#but not every story is going to be that even if you think it should be that

[kingofbodyrolls]

Till We Meet Again (m) | JJK

When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.

→ Pairing: jungkook x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: childhood friends to lovers → Genres: romcom, smut, nostalgia, and so much fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 11.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Jungkook’s first time (he is not a virgin lol, but it’s his first time with a human, so), this one is actually pretty mild, bordering on vanilla. There’s talk about how merfolk do it 👀 This is just crack fantasy okay, please don’t take it seriously! There’s some small pov changes in here, because, well, it just happened, lol. → Warnings (explicit): protected sex, oral (both male and female), hair pulling, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, a little bit of dirty talk, begging, pleasing. → Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld → Read on AO3! → Author’s note: happy birthday to my sweet and lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7) 🥳 I wrote this story for you as a present. I know you’re not that much into fantasy, but when I told you about my mermaid ideas, you were excited 🤭 So this first one is for you bby ✨ I really hope you like it, also that everyone else does!

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The rain begins to pour as Jungkook grips your hand, his touch both delicate and powerful, guiding you through the sudden downpour. Moments ago, you were laughing and playing at the local playground, unaware that Mother Nature was about to drench the world in her unexpected shower.

Your heart pounds in your chest and echoes in your ears as you race to keep up with Jungkook, a wide smile spreading across your face. For an eight-year-old, he’s pretty damn fast, making every step feel like a thrilling challenge.

He’s sprinting down familiar streets, and you quickly realize he’s heading towards your home. You’ve never seen his house or met his parents, but your own parents adore Jungkook, joking that he’s your future husband. You’re not thinking that far ahead—you’re just a child, after all. Yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a fondness for him.

Let’s be honest, you have the biggest crush on the sweet boy with the round face and big doe eyes that seem too large for his tiny head. His nose is adorable, and his teeth only add to his charm. In short, you love everything about him, even his occasional unreasonable moments. But when he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip in that irresistibly cute way, your heart completely melts.

Your house comes into view, but instead of heading inside, he veers into your backyard, leading you towards the hidden playhouse nestled among the bushes and small trees.

“Shouldn’t we get inside where it’s dry?” you ask, bewilderment etched across your face as you finally reach the playhouse. He crouches down and gently pulls you inside, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No, we’ll be safe here,” he assures you, sitting down with his legs tucked under him. He bites his lip softly, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“We should go inside; I don’t want either of us to catch a cold,” you mumble, settling beside him and feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. Despite not feeling chilled yet, you know it’s risky to stay out in wet clothes. It’s autumn, and although the air still holds a lingering warmth, you’re aware that it won’t last long.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, okay?” he pleads, his eyes wide and his signature pout in full effect. You find yourself unable to resist—after all, who could say no to that adorable face?

For a few minutes, you sit there side by side, listening to the sky weep as rain patters softly on the roof of the playhouse. A few droplets sneak inside, but it hardly matters.

Jungkook suddenly turns to you, his expression unreadable— sadness flickers across his features, his normally warm brown eyes darkening to near-black in the dim light. His smile vanishes, replaced by a somberness that seems to weigh heavily on him. You can’t help but wonder what has shifted, why he’s undergone this sudden transformation in demeanor.

“___. Promise me you’ll never forget me?” 

His eyes widen with earnestness, pleading like a puppy’s, and both of his hands seek yours, holding on as if afraid of being forgotten.

Emotions swirl in those hazel eyes, a tumultuous sea of feelings you struggle to decipher. You long to grasp his thoughts, to understand why he’s broaching the topic of forgetting him. But the idea is unfathomable to you; forgetting him seems as impossible as forgetting your own name.

Something shimmers in his eyes—what, you can’t quite discern. They resemble an ocean, deep and mysterious, where one could easily lose themselves if they stared for too long.

“Forget you? Kookie, what on earth are you talking about?” your eyes widen in disbelief, searching his face for any hint of understanding, but finding only confusion.

“It’s just... I like you a lot, and,” he murmurs, stumbling over his words, his hands fidgeting nervously with yours. Then, lifting his gaze to meet yours, he adds with a touch of vulnerability, “I’ll never forget you. You mean the world to me, ___. You’re my friend.”

With a warm smile and a gentle chuckle, you reply, “Duh, silly. Of course you’ll never forget me! And I’ll never forget you either. Now, can we please go inside?”

Jungkook smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it usually does, leaving a lingering unease in the pit of your stomach. It feels like a storm is brewing within you, mirroring the turbulent weather outside.

“Just promise me. We’ll never forget each other, no matter what,” he implores, his voice firm and unwavering, his eyes reflecting the solemnity of his words.

He clasps your hand with his own, seeking out your pinky finger. 

“Pinky promise?” he asks, his eyes earnest, holding onto your gaze with a mix of hope and determination.

Your eyes flicker with a rapid dance of confusion and amusement. Despite the chaos of the moment, a smile spreads across your face, its warmth seeming to dissolve his frown and alleviate his frazzled state.

“Okay. Pinky promise,” you affirm, intertwining your pinky finger with his, sealing the pact with a vow that feels as timeless as eternity.

You never laid eyes on Jungkook after that—well, you did both retreat indoors, your mother showering Jungkook with love and sweet treats he adored. But after that day, twenty long years ago, he vanished from your life out of the blue, leaving only memories behind.

Why you’re thinking about him now, you really don’t know. Yet, just as he once asked of you, you’ve never let go of his memory—a part of you still holds onto the hope that he might reappear, surprising you around some unsuspecting corner, as if he never left. But with each passing day, the likelihood of such serendipity grows fainter, like the receding tide of the deep blue ocean.

Maybe it’s the nostalgia stirred by your recent home purchase by the sea that brings back memories of your childhood crush. The vast expanse of the ocean triggers thoughts of his eyes—not because of their color, but the way they used to glimmer, reflecting the light with a sparkle that danced like sunbeams on water.

Long strolls on the beach prove therapeutic, gradually pushing thoughts of your childhood crush to the recesses of your mind. With each step along the sandy shores, you uncover treasures—seashells, smoothed by the relentless embrace of the waves, and other mementos of seaside serenity.

You truly love the beach, which is why you chose to buy a house so close to the shore. It’s not just because the ocean reminds you of a certain childhood friend you wish you could see again. His sudden departure has always baffled you—sometimes you wonder what really happened. 

Was he kidnapped, or did he simply leave without a word? 

Why would he vanish without telling you first, especially if he just had to move?

It’s after dinner, and you find yourself lounging on your terrace, gazing out at the ocean. The view is breathtaking, and when the wind blows just right, the salty breeze gently caresses your skin. You smile a wistful smile as you raise your glass to your lips. Today is a red wine day; despite the heat, the perfectly chilled glass complements the warmth of the evening air.

With your legs propped up on the lounge chair, reclined for maximum comfort, you gaze out at the vast expanse of the sea. You can’t help but wonder about the treasures and secrets it holds, a mysterious world teeming with countless species you’ve never even heard of that call it home.

Mankind has long tried to conquer the world beneath the waters, yet the pitch-black depths of the ocean remain largely unexplored, beyond the reach of even the best diving gear. Though you’re no diver, the allure of the sea’s hidden secrets captivates you, and you dream of one day uncovering its mysteries.

A sweet, velvety sound caresses your ears, prompting you to sit up and listen more closely. The enchanting melody wraps around you, and you realize it’s a voice—someone is singing.

God, it sounds beautiful—captivating, sweet, and strong, yet tinged with sorrow. The melody weaves its way into your soul, leaving you spellbound.

For a moment, you wonder if it’s all in your head—a fleeting hallucination brought on by too much wine. But a glance at your glass and the nearly full bottle beside you confirms you’ve barely finished your first glass.

The voice is real, and it carries an eerily familiar tone. Intrigued, you rise from your comfortable lounge chair and make your way down to the sandy beach that has been your backyard for the past few days.

Your bare feet sink into the warm, fine sand, its texture caressing your skin. You glance around, searching for the source of the beautiful voice, but the beach remains empty, with no one in sight.

There it is again—the singing, so achingly beautiful that it sends shivers down your spine and raises the hair on your arms. Your feet carry you along the shoreline, but despite your efforts, you can’t pinpoint the source of the enchanting voice.

Then, just as you’ve been pacing up and down the shoreline, the voice abruptly vanishes—quiet as a still puddle after a rain shower. With a strange unease settling in your gut, you reluctantly turn back toward home. The voice felt hauntingly familiar, yet somehow elusive—like a distant memory struggling to resurface.

For the past few days, the hauntingly beautiful voice has serenaded you night after night, drawing you out to the beach in search of its mysterious owner. Despite your efforts, luck eludes you, and each failed attempt leaves you with a sense of frustration, reminiscent of the pout Jungkook used to give you whenever you were being unreasonable with him.

Your frustration mounts as the elusive voice continues to evade you, its hauntingly familiar tone persistently tugging at the corners of your mind.

Frustration coursing through your veins, you slip into your bikini, determined to quell the restlessness with a night swim in your aquatic backyard.

As the sand caresses your feet, you stroll down to the shoreline under the watchful gaze of the moon, its ethereal glow casting a mesmerizing sheen upon the water. The scene is nothing short of magical, and as the lukewarm water embraces your skin, a delightful chill courses through your body—not from the cold, but from the familiar embrace of your second home. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart, and in this moment, it feels like a sanctuary away from the world.

Surrendering to the embrace of the water, you allow its gentle currents to envelop you, cradling you in its soft embrace as you yield to its rhythmic sway. With only your head above the surface, you venture further into the depths, relishing the sensation of weightlessness and freedom that comes with each stroke.

A soft, melodic sound tickles your ear—it’s that captivating voice again! This time, it resonates clearer, as if drawing you in closer. Driven by curiosity, you swim towards the source of the sound, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you approach a cluster of rocks and a looming cliffside, you spy a cave nestled within its embrace, beckoning you with its mysterious allure.

The cave envelops you in darkness, yet the gentle glow of the full moon dances upon the water, casting an ethereal light that transforms the rocky surface of the cliff into glistening crystals. The voice reverberates off the walls, its echoes amplifying its haunting melody. Drawing closer, you discern a figure resting their head upon a rock, their silhouette illuminated by the moon’s gentle caress.

Intrigued, you inch closer, your curiosity piqued. As you approach, you discern the figure of a man, likely around your age, or perhaps a bit younger, reclining against the stone, his body partially obscured by its shadowy embrace.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice echoing softly in the cave. Instantly, a pair of dark brown eyes fixate on yours, their intensity sending a shiver of recognition down your spine.

As you hear something splashing nearby, you swiftly swim to the corner of the cave. Pulling yourself up onto the rocky surface, you cast an inquisitive gaze at the stranger, who remains silent, their expression enigmatic.

“Are you okay?” you inquire, met with silence as the man attempts to retreat, concealing more of his body beneath the murky depths, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath the surface.

You approach cautiously, taking slow, measured steps, careful not to startle the man. His features are striking—sharp, chiseled jawline, eyes wide and intense, lips full yet thin, and a cute nose that triggers a flood of memories from long ago, memories that have never faded.

“Jungkook?” you gasp, the name escaping your lips like a sudden gust of wind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you—happiness and hurt colliding like waves crashing against the shore, overwhelming you in their tumultuous embrace.

The man cautiously peers over the rock, his bare torso partially shielded from view. The sight of him shirtless prompts a flurry of questions in your mind—why is he here, and why is he without a shirt?

Is that a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm?

You can’t help but notice the strength in his neck, the prominent veins tracing a path down to his defined clavicle and broad shoulders. Damn it you really shouldn’t, but you find yourself shamelessly admiring his physique, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

“___?” His voice breaks the silence, light and airy, reminiscent of a summer breeze whispering through the leaves.

“Is it really you?” you inquire, lowering yourself to sit in front of him, your gaze sweeping over his features once more. His face holds a striking resemblance to someone from your past, now matured with the passage of time. Yet, those deep, familiar ocean eyes leave no doubt—it’s unmistakably Jungkook.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirms, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. The boyish charm of his smile clashes with the maturity reflected in his sharp features, creating a captivating contrast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in your voice. The sight of him in this cave, serenading the darkness with his song, leaves you utterly bewildered.

“Just taking a breather,” he chuckles, his gaze shamelessly roaming over your form, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

“Hold on a second,” you exclaim, frustration tinged with urgency in your voice as you scratch your head in bewilderment. “What brings you here? You vanished without a trace. What happened?”

Another splash in the water draws your attention, and you track the sound to behind Jungkook—then, you spot it: the tail. It’s a mesmerizing shade of purple, with delicate variations of violet shimmering in the moonlit cave. The translucent fins catch the light as they sway gracefully. The scales, rough and scaly, add to the otherworldly beauty of him.

Your jaw nearly hits the rocky surface—if it could, it surely would. You gaze, utterly transfixed, at the figure before you—your childhood friend, now revealed as a mermaid. No, a merman. The revelation leaves you reeling. How is this possible? You’ve heard of undiscovered species lurking beneath the waters, but this is your friend, someone you’ve known for years with two perfectly functional feet and no hint of a scaly tail.

“___,” he begins, his voice filled with warmth and genuine curiosity. “It’s been such a long time. How have you been?” His eyes radiate happiness, but you’re still reeling from the revelation before you. Seeing him again—something you’ve dreamt about for years—leaves you speechless.

“No,” you assert firmly, a rush of urgency in your tone. “You don’t get to ask questions yet. There are so many things I need answers to from you first.” Determined, you attempt to peer over the rock he’s perched on, desperate for a closer look at the astonishing sight before you—your childhood friend now bearing a tail, a reality that defies all logic.

“Alright, fire away,” he responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “But give me a moment to settle in.” With a graceful movement, he hoists himself out of the water, his biceps flexing as he perches on the rock, his tail lazily swaying in the water. Bathed in the soft glow of the cave, his majestic purple tail shimmers, leaving you in awe of his breathtaking beauty.

He seems big and broad shouldered, the tattoos look intricate, reflecting ancient scribbles and drawings on his arm.

You plop down on the rugged surface, your mind reeling with disbelief—it all feels like a surreal dream. Unable to resist, you extend your hand to touch him, as if to confirm his reality. Your index finger tentatively prods his cheek before trailing down to his chest. The moment your touch meets his pecs, you’re met with a jolt of realization—his muscles are firm, real, and undeniably tangible beneath your fingertips, sending a surge of heat through your veins as you inadvertently find yourself groping his impeccable chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes darting from your hand on his chest back to your face. Embarrassment floods your cheeks with a deep crimson as the realization of your actions hits you. You’ve been feeling the solid warmth of his chest, lost in the surreal moment.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, yanking your hand back as if it’s been scorched. “I didn’t mean to touch you like that!” Embarrassment floods through you, your heart racing as you pull away from the unexpected intimacy.

Damn it, get a grip, you chastise yourself silently. “I just wanted to make sure this is real,” you confess aloud, your voice trembling slightly with lingering disbelief.

You release a nervous chuckle, the sound betraying the disbelief still coursing through you. But as you take in the surreal sight before you—Jungkook, undeniably real and impossibly transformed—you can no longer deny the truth. Your childhood friend is here, right in front of you, and he is, astonishingly, a merman.

“Oh, this is very real,” he teases, his voice rich and layered with an enigmatic quality that you can’t quite decipher but are desperate to understand.

“Are you really a merman?” you ask, your gaze drifting back to his tail, mesmerized by its iridescent beauty. It’s breathtaking, almost otherworldly.

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes glimmering with a wistful nostalgia that tugs at your heartstrings.

“What happened to you? Why did you leave?” you demand, the urgency in your voice revealing the depth of your longing and confusion. These are the questions that have haunted you for years, the ones you swore you’d ask if you ever saw him again. Why did he disappear without a word, leaving you behind?

You watch as his expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “My parents and I had to move back home... to the ocean, I mean,” he explains, his face twitching as if struggling to mask an inner pain. “A rift in a tectonic plate devastated my village. Everything was destroyed, so we had to return and help rebuild.”

You study him closely, a lump forming in your throat as a myriad of emotions swirl within you.

“Okay. But why couldn’t you come back when you were done?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and hurt. It’s apparent that there are unresolved feelings of abandonment lingering within you, a reminder of the wounds you may need to address with your therapist.

“I really wanted to, but my parents and the village elders forbade it. We dedicated ourselves to rebuilding our village, but returning to the surface was strictly prohibited,” he explains, a palpable sadness tinting his words. It’s evident that he had yearned to reunite with you, but the weight of his responsibilities as a merman ultimately kept him bound to the depths of the ocean.

“Why are you here now? And are there others like you?” you inquire, a mix of bewilderment and intrigue coloring your tone. As you press for more information, you notice him visibly relax, his features softening once again in response to your curiosity.

“Well, I’ve been here for quite a while. I come up here to sing, often thinking of you, actually,” he confesses, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “And yes, there are others like me,” he adds with a chuckle, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and friendly banter.

“Thinking of me?” you stammer in amazement, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of his words settles in.

“Yeah. I’ve missed you since I had to leave, and I’ve been searching for you for years. Meeting you again feels like a dream come true,” he confesses, his voice filled with palpable joy at the reunion with a long-lost friend. His words send a surge of warmth through you, igniting a flutter of emotions you thought long buried. As your heart skips a beat, you’re struck by the realization that the childhood crush you harbored for him still lingers, stronger than ever.

“I’ve missed you too,” you exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with emotion. With a gentle touch, you extend your hand, laying it atop his on the rough surface of the rock, a silent reassurance of your enduring bond.

“How come you’re a merman? You were just a boy last time I saw you…” you begin, not really knowing how to ask the question that you have swirling in your mind.

“You want to know if something happened to me, to make me like this,” he gestures with his other hand over his body— it’s well defined, muscles big and strong, “or if I’d always been a merman?” His words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the mysteries surrounding his transformation.

You choke on air with how effortlessly he articulates your thoughts, a skill he’s always possessed. You nod in agreement, the intensity of your curiosity driving you to lean in closer, desperate to unravel the enigma of his transformation.

“I’ve always been a merman. My parents chose to live as humans— they’re merfolk too, by the way. But they wanted me to experience life on land. So, despite appearances, I’ve always been like this,” he explains, a smile gracing his lips as he playfully flips his tail in the water, sending ripples dancing in his wake.

“How… How do you transform?” you ask, studying him intently once more. Despite his remarkable change, he still retains that familiar essence, stirring up the remnants of the childhood crush you thought you’d outgrown. A flush of warmth creeps across your cheeks, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

“Well. When I’m out of water for an extended period, I assume my human form. And when I’m in contact with water, I revert to my merman form,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. As his fingers intertwine with yours, his touch is tender, each stroke a gentle caress that ignites a spark of warmth within you.

You nod, absorbing his explanation, but then you gasp as his words sink in, a realization dawning on you. “Do you transform when it rains then?” you blurt out, the question bursting forth with newfound urgency and curiosity.

His laughter fills the air, rich and unrestrained, sending ripples of warmth through your chest. Your gaze instinctively drifts to his chest, where the rhythmic movement of his pectorals accompanies the melody of his mirth, a captivating display of joy that you can’t help but revel in.

“No. That wouldn’t be very practical. It has to be seawater, or simply prolonged exposure to water can also do the trick,” he explains, his tone laced with a hint of amusement at the notion of rain-induced transformations.

You nod in understanding once more. “Nothing about this is practical, Jungkook,” you remark, a hint of incredulity lacing your tone.

He chuckles again, withdrawing his hand from yours and gently cupping your cheek. His touch sends a surge of warmth coursing through you, like a dormant ember suddenly ignited into a flickering flame, ready to blaze anew.

He locks eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and intense, brimming with depths of emotion that beckon you to explore. It’s like peering into an uncharted ocean, filled with mysteries waiting to be discovered. Despite the unfamiliarity, you’re drawn to dive deep and lose yourself in the depths of his gaze.

“Do you remember our promise?” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble, yet resolute. Seeking solace in the familiarity of your gaze, his words carry the weight of cherished memories and unspoken vows.

“Of course,” you respond with a bittersweet smile, lifting your hand and extending your pinky finger. “I’ve never forgotten you, Jungkook,” you affirm, the weight of years past and promises kept evident in your touch.

He hums a melody, its tune unfamiliar yet strangely soothing, and in that moment, you find solace in the sound of his voice, the melody a balm to your racing heart. “I’ve never forgotten you either, ___,” he confesses, his words carrying the weight of shared memories and enduring connection.

With his other hand, he reaches out, extending his pinky finger to intertwine with yours, creating a connection that feels like two worlds colliding, merging into one. It’s a moment of transcendence, where past and present converge, binding you both in a promise that spans the depths of time.

“I never got to tell you this on that day, and it has haunted me since, but I like you,” His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and a vulnerability that echoes through your soul. As he gazes into your eyes, it feels like he’s peeling away layers of your being, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, despite the fabric that shields your skin. With each moment, he draws nearer, his touch a gentle anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

“I like you too,” your confession hangs in the air, suspended between you like a delicate thread woven with anticipation and longing. With every word, you feel the weight of your emotions, amplified by the closeness of his presence. As your breath brushes against his skin, you can almost taste the bittersweet tang of desire mingled with the salt of the ocean breeze.

In his embrace, you feel cherished, cocooned in a world where only the two of you exist. His gaze, laden with affection, dances between the depths of your eyes and the soft curve of your lips, a silent symphony of desire. You catch the subtle flicker of his pupils as they dilate, mirroring the fluttering of your heart. A fleeting gesture, your tongue brushes against your lips, a subtle invitation to bridge the divide between longing and fulfillment.

In the hushed sanctuary of the moonlit cave, time seems to stretch into a languid dance, enveloping you both in its tender embrace. The world outside fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the rhythmic melody of your shared breaths echoing off the rocky walls. Your gaze descends to the plush pinkness of his lips, a tantalizing invitation begging to be explored. A surge of curiosity and desire courses through you, igniting a tempest of longing as you ponder the intoxicating possibility of tasting his kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” His question hangs in the air like a delicate promise, and you feel a rush of anticipation flooding your senses, the tension between you crackling like electricity. His words, soft yet laden with unspoken longing, send a tremor of excitement coursing through your veins. In that suspended moment, you find yourself caught in the irresistible pull of his gaze, his eyes a sea of swirling emotions mirroring your own. With a silent plea echoing in your heart, you grant him permission with a subtle nod, your breath hitching in anticipation as you yearn for the moment when his lips will meet yours.

His tattooed hand, warm and possessive, slides from your cheek to the back of your neck with a gentle urgency, pulling you into him as if he’s afraid you might slip away. When his lips meet yours, it’s like a collision of stars, soft yet electric, igniting a wildfire of sensation that courses through your veins. As he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort, you’re overcome with a rush of warmth and affection. With a soft chuckle escaping your lips, you reach for him, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair as you draw him closer. The second kiss is a revelation, a crescendo of desire and longing that leaves you breathless and craving more. His hum reverberates against your lips, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, like a lifeline in a sea of swirling emotions.

