta know, Y/N—”

"What, Babe?"

"Why? You crying over me like this — why?”

You nuzzled against his hand again. "That doesn't sound like the happy-go-lucky guy I know," you said. "How can I expect to visit you in South Philly if I left you out in the cold?"

He raised his other hand and gently hit your shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Why, Y/N?"

"Ask me when you get better. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm askin' you now. Why?"

You just looked away and closed your eyes for a moment, then took his hand into both of yours tightly. "Because I like you, Babe."

"Perhaps," he breathed, "perhaps you might love me, too?"

You smiled again. "Well, perhaps I might."

This time he brought your gaze up to meet his with a hand under your chin. "I knew it," he replied, his lips forming a delicate smile, "you can’t even say it out loud, not even for me..." Then he looked back at the stain-glass, his eyes reflecting the flares outside. "Huh, Y/N might love me, too?” He mumbled in a state of stunned amusement. “Interesting.”

The stain-glass vibrated a bit at the sound of distant war outside. Babe didn't even flinch, however. After he’d said those words he’d closed his eyes and fallen asleep, exhaustion and immense pain taken hold of him. You kissed his hand, keeping it close to your cheek and hearing his heartbeat through his wrist. Resting your head against the side of the bed, you waited for a medic to come in...

You woke up to a hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake, expecting it to be the medic. But instead you found Captain Winters, pulling you away gently from the now empty bed.

#band of brothers #hboshow #easy company #request #babe heffron x reader

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