You draw back reluctantly, a sigh escaping your lips as you feel the bittersweet ache of parting. “It’s getting late,” you murmur, the weight of reality settling in as you remember your responsibilities waiting beyond the cave’s embrace. 

“When will I see you again?” the question hangs between you like a delicate thread, woven with hope and uncertainty, longing for reassurance in the face of impending separation.

A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and he licks his lips with a playful flick of his tongue, relishing the way your senses are all tangled up in a whirlwind of emotions—frazzled yet utterly blissed-out in his presence.

“Soon,” he assures with a reassuring smile, his touch lingering for a moment longer as his thumb caresses your lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. “You can always find me here, or just listen for my voice. But duty calls back home. I’ll return, I promise.” With that, he pulls away, releasing you from the spell of the moment, but leaving behind a promise that lingers in the air like the echo of his voice in the cave.

Reluctantly, you rise, dusting off imaginary particles from your skin with a sweep of your hands, lingering in the moment a bit longer. With a soft smile, you regard him, your eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and longing. 

“You really have a beautiful voice, Jungkook,” you murmur, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and admiration, like a gentle breeze in the tranquil cave.

With a smile that seems to illuminate the entire cave, he gracefully immerses himself in the water, causing it to dance and ripple around him like liquid poetry in motion.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” you express, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and affection, each word carrying the weight of the emotions you hold for him.

“I’ll be counting the moments until our paths cross again,” he murmurs softly, his words carrying on the gentle breeze as he fades into the depths below, leaving you with the lingering promise of his return.

Jungkook had indeed kept his word. Though you trusted him, a small part of you feared you’d never see him again. Yet, the very next day, he reappeared in the cave, serenading you with a song as you basked in his presence. This enchanting ritual has continued every day for the past two weeks, each encounter deepening your bond and making the fear of losing him fade away.

So far, your encounters have been limited to kisses, which you absolutely love—his lips are incredibly soft. Yet, lately, you’ve found yourself yearning for more. The stress of your upcoming housewarming party, which you’ve shared with Jungkook, isn’t helping. You think that letting loose with him might be just what you need to de-stress.

“Why are you having this party again if you don’t really want to?” he asks, genuinely curious. He can’t fathom why you’d willingly burden yourself with the hassle of pleasing others when it clearly brings you no joy.

“I guess it’s just expected of me,” you muse, looking down at the sparkling water as his tail gently plays with it, creating ripples. “My friends are coming, my parents too. They haven’t seen my new house yet.”

He smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re doing this for them, but it sounds like you’re forcing yourself. That makes me a bit sad.”

You shake your head and put up your hands in defense. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not like I dislike it completely. It’ll be nice seeing my friends again.” You pause, a sudden idea lighting up your face. 

“You could also come, you know?”

His face brightens momentarily, but then he slumps down in the water, looking a bit deflated. “I’d love to come, but I’m not sure I can. My hyungs need my help in the village; one of them has been missing for days, and we’ve been searching for him without luck…” His voice trails off, a mix of concern and disappointment etched on his face.

You feel a twinge of sadness for him and say softly, “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I hope you find him soon. Just know you’re always welcome, no matter when.”

His smile returns, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he speaks. “Thanks. Jimin usually never wanders off, that’s why we’re afraid something has happened to him.”

You envelop him in a hug, offering what comfort you can, despite not knowing Jimin. You silently pray for Jimin’s swift return—after all, you understand more than most the ache of missing a piece of your heart.

A few days later, the soft strains of music fill your home, weaving through the laughter and chatter of old and new friends alike, and the comforting presence of your parents, whose faces you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity.

As you mingle with your friends, catching up on stories and laughter, time seems to dance away unnoticed. It’s only when the gentle kiss of the evening breeze starts to nip at your skin that you realize how long you’ve been engrossed in conversation with your colleague out on the terrace. With a shared chuckle at the sudden chill, you both retreat inside, seeking the warmth of good company and lively conversations.

Her joke evokes laughter from you, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by her sudden silence, drawing your attention to where her finger points. In the kitchen, your parents stand, their faces alight with smiles, engaged in conversation with a tall, dark-haired man whose locks curl gently at the ends.

Her curiosity piques as she nudges you with a mischievous grin. 

“Who’s that hot man with a tattooed arm over there talking with your parents?” she asks, her voice tinged with intrigue, prompting both of you to draw nearer to the kitchen.

As you draw closer, disbelief gives way to certainty: it’s unmistakably Jungkook standing beside your parents.

“___! You never mentioned Jungkook’s return! How long has it been, twenty years?” your mother exclaims, her smile radiant as she pinches Jungkook’s cheek affectionately, treating him like a long-lost child returned home.

Your dad’s eyes sparkle with the warmth of a long-awaited reunion, as if he’s just rediscovered an old friend, and you can’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you.

Your mother reaches out to embrace Jungkook, her petite frame enveloped by his much larger one, but he indulges her with a warm hug, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

With a playful grin, your friend nudges you, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook, a knowing glint sparkling in them. “Who is this handsome man?”

As you break from your reverie, you manage a sheepish grin, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and excitement. “This is Jungkook, my childhood friend. We go way back.”

“He’s hot,” your friend’s observation cuts through the air with a boldness that makes you chuckle, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she sizes up Jungkook.

Your mother’s laughter fills the room, a warm melody that dances around the air. “He really is! You’ve really outgrown that cute bunny phase you had,” she teases, her fingers playfully squeezing Jungkook’s rather impressive biceps.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me,” you groan, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation painting your voice as you reach for Jungkook’s hand, eager to escape the teasing clutches of both your parents and your friend.

As you pull him away, Jungkook chuckles softly, following you into the living room where you both sink into the inviting embrace of the couch.

Amidst the chatter filling the room, engaging in conversation with Jungkook proves challenging, his words often drowned out by the lively voices of others around you.

“Would you like to step out for a bit? Take a stroll along the beach?” he proposes, his gaze alight with anticipation, as if the idea itself holds a promise of something wonderful.

With a nod, you clasp his hand, a silent agreement passing between you. But before you step out into the night, you make a quick detour to your friend, informing her of your plans for a seaside stroll.

She scrutinizes you with the intensity of a hawk, then delves into her purse, emerging with something in hand. “Here,” she says, passing it to you. 

“I have a feeling you might need this.”

You accept the small foil packet, its presence alone sending a jolt of recognition through you. Your cheeks and ears ignite with heat, and you hastily tuck it into your jeans pocket, your gratitude tinged with embarrassment. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice slightly breathless.

As you begin to turn away, she shoots you a playful wink, causing you to release a sigh of embarrassment, your cheeks still flushed with color.

Outside, you stroll barefoot on the sand, reveling in the moment with Jungkook by your side—both of you connected to the earth beneath your feet. His presence captivates you, his figure tall and striking against the backdrop of the beach. Shoulder-length hair dances around his face, adding to his allure. With each step, you admire his physique—broad shoulders tapering to a defined waist, muscular thighs moving with purpose. Clad in a white tank top, his biceps speak of strength, while his snug blue denim jeans accentuate his powerful legs, showcasing a silhouette that commands attention.

His human form is undeniably beautiful, but it pales in comparison to the breathtaking splendor of his merman form. This realization brings a soft smile to your lips, and a blush warms your cheeks.

You walk with him along the beach, your hand nestled comfortably in his, the silence stretching between you like a warm blanket. It feels like an eternity before he clears his throat, a deep rumble that breaks the quiet. “Do you want to go to the cave?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hopeful anticipation.

You look up at him, captivated by the soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” you agree, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“Cool. I know a way to get there from land,” he says, pulling you along the shore. Your feet sink into the cool sand with each step, the waves gently lapping at your ankles as you follow him, while he makes an effort not to let the seawater touch him.

“You do? I thought it was only accessible from the sea,” you chuckle, feeling the excitement build as he leads you closer to the rocky formations along the cliffside.

“I know a lot of hiding spots,” he giggles, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he reveals a narrow, almost hidden entryway in the cliffside, just big enough for him to slip through.

You step into the familiar cliffside cave where you’ve been meeting for the past few weeks. Nestling into the small sandy patch, the only section not enveloped in stone, you feel a comforting sense of familiarity mixed with anticipation.

“Much easier to talk in here, huh?” Jungkook chuckles, leaning back against the cave wall. The gentle echo of his laughter fills the space, making it feel cozier. You nod, a soft, airy chuckle escaping your lips as a blush warms your cheeks. Sitting beside him, the intimacy of the cave amplifies every shared glance and whispered word.

You look up at him, your eyes fluttering bashfully. “I don’t really want to talk anymore,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to talk,” he says, his voice deflating as a pout forms on his lips. That’s when it hits you—he has no idea how much you crave him, how badly you want to feel him, everywhere.

You turn your body towards his, your hands caressing his face as you pull his face towards yours. “I want to do more than talk,” you quip, your voice small but steady. “I want to kiss you and so much more.”

Something seems to snap in him, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his cheeks. He moves his face closer to yours, your noses almost touching. “So you want more?” he teases, his voice a tantalizing whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word escaping in a breathless pant as you close the distance between you. Your lips meet his in a fervent, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that blazes between you. Your hands hold his cheeks in place, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, as he responds eagerly, deepening the kiss with his tongue, sending waves of desire coursing through you.

When you part, both of your eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

“I want you, Kook,” you plead, your breath mingling with his, your foreheads pressed together in an intimate connection.

Your fingertips trace the lines of his body, dancing over the contours of his chest until they halt at the brink of his jeans.

“I want you too, ___, but I—” he pants, his words cut short as you start to rub your hand over his clothed dick, eliciting a deep, gratifying groan from him.

You keep teasing him with your hand, feeling the growing hardness beneath your touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You lick your lips, watching as his face contorts in pleasure, every subtle reaction driving you wild with desire.

“Hmm, you like it?” you ask, positioning yourself directly in front of him, locking eyes as you continue your ministrations.

“Yes, but I—” as your hand maintains its pressure on his crotch, he stammers out his words, his voice a mixture of desire and hesitation.

“What, are you a virgin?” your playful tease hangs in the air, accompanied by a soft chuckle, as you lean in closer to him, your breath warming his ear with your whispered words.

“No!” His response is hurried, almost defensive, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve just never done it with a human before…” he confesses, his tone a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity.

You draw back slightly, scanning his face, catching a glimpse of uncertainty mingled with desire flickering in his eyes.

“I can guide you through it, show you what feels good. Trust me, you’ll enjoy every moment,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of confidence and anticipation.

“I mean, Jin hyung already told me how it works,” he pants, his gaze fixated on your hand as it works its magic, his hips instinctively moving in rhythm, “I’ve touched myself before, out of curiosity, but I’ve never had sex with a human before.”

Your expression softens, recognizing that this is a new experience for him, so you resolve to take it slow.

“Mermen don’t exactly have dicks like humans,” he chuckles, his movements against your hand betraying his eagerness for friction.

You lean in again, teasing him, “How exactly do merfolk have sex?”

He chuckles, smirking at you, “Well, it’s more like a mating ritual, honestly. There’s some swimming around, almost like a dance, rubbing against each other. It’s quite primal and intimate, in its own way.”

You frown, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief evident on your face. “That’s it?”

He nods, his expression both amused and sincere.’

“No teasing? Release of bodily fluids? Making out? Sticking things into holes?” you list, your expression a mix of incredulity and disappointment. God, you really do like sex and all of the things you just listed. Mermaid intercourse sounds slightly boring in comparison.

“No sticking things into holes sadly—except for tongue kissing,” he chuckles, masking his disappointment with a playful grin, though you sense a tinge of longing in his eyes.

“But you get to try that now, okay? Then you can tell all your friends how it is to have sex with a human,” you smile, feeling a bit mischievous, your words laced with humor as you try to lighten the mood after the serious discussion.

“Many of them have already experienced it,” he laughs, his tone tinged with excitement and a hint of anticipation, “My hyungs have done it a lot, and I can’t wait to experience it myself.”

“They sound like they’ve had their fair share of adventures,” you chuckle, stealing a glance downwards, noticing the telltale strain in his pants.

He chuckles, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “Can we talk about something else? Because I’m having trouble focusing on your hand when I’m talking about my friends.”

With a playful laugh, you grasp the situation and share a knowing glance. Eager to reignite the passionate spark between you, you playfully unzip his pants, only to discover he’s gone commando—a thrilling surprise that sets your heart racing and ignites a rush of desire.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow, your fingers wrapping around his cock teasingly. “No underwear?” you jest, a playful twinkle in your eye, as you give him a tantalizing stroke, feeling his anticipation building with each caress.

With a low, guttural sound, he shifts his weight, arching his back to assist as you peel off the remainder of his jeans. Your fingers eagerly find their way back to his dick, marveling at its girth and length, already imagining the delicious stretch it will bring. The anticipation sends shivers down your spine.

His cock is long— longer than average, and thicker too. The tip is red, a small bead of precum gathered at the top, just waiting to be tasted by your tongue.

He teases you, his hips surging upward as if to test your grip. “Do you like it?” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, his eyes locking onto yours as he waits for your response.

You meet his gaze with a smirk, your fingers still wrapped around him. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” you concede, your voice laced with anticipation. Honestly, you don’t care much about the size of it, more about how good he is at using it.

He watches you intently, his gaze probing yet curious. “Have you had a lot of sex before?”

You nod and give him a small smile.

You lean in closer, your eyes locked with his, conveying your sincerity and eagerness. “I have, but let’s focus on us now,” you whisper, your voice tinged with determination. “I want to make you feel good, and then you can return the favor. How does that sound?”

With a tantalizing smile, you moisten your lips before lowering them to his cock. The instant contact makes him quiver, a reaction that only fuels your desire. You start by tracing him with your tongue, savoring his taste, before enveloping him completely in your warm, wet mouth.

He utters adorable, needy moans as your mouth envelops him, his reactions spurring you on as you slide up and down, sucking him with fervor and intensity.

His hands find your hair, gripping it gently at first, then with a bit more urgency, but you don’t mind one bit. Instead, it fuels your desire, urging you to take more of him into your mouth, to please him further with every movement.

The echoing sounds of slurping fill the cave, reverberating off the rocky walls, creating a symphony of desire. Each wet, sucking noise only fuels your arousal further, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with every passing moment.

“Shit. I’m feeling like I might come already,” he pants, his fingers tightening in your hair, a futile attempt to control the rising tide of pleasure coursing through him.

You release him with a soft pop, panting as you meet his pleading gaze, a flicker of desire mirrored in your eyes, silently promising more to come.

“It felt really good, but I really want to know what it feels like being inside your pussy, please,” his plea echoes through the cave, his eyes pleading like a desperate puppy, and you can’t help but chuckle at his adorable earnestness, your own desire kindled by his longing gaze.

“Of course. I want to have you inside of me too,” you pant, urgency seeping into your voice as you hastily pull your shirt over your head, revealing the lace of your bra to him, a silent invitation in the flickering light of the cave.

“You’re stunning,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation. “It’s not just your body that I love, but your entire essence, your personality—it’s all so captivating.”

Your smile widens, mirroring the warmth and affection swelling in your chest as you gaze at him. As you begin to unbutton your pants, a thought nudges its way into your consciousness. Retrieving the foil packet from your pocket, you place it on the ground between you, a silent promise of the intimacy about to unfold.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to the foil packet, curiosity sparking in his eyes like a flame catching kindling. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue and a hint of anticipation, as if sensing the gravity of the moment wrapped in that small, innocuous package.

You chuckle softly, charmed by his innocence, realizing he’s never encountered a condom before. It’s endearing, really, how sheltered his underwater world has been.

“It’s a condom. It’s for protection,” you explain gently, feeling a mix of tenderness and amusement at his innocence. “You put it on your cock. I’m on birth control, but it never hurts to be extra safe,” you assure him, deciding to take the lead and offer to help him put it on.

As you attempt to open the foil packet, he intercepts your movement with a smirk, halting you with his hand. “Not now. I want to taste you first. Can I? And will you let me know if you like it or not? I’ve never tried it before,” he trails off, his voice soft and endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize just how charming he can be.

His hands find purchase on your hips, and with a deliberate tug, he pulls your pants down, leaving you bare in your underwear. His gaze travels over you, from your eyes down to your dripping cunt, igniting a fire of anticipation in your core.

“Your panties are wet.” 

You chuckle in response, a mix of excitement and nervousness dancing in your eyes as you obediently part your legs wider, inviting him in with a playful yet anticipatory smirk.

“That’s because I’m aroused,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as his touch sends a delicious shiver down your spine, your anticipation building with every electrifying caress of his hand against your hip bone and down to your pussy.

“You can remove it,” you whisper, your voice husky with desire, as you arch your back, offering yourself to him, a silent invitation. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to the dimly lit cave, the anticipation thickening the air between you.

He lowers himself between your parted legs, his touch sending shivers up your spine as his hands explore the soft skin of your thighs, eliciting playful giggles from your lips. With agonizing slowness, his fingertips inch closer to your aching pussy, your body aching with desire, yearning for his touch. You find yourself silently begging for him to make contact, your entire being consumed by the anticipation of his caress.

“Please, Jungkook,” you implore, your voice trembling with urgency and longing, “I need to feel you, your touch—whether it’s your fingers or your mouth, I don’t care. Just touch me.”

As he gazes into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and understanding, he delicately traces his index finger over your sensitive clit. The sensation overwhelms you, eliciting a strangled gasp of his name, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

With each gentle stroke of his finger over your clit, you can’t help but release a soft moan, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Sensing your pleasure, he continues, his movements becoming more confident as he circles and rubs your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As your breath quickens and your body trembles with anticipation, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain control, your legs quivering with need. Sensing your urgency, he gently guides your legs apart with his free hand, allowing him better access to your pussy.

He watches, entranced, as your clit pulsates, the rhythmic flexing and relaxing of the muscle a mesmerizing sight. The vision of your arousal sends a jolt of desire through him, making his own need painfully evident.

“You can put a finger in,” you pant, your voice trembling with need, eyes wide and pleading for more.

He looks up, his eyes searching yours, “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper filled with both concern and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip, a soft groan escaping your throat. “Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice laced with desperate longing, “I want your fingers inside me now.”

With the hand that was expertly teasing your clit, Jungkook slides it down to your slick folds, marveling at how you glisten in the moonlit cave. He gently positions his index finger, then slowly, almost tantalizingly, pushes it inside you, making you gasp at the intimate sensation.

The pleasure hits you instantly, a surge of desire overwhelming your senses. You crave more, each second intensifying your need, as if every nerve in your body is crying out for him.

“Wow,” he breathes, mesmerized by the sight of his finger slowly disappearing into your hole, his eyes wide with awe and desire.

Mesmerized, he begins thrusting his finger in and out of you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your sweet noises of pleasure fill the cave, encouraging him. After a moment, he looks up, his voice husky with desire, “Can I add another one?”

You nod, and another finger slips into your pussy, stretching you just a bit more. The sensation is intoxicating, yet you crave so much more. You’re trying to maintain control, to let him take his time, but the need inside you is almost overwhelming.

“Please,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with desire, “add a third finger and use your other hand to play with my clit.” You crave the sensation, the stretch, the readiness for his cock, your need palpable in every word.

With a swift motion, you unhook your bra, allowing it to slip to the ground. His movements pause as his gaze fixes on your exposed chest—your nipples standing pert and proud, a silent invitation to his touch.

As his gaze reluctantly leaves your exposed chest, he resumes his attention on you, the third finger sliding into you with a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips at the welcomed stretch. His thumb, slick with your juices, finds your clit once more, initiating a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Breathless and on the edge of ecstasy, you manage to muster the question, your voice filled with awe and admiration, “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Because you’re really good at it.”

His laughter dances in the air, a melody to your unraveling pleasure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a perplexed frown until you see him drawing nearer, his tongue tracing the contours of your pussy.

You surrender to the ecstasy, tossing your head back as waves of pleasure wash over you, relishing the sensation of his velvety tongue caressing every contour of your quivering folds and sending electric pulses of delight through your clit.

With a hunger that matches your own, he envelops your clit, his mouth becoming a vortex of ravenous need, as he sucks and teases, drawing forth the essence of your desire and savoring every drop of your arousal with a fervent devotion.

With an almost expert touch, he draws your sensitive bud into his mouth, creating a vortex of sensation that sends electrifying pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. Each suction brings you closer to the edge, igniting a fiery intensity that threatens to consume you entirely. As you pant and gasp, your senses reel with the impending release, the anticipation coiling tighter within you like a spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy.

Your fingers trace the curves of your breasts, igniting a trail of sensation that sends shivers down your spine. With each touch, you feel the heat building within you, a primal urge demanding release. Your fingertips dance over your nipples, teasing them to attention, and you can’t help but respond with a symphony of gasps and moans.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up, drawn to the symphony of your movements, your gasps and moans orchestrating a melody of desire. Yet, he remains steadfast in his task, his lips and tongue weaving a spell of ecstasy as he devours you with hunger, like he has done this many times before. It’s as though he’s an artist, each stroke of his tongue a masterpiece, each flicker of his lips a masterpiece of passion.

As your body arches and trembles with impending release, you’re acutely aware that the peak of ecstasy is just within reach. “Jungkook,” you gasp, your voice a fervent plea, “I’m... I’m going to come.”

With his deep chuckle vibrating against your most sensitive spot, you’re overcome by the intoxicating blend of sensations. In an instant, your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure, your fingers tangling in his ebony locks, anchoring you to the dizzying whirlwind of ecstasy as he eagerly savors every drop of your essence.

With a gentle and tender gaze, he pulls away, his features adorned with a shimmer of your essence. “Was this alright?” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, yet his eyes brimming with warmth and adoration. With a gasp of disbelief, you draw him into a passionate kiss, savoring the mingling taste of yourself on his lips, yet your heart races with an electric thrill. “It was perfect,” you murmur against his mouth, your voice laden with sincerity and longing, sealing the moment with fervent intensity.

“Now you can fuck me,” filled with need, you voice your desire, urgency coloring every syllable, as you reach for his shirt and hastily pull it over his head. Your fingers fumble with the foil packet, opening it with a sense of anticipation, before your hand finds his still-hard cock.

With careful precision, you slide the condom over his dick, a tangible barrier between you and raw desire. As you spread your legs, creating space for him, his cock hovers tantalizingly close to where you ache for him most. In his gaze, you detect a mixture of longing and uncertainty, silently seeking your permission to proceed.

You take control, grasping his cock firmly and guiding it to your eager entrance. With a whispered instruction, you urge him to press forward, “Push a little, but slowly.”

As he nods in agreement, a determined glint ignites in his eyes. With gentle yet purposeful movements, he starts to ease his cock into the welcoming warmth of your eager pussy, each inch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, stretching you deliciously with every inch gained.

His breath hitches, voice laced with wonderment, “Wow. You’re so tight,” he pants, his words punctuated by the sensation of more and more of his dick disappearing into the velvety depths of your cunt, a symphony of pleasure enveloping you both with each inch he claims.

“God, you’re big,” you pant back, a mixture of excitement and anticipation lacing your voice as you try your best to relax, welcoming the exquisite stretch and fullness as he almost fills you up, every inch of him stirring a delicious ache within you.

Finally, he’s completely inside, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, feeling every pulsing inch of him deep within you, a rush of sensation flooding your senses as you revel in the delicious fullness he provides.

“You can move now,” you encourage him with a smile, eager anticipation shimmering in your eyes as you invite him to explore the depths of pleasure with each rhythmic thrust.

“How? You’re hugging me so tight,” he groans in pleasure, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as if seeking your direction amidst the waves of sensation coursing through both of you.

“Feel how we fit together?” you whisper, your hands tenderly guiding his hips. “Just move your hips—back and forth. Follow the rhythm of our bodies, and trust me, it’ll be amazing.”

“I already feel so good.”

He starts with a gentle push, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. With each thrust, he delves deeper, igniting an electric dance between your bodies, and you can’t help but moan in bliss.

“Don’t stop—faster,” you urge him on, and he responds with a surge of intensity, each thrust echoing in the cavern, a symphony of desire enveloping you both.

Your hands abandon his ass and hips once you’re satisfied he’s got the rhythm, his every thrust hitting that perfect spot, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You moan his name, the sound igniting a primal response in him, his grunts mingling with your name, creating a symphony of passion in the cave.

“Keep going—harder,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire. With each thrust, he drives into you with unyielding force, your back meeting the rough cave wall, igniting a primal intensity that leaves you breathless. You know there’ll be marks and scratches later, but at this moment, all you care about is the raw, primal pleasure he’s giving you.

“Yes!” you scream, your voice echoing against the walls of the cave, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to clutch his strong biceps for leverage. The intricate tattoo sleeve he has on his right arm, flexing with the strength he puts into his thrusts. With each powerful movement of his hips, he plunges deeper into you, igniting a primal fire that consumes both of you in an insatiable frenzy.

“___. I think I’m going to come soon,” he confesses, his voice strained with pleasure, his brows furrowing in anticipation of the impending release.

“Me too. Shit. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out, your disbelief mingling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. His skill and passion feel too seasoned for a first-timer, leaving you both questioning the truth of his innocence.

“I’m just a fast learner,” he teases, his lips finding solace on one of your exposed nipples, eliciting a fervent moan of his name from you. 

He sucks and nibbles at it, all while hitting your soft spot with precision. It’s an onslaught of sensation, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within you, threatening to unravel at any moment.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your nipple, only to lavish the same attention on its twin. His kisses, licks, and sucking send ripples of pleasure through your body, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

That’s it. You’re gonna come again.

“Fuck, Kook,” you cry out, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you as you surrender to the torrent of ecstasy, your pussy releasing your liquid and pulsating around his cock, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you with the breakneck speed he’s moving his hips at.

“Damn, how did you just get even tighter?” he groans, his voice strained with pleasure, his primal urges driving him to the brink of ecstasy. You feel his urgency, knowing he’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Fuck—” he pants, his breath ragged and erratic. Then, he stutters, his movements turning feral for a moment as you feel his cock twitch inside your pussy, and he releases into the condom, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

He stills inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he puts all of his weight into his arms. You gaze at him with a smile, your hand finding his cheek, gently pulling him closer to you, a silent reassurance in your touch.

You kiss him tenderly, the intimacy lingering in the air as your lips meet in a long and deep embrace. When you finally part, your breath mingling, you whisper softly, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Me too,” his voice carries a gentle exhaustion, mirroring the weariness you also feel settling in. You share a quiet moment, the weight of your shared passion and pleasure evident in the silence that follows.

As he gradually softens inside you, he withdraws gently. You swiftly retrieve the condom, deftly disposing of it with a practiced flick, tossing it into the depths of the cave, a silent testament to the intimacy shared in this hidden sanctuary.

“Can we do it again?” he pleads, his eyes ablaze with desire, each word heavy with anticipation, begging for another swim into ecstasy.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his once more, the promise of another intimate time igniting a fire within you both.

“But maybe we can go for a swim first?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eyes as you feel your breathing gradually returning to normal.

His expression shifts to one of surprise. “You want to swim? I’ll revert to my merman form then…”

You gently grasp his cheek, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze echoing your sincerity. “I love you, whether you’re in your merman or human form. I love all of you. And yes, I want to swim with you. You know how much I love being in the water.”

As he eases into your proximity, he nods, inching towards the water within the cave. With a mesmerizing display, a cascade of sparkle and glitter dances in the air as his legs seamlessly meld into a majestic purple tail. Your jaw drops, captivated once again by the breathtaking sight of his merman form, each time feeling like the first time you saw him like this.

He gracefully glides into the water with a splash, and you eagerly trail behind, tentative at first, dipping your toes into the cool embrace, then succumbing to the gentle caress that envelops your entire naked form.

You swim alongside him, venturing beyond the confines of the cave, out into the vast expanse of the open sea. The ocean stretches endlessly, meeting the horizon in a seamless blend of moonlit waves. Above, the sky is a tapestry of stars, each one twinkling like a promise of infinite possibilities. Though your house is a distant silhouette against the shore, it fades from your thoughts in the enchantment of this moment.

As you glide through the water beside him, the gentle rhythm of his tail occasionally breaking the surface with playful splashes, you find yourself drawn to the mystery of his world. “I’d love to see your home someday,” you say, the words carried away by the ocean breeze, mingling with the soft lullaby of the waves.

“Yeah. I know a witch that can turn you into a mermaid, if you really want to,” he says with a big smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they meet your surprised gaze, mirroring your astonishment with his own excitement.

Your eyes widen with wonder— the thought of becoming a mermaid, a cherished childhood dream, suddenly within reach. “I’d love that,” you breathe, your voice filled with an intoxicating mix of excitement and disbelief, as if daring the universe to make this fantasy a reality.

→ Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are 100% made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work sometimes (the banners)).

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jungkook merman #bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bangtan smut #bangtan x reader #bts fic #bangtan fic

[holylulusworld]

I’m your daddy now (3) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader (plussized)

Characters: Ari Levinson

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, groping, daddy Lloyd (not the kinky kind of daddy), some fluff

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It’s the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine. It will lead toward Ari’s story. We will see their relationship throughout all other stories. 

Catch up here: TOL - I’m your daddy now (2)

Ari exhales sharply. He’s not amused by Lloyd’s behavior.

The mustache-wearing bastard is shamelessly groping your ass while purring dirty nothings in your ear. “Plump. Sweet. Begging for cream.”

“Lloyd!” You swat his hand away and straighten your skirt blouse. “We have company. You can’t do such a thing while people are around.” You pucker your lips before striding toward the door. “Remember, we have a business to do.”

Lloyd licks his lips. He watches you walk out of the room, groaning loudly. “A hell of a woman I got myself.”

“Congrats,” Ari rolls his eyes. He knows about Lloyd’s endless stream of women roaming his bedroom. “For how long?”

“I’m gonna marry that chubby bug,” Lloyd grins before he tugs at his pants. He’s got a raging hard-on thanks to the woman ruling his mind and office. – You. It’s even worse since he got a taste of you and your perfect cunt. “She’s perfection.” Lloyd grins as he sniffs at his fingers. “She’s got a cute little shit too. Gotta be a daddy for the poor boy. His old man is a deadbeat.”

“Perfection,” Ari doubts that Lloyd will keep his word and marry you, but he says nothing. He came here for a reason, not to fight with Lloyd. “You should be careful if children are involved.

“I told you,” Lloyd grits his teeth, “I’m going to be a daddy for the little shit. I consider renaming him. Lloyd Jr. would be so cute, don’t you think?” He nods to himself. “I only need to convince my sunshine.”

“Lloyd, I came here for a second time because you want to discuss the details of my request later. I assume you had your hands full with your assistant,” Ari crosses his arms over his wide chest. He quirks a brow and waits for Lloyd to grovel.

“What can I do for you, my sexy friend?” Lloyd chuckles. He just loves to toy with people. Even more, since he found you. “I thought everything got discussed last time. My sunshine and I will join one of the dance classes and check your girl out. Maybe she needs a little money for her studio.”

“Lloyd, this is different from the other girls I paid. I want her to be mine,” Ari hesitates to talk about his feelings to a man offering women to wealthy men. He doesn’t believe Lloyd understands the concept of love.

“Love sweet love,” Lloyd smiles dopily. “I’m telling you, spring let me lose my mind. If only she wasn’t wearing those tight pants when I met her. I wouldn’t be so into that slutty little cupcake I call my own.”

“You are disgusting,” Ari sneers at Lloyd’s behavior. “I’m talking about love, not your libido. You’re lucky if your assistant doesn’t cut your balls off in your sleep.”

“That’s actually a great idea,” you say while walking back inside the office. “I got coffee for you, Mr. Levinson, and a disgustingly sweet coffee monstrosity for you, boss.”

Lloyd dips his head to glance at Ari. “I love it when she calls me boss. Gets me rock-hard every time. You wouldn’t believe how much I’m struggling to not have my way with her right now.”

You place the coffee on the small coffee table. “Lloyd!” You tut and glare at him when he tries to grope your ass. “Christ, you’re unbelievable. We have a client here. He wants our help.”

“All work and no fun,” Lloyd glumly replies. He pouts while staring at your tits. You decided on a light summer dress with a high neckline to avoid catching Lloyd’s attention. No such luck. “I wonder if I can make you forget about business.”

“Boss, do your job,” you point your index finger at him. “I already got a child to take care of. I don’t need a second one.”

“I like that one,” Ari throws in. He slowly sips his coffee while watching you and Lloyd interact. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

You nod and turn to leave Lloyd and Ari to their business. You’re still not used to the kind of business you’re involved in since you accepted the job offer. Lloyd takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass.

“Lloyd!” You huff and stomp away. It’s not worth it to get mad at him. He’ll only get horny the more you yell at him. Lloyd is a kinky bastard after all. “I should cut his balls off one day. But not his cock. It’s the best part of him.”

“You forgot my mustache,” Lloyd calls after you. “You know you love it, sunshine.” He turns toward Ari. “She loves it.”

“So…” You watch Lloyd rummage around his office. He curses under his breath as he goes on his hands and knees to look for something under the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I dropped something important,” he stretches his arm to reach something under the couch. You step closer to get a better look at his ass. It’s not or never. Payback for all the groping.

Smirking you grab his ass with both hands, groping him roughly through his slacks. You have to admit, he’s got a nice ass.

“Sunshine,” he purrs. “We don’t have time to get down and dirty. I need you to help me with something.”

“I swear,” you slap his ass, “if you get your dick out again and call it a surprise, I’ll follow Ari’s suggestion and cut it off.”

Lloyd huffs as he slowly gets back up. He hastily stuffs something in his pocket before looking you up and down. “He said balls, not my dick,” Lloyd smirks when you take a step back. “I see you can’t keep your hands off my perfect ass, huh? Do you want to feel me up some more?”

“We wanted to talk about your client. You remember your client, Ari Levinson, right? You mentioned a dance class and today he talked about it again. What is your plan now?”

“We’ll attend his chosen girl’s dance class and will find out more about her. That woman tries to make my job harder. She’s not on social media and pays cash,” Lloyd pouts. “I thought this would be an easy job, but no, Ari doesn’t want me to threaten her business. It would’ve been so much easier if he just played the knight in shiny armor after manipulating her business.”

“You’re so romantic.”

“Romance is for losers, Y/N. I believe in horniness and my pussy-detector,” Lloyd points at his crotch. “If little Lloyd likes you, it’s true love.” He grins, proud of himself. “Come on, let’s get home. The little shit is waiting for his daddy to read him one of the new books I bought.”

“When did you have the time to buy a book?”

“It’s called online shopping,” he huffs. “I don’t have the time to waste my time in a dusty bookstore.”

You quirk a brow. After you let him do unspeakable things to you for the first time, Lloyd is unstoppable. He wanted you and your son to move in with him. Lloyd even hired an interior designer to turn two of his guestrooms into a bedroom and a playroom for your son.

If only you could believe him that he wants to be more than the guy stuffing your pussy.

“Fine,” you sigh, too tired to argue. “The babysitter wants to go home too. Let’s go. We still need to talk about Mr. Levinson and your plan.”

He wraps one arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. “Does going home include a little action for the tiger in my pants?”

“I thought it was a python?”

“Who cares?” He groans. “There’s a whole jungle in my pants and it all belongs to you, sunshine…”

“…and then the little ant kicked the evil toad’s ass,” Lloyd closes the book, a big smirk on his face. “Son, how did you like the book?”

“Cool,” your son gasps. He’s still mesmerized by all the voices Lloyd imitated while reading the book he found online to your son. “I like the ant the most.”

“Tomorrow, we will read about his next adventure. I bet he’ll kick more ass.” Lloyd runs his hand over your son’s head, gently patting the little boy. “…can’t believe that deadbeat left a cute little shit like you.”

“Lloyd!” You tut. “You promised to stop calling my son little shit!”

“Our son,” he corrects. “How about you wait in our bedroom for me and the python fighting my pants? I got something to discuss with Lloyd Jr.”

You kiss your son’s forehead and wish him a good night. He refuses to sleep in your bedroom since he has his own room at Lloyd’s house. “We won’t rename my son. This is my last word.”

“If only…” Llyod grins. “Now…go to bed mommy. We men need to talk about something…”

You reluctantly leave the room, looking over your shoulder before you reach the door. “No swear words, Lloyd.”

“I wouldn’t dream of swearing next to our baby boy.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I love you too, sugar cake,” he grins. “I’ll be right with you.”

The moment you are out of the room Lloyd gets something out of his pocket. He shows it to your son, smirking. “What do you say, little shit? Will she like the ring?”

Tags in reblog.

#I’m your daddy now (3) #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #plussized reader #chubby reader #Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader

[ceesimz]

Leave Before The Lights Come On

Title is a Arctic Monkeys song! This trope has been done more times than I've blinked my whole life but this is my version, enjoy :) (ps it's not too long but it's a lil bit spicy and perhaps slightly ridiculous - plus, are we shocked to hear im nervous about posting this? it's quite different to anything else I've written but here goes)

Award shows, charity events, dinners with red carpets. It's how things started months ago, and it's still how the story goes now.

Everyone knew what private but not secret meant nowadays, it seemed to be the go-to for basically all couples. Yet, very few understood the thrill of private and secret.

Every night spent at these things was a new performance for you both, dancing around each other with fleeting glances and lingering, teasing touches. A chance to start fresh over and over, something most couples never endeavour in anymore, but it's so addicting. A game of cat and mouse that always ends in the same way, and despite that fact, it's still intoxicating all the same.

"One beer please."

"Just a beer'll do."

You know who is next to you, there's no use guessing. It always starts like this. And when she slithers closer, elbows rested on the bar that she's slumped over compared to you standing with perfect posture and hands clasped around your own arms that crossed over your chest, the cuff links of her suit sleeves glimmer in your eye line. Her hands purposely move to fiddle with them, knowing your attention is on her hands and the rings that are scattered across her fingers. She knows you too well, knows your eyes unintentionally fall to that part of her whenever they're on display, and it causes the first simmer of something to bubble in your abdomen.

At once, the bartender places the beer bottles down in front of you both, each reaching out to grab it and turning to the other. With eyes holding the other's gaze, you and Leah take a swig of your drinks, a silent agreement that the night has begun.

To your dismay though, the scales have already tipped in Leah's favour as she gets the first laugh. She takes another sip of her beer, first moving her eyes from your face to the way your hands make the bottle look bigger than it is as you hold it with both, rather than Leah who holds it with just one. Then, she trails her eyes downwards and up again, smirking smugly at you before walking away, not without a brush against your shoulder.

You shake your head just as the host announces the event will begin in ten minutes and advises everyone to find their seats. Working with one of the most well-known magazines got you great seats surrounded by good people to network with, and though if your manager found out she'd probably retract all future invites, you couldn't care less about networking. Not when you were stuck in the most mind-numbing game of back and forth, push and pull, take and give. You could be seated beside some random Tom, Dick or Harry from a no-name town in England, or you could be sat beside someone like Serena Williams, and it'd make no difference.

Leah Williamson, your new girlfriend and possibly the most frustrating yet attractive person you'd seen, was in the room. That was enough incentive for all thoughts to fly far from your mind.

The last event you went to was probably the most notable for your relationship. It should have been a pretty important one for you to pay attention to, considering it was hosted by GQ, but how could you when a certain blonde in a scantily clad dress was begging to be your girlfriend all night? She had asked in just about every way possible, and you would have said yes from the first instance if it weren't for her attention being pulled away before you could get a word in.

From whispering it in your ear as she slipped past you during a conversation with some of GQ's most important employees, to handing you a serviette with words written on that still send shivers down your spine when you think back to them, and even meeting your eyes from across the room in your respective seats and mouthing the question 'Mine yet?' with an upward quirk of her eyebrows. If you thought that part of the night was memorable, you didn't want to talk about the visceral reaction you got thinking back to the after events that occurred in the comfort of your hotel room.

But now, here in the present, you found your seat at a table with shareholders and employees and celebrities scattered around it, distinctively uninterested in every single one of them. They try to strike up conversation and you let them, your workaholic autopilot kicking in to entertain their interest for some time. These things are always boring, that's what makes them the perfect environment for this kind of thing. Sure, some were more fun than others and both yourself and Leah had found them enjoyable in the past, but there was an added element to them now that you were quite sure you could never give up.

The host drags on far longer than needed and to you it seems they're rather self-indulgent, revelling in the fact they've got the attention of the room. They talk as if everyone is hanging on the edge of their seats, grasping onto every word they said, when in reality it couldn't be further from the truth. Or at least in your case anyway. Apparently your boredom showed a little too much, because the person beside you asked if you're alright at a lull in the first speech of the evening. You reassure them you are fine, just in need of a drink since your beer had already gone down by now, and with a thanks from yourself they turn back away from you.

Your eyes search the room then, giving in to the temptation of her, only to find blue eyes staring right back at you from a few tables over. Her hair is slicked back into a low bun and she has one too many buttons of her white shirt undone - she's hot and she knows it. You still can't figure out if that's annoying or, unfortunately, attractive. The aura that exudes off of her hits you even from across the room, a combination of confidence and a smugness that gets under your skin in the best way.

It's at this moment that a short intermission is announced, allowing for people to go to the bathroom or fetch a drink and some snacks, or whatever they care to do. All you know is that there's a certain person in the room you've got to see and you need a new beverage, so you head to the bar.

Except, you're stopped in your tracks along the way. A body blocks you from going any further as she side-steps in front of you and shoves a champagne flute into your hand. In her hand is a sweet Manhattan cocktail, one with a cherry in it that immediately catches your eye. This is your chance to equal the score.

Maintaining eye contact with her, you delicately take the cherry and, with the most innocent look you could muster from under your eyelashes, you bite it from the stem. Those same piercing blue eyes track every movement of yours, from the moment you snatched it from her drink to the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed. In the low light, you manage to make out the sight of her pupils tripling in size, and just like that, the cards are in your favour again.

Before Leah can react, you're sauntering away without a word having been exchanged, and you can feel her staring incessantly at you as you drop back into the ocean of people in the room. She curses under her breath, downs her drink, and heads back to the bar.

After that interaction, you actually did fall into an invigorating conversation with the people on your table. You discredited them, in the midst of your tunnel vision you didn't realise who it was you were sat with. Turns out, they're some fascinating people who you could really do with speaking to again soon.

It's as you're talking to one of them, offering to go collect a tray of drinks for the table, that someone leans over you and refills your glass with more champagne. Initially, you guess it's just one of the event workers, but then those damned Arsenal earrings jump into view and your senses are overcome with her perfume. If she asked why there were goosebumps on your arms, you'd shrug and blame it on the chill of the hall. But, your question is, where the fuck did she get a whole bottle of champagne from?

She leaves as quickly as she arrived, leaving only a trace of her signature scent in her wind. You jut your tongue into your cheek momentarily - that was a bold move by the defender. It obviously caught the attention of the people on your table who were feeling as if they may have interrupted perhaps a private moment, but you wave them off and swiftly switch topics.

To their rather inquisitive annoyance, they demand you go get the drinks you'd offered to get since you weren't going to tell them about... whatever had just happened. So you do, you take your champagne flute with you and wander over to the bar with a focused look on your face, waiting for the right time to strike and get your payback.

That happens sooner than you could have guessed, and it forces a smirk upon your face as you approach your prey that's trapped in a seemingly boring conversation, judging by the unimpressed look on her face. She doesn't see you coming, her arms are crossed over her chest and her mouth is down-turned into a frown, another beer bottle in her hand. You see her sigh as you get closer, her head on a swivel but looking in entirely the wrong direction.

The set up is perfect, perfect for you to be able to walk past her straight to the bar with a little taunting. However, you're feeling bolder now, urged on by the alcohol in your system. Instead of a simple brush along her body, your free hand drops down to slide under her blazer and sleaze dangerously low across her toned back. It's a lingering touch, you don't pull your hand away until the very last second. You don't have to look back at her to know she's watching you go.

To both your individual irritation, the next hour or so of the night doesn't allow for anymore sly digs and heated encounters. It's so unbelievably dull, just ramble after ramble of people bragging and kissing each other's ass as they speak. It gets to around forty-five minutes of this bullshit before a spiteful plan forms in your head.

A few of the people on your table had switched seats, ensuring they get the most out of the night. You didn't care for it all, zoning out countless times so far, but when the guy beside you turns to you with a blissfully oblivious smile on his face, you know what you have to do.

The next however long, you converse with this guy more and indulge him in pointless topics that really are so fucking stale and tedious, but you have to play the long game here. And before you'd even done anything half as interesting yet, there's already daggers being forced into the side of your face.

It all comes to a head when you laugh and swat his shoulder in an exaggerated manner, giggling like a school girl at... honestly, you couldn't even remember. But he lavished in your amusement, shuffling his chair ever so slightly closer and throwing an arm around the back of your chair. He brushes his hair back with his other hand, exposing his less than favourable hairline, and really you have to hold back a gag at the fact you're doing this.

At that point, you decide you have to get away from him and his dreary, lifeless, and nonexistent charisma. So you throw one last look at Leah's direction, stifling a grin at her flared nostrils and completely unimpressed demeanour, before excusing yourself from your conversation and sliding out from your seat. Whether Leah had the guts to follow you or not, you weren't sure, but you were just glad you were away from that guy.

Unbeknownst to you, Leah had suddenly gotten up from her chair the second she saw you rise, and she was marching through the room to pace after you. The game was entirely forgotten for her at this point, the image of you with him tattooed on her eyelids. Immaturely, she had to stop herself from spitting at him as she walked past, settling for a warning glare instead.

You have all of two seconds to yourself in the bathroom, checking yourself out in the mirror, before the door slams against the wall with a resounding thud. A gloating smirk is on your face from the moment she walks in, and you stare at her for a moment then turn back to the mirror, pretending to fix your lipstick.

"Really?" Leah shrugged her shoulders more aggressively than you had ever seen anyone before, holding her hands out in an outraged gesture. "You really did that?"

"S'just the game, Leah. You know that." You replied simply, resisting the urge to meet her stare.

It's silent between you both then, possibly the most charged silence you've ever found yourself in. Leah takes a few mindless steps around the room without a particular direction, eyes flicking back to you every second. At once, she stops, just off to your side, and slips her hands into the pockets of her black slacks, kissing her teeth and raising her eyebrows at you. The moment she goes to say something, there's voices coming from the corridor leading to the bathroom. You turn to look at her then, daring her to act first.

She does.

She takes full advantage of the moment, gripping your upper arm tightly and tugging you into one of the cubicles. You gasp quietly in shock, caught off-guard by her actions, and you grumble unintelligibly at the triumphant grin on her face. Her hands are tight on your hips, meanwhile yours are crossed over your chest in disapproval.

"Flirting with a guy? That's a new low." Leah taunted, each stroke of her thumb unintentionally raising the fabric of your black dress.

"Says the one that's so riled up, she dragged me into a toilet cubicle." You hit back, refusing to give in. Leah just shrugs, purses her lips, and takes a quick glance down to your now exposed thigh before looking back at you.

"I'm not riled up. You're the one getting antsy here, you know I'm winning and that's why you had to start feeling up that scraggly arsehole out there. Think again, sweetheart." Fuck, she might have gotten you there.

"Maybe I found him attractive." It's a weak defence, even you know that. Leah knew it too, if the slight raise of one eyebrow was anything to go by.

"Okay. One, you're in a relationship. Two, you're in a lesbian relationship. Three, you hear that?" She looks around in feigned confusion, cupping her hand around her ear briefly before turning back to you in what looks like a stupid, cartoon light bulb moment. "Oh yeah, you're pretty fucking gay!"

You roll your eyes and huff, shaking your head at her idiocy and turning your attention to the wall behind her.

"What was his name? Tell me about him, if he was attractive enough to feel the need to flirt with him." She was picking and choosing every teasing remark from the file in her mind to get under your skin.

"...his name was Dirk." The bark of laughter she lets out at that makes you flinch a little. Maybe his name was a little amusing, but right now to you there wasn't a single funny thing on earth.

"Dirk? Really? Did he come with a Swiss army knife and a granola bar in his pocket? Did he have a flannel shirt under his knit sweater? And a tent in his car, ready for a hike through the Grand Canyon?"

As it turns out, your last thought was a little far off.

The giggle bubbles out of you before you can think to stop it, and you lightly push Leah's face away from you with a hand to her cheek. She turns back to you with a grin, knowing she had won this evening. To be fair, she has won nearly every evening so far. She was on a winning streak you really had no plans of stopping. Not when it got you to this moment here, at the end of it.

"Out of all the guys in the room, I chose a pretty shit one." You surrendered in a murmur, Leah nodding.

"It's alright, look who you get to go home with."

Her voice had dropped to a whisper as she stepped further into your space, her nose nudging against your jaw where her mouth rested just above your pulse point. The shivers you got without even barely being touched were enough of a reaction for her. But, she was greedy when it came to you.

One arm slipped around your waist, holding you to her tightly as her large hand splayed out across your lower back. Her head dipped further down, her lips moving to press open-mouthed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

"Let's get out of here. I'm done now." She murmured into your skin, turning her face more toward your neck and leaving softer, slower pecks there.

"Don't you wanna get your payback? Otherwise you're giving up the win. I was more than ready to get back out there, the night isn't over." You were lying, you were more than ready to get the hell out of here, but you also weren't going to pass up on the chance to tease her just once more.

"I'll get my payback when we get to the hotel."

That's all she needed to say.

These nights had a certain characteristic to them, and that was possibly the most anticipated time of the evening. As the hosts draw out the end of the event, thanking people you've never heard of and have a large lack of care for, you and Leah were already gone.

Normally, it was a fierce wait, hanging on to the other's every move, everything else in the room simply just background noise, as you wait for who blinks first. Who gives in to the tension and ends the night before the lights come up, before the eyes of the room see you chase one another to the exit.

Tonight though, neither of you have the patience.

Regardless of the time you leave, it's the same situation every time for your organised driver; he drops you off and, under strict instruction by his management, waits for you to come back so he can drive you to the hotel or wherever you want to go. Except, you never come, he doesn't see you for the rest of the night once you enter the building. He's used to it by now, a little in love with it since he's getting paid for nothing, he just has to wait for your inevitable apology text telling him you won't be needing a ride home.

Tonight is just like the others - Leah ushers you into the back of an Uber with a hand on your waist, sliding in beside you and slamming the door shut with a smirk on her face after she gives one last glance around. There's never anyone watching, nobody knows where to look and nobody probably even cares, but she does it anyway. She could imagine the articles that might get written about her if the pair of you were ever spotted, and that fuels her even more. Maybe that's the alcohol in her system, but the thoughts run through her veins and she can't help but turn to you, grab your face, and dive into a kiss that's desperate and hot, and the tension of the night reaches its peak.

The cab driver just shakes his head, pulling away from the curb as the pair of you stay stuck in your own world. It's a few minutes later when you both pull away, cheeks flushed red and lips a tad swollen as you put your belts on. Straight away, Leah's hand falls to your lap and you hold it tightly with both of your own, looking up at her with a certain feeling swirling through your eyes that drives her crazy. Her hand moves, then, to the back of your neck as she pushes you towards her for another urgent kiss.

"You're lucky I'm not really the jealous type. I could have done a lot worse in there when you started flirting with Dirk." She comments breathlessly after, a displeased quirk to her mouth that hints she is in fact somewhat jealous.

"I'll make sure to do a better job next time then." You tell her in a feigned nonchalant way.

Leah stared at you then, her hand clutching the back of your neck as she gave you a look that warned you to not even think about such things. To be honest, you couldn't. You were hers just as much as she was yours. There was no other way to live than like that.

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fic #woso imagine #woso #woso community

[misc-obeyme]

Mer!MC Headcanons - Younger Brothers

All right, here are the rest of the brothers. I don't think I'm gonna break them up like this again, even if they are getting stupidly long lol. I like having all the bros together, I think.

Anyway, here we are with mer!MC from the human world randomly showing up in the Devildom. I quite like how these turned out, which surprised me. While I might do the side characters on my own, I am easily persuaded by a single comment/tag/ask lol.

read the older brothers here and the side characters here

GN!mer!MC x Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, & Belphegor

Warnings: none

Satan

Satan wanders after a cat and ends up in the farthest reaches of the Devildom forest. He loses track of the cat, but he finds you instead. You're sitting beneath a small waterfall in a fresh water pond. The moment you catch sight of him, you duck behind the sheet of water. He keeps his distance at first, not wanting to frighten you. He's curious about how a merperson like yourself ended up all the way out here. The cat wanders back around, so he sits on the bank with it, petting it quietly and waiting for you to come out of hiding.

You can't resist the pull of a cute little cat sitting there, just waiting for you to pet it. You venture out, finding yourself less wary as Satan smiles at you. He lets you dry your hands on his sweater before you attempt to pet the cat, just in case it doesn't like water. It purrs happily as you scratch under its chin.

He takes the moment to ask you about yourself. When he finds out that you're from the human world, he frowns. You don't belong here in the Devildom. He knows that, but he also doesn't know how you got here or how to get you back. From that moment on, he returns regularly to the forest. The cat sticks around with you so he brings it treats and brings you books. You get hooked on them, reading every one he brings, but your favorite thing is when he reads to you. He discovers you're especially fond of pirate stories and poetry about the sea.

Satan debates with himself about whether or not he should help you find your way back to the human world. In the end, he asks you directly. And he believes you when you say you want to stay with him. It's a relief and he didn't quite realize how nervous he was about you leaving. Won't you allow him to sit here beside you every day, MC?

Asmodeus

Asmo is doing a beach side photo shoot for a swim wear company, but takes a break to walk through the waves for a moment. He's far off from the group of demons he's working with when he notices the flash of your tail in the sparkling ocean. He's mesmerized almost instantly. What beauty! He wants to get closer, so he wades out quite a ways. He's so entranced by the shimmering glimpses of you that he loses his footing and gets pulled beneath the water.

He struggles, knowing he's too far away from the others for them to have seen him go under. But then he feels arms around him as he's pulled above the surface. He gasps in heavy lungfuls of air as he feels himself being carried. He manages to rearrange himself in your arms princess style as you swim him back to shore.

Asmo takes a minute to recover himself, but then he's staring at you with wide eyes. You're halfway out of the water, the waves lapping gently against your beautiful tail. He can't stop himself from touching you - gentle fingertips across your cheeks, through your hair, and lingering on your scales. He stops thanking you only long enough to tell you how gorgeous you are.

He comes back to the beach without the photo crew and he always finds you waiting. He brings you trinkets and his heart soars when you present him with a handmade shell necklace. He wears it whenever he returns. When he finds out you're from the human world, he sighs. The humans wouldn't know how to appreciate something as beautiful as you, MC. Won't you stay here and let him admire you a little longer? Every time he comes back to see you, he's flooded with relief that you're still there, waiting for him in the glistening waves.

Beelzebub

In an attempt to shake up his usual routine, Beel adds swimming to his workout regimen. He's been doing laps in the RAD pool, but he notices that there's something unusual going on. He can't quite figure it out, but he feels like someone's watching him. Eventually, he sits on the steps that lead into the pool and just asks out loud if there's anyone there. He's surprised when you surface from the deep end. You've been hiding in the shadows of the deepest, darkest part of the pool.

Beel waits for you to come over to him on your own. You do eventually, cautiously. He finds out you're from the human world and that you have no idea how you ended up in the RAD pool. It was likely some witch's spell gone wrong. But you're here now. And he can't stop staring at you. You're beautiful and strong and even if you're a little shy at first, you open up to him soon enough.

He comes back every day, of course. And you impress him by beating him in every swimming race. He can't keep up with you and while that's to be expected considering you have a tail and all, he's still amazed. You tell him about the world you left behind, details of the human world he never knew. If he starts to look sad because he thinks you miss your home, you splash him with water. Things quickly devolve into a splash fight, both of you laughing as the water flies around you.

Eventually, Beel realizes that you can't stay in the pool forever. It's too small and he sees the way you gaze off out the windows of the gym forlornly. He brings you to the ocean, carrying you himself, placing you gently in the waves. You get to choose if you'll stay at this Devildom beach for a while or if you'll swim off into the horizon, never to be seen again. Whatever you choose, MC, he will always cherish your time together.

Belphegor

After hearing about how clear the skies are out on the ocean, Belphie rents a boat and goes sailing. When he's far out to sea, in a place where the waters are relatively calm, he stops his boat so he can look up at the sky. He's so focused on the constellations that he doesn't quite realize where he's stepping and he backs right into the railing, nearly falling into the water. He catches himself, but finds he's staring down at the dark ocean's surface. He sees the watery reflection of a few of the brightest stars, but there are two that seem too bright. As you come closer, he realizes that he is looking into two shining eyes.

Belphie backs away as you emerge from the water, resting your arms around the railings so you can see him clearly. He didn't think he would see a merperson out here. A few questions reveal that you're from the human world, uncertain of how you found yourself out here in a place of eternal night. Your tail flops up on the deck and it's like a mirror, reflecting back the brilliant pinpoints of the stars.

He sits with his legs dangling off the side of the boat and traces the constellations on your scales. He's pleased with the way you shiver at his gentle touch, the way you listen to him tell you about the constellations and their stories as if his words were keeping you alive.

He purchases his own boat and keeps it docked nearby so he can take it out into the depths to stargaze with you nearly every night. You never express a desire to return from the world you left and he never brings it up. He wants you to stay here with him. He can't stop thinking about the stars that are your eyes, MC. He dreams about them when he sleeps. You've embedded yourself into his heart, like you've made your home there in the Devildom sea.

older brothers | side characters | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me x reader #x reader #misc writes

[wonton4rang]

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The drug in me is you ¡!

pairing: bnd legal line x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, drugs, mentions of additions and people being high, sex being under drug effects, and i think i didn't miss anything idk.

summary: bnd legal line as dealers/ consumers and what type of drug i think they'll use or sell + you as a client/ significant other and sex under the influence.

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sungho;

he would sell pills, idk why i have that vibe for him, every kind of pills, you name it and he has it. he would be the "i do it for the money" type of dealer, even feeling sorry with some sells because he knows it's not good. so when you come to him for the second consecutive time in the week he gets worried.

"whatchu have for me today?" you said entering his apartment, being the only one that he accepted there and that actually knew where he lived.

"you were here yesterday, y/n, you're out already?" a shrug was all sungho got while you dropped on his couch and looked around to avoid his gaze. "you know what i think about you taking those, you should drop it, it's not good for your health"

"since when do you even care? you are the one selling me this shit, you know it's not good and yet-"

"i am asking you to leave them but i am not your father, i can't make you"

"then shut the fuck up and get me something good. i'm stressed" he didn't move an inch so you looked at him with confusion "did you hear me?"

"i can help you with the stress in a different way" he would suggest and now he was walking slowly to you, dropping on the couch by your side and softly placing his hand on your undressed thigh due to the shorts you had on "if you allow me, of course"

"you are going to fuck me out of the addiction? are you being for real?" was all you said back, sounding almost offended but gulping and not pulling away from his touch. "do you even know how hard it is to stop this?"

"i am really good, though" this time he smiled and even laughed a little when he felt your thigh tense under his touch. "let me show you and then you can choose which one will be your addition. i promise you'll be able to feel as high as you like"

and well, long story short, he did fuck the addiction out of you after a while of bickering, fucking around and a few arguments. you were doing great thanks to your dealer, funny? very.

riwoo;

honestly i feel like amphetamines + riwoo is a good match. they get you going on , accelerating your system and making you focus better so it sounds about right to me. he would be the "local dealer", but so local only you and two more people knows about him because he still lives with his parents (he's 20 c'mon) and gets the amphetamines as a prescription for his "attention-deficit" issue at college where, btw, he met you.

"are they going to be out until dinner time you said?" riwoo nodded, closing his windows and lowering his curtains. "i can't believe you finally let me do this at your place, you're so nice to me, riwoo"

"i always wanted to invite you over but you know, with my parents here it's... difficult to do stuff"

"you mean get stoned" you said and he chuckled, walking to you after securing his windows and making sure the door was closed.

"i mean everything we do" his eyes met yours when you looked up from his bed, sitting there while he caressed your hair. "getting high on pills and then on each other"

his cheeks would blush after he says that and you would just smile, taking one of your hands to his pocket, reaching for the pills while he finally sat next to you. it was his first time actually getting drugged but the fact that he got to do it with you was enough for him to not be scared.

you would take four pills into your palm, two for each, signalling him to open his mouth and slowly putting two on his tongue, feeling the wet muscle with your thumb before taking it into your own mouth and swallowing your own pills.

"let's give it a few minutes for it to become effective" you informed after giving him the bottle of water you brought so he could properly swallow.

and it honestly was your best high ever. he got so imperative and sensitive it was actually a surprise how you could barely keep his pace. he fucked you in every position and angle you could imagine and it didn't even feel like all that work.

it wasn't going to be riwoo's last time getting high on amphetamines and that's for sure.

jaehyun;

idc idc but myungjae belongs to ecstasy. you gon look me in the eye and say that myungjae ain't the most "i get high and wanna fuck until i'm crying" mf ever? nah, be so fucking for real. because ecstasy is for the horny bitches, specially the ones like jaehyun so he himself is a customer of his own product, selling it at a club in the city next to his home. he would be known as the "pretty sex locker" because his stuff got something that made you get laid yes or yes.

so on his day off he would be just minding his own business, not really remembering all the people he sells to since most of them were one-time customers but your face was recognisable even from afar, even through the high he had going on. he got close to you, scanning your body through the crowd and licking his lips when he finally reached you.

"hey" jaehyun mumbled and you just looked back at him, facing the boy in skinny black jeans and a grey hoodie. "what's your name?"

"y/n, what about you?" you could barely hear him because of the music and he didn't help either because he talked very low. "what did you say?" you didn't understand a thing. "i can't hear you"

"can we go somewhere where the music ain't that loud?"

and you just nodded. following him and looking at your hand being pulled through the crowd to what seemed to be the bathroom of the place. you looked around when you got there, seeing the dark haired boy check the stools before locking the door.

he didn't look like a menace but you would lie if you said you didn't get a little bit nervous.

"so..."

"my name is jaehyun, nice to meet you, y/n" he softly smiled at you and then added "i am going to be honest with you if you don't mind"

"be my guest, jaehyun" and you just know he loved the way his name sounded on your voice.

"i think you are really cute and, if you feel the same, i would like to kiss you and maybe do some more"

by some more he meant how y'all were half an hour later, the ecstasy up in your system when it finally kicked in and your legs being held apart while you sat at the bathroom sink and jaehyun fucked you deep and nicely, his lips in your neck, open mouthed and warm kisses being left all around your collarbone area and you just know you will have marks to remind you of this tomorrow.

now you knew wednesdays were also jaehyun's days off and you took advantage of it to get laid and some good stuff without having to money wise pay for it. it was a win win.

taesan;

definitely weed. he's just so normally chill and into old/ rock/ indie/ love/ heartbroken type of music that i see him just selling some of it a college because people would ask for it for parties and then he is smoking the rest on his basement, not wanting to leave his room with the smell.

he would have an old couch in actually great conditions, a tv, a fridge, his speakers and overall some records, cassettes and stuff that let you know it was his place, not much into decoration because at the end of the day it should all be discardable due to the smell. he really hated that smell but he loved the way he felt so light, like a feather, when he smoke. his mind was so quiet yet his speakers had that loud ass rock songs you almost hated to hear when you got to his place for a visit because it meant he was high.

"taesan?" you would call for his name while walking down the stairs, closing the door behind you after the smell hit you so it didn't go out. "babe, you called?"

"get over here" his voice was deeper than usual, sounding a little bit raspy due to the way he was laying back on the couch, his limps practically dead on each of his sides.

"i thought you sold most of it last night and just kept a little" it's the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you actually see him, he looked so gone, his eyes watery and red, his mouth slightly open and his chest slowly going up and down. you looked at the table in front of him next and saw the weed there with the paper where he rolled it. "this doesn't looks like a little, taesan"

"it's okay, it's just for today" at least he was conscient enough to lie, you thought. "come here, y/n, sit down on my lap"

and you decided to not blow it for him, you will have enough time to tell him what you think about this later on. you moved until you were in front of him, feeling his hands reach for your hips and pull you closer, finally landing straddled on his lap.

"you really are wearing a skirt" you were about to say that he told you to but he kept talking "you're such a good girl with me, aren't you?"

but when you felt his boner press against your panties you didn't say anything, just nodding and holding to his shoulders when he leaned forward with you still on top of him and grabbed his rolled on. "take one, babe, please join me"

and it's not like it's the first time you would do it so, again, you just did, you were already here and pleasing your boyfriend was one of your favourite things. so you took the rolled on and after that it was history.

he pushed your panties aside and fucked you like a rag doll, holding your hips down and being impressively sharp and rough to be that high. but honestly? high sex with taesan was your second favourite. your first one was when he wasn't so high he ended up crying in your neck after cumming over how much he likes you and how sorry he is for being such an useless boyfriend who is not enough for you. you could say that he really got in his feelings when he smoked.

leehan;

probably an unpopular opinion but heroine it's definitely his thing (at least for me) it's so toxic and so harmful that it just fits his flirty ass so much idk. he would sell it to you initially because it was the most expensive one he had and then because he knew you would get addicted and you would keep coming back for more. so he kept you like that, wrapped around his finger even if it meant that he was slowly turning you into a seriously addicted person.

"i feel funny, hannie" you would mumble, that warm yet tickling feeling being all over your body, your face feeling hot and your eyes being open but you are not seeing a thing. "hannie?"

"i know, babe" was all he said against the skin of your neck, pulling out of there so you could, or try to, see his face "can you feel me now?"

"i can see you" your voice was so weak, slowly coming back to your senses when you felt a shift between your thighs, looking down there to find your body naked against leehan's. it was so hot "i love it when you fuck me like that, you know?"

"you like it?" he would try to reassure, kissing your cheeks and making you smile and laugh a bit, yes, you were high, but you were not as bad that you couldn't tell what was happening. "tell me how much you like it, y/n, c'mon, baby"

"i wish this moment never ended, you feel s-so good between my legs, fucking me so g-good" his pace started to get faster, your arms hugging his shoulders and his face going to hide again on your neck, leaving kisses there that just made you moan louder "oh my fucking god, this is- oh god"

"let me know if i go too harsh, you know how i like it"

but you didn't even gave a response anymore, just coming below him and clenching your pussy so much that he let out a groan and came into the condom, pushing so hard inside of your cunt that you could feel him in your womb.

"thank you so much" you would say and he will kiss your lips while you slowly fell asleep, coming down from your high while he pulled out and got you covered.

"i just wished you were sober"

because even if it started with some heroine and him being the one who got you the injections, he was growing tired of only having you near when you needed drugs or you were already high.

if he could do it all again he would definitely not even think about selling you shit.

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@soobinskii you told me to tag you so here it is!! <33

#boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut #sungho x reader #leehan x reader #taesan x reader #jaehyun x reader #riwoo x reader #leehan scenarios #leehan imagines #leehan smut #sungho imagines #sungho smut #sungho scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #taesan scenarios #taesan imagines #taesan smut #riwoo imagines #riwoo scenarios #riwoo smut

[oracle-of-dream]

Aloha! this is a simple request! a jake x male reader story where the reader admires jake from the distance and he asks his friend to set them up together. they go on a date and then the reader invites jake to his house where they make love together

Dinner Date

Not Proofread

Summary: Jake needs his best friend to help him get to know y/n. But he doesn't know how close they'll get by the end of the night...

Notes: Male Reader, No Smut–a little implication, Jaywon, Jay and Jake are best friends, 3rd person perspective

Wordcount: 2266

Jake's eyes bulged at your newest Instagram post. You were sitting in a cafe, glasses sitting on your nose, focused on a book as the sun shined perfectly on your face. Your caption, Why can I only look good in candid shots? His finger hovered over the "like" button, but he couldn't press it. He still didn't follow you on Instagram but checked your page to see every update you posted. What if you thought he was weird? Jake took a screenshot of your photo and looked at it longingly. He zoomed in to look at your face closer, loving your soft smile. Seeing it in person would be the best thing in the world. It was five whole minutes before Jake noticed a reflection in your glasses, it was another person. A guy! Jake zoomed in as much as he could, trying to see who it was when he heard noise coming from downstairs.

The front door opened and shut, perking Jake's ears. "Jay?" He shouted.

"Who else would it be? Come help me put these away," Jay replied from the kitchen. He was putting groceries away when Jake got downstairs.

Jake nodded as he eyed the cup of coffee on the dining table. "So, where were you?"

"At the grocery store."

"Just the grocery store?"

"I stopped at a coffee shop too." Jay raised his eyebrow, "Why so curious?"

"N-No reason. I just missed you," Jake lied.

Jay stared at his roommate for a moment, examining him. "Sure. You missed me." The men put away the rest of the groceries silently until Jay spoke again, "That's right. I forgot to tell you, my friend is coming over tonight for dinner. It's y/n. You've met them once."

"Y-Y/n?" Jake stuttered. "That's cool, I hope y'all enjoy dinner together." Jake's head fell a little. Of course, Jay had already made a move...

"You're not going to eat dinner with us?" Jay tilted his head slightly. "I told them you'd be there, but if you're busy I can tell them. I should've asked you."

Jake raised his head. "You want me there?"

Jay opened the refrigerator and said, "You are my roommate. And you don't cook for yourself. I want y/n to make some friends, they're a bit of a loner, and you're a pretty good guy."

Jake held back tears as he hugged Jay. "You're a good friend." Jay tried to push him away but Jake's arms wrapped tight around him. "Wait! That means we gotta clean this place! It's so filthy in here," Jake said as he pointed at the spotless kitchen.

"I cleaned two days ago," Jay said flatly. "Why are you being so weird about this, it's just dinner."

"It's dinner with y/n! I want to make a good first impression!"

Jay studied Jake even closer. "Don't you know him already?"

Jake stiffened. "N-No!"

"You're met!"

"...I do know of them. But we don't know each other."

Jay crossed his arms. "Why are you being weird about it?"

Jake shifted in place, thinking of how he could weasel out of this, with Jay watching his every move. "I had a class with them, and we sat near each other."

"So?"

"And, I think I caught feelings..."

"From just looking?"

Jake nodded in agreement.

"So you got a crush from class–Who's my friend, and you're losing it because they're going to have dinner with us tonight?" Jay asked.

"You're taking this better than I thought you would."

Jay sucked on his teeth. "Did you think I'd be a bully about it and knock you out for liking someone? Why are you assuming I'd be opposed to you two." Jay picked up his coffee and walked past Jake upstairs.

"Wait–you have to tell me about them! What do they like? Are they as cute as their pictures? Should I get them a gift?" Jake chased after Jay, who was walking away from him.

"Pictures?"

Jake wanted to slap himself for talking so much.

"You're a freak," Jay said flatly as he shut the door to his bedroom.

Jake shook the doorknob but was locked out. "Please, Jay, I need your help! I want to get close to them–go out if we can. I need to know everything!"

"Try bathing. He's got a sensitive nose!" Jay shouted through the door, hoping Jake would leave him alone after throwing a bone.

Jake had showered today but didn't want to leave anything to risk. "Give me your soap, it smells better than mine!" He shouted at the door.

"Jake! Just go shower. You'll be fine." Jay turned on a speaker and started playing music to drown out Jake's knocking at his door.

Jake ran into his room, found the nicest clothes he had, and laid them on his bed for him to iron, then rushed into the bathroom to shower for the second time today. After the shower, ironing clothes, and dressing his hair for thirty minutes, he sprayed on his cologne as he heard a knock on the door. Jay was already downstairs cooking dinner. "Jake, get the door!" He yelled. Jake checked his hair twice, tossing his hand through it nervously as he licked his lips. He rolled his sleeves back, and checked his earrings, bracelet, and hair again– "Jake!"

"Coming!" Jake rushed down the stairs to the front door. He took a deep breath before unlocking it and opening the door–but no one was there. "Where is he!?" Jake stepped outside in a panic, looking around.

"I let him inside already," Jay said from the doorway.

Jake ran back to the door. "Why didn't you say that!? I told you I wanted to make a good first impression."

Jay chuckled as Jake came inside. "I think you made a great one," He said as the door closed, revealing you behind it. Jake smiled awkwardly, knowing you just heard him lose it over meeting you.

"H-Hi..." Jake waved at y/n.

They waved back. "Hi, Jake. It's good to see you again."

"Dinner's almost done, go set the table, both of you." Jay went back to the kitchen, leaving Jake and y/n alone.

"The table's this way," Jake muttered as he squeezed by y/n. He tried not to groan at their scent, clean with a hint of something fruity... Maybe raspberries? He led them to the table. "Don't worry about helping! I'll get it, have a seat!" Jake pulled out a chair for y/n to sit in.

"Oh, I'd feel bad if I made you and Jay do all the work. Let me help," He said smiling. Together, the table was set. Jake couldn't stop glancing at the man whenever he could, hoping y/n wouldn't notice. He was even more handsome than in the photos. Of course, he'd seen y/n in person, but never so close. It was like looking at a dream before his eyes.

"So Jake, why were you trying too hard to make a good first impression? We already know each other." Y/n's eyes looked up curiously as they sat at the dinner table.

"We did?"

"We were in that government class together, right? You said, 'Hi' to me every morning. It was so funny!"

Jake blushed. "You remembered something like that? I was just trying to be friendly."

"Of course! I wanted to talk to you more, but my classes were so close together that I didn't have time to stop to chat with you. I'd asked Jay if he knew you, and then he invited me to dinner today to meet you."

"Why ask about me?"

Y/n pulled out his phone and opened his Instagram. "I got a message that you liked my photo. I thought your name was familiar so I asked Jay if he knew."

Jake got close enough to read as his eyes bulged at the notification. "I-I don't remember liking any photos..."

"Then maybe we were destined to meet? We're not even following each other–let's fix that!" Y/n pressed the glowing follow button under Jake's account name, which made Jake's phone buzz in his pocket. Jake steadied his hand as he pulled out his phone to see the notification. Y/n has requested to start following you! He clicked a few buttons and then confirmed y/n's follow.

"There... all set."

"Wait–you didn't follow me back!" Y/n stood, leaning over to Jake to look at his phone. From that angle, Jake has a full view down y/n's shirt. He tried to look away, or at least not look too hard, but he couldn't resist just a peek.

Y/n looked up and met Jake's eyes, catching him in the act. "Looking for something, Jake?"

Jake looked back at his phone. "I just couldn't find the button!" He pressed the follow button on the account and sat next to y/n at the table. Jay walked in carrying a large pot that smelled like heaven. He placed it at the center of the table and uncovered it. A soup, with all sorts of veggies and spices mixed in, served with wine, Italian bread, and smooth jazz.

"Dinner is served," Jay said with a smirk.

"Jay this is amazing, it feels like we're at a five-star restaurant!" Jake cheered, relieved his friend had come to save him.

"It is five-star, Casa da Jay. Now, I've gotta go, enjoy your food, and take care of it when you're done," Jay said as he picked up his coat.

Jake jumped from his seat. "W-Wait, what do you mean go?! Where are you going?"

Jay covered his mouth. "That's right! I forgot to tell you! Jungwon called and asked me to cook him dinner, so I'm going to his place."

"Why not invite him here?" Jake almost begged.

"And ruin your date?"

"It's not–"

Jay hushed his best friend, pulling in for a quiet conversation.

"If you finish that sentence, it won't be a date. I've set you up, now all you need to do is score. And you owe me a night out of the house when Jungwon comes over."

Jake frowned. "Gross."

"Jake!"

"Fine! Leave me here or whatever!"

Jay pushed Jake toward the dinner table. "Okay, I'm headed out! Y/n, have as much food as you'd like! There's ice cream in the freezer if you want it, Jungwon won't mind." Jay left with a smile as he flipped his keys on his finger.

Now alone with y/n, Jake turned his attention to the beauty sitting at his table. "So... That was unexpected."

"Jay told me he was going to be leaving hours ago... I thought you knew."

"Hours–I mean that's cool, it's just a slight adjustment." Jake puffed out his chest. "I'll be the one to care for you tonight, sir."

Y/n giggled. "I'm so happy to have such a kind host."

Jake sat with y/n trying to break the ice and get comfortable as best he could. He told jokes and stories to keep his dinner date laughing. Y/n's laugh was so cute, and their nose scrunched slightly when they laughed too hard, which made Jake grip his fork like hell. But Y/n kept staring at him, but he couldn't figure out why... Maybe there was something in his teeth? Or his hair? Or both!?

"I-Is there something wrong?" He asked softly. "You're staring at me sorta hard–am I eating too messy?"

Y/n shook his head. "No, you look so sweet when you tell your stories." Jake choked on his food, grabbing desperately for his glass of water. "Flustered so easily too, that's another plus for me."

"W-What are you talking about?" Jake put this glass back on the table. Y/n stood, leaning over Jake who leaned away from him until he almost fell out of the chair.

"Jake, I'm gonna be blunt, okay?" Y/n took a breath. "I'm really into you and want to go out with you. So can we skip the awkward stuff and tell me if you like me?"

Jake nodded furiously.

"Yes? Do you like me or can we skip the awkward stuff?"

He opened his mouth this time, "B-both! I wanna date you too, or whatever you want. I just want to be close to you."

"How close?" Y/n asked, leaning in as their eyes closed.

Jake was frozen. His one-in-a-lifetime chance was happening before him. Not only did Y/n ask him out, but now he was getting a first from y/n! He closed his eyes and waited for the connection. It felt like ages before his lips were greeted by y/n's. It was a peck, but Jake didn't want it to end. He slipped his hand around y/n neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. His tongue escaped his mouth and into his boyfriend's. He couldn't help but squirm in his seat, both from trying not to fall and from how aggressive of a kisser y/n was. Every time Jake thought it was over, y/n would keep pulling him back in. Eventually, they broke apart to breathe...

"So... we're dating now, that's great. But, uh..." Jake looked around. "Jay's not coming back for the night. If you wanted to..."

"Jake, are you asking me to spend the night with you?"

"If that's okay, then yes."

"And what are we going to do?"

"Whatever you want?"

"Then," Y/n stood and pressed his thumb to Jake's lips. "We're not getting sleep tonight."

Jake's lips twitched as his knee anxiously bounced. "O-Oh..."

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader #x reader #x male smut #enhypen fanfiction #kpop male reader #jake enhypen #jaeyun #enhypen jake #enhypen #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake imagines #sim jake #sim jaeyun

[drakesroyalromance]

hi, i’ve been gone from the choices fandom but now i want to get back into it. can you tell me which books that have come out over the past couple of years i should read and rec some people to follow who’re still active in the fandom? i’m asking you because i trust your opinions haha

Okay, I take your trust very seriously, so this is about to get very detailed lol

I’m going to divide the books I recommend into two tiers:

Tier I - Books that are must reads: 1. Blades of Light and Shadow, book 2: Depending on how long you’ve been gone, you’ve probably already played the first book. The second one is emotional and frustrating and amazing, and ultimately a good continuation of the story. I can’t wait for book 3!

2. Crimes of Passion: It’s a murder mystery with compelling characters that are extremely lovable, and the dynamic between the two main characters is exactly the kind of dynamic I love in every iteration. The mystery itself is better in the second book than it is in the first (of course, these are all just my opinions) and I have high hopes for both what the characters’ arc is going to be in book 3 and what the mystery is going to be.

3. Immortal Desires: I don’t know if you like stories about vampires (like Twilight), but even if you don’t, you’ll probably still love this book. It has a mystery in both books too and has two of my favourite love interests. Book 2 is currently releasing on Fridays and I look forward to it every week!

Tier II - Books with parts that could’ve been better/were unsatisfactory, but that are still 100% worth reading: 1. Murder at Homecoming: This is a personal favourite of mine! I think mystery is a genre that Choices does really well, and this book is one of their most diverse and inclusive. All of the LIs are bi (like, they actually say it and have conversations about it). This book would be a must read for me if it weren’t for the fact that one of the biggest mysteries is left unsolved.

2. Kindred: This book is so fun! I love the bond between the sisters, they’re all complex characters and Kaine is one of my favourite love interests as well.

3. Guinevere: I don’t usually like historical fiction and fantasy, but this book is an exception to that. If you love Liam and Drake from TRR, this book has characters who are similar to them and have similar dynamics with the MC!

I answered an ask a while ago about which people I’d recommend following, which you can find here. That list has a lot of people that aren’t really active anymore, but I’d recommend following them anyway because they have amazing fanfiction/art that you should check out, or are just really good people. The only people on that list that are still at least somewhat active are @saivilo (whom I adore), @noahmrshall (who makes stunning edits) and @brightpinkpeppercorn (who is so nice!) I’d also recommend following these people who aren’t on that list: @lover-also-fighter-also (they’re active, post about different Choices books, and seem really cool), @moominofthevalley (they’re active, and post mainly about Crimes of Passion, so of course I follow them lol. They’re also very friendly), @aria-ashryver (they’re active, post mainly about Immortal Desires, and seem very sweet!), @mvalentine (they’re pretty active, post about different Choices books and seem super fun), @raleighcarrera (they’re kind of active, and write the most beautiful fic), and @argylemnwrites (they’re kind of active, and write Drake x MC fic that’s so in-character it��ll be forever ingrained in my brain).

I’m sure I’m forgetting some people, but those are the ones I can think of right now!

#I love giving recommendations so I hope you enjoy these books and find some good people to follow💕 #ask #anonymous

[cashmakozume]

deeper meaning

⟡ oikawa tōru x reader

⟡ word count: 1,792

⟡ song: deeper meaning - ally salort

oikawa tōru was revered in high school.

everyone knew his name. he couldn’t walk five meters without a group of fangirls approaching him, just to get a mere three second interaction.

but despite his popularity, he was polite. he would try to give everyone attention. be it a smile, a wave or a rare conversation. he would get into trouble with coach, which would then lead to iwaizumi’s wrath but he didn’t care. he would complain all the time that iwaizumi was too harsh, but he would repeat the cycle again and again.

everyone loved oikawa tōru, and you wanted to know why.

it started as curiosity. you heard his name being thrown around when you started high school.

“oikawa tōru joined our school’s volleyball club!”

“i’m in the same class as oikawa tōru! he’s so dreamy!”

“let’s go watch the volleyball club’s practice! i heard oikawa tōru is on the starting team!”

then it morphed into annoyance.

how can this guy be so talented and good looking at the same time? even social skills were commendable. who could even stand the shrill screams and cheers at every practice and match?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

oikawa tōru caught you scowling at him from afar, whilst entertaining girls who were giving him baked treats. he felt confused. it was the first time a girl stared at him the way iwaizumi does. he shuddered and started making his way to iwaizumi, giving a pointed look in your direction.

“iwa-chan, do we even know her?” he asked.

“she’s in our year, shittykawa.” iwaizumi explained and smirked. “apparently, she doesn’t get the hype around you.”

oikawa’s jaw dropped, being appalled. he knew he was nice and he always made sure he was respectful. how could someone think of him that way?

“don’t act so shocked.” iwaizumi continued. “i sit next to her in class and we talk about you.”

“she’s your classmate?!” oikawa screamed back while iwaizumi walked away. “and you talk about me?!”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

oikawa tōru was so interested in you that your annoyance towards him turned into friendship.

he bothered iwaizumi everyday, visiting your classroom. iwaizumi does apologize for his friend’s behavior but you told him it wasn’t his fault for having a pain-in-the-ass friend.

“how can you say that?” oikawa pouted. “i’m pretty and nice.” oikawa emphasized.

“just because everyone likes you, doesn’t mean that i should.” you stated, making iwaizumi laugh.

oikawa’s face was etched in shock again as iwaizumi slapped his back. he snapped out of it and looked you straight in the eyes, his lips lifted with a smirk.

“well then, i’ll make you like me.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

oikawa tōru always made sure he would do everything he put his mind to and your annoyance transformed into infatuation.

it wasn’t like you meant for it to happen. due to oikawa’s constant visits to your classroom, you grew closer. you spent most of your time in school with the famed seijoh four. matsukawa and hanamaki easily becoming your closest friends, bonding over your initial disdain towards oikawa. 

you would hear stories from iwaizumi on how much of an idiot oikawa was with volleyball, never wanting to rest because of his constant need to be better.

and all those stories made you rethink. it seemed as though oikawa tōru always put his entire heart and soul into the things he loved doing and that genuinely impressed you. which led to your rekindled interest in him, because it made you observe him in a new perspective.

you started attending their volleyball practices, finding yourself to look for oikawa constantly. whenever you did, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn away.

every move he made was well thought out and calculated. he would match every player he was working with, adjusting himself to make sure they could be at their best.

and despite his childish behavior, he was still respected by the team. you could see the juniors looking up to him, taking in any advice oikawa had to offer. even the people who would hate on him the most, they respected him in his craft.

volleyball centered him, and made oikawa tōru who he was.

“you did well today.” you mentioned to him at the end of their practice.

“hmm, do you like me now?” oikawa teased, not expecting to see your cheeks turning red before you turned away.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

it turns out, you were no different than everyone else. your infatuation turned into love after oikawa tōru asked you out.

your bickering with oikawa never stopped though, the only change was that there was love behind the words. you helped iwaizumi keep oikawa in check. whenever oikawa practiced for too long or was being stubborn, all iwaizumi had to do was call you down so that you could talk oikawa out of his self-destructive state.

“tooru, it’s time to rest.” you said softly, not wanting to push his buttons.

“just go home first.” oikawa replied, not even turning to look at you. “i’ll text you when i’m back home.”

you walked towards him and patted his back. he instantly looked at you and you saw how determined he was to keep practicing.

“you can’t do well if you’re injured again.” your gaze softened. “resting is as important as training, tooru.”

oikawa opened his mouth to answer but he stopped himself, knowing what you said was right. he threw the ball towards the cart and apologized to iwaizumi for keeping him in school for so long.

the walk back home was silent. oikawa’s head was still noisy with his insecurities about his favorite sport.

“you’ll do well, i know you will.” your voice cut through his thoughts.

“t-thank you.” he smiled, letting out a heavy breath that he didn’t know he was holding. “i don’t know what i would do without you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

oikawa tōru was your person.

he would surprise you at your front door and ask you if he could bring you out for a date. and that led you to have dates everywhere.

the random grass patch next to the bus stop? oikawa made you sit with him and watch the cars zoom by as you discuss conspiracy theories about aliens.

the stream at the back of town where no one goes? oikawa surprised you with a picnic there, not thinking about the mosquitoes that quickly attacked both of your legs.

the store at the corner of your block? oikawa made sure to stop there every single time he sends you home so he can buy you a sweet treat. 

the entire neighborhood had memories of you and oikawa and it wasn’t easy walking through it when the relationship ended.

“tooru, what do you mean?” you whispered, not wanting to speak any louder as you tried to hold back your tears.

“i’m leaving japan.” oikawa repeated, staring back at you. “and i don’t want you to wait for me.”

it felt as though the world was playing a cruel joke on you. you worked hard at supporting him throughout his high school volleyball days and he hits you with this the day after graduation?

“i-i thought you wanted us to last?” your voice cracked, making you look at the ground.

“i guess you thought wrong.” oikawa’s voice had no indication of pain. it rolled off his tongue as if it was easy for him to throw the three years you had together.

“if that’s what you want.” you managed to choke out as you started walking away as fast as you can so that he couldn’t see the tears falling.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“now you’re in every corner of this town

even when you’re not around

and anytime i hear about you now

i can’t drown it out”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

it’s been four years and you worked hard to forget oikawa tōru.

you went to college, got an absolutely life changing offer for your dream job and it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

with your parents still residing in your childhood home, you visited your hometown. the moment you drove into town, memories of your high school romance flood your mind.

the grass patch next to the bus stop. the stream at the back of town where no one goes. the well maintained store at the corner of your street.

you spent the last four years desperately trying to forget him.

it was tough enough when he joined a volleyball club in argentina, not long after graduating. his name was plastered everywhere and you acted as if you didn’t know anything about him.

“didn’t you go to aoba johsai?”

“did you know oikawa tōru?”

“was oikawa tōru that good during school?”

and coming back to your hometown made your desperate attempts futile. the pride that they had the oikawa tōru growing up in this very town was blinding.

his posters plastered all around the storefronts, the front cover sports magazines with his face being framed in some stores he used to frequent.

and as much as you tried to keep him out of your mind, he was in every corner.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“that you might mean a little more than i intended for

oh, can we take it back to before?

when your name was just a name

your face was just a face without a deeper meaning”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

if you could time travel, you would’ve told your younger self to run far away from oikawa tōru.

you would’ve forced yourself to choose a seat far away from iwaizumi. 

you would’ve stopped yourself from interacting with anyone on the volleyball team.

you wished that you didn’t have that curiosity.

which turned into annoyance, then infatuation, then love.

you wished that you turned away from every mention of his name.

you wished that you just looked at him from afar.

and you wished that you didn’t care for him the way that you did.

did you mean as much to him? did he suffer as much as you did? did he even love you the way you loved him?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“if i try to forget

and wash off your energy,

it don’t make a difference, it won’t 'til i live with it

'til i erase all the memories”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

you wanted to hate him.

you wanted to pretend like he didn’t exist.

you wanted to forget.

but that would be denial.

he crafted the best and worst parts of your life. he inspired you to chase your dreams. and he was still a part of you, no matter how much you’ve grown.

oikawa tōru shaped you into who you are. and that’s just something you have to live with, whether you like it or not.

note from miyako

not proof-read i honestly churned this out and wanted it out of my brain ASAP i hope u like oikawa angst ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

✗⚬ﾒ𝟶, m ♡

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa tōru #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa torū #toru oikawa

[whysodelirious08]

Radio Silence - E.M short story (OlderEddie x Younger reader)

------

A/N: This is just a sad fic. Sorry!

Theme: Hurt/No comfort

Pairing: Older Eddie x Younger Reader (Fiancé)

Word count: 716

Warnings: None. But this isn't proofread sorry lol

----------

You had sat at the airport for hours. Waiting. For a text. For a call. For just…anything. A sign that Eddie was okay. But you go no updates. You had sat there thinking about how you'd been so supportive with his decision to do another tour after previously retiring early half a decade before. You knew he had only retired because of the burnout and he needed a permanent excuse to avoid his manager and the hectic schedule. And when he proposed the idea to get back on the road, you told him to go for it. You helped him prepare and sure, everything went well for the first two or three months of the tour; you called, he sent postcards, you flew out to see him twice and saw him play live.

But then the calls slowed and the postcards near enough stopped. When you did hear from him he would apologise but he didn't sound too guilty. And he would talk in a way that gave the impression he wanted to get off the call. Like he needed to be somewhere else. You tried to reason with yourself; that he was tired. That he was busy. That he was probably feeling a little burnt out. But the lack of communication and want to talk to you hurt like hell, it was a punch to the gut that you could barely recover from. You knew there was an age gap between you, but that had never been an issue. You feared he had rethought your relationship, that maybe you were too young for him. You tried not to let your thoughts get to you but you spent so much time alone in that airport, alone with your feelings.

The box of assorted chocolates sat almost lonely next to you on the drive back in the passenger seat. They were his favourite kind. The kind you had called up and specifically asked the shop for since they didn't sell them anymore. But you knew how much Eddie loved them. So you paid the extra. You didn't even think twice. You had waited six months for this moment. Where you would be reunited with the man you swore to marry. The man who had taken you to your dream location for a private proposal, who had taken a class to be able to make your engagement ring by hand. And now you were alone in your car, the sun was setting and you hated every station that played so you just sat in silence.

You could feel the burn starting up in your nose, the tears starting to cloud your vision but you forced it all back. Forced it away. You couldn't let yourself get worked up. Not while you were driving, it was dark and the rain was starting to pick up, you didn't need to make the ride home riskier. You didn't find it any easier to pull yourself from the car than it did from your seat at the airport but with the gentle encouragement of your dog in the window you hauled yourself and Eddie's gifts into the house. Your dog leaning all over your legs as you tried to get in the door.

Dio. The black German shepherd rescue that you surprised Eddie with after you had settled into the new house together. He had been so happy, so ready to name the puppy. And now, when Dio should be greeting Eddie, he was trying to console you as you stopped in the kitchen, sobs slowly erupting from your chest. Your sobs and Dio's whines were the only sounds that echoed through your darkened house, only the kitchen and hallway lights on as the rain patted softly against the windows.

Eventually, you became numb. Numb enough to heat some food up. Numb enough to sit in the bath until it became cold. You slept with Dio in the bed that night. And the following nights until the puppy became an old dog. Until you too were much older.

Eddie never called. Never came home. A new hand in his. A new home. A new dog. A new life.

You didn't know why and perhaps you didn't want to. And you never loved anyone else after Eddie. Your heart too broken for another.

#eddie munson #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #older eddie munson #eddie munson sad #eddie munson hurt/no comfort #hurt/no comfort

[dowhatteverer]

This was originally going to be a really angry post where I talked about bad faith criticisms of htfasj and vagued about the veiled entitlement of people who mock my story and went in-depth into debunking some criticisms of me that made me particularly upset with their contradiction and horrible implications. Then I wrote this last part and I realized that it was much more important than getting back at people who upset me. So I decided to delete all that and focus on this.

If you're in the Genloss fandom, particularly in relation to TSE, you've probably heard about or read "How to Fail at Ship Jumping" and seen the fandom's aftermath.

I've heard that some people have changed their headcanons to not align with mine and some are afraid to make their own AUs because of what happened with htfasj, and that really sucks.

Honestly, I think that htfasj showed that his fandom has underlying issues and my story is being made an example out of. People feel that Ranboo is too talked about and are frustrated that the side characters don't get more love. People are sick of every other fanfiction just being an escape AU instead of something unique. While at the same time showing that a portion of this fandom thinks they're superior for not liking popular things (the irony of them following streamers with thousands of fans across the globe apparently lost on them) As angry as I am that fast is being made into bloodsports for kids who feel they are entitled to my time and attention, (and make no mistake, that is exactly what my vocal critics are mad about) it's not exactly going against the grain where it matters. It's probably controversial as it is because it's so inoffensive.

I'm planning on soft-quitting Tumblr. After breaking my phone and not being able to check the app for two weeks I realized that I was in a healthier headspace without it. I'm not deleting my accounts because my comic still has people who love it and I don't want people to lose it. But I don't enjoy being in the Genloss fandom anymore because now I constantly fear that there are people who hate me for just having fun or people who like me who are being excluded from parts of the fandom because of my controversy.

So before I leave, I want to say something.

If How to Fail at Ship Jumping frustrates you, make your own version of it that you like better. Or make a completely unique AU that holds all of the things that you love! I don't want the comic that I made because Ranboo's story inspired me to be the "arbiter of Genloss fandom's destruction" I want it to inspire people the way it inspired me to finally get started on my own webcomic.

Be it out of spite or out of love, I want htfasj to make you make something for this fandom that you love and that other people love. I want you to do something fun and unique that makes you happy and scream with joy! I want you to have a subsection of the Genloss fanbase obsessing over your versions of the characters and asking you a million little questions in your ask box and on Discord! I made htfasj because I wanted to do something fun for myself that others could participate in. I don't want to ruin other people's opportunity to do that.

I'll hop back in to squeal about The Founder's Cut next Saturday, but that's probably the most Genloss stuff you'll get from me for a while. I just hope that this fandom will be in a better state by then and we can all have fun talking about this horror series and making it our own with our fan fiction and fan art and AUs like we should have been.

Also publicly hating on other people's fanfictions and Fan art for the sake of complaining instead of trying to help the creator improve is considered bad fandom etiquette, even popular ones. I don't care if you don't @ me, you're still the one being rude.

#generation loss #how to fail at ship jumping au #genloss au

[ginabaker1666]

The Wee Small Hours of The Morning

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight To The Bar: Part Four

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

Is God so cruel as to take away the only family someone has? War is rough on everyone involved, even the ones who remain on the ground while the boys go up. Sometimes it takes more than a good luck kiss, and the skill of an excellent pilot. It takes old traditions, a few prayers and friends looking out for you. Santa Maria, Pray for Us.

Part Three

Follow along with the Eight to The Bar Playlist

A/N: This chapter contains 18+ themes & situations. Minors DNI.

That damn red mission light was a constant reminder of the war that was currently raging on outside the walls of Thorpe Abbotts. That stolen moments and solace sought in the shelter of the Officers Club, in the arms of someone who you adored, were small luxuries. You couldn’t count on them always being there, so you took advantage while you could. So long as the war raged on in the skies, Val understood this, much as it pained her. Watching Everett go off with Douglass and Benny, knowing it was only a matter of hours before she’d wave him off from the safety of the Clubmobile; she’d watch from a distance as his flying fortress took off into the sky, breath caught in her throat. 

Lighting a cigarette, Val resolves to find a moment's peace before she has to make her way to bed. The few hours of sleep before her day would begin beckons her, but she knows it’ll be a restless sleep if she doesn’t take the time to clear her head, and find peace before Everett is in the air. The door of the club opens, and she see’s Olive come around the corner to take the place that Everett had previously occupied, patting her pockets looking for her cigarettes, but coming up short. 

“There you are,” Olive turns to her. “When the light went on I was looking for you but didn't see you in the club.”

“Ev and I took a walk… You ready for bed, doll?” Val asks, handing her the cigarette she’s currently smoking.

“Not yet, Val,” Olive sighs, taking a puff. “Tonight was kind of overwhelming. Need to take a walk.”

“Sure thing, Ol,” Val nods, understanding the need to clear her head more than anymore. “See you in there, okay? Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” She nods, giving Val a brief hug and kissing her gently on the cheek. Olive passes the cigarette back to her before asking her what has become the question of the evening, as far as Val is concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, taking one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette against the wall of the club. “I had a good talk with Ev and I feel much better.” 

She crosses her arms in order to shield herself from the cold British air, still not quite used to it. It bites a lot more than a Brooklyn breeze. She had told her friend the night prior. Bites you right on the ass, and for what. 

“This isn’t going to get easier, is it?” Olive asks, looking out into the night sky. “The worrying, the constant knot in my stomach every time I see that damn red light.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” She says pointedly, brow furrowing as she thought back to moments prior when Everett had been pulled away from her. “But then you see him again and the relief, God, there’s nothing like it. Someone should bottle that feeling and sell it. They’d be a millionaire, Olive.” 

“I didn’t plan on feeling like this…for anyone. Here or my–” Val looks at her, urging her to continue, but when she doesn’t, she knows then that Olive is thinking about Benny and Douglass. 

“That’s what this war has done, doll. Mess up all our plans.” She pushes her body back from the wall and starts to walk towards their hut, looking back over her shoulder at her friend. “That’s a story for another night, though. Are you still taking that walk?” 

Olive nods, and Val gives her a smile. Beginning her walk back, she suddenly turns back to Olive who’s still standing in the same place. 

“I’ll leave water on your side table,” She gives her a wink. “Prevent the hangover.”

“Thanks Val, “ Olive smiles, but suddenly remembers that she had left Helen inside when she ventured out, Tattie already back at their hut. “Wait, where’s Helen?”

“Curt offered to walk her back.” She says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Oop!” Olive giggles. “Is Curt suddenly keen on our girl?”

“Curt is keen on everyone,” Val shakes her head knowingly. “But Helen’s not keen on him like that. She’s a smart cookie, and far too sweet for that pain in the ass.”

“She’d also never live it down if she got the clap from him.”

“Olive, I’d kill him if he even tried it with Helen.” Val grinned, turning back in the direction of the hut and finally making her way to bed. 

Still restless even after she had changed, and gotten into bed, Val couldn’t quite keep her mind from wandering. Switching on the small light above her bed, she quietly opened the drawer of her side table, and pulled out her sewing kit. Rifling through the bag for her red spool of thread and scissors, she began pulling until she had three pieces. Her hands moved effortlessly, a task she had been doing since she was a child. Tying off one end, she held the top firmly before braiding down the length of the thread. Right over the middle, left over the  middle, and repeat. Fingers moving deftly, she repeated this entire process two more times until she had three braids, all tied off neatly at the end. A tail of string left on each to be tied to the top end. If her mother could see her, she’d scold her for not sleeping, for letting her mind get the better of her in such times when all she could do was pray. She’d argue that idle hands were the devils playground even at night.  

Eyes finally beginning to droop, she stashed the spool of thread and scissors, turned the light off, and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of hazel eyes and the future. One day, maybe they’d get to live in the luxury of waking up together without the threat of war hanging over their heads. Dreams of Everett and home, wherever they might choose, and dinners shared over a kitchen table instead of a mess hall. She had been so deep in her dream that she hadn’t heard the door open or Olive creep into the hut. 

It was all hurry up and rush when morning rolled around. The four women scattered around their nissen hut in various states of undress as they all worked to get ready and head to the Clubmobile. They were always up a bit before the boys, needing to get the donuts warm, coffee perking and other sundries set up on the truck. With the mission light going off the night prior, she could only imagine what state the boys would be trudging up to the truck in. She doesn't think many of them slept through the night, if her own restlessness was anything to go on. Helen and Tattie had woken up as bleary eyed as she had, and Olive had fallen asleep in her clothes, the poor thing. 

Stacking the candy bars while Helen sorted the cups, she heard a familiar bark carry across the tannoy, and couldn’t help but smirk. Casting a glance over at Olive, she sees her filling one of the carafes with fresh coffee, idly chatting with Tattie about their switching dance partners the night before. 

“Ol!” She called out with a smile, watching as Meatball pulled his owner towards the Clubmobile like he was on a mission. “Benny…”

Benny offered her a wave and a smile as he waited for Olive, which Val kindly returned. Benny was a good guy, a fellow Italian, and as far as she was concerned, that made him aces in her book. 

“Ciao Benny!” Val grinned, loving any excuse to stretch her legs by speaking Italian. “And Meatball!”

“Ciao,” The pilot chuckled, crouching to scratch behind the dog's ears. “Meatball, say good morning to Val. Go on, say Ciao Valencia!”

Meatball only offered a bark to the woman in the window of the truck, which was good enough for all parties concerned. Checking to see if anyone was looking, she reached under the counter and pulled out a donut she had stashed, signaling to Meatball and tossing it down to him. Laughing as he caught it in his mouth, she saw Olive come around to the front of the truck, a smile on her face as she greeted her suitor and his dog in that friendly way she greeted everyone. 

Of course Meatball would remain with them while the boys went up today. It was becoming a common occurrence that he’d start out with the Red Cross girls, before being run over to Kenny and Winks on the hardstand for a little exercise while the girls cleaned up and got the interrogation hut ready for the boys return. She’d just barely heard Benny try to coax an early cup of coffee out of Olive when a soft knock sounded on the open door of the truck. She half expected to see Chick, or someone who she’d actually have to give the early coffee to, but instead there was Ev and Dougie, one with a shit eating grin on his face and the other smiling softly at her. She made a move to greet them when Douglass lifted his finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of Olive, mischief bright in his already bright blue eyes. 

“You’re fresh!” Val had whispered to him once she was close enough. 

Everett could only shake his head at his friend’s antics and watch as Dougie waited with bated breath for Olive to turn back to the truck and make her way inside. 

“Good boy, Meatball.” Olive spoke sweetly to the dog, and Val could hear the lead clanging against the pole outside the truck as Olive tied him securely. 

Dougie grinned, and turned on his heel just as Olive rounded the corner, his hands jutting out and tickling her as her eyes went wide and she jumped in shock. 

“James Douglass!”

Dougie was apologizing profusely, that mischievous smile still gracing his face, as Everett took the three short steps up into the truck. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” He wasted no time in pulling her close for a kiss, despite Helen’s protests that they take it elsewhere as she shuffled past them and outside. 

“Hmm, now it is.” She grinned, dropping her forehead against his chest, arms wrapped around him. 

“You alright?”

“Still sleepy, that’s all.” She mumbled, face pressed against his chest. 

“Honey, did you sleep at all last night?”

“A little,” She sighed. “When I did fall asleep, it was a bit restless.”

She could feel him heave a deep sigh as his hands rubbed up and down her back, 

“Maybe tonight we just lay low, hmm? We can go out to the fort and sit on the wing if you want…”

“Can we sneak a cocktail out like last time?” She peered up at him, eyes wide and red lips stretched into a smile he could never say no to. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

“Make Kenny leave the stairs out this time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He winked. 

Leaning back out of the truck, he saw that Dougie and Olive were still occupied, Meatball looking on dutifully. 

“Oh, I’ve got something for you!” Val stepped back, reaching into her pocket. 

She pulled out one of the braids she had made the night before, grinning as she held it up for him. 

“What’s that?” Ev looked at her curiously as she took his left hand in hers. 

“In Italian culture, red is a sign of protection. I couldn’t sleep last night and so, braided a few of these for you boys.”

“Protection?”

“The color red keeps bad things at bay,” She spoke softly, tying the braid around his left wrist, right behind his watch. “My Nonna taught me how to braid these when I was little, and it’s always been something I do when I can’t settle down. I want you to be protected up there, Everett.” 

“Thank you,” He grinned, taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips sweetly. “It’s better than any good luck charm I’ve got.”

“Don’t take it off. When it breaks on its own, that means it’s time for a new one. Okay?”

“You’re the boss, baby,” He grinned. “You said you made them for the boys?”

“One for Dougie and another one for Curt.”

“He goes through them a lot then?”

“Well, he is Curt.”

Dougie’s head came around the back of the truck before Everett could reply, spying his friends deep in conversation, he felt bad for disturbing them. 

“Ev, we gotta go. Briefing starts soon.”

“Alright.” He nodded, squeezing Val once more before stepping back. “Dougie, c’mere.”

Eyebrows raised at his friend’s request, the bombardier came to stand at the entrance of the truck, as Val met him at the bottom of the steps. 

“Left hand, please.” She smiled, pulling the second braid from her pocket and securing it the same way she had with Everett’s.

“What’s this?” He looked down at her, brows knit together in intrigue. 

“Ev will explain, okay?”

“Ten four, Ma’am.” He nodded, giving her that sloppy two finger salute he was famous for. 

“Get out of here, Doug. Coffee will be waiting when you boys are done.”

Nodding, Dougie let the thumb of his opposite hand ghost over the thread a moment before grinning and heading back in the direction of where Olive was now talking to Helen. 

Everett grinned, before giving her a not so subtle wink, and followed Doug to the briefing room. 

It wasn’t long before Meatball had started getting antsy, tugging on his lead as if he knew that Benny was in the hut across the way. The lead rattling against the pole Olive had him tied to every ten seconds as he tries to make a valiant attempt at a jail break. 

“Come on, fella,” Olive laughs, taking mercy on the poor dog and untying him. “Want to throw the ball?”

The coveted four letter word starting with B piques his interest immediately as he begins to pant excitedly, jumping back onto his hind legs. His excitement only grows when he sees Olive pull the ball from her pocket. She tosses it gently, keeping it close to the Clubmobile so that Meatball doesn’t run off. 

“Why don’t you go over to the hardstand?” Val calls from the hatch of the truck, waiting while a fresh pot of coffee brews for the boys. 

“I don’t want to have to traipse all the way over there just to have to come back in ten minutes,” Olive calls back to her. “I want to see them before they go.”

“Anyone in particular you want to see” Val teases as she rounds the front of the truck, joining Olive and Meatball in their little game. 

“Hush it up, DiRosano.” Olive winks at her.  Handing her the ball so that she can join in, Meatball comes to stand in front of Val, his front paws suddenly up on her chest as he tries to get the ball from her. 

“At least he’s behaving today,” Val rolls her eyes as Meatball finally jumps down from where he’d tried to take her down. She throws the ball for him, putting a little more effort behind it than she had meant to, causing the ball to miss the ground completely and fly through the door of the briefing room. Meatball is after it like a shot out of a cannon, not listening as she pleads with him to stop. Tattie was right, she was going to kill DeMarco.  

“Shit!” Val says, trying not to panic as the reality of what just happened sinks in. “Damn dog!” 

“Fuck sake, Spud Chandler!” Olive sighs, hand clapping over her eyes as she races after Meatball and Val races after her. 

They come to a halt just outside the door, Val slamming into Olive’s back as she comes to a vault, spotting Meatball right outside the door, sitting and waiting patiently for his next command. 

“Stay right there, buddy,” Olive pleads, hands up and walking towards him. 

His response is to sniff the air, and as if he could smell Benny inside the room with all the other men and their cigarette smoke, he bounds through the door with what she could only describe as the greatest of ease. 

“Meatball!” Olive whispers, her voice low and stern as she moves to follow him into the briefing room.

“Olive, for fuck sake!. Don’t go in there!” “But the dog! And the ball!” Olive tries to argue, knowing Chick would have a stroke if Meatball so much as disturbed their briefing. 

Val can’t help but sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as her brows furrow in defeat, mumbling something under her breath in Italian. The ball and the dog were both in there, and if they didn’t hurry, an angry Chick Harding would also be in there.  

“We should be alright. It’s nothing I won’t tell you in a few weeks when I type up the report for this,” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Olive or herself. “We get the dog, apologize, and get the hell out of there, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Olive gives her exactly the same two finger salute that James Douglass is famous for, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. Birds of a fucking feather it seemed. 

“Good. Now show me your prettiest smile.” She looks at Olive, hands on her hips, waiting for her to give a smile. When she finally does, Val thinks maybe they have a shot at this. 

“Gorgeous, doll!”

“What’s it for?” Olive asks, relaxing her face and massaging her cheeks for a second.

“Oh, that’s for when Chicky catches us in there and ultimately tells us off.”

—————————————————

“U-Boat pens in Trondheim, Norway!” Chick hollers, standing upon the makeshift stage as the curtain is pulled back to reveal a map. The men in the room cheer in equal enthusiasm, lighting cigarettes and eagerly awaiting the details of the mission ahead of them. 

Val and Olive stand in the back of the room, Meatball now in their grasp, they make to turn and leave just as quickly as they came, when Chick announces the details of the mission, and the fort in charge of leading the wing. 

“Major Egan will be Command Pilot in Blakely’s fort.” He announces, and as John Egan turns back to make eye contact with Everett, he does a double take at the two figures standing in the back of the room. Val quickly shakes her head, begging him not to say anything, and she’s relieved to see him turn back around and give his attention to the map in front of him. Still, she can’t help but beam with pride, whispering a little that’s my guy as she realizes Everett is in charge of leading all of the men in the room into today’s battle. Just as she moves to grab Meatball’s collar and lead him from the room, the dog lets loose a bark that she’s sure Doc Stover could hear in the medical hut, and she immediately winces. 

Silence falls over the room, and Chick, who had been lighting his first cigar of the day, turned to look up, eyes narrowing in annoyance. 

“What in the hell is that dog doin’ in here?” His eyes find Benny DeMarco first, and upon realizing that Benny is not in possession of said dog, focuses his gaze on the back of the room. 

“Shit,” Olive and Val murmur in unison. “Might need that smile sooner than we thought, doll.”

“Fuck sake, Valencia,” Olive groans, shaking her head.

“Don’t blame me!” She nervously chuckles. “Blame that damn dog.”

“Oh, I am, believe me.” Olive sighs just as Chick walks up to the pair of them. 

“Girls!” Chick scolds. “You shouldn’t be in here.” “We’re sorry, Colonel,” Olive says, putting her nice British manners to good use. “The dog…”

“I don’t care,” He says, his voice slightly raised and causing the crowd to look in their direction. Val just manages to catch Curt and Everett looking in their direction. “Get outta here.”

“Yes sir.” Olive replies shakily. 

Val can immediately sense the tension rolling off of her as her eyes glaze over. She gives Olive’s hand a quick squeeze before squaring her shoulders and facing Chick head on. 

“Chicky,” Val speaks firmly, her tone not one to be mistaken for a damsel in distress. “I threw the ball too hard, it’s my fault Meatball ran in here. You know we wouldn’t have come just for fun.” She’s trying her best to be firm, but also butter him up at the same time. Tucking an errant curl back into her headscarf, Val gives what can only be described as a brilliant smile, and if Olive’s snort disguised as a cough is anything to go on, she’s doing a damn good job of it. 

“Alright, girls,” He softens, pointing his cigar in their direction as Red carries on with the briefing,  the Massachusetts native describing something being shown on the projector in an attempt to get the men to stop focusing on the girls and back on the mission. “I’ll let y’all off, but don’t let me catch you in here again.”

“You got it, Chicky.” Val grins, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. 

“And stop calling me Chicky.” He groans, turning back towards where he had been originally so he could join Red. “Not a chance!” Val calls back, tugging both Olive and Meatball with her out the door, grateful to have avoided what could have been real trouble for the pair of them, and the damn dog. 

Val’s pouring a cup of coffee when she hears her name being called. Looking up, she spots Everett looking less than pleased, hands on his hips and brows pinched together as if he’d taken a page out of her book. Mentally filing away how handsome he looks in that moment, she gives him her full attention. 

“Val, you got a second?”

“Yes, honey,” The words saccharine sweet as she moves past Olive. With a roll of her eyes, she turns before descending the steps. “I’m in trouble.”

“You look far too excited at that prospect, Val.” Olive shakes her head, knowing her friend. 

“You never know what the consequences might be.” She winks as she reaches the bottom step. 

“What was all that about?” Everett looks down at her, hands still on his hips. 

“You mean back there?”

“Valencia, please…” He sighed, and at his use of her full name, her eyes snapped up to his, blazing. 

“Are you mad at me?” The question came out sharp, her eyebrows meeting her hairline. “For that?!”

“I’m not mad,” He softened his gaze, waiting for her to do the same. “I just…”

“Everett…”

“I just want to shield you from as much as possible. Protect you, the way you want to protect me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll see all of that in a few days when Harding pulls me in to type it up for him.”

“I know that, but, if you can go a few more days without seeing it.”

“Baby, I’m going to worry whether I know where it is you’re going or not. Nothing will change that until this war is over.”

“Just, don’t go sneaking into the briefing room again, okay?”

“That’s on you then, if Meatball gets in and Harding goes nuts.” 

“No, that’s on Benny,” Everett winked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her flush against his side. “Now, how about a cup of coffee and a good luck kiss.”

“In that order, Captain?” She peered up at him. 

“Please.” Leaning down, he stole a kiss from her, just as Dougie and Olive were making their way to the truck. 

They couldn’t wait around, the girls had poured their coffee quickly, and just as Val handed Everett’s cup off to him, Bubbles had come up to the truck wrapped in a blanket, his flight gear underneath, and shivering up a storm. 

“Bubbles?” Helen looked at him, nudging Val to join her at the window. 

“Holy shit, Bubbles, you can’t fly!” Val exclaimed, getting the attention of both Everett and Douglass. 

“I can, Miss. Val, don’t you worry.” His teeth chattering together as he spoke, skin turning paler as the seconds passed. 

“Bubbles, not for nothing but I’m tired of being told not to worry.”

“Bubbles, she’s right, you’re not going up,” Everett came to stand next to him, his face displaying sympathy for his sick navigator but worried over who would be in the seat if he wasn’t. “Fuck…”

Just then, John Egan came strolling over for his pre-flight coffee and, if Val had to guess, a pack of cigarettes or gum. She gestured to Helen to get his coffee ready while she dug around under the window for a pack of Lucky Strikes and some Juicy Fruit. 

“Bucky.” She grinned, the cigarettes in one hand and gum in the other, and extended them to him. 

“Your girl’s a peach, Blakely, you know that?” Bucky chuckled, taking both of the offered items before pocketing them so he could retrieve his coffee from Helen. 

“She sure is,” Everett smiled, before turning to face John Egan with concern. “We’ve got a problem, though, Major.”

“What?” 

“Bubbles,” Everett gestured to the shivering navigator who Douglass was practically keeping upright at this point. “Sick as a dog.”

“I can fly…” 

“The hell you can,” Bucky sighed, looking back at Everett. “Who else we got?”

In the end, it had been Harry Crosby to replace Bubbles in Just-A Snappin’s navigator seat. The brown eyed man’s nerves caused him to shiver just as badly as Bubbles had before he was carted off to Doc Stover in the med hut. After the boys had dispersed from the truck, Val had found a brief moment to breathe before Curt was bounding over to her, crush cap at a jaunty angle, grin on his face. 

“The last thing you need is caffeine!” She had scolded him, handing the coffee over anyway. 

“Need to see my best pal!” 

“Don’t let Dickie hear you say that.” She shook her head, knowing Dickie could most definitely hear him from where he stood getting his coffee from Helen. 

“I know where I rank, Val, don’t you worry. You’re still his number one.” Dickie laughed, thanking Helen for the coffee before walking past and heading for the truck. 

“Lucky me,” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, hold on Curt.”

“Yea?”

“Here…” She handed over the braid identical to the ones she had given Ev and Dougie earlier, watching as his grin nearly split his face. 

“Rough night,” He mused. “How’d you know?”

“I know you Curt. Now go on, be safe up there, please.”

“See you in a jiff, Pal.” He waved, jogging to catch up with Dickie and the rest of his crew. She could just make out Curt asking Dickie to tie the red string around his wrist as the truck peeled away with him and his crew in the back. Santa Maria please protect my boys. 

——————————————

It had been a morning. Olive had decided, with all the excitement of the morning, to take Meatball down to the hardstand so that he could run around with Kenny and Winks. She had snagged two of the leftover donuts for the ground crew boys and headed off, leaving Val, and Helen to clean up the truck. Tattie was with the Supply Officer trying to figure out what they could and couldn’t get, and leave the girls’ list with him in the hopes that they’d get what they needed. 

Helen was packing up the donuts that had been left, and was brewing a fresh pot of coffee just for the girls, one for the boys already brewed and in the Interrogation Hut, when Val had decided to start wiping down the counters and putting away some of the sundries. A cigarette wedged between her teeth, she began scrubbing the countertop, wiping away the spilled sugar and milk, pushing the crushed and empty cups into the trash, and repeating the process all over again. Still uneasy from the night before, her mind going over and over the conversation she had with Everett outside the club. She kept going back to him saying we can be scared together, and she truly believed him. She was scared on the ground, and he was without a doubt, scared more than her up in the sky. 

She hadn’t heard Olive come back, or her footsteps as she climbed back into the truck. She just barely heard her calling her name. 

“Valencia,” Olive urges for a third time, a plume of smoke escaping her mouth as she speaks. “You’ve already done that one.”

“R-right.” She stutters, wiping her wet hands on her jumpsuit. She watches as Olive stubs out her own cigarette and starts carrying the donuts Helen had been organizing into the interrogation room. Val immediately darts toward her to grab them. 

“I got it, Val,” She soothes, holding the tray to her body. “Just get the door for me.”

“Got it!” She replies, voice a couple of octaves higher than what she normally sounds like. 

“You okay, chicken?” Olive turns to her after she’s placed the tray on the table. 

“Yeah. Just anxious.” Val takes a long pull from her cigarette, surprised it hasn’t burned out yet, before slumping back against the wall. The waiting was the worst. 

“I know, but they'll be okay. They're going to be back before you know it.” Olive tries to reassure her as best she can, but Val can see the fear behind her eyes, and knows for a moment that she’s not alone. 

Tattie wandered in on the heels of their chat, eyes falling on the table set with the donuts for the boys, and smiling at the work her girls had done. 

“Thanks, Ol,” She says, patting her on the shoulder before turning to Val. “Val, can you set out the whiskey?”

“Sure, I'm on it!” She replies, the words rushing out of her mouth, her body tight with the same anxiety they all see in Harry Crosby. 

“Need a hand?” Helen strolls in, setting cream and sugar next to the coffee she had put out earlier. 

“I've got it, thanks Helen.” Val grins at her, picking up a glass to wipe down. 

When the familiar, loud rumble is heard in the distance, Val watches as Olive steps outside momentarily, before hearing Smokey shout over the noise. 

“I see em!” He yells, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Val, they're back!” Olive calls to her, poking her head in from the doorway. 

Val stops suddenly, the glass slipping from her hands and shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Oh fuck!” She groans. She bends down to begin picking up the shards, when Olive is suddenly at her side, swatting her hand away from the broken glass. 

“Leave it,” She says softly. “I'll clean it.” Taking the cloth from Val’s hand, she grips her arm for a moment, the two sharing a look. 

“Go,” She murmurs. “Go see him.”

She feels as if her whole chest might cave in if she waits any longer to see Everett and Curt. 

“Helen, go with her, please,” Olive motions for her to join Val, before speaking the next part softly, only for Helen to hear. “Just in case.” 

“What about you?” Helen raises an eyebrow at her knowingly. 

“I'm just fine here.” She reassures her, but both Val and Helen can see that her eyes are telling a different story. Helen nods, threading her arm through Val’s before grinning at Olive, making her way to the door. 

“We'll be right back.”

Once outside, Val begins to count the number of planes she sees coming into view. The rumble grows louder the closer they get to the runway, she watches as one, two, three… her grip on Helen’s hand tightening as she sees the rest of them approach. Eight, nine, ten… 

“He’ll be here, honey, don’t you worry.” Helen turns to her, her big brown eyes full of hope, and Val can’t help but smile. 

“Not sure what I’d do without you,” Val sighs, gaze  now focused on where the trucks are approaching. “Without any of you.”

“Oh stop, we’ve all got each other.”

The first truck rolled to a stop at the bottom of the approach to the hut, and Val had to squint in the sun to see who it was. It was Gale Cleven and Benny, the pair looking utterly exhausted as they trudged towards the hut. Benny offered the girls a wave and a half smile, Val nodding her head towards the door. 

“She’s inside…”

“Thanks Val.” 

Benny disappeared through the door, and Val watched as the next group of men headed their way, all looking much the same as Buck and DeMarco. Crank, John Brady and their respective crews were next, all shuffling into the hut for a moment of respite. Doc Stover was at the door giving each man the once over before allowing them through, and Val could just make out the sound of someone grumbling at being told to report to the hospital after interrogation. 

“Where are they…” She murmured  under her breath. “Come on boys, please.”

“Hey, hey, look…” Helen was pointing out towards the approach, a smile on her face as she Val clocked Everett jump from the truck, hat in his hand, hair mused and curls falling over his forehead. That damn Lucky Strike tucked behind his ear. 

“Oh thank god!” Val heaved a sigh at the sight of him, body relaxing for only a moment. 

As Everett approached, Val released her grip on Helen just as Everett threw his arm over her shoulder. A heavy sigh, different from the one in the Clubmobile this morning, left his body. His lips pressed to the top of her head softly as he guided her away from the door, towards where it was a bit quieter. 

“Give us a minute, Helen?” Everett asked her, and Val could tell something had happened up there. 

“I’ll have a drink waiting for you, Ev.” Helen nodded, making her way back into the hut to join Olive and Tattie. 

“Ev?” 

“I need to tell you something,” He spoke lowly. “And I need you to listen before you react, okay?”

“You’re scaring me…”

“Curt wasn’t with us on the return.” 

Her entire body ran ice cold at the words, the breath leaving her as if someone had pushed a pin in her lungs and released all of the air. Curt? Reckless as he may be on the ground, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything stupid while he was up in the air, least of all, not coming back. 

“His fort took a lot of damage,” Everett continued. “He had a few engine fires, and there was so much flak up there…”

“Is he…did he…”

“We got him over Scotland,” Ev grabbed her hands to stop them from shaking. “Croz was amazing, and plotted a whole route so that Curt could put his fort down over land, somewhere safe.”

“Scotland…”

“The last we heard over the radios, he was making an approach to crash land.”

“Did you see him land?”

“No, I didn’t,” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I wish I knew more honey.”

“Oh god.” Her voice sounded far away, her mind swimming with every possibility of where Curt could be. If he was alive, safe, had he been captured. Was Scotland really the best place for him to land? What did she know? She wasn’t the pilot, she was the coffee and donuts girl.

“Come on…” 

She just barely registered that Everett was leading her inside. Didn’t pick up Olive calling her name yet again, or the whiskey glass being pressed into her hand. She felt completely numb, and would be, until Curt came strolling back up to her with that stupid grin on his face. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to take away the only person resembling a sibling in her life, in such a way, would he? Santa Maria, please protect him. 

She’s not sure how, but she finds herself sitting in the Officers Club with the girls that night. Vaguely, she remembers Olive walking her outside after Everett had been ushered into interrogation by Chicky, and worrying her mothers Rosary beads between her fingers as she smoked half a pack of cigarettes back in their hut. She’s not sure how she managed to get ready, but when she exited the hut, Everett, Dougie and Harry Crosby were waiting outside for her, Helen and Olive.The walk had been silent, Val tucked under Everett’s arm as they entered the club and sought out their usual table. 

Now, she sat with her fourth fifth drink in front of her, Everett seemingly always there with a new one as soon as she’s taken the last sip. 

The girls were doing their best to keep her mind occupied on anything other than waiting for news on Curt, and even Benny had dropped Meatball off at the table; the Husky immediately sensing that something wasn’t right with his favorite girls. The band played on as usual, music filling every corner of the club, so she was surprised when she heard Red’s voice carry across the room, hollering for Buck Cleven. She’s even more surprised when Everett comes back from the bar empty handed, his eyes brighter than she’d seen them since he landed that afternoon. 

“Come on…” He urges, taking her hand and moving to pull her up from the chair. 

“What? Ev, what!” 

Before he can answer her, she hears Buck Cleven’s voice booming from where he’s standing at the bar, one word to end all of her troubles. 

“Curt!”

Val stands so abruptly, the chair tips backward and clatters to the floor but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is that Everett is pulling her towards the bar where Gale Cleven holds the receiver of the phone between his ear and Bucky’s; the pair of them are yelling frantically down the phone. 

“It’s gonna be cold tonight, Curt!” Bucky yells. 

“John says he misses his little spoon!” Gale shouts down the line, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at the antics of the boys. 

Everett moves to get Bucky’s attention gesturing for him to hand the phone over to Val before either of the two Buck’s decide to hang up. Bucky’s hand grabs Gale’s wrist, and pulls the receiver from his grasp before handing it over to Valencia. 

“Curt!”

“Did I worry ya too much?”

“Please tell me you’re in one piece and that I don’t have to write home…”

“All pieces accounted for, Val, I promise.”

“Good. Are you safe?”

“Safe and well on my way to being drunk.”

“Christ sake. Well then, go on, get drunk with your new friends.”

“You’re my number one, always. Hey, thanks for the bit of red. Saved my life.”

Ev places a kiss to her temple just as she hangs up, having heard most of the conversation. Val grins as she turns to Bucky and Gale, both of them watching her with a fondness she was sure she had never seen on either of their faces. At least not directed towards her. Throwing an arm around each of them, she hugged them close, because she knew it was Bucky in the Command Pilot’s seat that day, and Gale who had alerted the rest of the wing to Curt’s fort slowing down, thus sticking with him to the end. 

“Well?!” Helen’s eyes were wide as Val and Everett made their way back to the table, cocktails in hand and smiles on their faces. 

“He’s safe,” Val breathed out another sigh of relief before rolling her eyes. “And drunk with his Scottish hosts.”

“Of course he is.” Tattie shook her head, but smiled as she ticked off a win for their group in her mind. More moments like this. There should be more of them. 

“Drink up!” Ev raised his glass, their friends joining him. 

“To that pain in my ass!” Val cheered. 

The night rolls on and five cocktails turn into seven. Val has moved from her chair to Everett’s lap, a cigarette in one hand and the other holding his. When he didn’t have her out on the dance floor cutting a rug, they were with their friends. Even Meatball had perked up, and was currently vying for attention from everyone. The news of Curt’s safety spread amongst the rest of the men, and the atmosphere in the club seems to be charged with lightning. Everyone's a little brighter, more relaxed, smiling a little wider. 

“Bike race in the mess hall!” Graham comes hurtling around the corner, arms flailing as he yells into the crowd. “Who’s in?”

A chorus of agreements and hollers as the men in the club leave their drinks and descend on the mess hall. Val clambers from Everett’s lap, giving him a wink as she grabs Olive with one hand and Helen with the other. The three of them run in the direction of the crowd, giggling the entire way. They push their way into the mess hall, cheeks red and eyes bright as they try to find a good spot to view the race. Tattie joins them a moment later, drink in hand and face just as red as the rest of them in excitement as they settle against the wall. 

The boys are all pushing their way in with their bikes, the sound of shouts and tires screeching against the linoleum filling the air as one of the men not racing begins collecting money from the onlookers. They see Everett, Benny and Douglass all push their way as close to the front as they can get, Croz already on his bike. When Douglass spots the girls, he hollers over to Benny in a bid to get Olive’s attention. 

“Hey DeMarco!” He yells, a few rows behind where Benny is. “Whoever wins gets to walk the pretty girl back!”

“You’re on, Doug!” Benny yells back, turning and giving Olive and the girls a cheeky grin. 

“Jesus Christ…” Val hears Olive sigh, and doesn’t need to look over to know she’s rolling her eyes in that British way she usually does. 

Val is watching Everett as he mounts his bike. Croz is on his left, the navigator struggling to find his balance on the bike as he grabs Douglass for support. If she hears Dougie ask Croz to give him a push ahead of Benny, she doesn’t say anything, wanting to see how it all plays out. She blows Ev a kiss and displays a cheeky smile for luck before she turns back towards the girls; just as Bucky Egan and Gale Cleven push their way to the front. 

“Rank has its privileges, boys!” Cleven calls over the din of the room, bumping shoulders with John Brady as he settles on his bike. 

“I see money changing hands,” Egan points over towards where the betting is taking place. “That better be going on me!”

Graham stands in front of the boys, whistling to get their attention before he begins giving them their route. 

“Alright, are y’all ready?!”

The crowd yells almost louder than before, and suddenly Graham’s got his pistol in the air, a single shot fired into the roof to signal the start of the race. 

“YEEHAW!” 

The boys all push off, Douglass yelling for Croz who’s wobbling on his bike as he yells with the rest of them GO GO GO. Egan and Cleven are in the lead, no surprise, while Brady is hot on Egan’s heels. Everett, Douglass and Benny are all neck and neck, Croz pulling up the rear. The four girls are shouting with all their might, throats raw from screaming for the boys, drinks sloshing around them and cigarettes burning unattended between their fingers. 

“Come on, Egan, ya lard ass!” Gale shouts, goading Bucky on to try and catch up to him as they begin their second lap out of the Officers Mess. 

Even Kidd and Veal, who’ve perched themselves off to the side, are getting into the excitement of the race. It’s when Cleven takes the last turn that he skids off his bike, crashing to the ground in a fit of laughter as Bucky topples off right behind him. The rest of the boys follow suit, all of them racing to their feet to try and cross the finish line first when a shrill siren cuts the atmosphere of the room like a knife. 

“Stop!” Jack Kidd yells, hopping off his perch and waving his long arms to get the attention of the crowd. “Don’t you hear the siren? Everyone to the shelters!”

Bikes forgotten on the ground, the boys all begin to move towards the exit, the girls all linking arms to stay together. They begin the walk towards the shelters, a hefty distance from where they currently are, when Dougie and Benny slide up on either side of Olive. Val watches, amused, until a pair of hands fall on her waist, pulling her flush against the chest of the owner. 

“Sneaking up on me?” She grins, though he can’t see it. 

“Not sure I could,” Ev whispers in her ear, leaving a gentle kiss to the underside of her jaw. “You’d smell my aftershave.”

Turning in his arms, Val allows him to guide her as she walks backward a few paces, her hands gripping his forearms. 

“Let’s go somewhere.” She grins wildly, curls falling from their usually perfectly pinned style, eyes shining. 

“Okay, sure,” He humors her. “Where should we go? Paris? Rome? New York?”

“Everett, come on, I’m being serious!” She gently slaps his arm. 

“So am I,” He smiles. ““Where do you want to go?”

“The mess hall, I’m starving. I skipped dinner.”

“Val…”

“Please, Ev? I want a snack…” 

“Jesus you’re adorable when you’re drunk sweetheart.” 

“Can I be adorable with a snack then, please?”

“Okay, let’s go.” He conceded, knowing she probably hadn’t eaten anything after finding out that Curt was somewhere else. The least he could do was make sure she didn’t go to bed hungry. 

——————————————————

Breaking off from the rest of the group, the pair of them began running hand in hand towards the opposite direction of the shelters, laughing like kids the entire time. Checking that no one was watching, they slipped back inside the now vacant mess hall; the only sign that it had been occupied were the bikes still on the ground and the lights that had remained on during the hasty exit. The only noise in the hut was the sound of Val’s heels on the floor and their laughter as they tried to catch their breath. Leading Everett towards where the girls always pack away any leftover donuts from the Clubmobile, she guides him through a door and into the kitchen. The moonlight is giving just enough light to see where they’re going, the kitchen dark, and unfamiliar territory to Everett. 

“There should be…” Val bends at the waist to pull out the covered box that usually sat in the Clubmobile. “Perfect!” 

“What’d you find?” Ev turns to her, taking the box from her hands to set it on the counter. 

“Donuts!”

“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” He pulled the towel off and tossed it to the side, snatching one from the box. “I did not think I’d be eating as many donuts during the war as I actually am.” 

“Well, I didn’t think I would be serving coffee and donuts to pilots, so I guess we’re both surprised at the outcome.” 

“What were you doing before all this?” Everett asked. 

“Suddenly he’s curious,” She teased. “I was a secretary, but don’t tell Chicky. For the Federal Reserve Bank.”

Hopping up on the counter, Val plucked the donut from Everett’s hand, breaking it in half before popping it into her mouth. Red lips pursed and eyes closed as she enjoyed her snack, she didn’t notice Everett move closer, standing between her legs, until his hands softly slid up her thighs. 

“Happy?” 

“Oh, I’m very happy,” Her eyes fluttered open, catching his gaze. Taking the other half of the donut, she brought it up to his mouth, holding it between two manicured fingers. “Are you happy?”

His answer came in the form of a bite of the food she was currently offering him, his lips grazing her fingers before pulling away, eyes never leaving hers. Waiting until there was no food in his mouth, he leaned in closer, fingers gripping her a little tighter. His lips just barely touched hers before they settled on the corner of her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, and when he pulled back, Val could see the glimmer in his hazel orbs and the smirk on his lips. 

“You had a crumb…” He kissed the other side of her mouth for good measure, not one to leave any spot untouched. 

She gazed up at him through her lashes, heat instantly pooling low in her belly. How could sharing a snack and a kiss cause her to feel emotions so strongly, that she wanted him to lay her out on the counter and have his way with her while no one was around. 

“Ev…”

“No one’s around to interrupt us this time.” He whispered, and she was sure he felt the shudder that ripped through her body from head to toe. 

“I think…” She breathed, trying with all her might to focus on the words that were on the tip of her tongue. His teeth gently closed over her earlobe, warm breath fanning across her cheek. 

“What do you think? Hmm?”

“That we should pick up where we left off.”

Her jacket was off in an instant as he kissed the air from her lungs. One hand holding the back of her neck, fingers tangled in what remained of the evening's hairdo as the other moved down the front of her blouse, unbuttoning each little white button painstakingly slow. Her hands made quick work of pulling his tie loose, his own jacket discarded somewhere before he had gotten to work on undressing her. Even in the dim lighting of the room, he’s able to clearly see the soft lines of her body as he pushed her shirt from her shoulders. The white lace of her brassiere standing out against her skin, breaths coming out harsh in the near silence of the room as she sat on the counter and continued to bring Everett to the same state of undress as she was. All she could think of was having her hands on him, feeling his skin under her palms, the ropes of muscle she knew were under his clothes every time he held her on the dance floor now exposed to her. 

It was a tentative first touch as she slid her hands up the planes of his chest, a smattering of soft hair just under his collar bones as she let herself explore what she could. Val could feel Everett’s eyes on her; his sharp hazel gaze watching as she let her hands roam across his skin, across his clavicle, down over his arms until she reached his hands. Those hands that made her feel safe every time they held hers; soft and gentle when they were together, skilled and agile when he was piloting his fort and keeping his crew safe. They were both of those things, and still she loved them most when they were holding her. Lifting his left hand, she began to pepper kisses to each of his fingers, appreciating one of her favorite parts of him without words. The part of him that kept her safe. Sharing with him feelings that she wasn’t sure she could put into words yet, because even she wasn’t sure how to explain it. Only that she felt content when he was near her, a feeling that evaded her for so long she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel it again. To finally feel it now, Val wanted to grab it with both hands and never let go. 

“Can I…?” Val looked up from her task, lips still pressed, unmoving, to the palm of his hand. His question sitting between them, heavy in the air. 

“Please…” It came out in a whisper, fading into a whine as his hands fell to her waist, tugging her closer to the edge of the counter so that he could do with her what she had done with him. 

Appreciating every dip and curve his eyes and mouth could find, Everett set to work with expressing his own feelings, deep and seated within him were words he too was not sure he could explain out loud, and still, he knew his actions could do it for him. His mouth blazed a trail from her lips, down the column of her throat, across her clavicle then over the swell of her breasts. The hands on her waist traveled a path almost identical to the one that night in his plane, stopping just short of where he had been dreaming of having them ever since she guided him there that first time. He felt like he had won the lottery when she helped guide him the rest of the way once more, her legs spreading just a bit wider to accommodate his body getting closer to her own. When she slid the straps of her brassiere down, gaze focused entirely on him, he became a man possessed. His hands moved to her back, mapping out the planes of her exposed skin until they settled on the clasp at the back of the delicate white garment shielding her from his eyes. Ducking his head down, his lips sucked a delicate mark at the juncture of her jaw, just below her ear, tongue laving over the spot just as his fingers slipped the clasp open, the lace falling slack and pooling between their bodies.

“My god,” He groaned, wanting to take in every detail, every breath she took as her body reacted to just his gaze. “Look at you. A god damn goddess.”

Val wasn’t sure words would suffice what she wanted him to do, so instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, slanting her mouth over his and kissing him with every ounce of herself that she could muster. With his mouth occupied, Everett let his hands carefully slide over her, breasts filling his palms as if they were made just for him to hold. She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs brushed over her already pebbled nipples, and so he did it again and again if only to hear the sweet sounds she made.

“Beautiful,” He growled, with his face nuzzled into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he paid close attention as she reacted to his touch. “You and those sweet sounds you make.”

“Ev…” She breathed his name, head tipping back as he gave her a gentle pinch before softening his touch once more. 

“I wonder what other sounds I can pull from you, sweetheart.”

“Yes…please.” 

Slowly, as if he was afraid to scare her away, he dropped one hand to her waist before letting it slide down to her thigh. With her skirt riding up on its own, his fingers gently teased the exposed skin above where her pantyhose and garter belt met. Her flesh was pliable under his nimble fingers, and he took his time ghosting over her, soaking up every second he was allowed to be exposed to her so vulnerably. By the time he reached the apex of her thighs and felt her shiver against him, he knew he was going to have to make good on her request from the last time they were alone. Don’t stop. But he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to control himself if that was the request- if he wouldn’t take her in the cockpit of a plane, would he be able to live with knowing their first time together was on the kitchen counter of the officers mess hall? 

“Val, honey…”

“I know,” She breathed, dropping her forehead against his chest, lips pressing kisses across the exposed skin. “I know…”

“You have to tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He pressed his thumb against her, teasing, testing the waters, and watched in awe as she pressed herself closer to him, keening under his touch. 

“I want you…” 

“I want you too, honey,” His thumb now moving at a steady pace over her clothed center, he couldn't help but watch her in amazement. “God you look so pretty like this.” 

“Everett, please… please don’t stop…” 

He continued to drive her higher. Her breaths uneven and ragged, her hands clutching him, face pressed against his chest. Had she not been sitting on the counter her legs would surely have given out by now. Gently, he used his free hand to urge her back, supporting her so that she wasn’t laying out on the counter, but no longer hiding her face from him.  Her neck and chest covered in a thin sheen of sweat, eyes pinched shut and red lips parted, it was taking all of his self control not to strip the both of them completely bare and take her right there. But he promised himself he would do it properly with her. She deserved all of the proper things. 

“Open your eyes for me, pretty. Come on, let me see you come apart.” 

She was crumbling under his hands as soon as the words left his mouth, crying out so loud that he covered her mouth and swallowed her moans so no one else dared hear the beautiful sound. He held her as she came down from her high, hands rubbing up and down her back, peppering kisses across her face, down her jaw, before settling on her lips. He would repeat the process for as long as it took for her to come back to herself. Back to him. Then again, she was closer now than she’d ever been to him, and he’d fight tooth and nail to never lose it. 

The air around them had been charged for the better part of the night, sparks following their every move and lighting their way. Now, in a half debauched state, holding onto one another, the sparks continued to orbit, settling softly around them as they took refuge in each other's arms in a time of darkness, pain and loss.  

Yes. This would be their safe place during the war. Together. 

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Blakely & Val, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel

#masters of the air #eight to the bar: blakely & val #mota fanfic #everett blakely x ofc #everett blakely #everett blakely x oc #oc: valencia dirosano #james douglass #oc: olive lewis #benny demarco #just a snappin #hbo war #gina baker writes

[goomyloid]

PLEASE explain your thoughts on kriselle in full detail

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS 100% UNPROMPTED ASK! I SHALL EXPLAIN

i hate toby fox. why did he do this to us. he really put it better than anyone else. not really romantic not really platonic but…. something else… some secret more sinister more heartfelt more absurd third thing

i wonder at what point should i clarify that i dont even really seek out kriselle in a romantic context… DONT GET ME WRONG i have zero issues with the ship whatsoever and all of the krisellers out there are living their best (most painful) lives and i SEE THE APPEAL. BUT when i rotate them in my brain i dont need them to kiss or anything like that i just need them to sit down and sadly hold hands and stay like that forever and ever. in case you couldnt gauge that from my art so far

tldr i dont think i ship them in the traditional sense at least …. the things that i usually fixate on for any romantic ship are not there with these two. there are no romantic feelings there In my mind. and all at the same time i start screaming and throwing up and killing myself (all positive) whenever i see them even in the same image together. hngh

ive tried explaining this to people before and they usually suggest something along the lines of a QPR and even that doesnt feel right to me. truly the best way i can put it is… that red string of fate man… which i almost hesitate on saying too because i dont actually know if noelle is Quite an important enough character to the story to warrant a connection like that. WHICH IS A CRAZY THING TO SAY. I KNOW. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING ME WRONG i think dess and her connections to gaster and her usage as a stepping stone into the weird route are all VERY important… but in my brain its just not kris/knight/asriel/every other mysterious main focus of the story Important. i didnt mean to get into deltarune theorizing here i hope nobody’s blood is boiling rn

so yeah in the end. toby fox once again put it best. they are friends, but they are also something else.

back to the actual pairing though… sometimes i think im going overboard and overestimating how close kris and noelle were as children because noelle will go and say things like “i wonder if we were ever really friends at all.” which is kind of a fair statement considering the circumstances. sure they played together and all and tagged along with their siblings to do stuff together but when dess went missing… it all kind of stopped. kris is just a kid, they dont know what to do or even how to process it, much like noelle. asriel is probably dealing with his own feelings, he just lost his friend and likely old enough to understand the weight of what happened. while noelle and kris cant say much to each other at all.

im always back and forth on speaking headcanons for kris but the one that i always seem to come back to is selective mutism… to me kris had a lot of trouble communicating well as a child and could only grow comfortable around certain people, asriel and noelle being clear examples because they’re both so patient with them. maybe because of this noelle felt like they could understand each other without really needing words, and just physical interaction was enough to achieve some form of closeness… or maybe that was all just on her end, she thinks when kris goes to play the piano. but if that’s the case, why does it feel like a concert just for her…?

jesus dont even get me start on them as teenagers either. noelle has lost her sister, and now kris has lost their brother… but not in the same way. they look at each other and wonder if they’re the same now. or, maybe thats too cruel. maybe its not the same thing at all. asriel’s coming back soon, after all. it will all be over soon, kris won’t have to feel this way for much longer, right? so then, why does kris look so miserable, sitting in the corner over there? all noelle feels like she can do is sit next to them quietly. to be there, and to somehow, vaguely, messily help each other. the misfit kids that dont really know how to talk to each other and yet understand each other regardless

thats why the dark world feels like such a dream to her. these crazy city lights, fantastical creatures, susie’s there, and she actually might have the means to defend herself and stand her ground, whether it be verbally or… otherwise

and most of all, much like with kris offering an adventurous haven to susie in ch1, the same is extended to noelle. by kris’s side, no less. it feels like theyre doing things together again, and its fun, and nostalgic… she wants to bring dess. and i think its okay to assume kris wants to bring asriel, too. recreating the make-believe world they lost so long ago… is it really possible?

no… how can it really be possible, when this isnt kris? something is wrong. its almost perfect, except kris… it’s them, but it’s not. she sees their face, their expressions, their laughs, their worries. and yet the voice that comes from them… isnt them. and it scares her! even if nothing particularly bad happened as a result. and if something bad DID happen, well…

she just wants what they had before back. is it really so impossible? can they reconcile after all these years? does kris want to? is kris capable of doing so? maybe they just need to hug again. will it feel like a real hug? the person she thought she understood is acting in ways she doesnt understand. they’re telling her to do weird things. they cycle through actions as if they just want to know what happens. and they cant even play piano anymore.

#mailbox #im gonna kill myself #kriselle #long post

[hergrandplan]

Wille's month Day 8: wedding/engagement

Wille's month may be over but I still have a ton of stories to share, so we're just going to pretend it's still May! I am so sorry about that last one, I hope this one pays for all the therapy bills and emotional damages you sent me way.

Wille takes Simon to the lake to ask him a burning question; maybe the most important of all.

Read below the cut or on ao3! (2.2k, G, fluff and fluff only)

He’s conscious of the little box burning a hole in his pocket with every step he takes. Every step has it bouncing against his thigh, reminding him over and over again that it’s there, and that he’s going to do this. That he’s actually going to have this moment, one that he’s only seen in movies and on TV, but that’s now going to be his as well.

The walk to the lake seems truly endless. Wille wonders if it’s always been this far, or if it just seemed shorter when he was still wasted from the party, the only thing on his mind that he and Simon were over. When he was trying to make peace with that even as he trailed behind the other boy all those years ago.

Still, the path ahead seems endless, the scenery never changing – it’s just tree after tree after tree. But, he realizes, it might also simply be because of his nerves.

Wille sees Simon smiling out of the corner of his eye, and he smiles back, willing his heart to beat at just a normal pace for once.

Reminding himself, in a futile effort to relax, that the question has never been if, only when.

They’re in Bjärstad, having just come back from Linda’s. Felice should be here somewhere too, having made the drive up here solely for this moment but also because she had made it very clear that Wille wasn’t allowed to do this without her. (now he’s glad, because it means they’ll have pictures, if not a full video).

Simon suddenly stops, and Wille’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even notice and almost falls when he keeps walking and Simon doesn’t.

He looks to Simon, confused. They were supposed to go down to the waterline but they’re not there yet, not even close. He’s worried that there’s something wrong, maybe Simon’s hurt somehow or maybe the memory their last time here is too much.

But Simon reaches a tender hand to cup his face, and smooths down the crease that has started to appear on Wille’s forehead.

“You okay, my love?” Simon asks him. “You’re so quiet.”

Wille relaxes again, realizing that there’s nothing wrong with Simon, that Simon is just worried about him. So Wille nods, now eagerly leaning into the touch and reveling in the sensation of Simon brushing a soft thumb against his cheek. “Just… thinking,” he replies. “That’s all.”

“You’re not in your own head again, are you?”

“No,” he answers, and it’s true. He’s just nervous. “Can we um… can we keep walking? I want to see the sunset.” It’s a half-truth – though Wille truly doesn’t care whether he proposes to Simon in the light of the setting sun or under the moon and the stars, he does want to keep going. If Simon stalls  for just one more moment then he might not be able to stop himself from sinking down on one knee regardless of the place or the view. But Simon deserves better, deserves more than that.

He’s also afraid that the ring might actually be burning a hole through his pocket now and that he’s going to lose it.

Simon smiles softly, looking him deep in the eyes as if he’s trying to figure out whether Wille is lying or not, then seemingly decides that yes, Wille is okay. “Of course. Of course we can.”

He brushes his lips against Wille’s in a soft, gentle caress before they continue on down the shoreline.

At least this brief pause should have given Felice enough time to get into position.

They make it to the shoreline in relative silence, only broken by Simon softly humming along with the bird singing overhead.

It’s calm, and serene and Wille chose this spot, this moment on purpose but even standing here now, holding his love’s hands, he can’t help but think back to that one moment, when he thought he’d lost everything.

His grip on Simon’s hand tightens just a bit.

Not if, Wille reminds himself again.

When.

Simon has stopped humming, but the birds continue their never-changing, ever-present song. A gentle wind blows, ruffling the leaves and Wille breathes in the cold that has started to set in. The water laps against the rocks and it’s so … peaceful.

He starts counting down. He hasn’t agreed on a time with Felice, and she’ll probably be filming already, but he needs to count down to prepare himself.

5.

He remembers how he and Simon had stood here, newly in love, how he’d shouted at the guards that the water must be cold and how Simon had teased him that day, with that gorgeous, beautiful, heartstopping smile. How badly he wanted to kiss him, no matter who would have seen.

4.

He’s looking out over the water, his heart full of hurt as he can only think about Simon and Marcus. How he knew he had to let go but didn’t want to give up yet (he’s so glad he didn’t).

3.

A moment suspended in time, just like they are suspended in the air, lying in a hammock while their classmates are trying to build a fire. He’d thought life couldn’t get any better, with Simon in his arms and a view like that. He never wanted to leave it.

2.

‘Why do you like the monarchy so much? I’m just saying, I can see how it hurts you.’

When Simon had made him realize that he didn’t have to choose that life if he didn’t want it.

1.

Salty tears streaming down both their faces, mixing with the fresh water from the lake. The rising sun turning everything orange, making it look like a movie, one he has seen before one too many times. Wille, almost on his knees begging for just one more chance. Simon, already moving away from him and Wille realizing he had to let go.

Now.

Wille takes a deep breath. Inhaling the scent of dying leaves, of wet earth.

He hasn’t even noticed that Simon has let go of his hand somewhere in these past 5 seconds.

“Wille?”

Simon’s voice breaks through his thoughts. It’s shaking slightly, enough to make Wille (almost) forget what he’s about to do.

But when he looks over to Simon, he’s not there.

“Down here, love.”

And… oh.

Wille’s heart starts hammering in his chest once again when he sees Simon, sitting on one knee. Looking up at him with so much love and admiration that it knocks the air out of Wille’s lungs. And, to Wille’s own shock, he’s holding a velvety box displaying a beautiful silver, engraved band.

Simon keeps his eyes trained in Wille – sparkling in the low evening light. For a singular moment, Wille genuinely does forget that he has to breathe. So he exhales a slow, trembling breath, as Simon starts speaking.

“Wille, my love. My heart, my everything. If someone had told me that that awkward new kid at school would turn out to be the love of my life, I would have laughed them in the face. Me? Falling in love with some dumb prince who probably isn’t even able to fold his own laundry? No chance in hell.”

Wille can’t believe this is happening. He had meant to propose and now Simon was sitting in front of him, on one knee. Wille doesn’t know what to do or how to react, doesn’t know if he should get the ring out now or later or –

“Simon, I –“ Wille starts, because there’s a ring in his pocket as well and he wants to laugh. It’s almost comical that they’re so attuned to each other that they even planned to propose at the same time.

But Simon shakes his head, stopping him mid sentence.

“Please let me finish, Wille, because I have this whole speech thought out – and can you let me finish? Then you can say whatever you want.” The corner of Simon’s mouth lifts up, but there’s no nervousness behind it. In fact, he looks like he’s never been more sure of anything. Wille nods, allowing Simon to continue.

“Like I said – I thought there was no chance in hell. But then I met you, and you… you turned my whole world upside down. And you have kept doing that ever since. We may have had a rocky start, but these last few years have been the best of my whole life. And I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for you. You lift me up, and you’re always there when I do fall, and I know I’m safe to do so with you.

I love waking up next to you and knowing you’re the one I’m always coming home to. I love how you take a picture of everything, because you want to make the memory last forever, even if it’s just us having breakfast together, or going for a walk. I love how caring you are, how passionate. And most of all, I love you, every single part of you, and I want to keep loving you for the rest of my life.

So, Wille, will you let me?” Simon inhales deeply, gathering the courage for those last words, and Wille knows (because of course he knows, he knows Simon like the back of his hand) that it’s because he’s overcome by the moment.

“Will you marry me?”

Simon bites down on his lower lip. Now it’s Wille’s turn. Now he can say something.

But Wille is stunned beyond belief. The love of his life is sitting in front of him, proposing to him. Wille doesn’t know whether to look at the ring he’s holding up, or that brighter-than-the-sun smile or those sparkling eyes, glistening with tears. But yes, this is what he wants. Of course he wants to marry him.

Tears threaten to spill down Wille’s own face as he looks down at his love, this man, who is currently promising him forever.

Wille nods hard and quick, unable to say anything more than a breathy “yes” because what else can he say? Of course he wants to marry Simon – there’s nothing in the world he wants do more.

Joy floods Simon’s face, and he surges up to meet Wille in a fervent, messy kiss while tears stream down both their faces. Wille can taste the salt on his tongue, and doesn’t know if it’s Simon’s tears or his own or a mix of both, but it doesn’t matter, because Wille is cradling Simon’s face in his hands, bringing him closer, never wanting to let go. He can feel Simon smiling against him, and he’s smiling so widely too he can already feel his cheeks starting to hurt, but he doesn’t break their kiss, not even for one second.

Simon wraps his arms around Wille’s neck, and in the movement bumps his leg against Wille’s coat pocket. And then Wille suddenly remembers what’s in that pocket. How could he possibly have forgotten?

He places his hands on Simon’s shoulders, creating some distance between them. He laughs as Simon chases his lips and finds nothing but air, then pouts jokingly at the sudden loss of contact.

Wille stares into his boyfriend’s – no, fiancé’s – eyes, still grinning, still smiling and still so, so in love. Simon leans back in for another kiss, but Wille stops him.

“Wait, one second,” Wille says in a shaky voice at Simon’s confused look, and with equally shaky hands he fishes out the velvet box. Simon’s eyes widen at the realization, eyes flicking back from the box to Wille’s face.

“Wille, did you – were you –“ Simon stammers out, and Wille delights in the fact that it’s Simon who is speechless, and all because of Wille.

Wille briefly considers getting down one knee, doing it the proper way like Simon did it just now, but Simon’s arms are still wrapped around him, and Wille doesn’t ever want him to let go. And this, keeping this second proposal in the sacred space between them, feels more right than anything.

It feels more intimate, asking this question when they’re breathing the same air, here, where it’s just them.

Wille pops open the box, then places one hand on Simon’s lower back while the other keeps holding the ring up. He looks back into Simon’s eyes, and so up close he sees every emotion (and there are a lot of them) pass over Simon’s face. He sees the disbelief, the love, the amazement and the excitement, the is this real? Is this happening? He’s sure Simon saw those exact emotions on his face just moments ago.

“I had actually been planning on proposing today,” Wille whispers, and Simon’s eyes start shining again at the confession. “Before you beat me to it. So I hope it’s okay and you don’t think this is me stealing your thunder…” – at this Simon giggles, pushing his forehead against Wille’s – “but Simon Eriksson, will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

Simon answers him with a kiss, one that Wille is only too ecstatic to return.

#willemonth2024 #young royals #yr fanfic #yr fic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fic #young royals archive #wilmon #wilmon fanfiction #prince wilhelm #wilhelm eriksson now? #simon eriksson #wilhelm eriksson #wmday8

[otomiyaa]

Kaiju Experiment

Kafka & Reno

A/N: Second to last story I crafted during my trip. Ha ha, ha...

Summary: Reno and Kafka are suddenly curious about something. Are Kaiju ticklish? (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.1K

Everyone had already left the dining hall for their training. Kafka huffed, breathing out as he counted.

"O-one huhundred... One h-hundred one... One hundred t-two....." So harsh, Mina. He couldn't let go of the habit and accidentally called her by her first name again during lunch. Seriously? Two hundred push-ups?

To his embarrassment, the others had stayed behind until the count of fifty at least. They then were all ordered to leave, which luckily gave him the privacy to finish his punishment.

No one would even bother checking on him, but he knew that he couldn't disappoint Mina, not even behind her back. He was going to finish up to two hundred push-ups as she ordered him to.

"Senpai! You're still not done?"

Eep! Kafka wheezed like an old man and looked up tiredly to see Reno enter again.

"W-why a-are you hehere," Kafka asked, continuing his push-ups with every bit of strength he had. Which wasn't very much, to be honest.

"I came to tell you we're assigned to the same team for our next training. Hm... No one's here now. Should you keep going?"

Kafka nodded. "O-otherwise M-Mina will..." He continued to do the push-ups, and Reno snickered.

"One hundred six.... One hundred seven....."

"Senpai, you'll never make it to two hundred. I think she was just messing with you."

"N-not Mina...." Kafka's arms were starting to give in. He was shaking.

"Senpai, come on. They're more likely to scold you if you come late for the training."

"One... hundred.... t-t-t-ten," Kafka whined when he finally reached that number. Yes! Ninety more to go, he was definitely going to -

"WAHAHAHA!" Kafka was surprised by his own sudden cackles, caused by a very ticklish sensation under his arms. Reno!!!

"Heehee. Are you ticklish, senpai?"

Wait, how dare he- NO! "Ihihihichikahahawa! Nohoho I'm- gahahah!" Kafka shook his head hysterically and tried his best to continue. But Reno continued the tickles and eventually his arms gave in.

"Nohoho! Okahay I'll cohohome!" Kafka giggled like a school kid, curling up and kicking his legs as Reno continued to tickle him.

"Hehe. Good. Let's go," Reno said, helping him up. Then as they were still holding hands, Reno suddenly halted.

......

"W-what?" Kafka asked, still out of breath.

"Senpai. Are Kaiju ticklish?"

"Huh? How should I know?"

They both stared at each other, the thought sinking in slowly.

"Oh. You really want to know?" Kafka finally asked when Reno continued to stare.

"I actually want to. You?""

Kafka hesitated. "Me too...."

They were still holding hands because Reno helped him up, but now those same hands were shaking each other's in a firm handshake.

"We'll find out. After training, okay?"

"Okay."

It was going to be a useless Kaiju experiment, Kafka knew that. But he was now curious too. Would he still be ticklish in his Kaiju form? And what would this mean for other Kaiju, did they actually have such a weakness? If skin was too hard to get penetrated with bullets and swords, could it be subjected to tickles?

He needed answers. It took them a while to find the right moment. Training, lecturing, eating, bathing, but eventually they managed to sneak out together and found an abandoned spot near the base.

There, Kafka transformed in the dark of the night.

"So cool that you have it under control now," Reno said, applauding humbly. Kafka nodded proudly. Reno was so tiny now.

"Right?" Kafka giggled. He then spread his arms.

"Okay. Tickle me."

"GROSS!" Reno barked.

"Huh? That's why we are here, isn't it?"

"Well yes but don't say it like that!"

Reno very nervously approached him, his fingers wiggling. "Well then, here goes." He first wiggled his fingers under Kafka's spread arms, right where he had tickled him earlier.

Kafka felt no difference. He immediately sucked in a lot of air, but was quick to explode in a hysterical giggle fit as he wrapped his arms around himself and kneeled down.

"HAhahaha okay thahahat s-still ticklehehes!"

Reno kneeled down by his side. "Then what about here?" he asked, tickling his sides and ribs with fierce clawing moves. Kafka squealed and squirmed pathetically.

"YEHehes tihihickles! Bwahahah!"

Reno looked amused. "Here too?" He poked his tummy. Kafka screeched like a woman.

"Interesting. Your pain tolerance is impressive, so how is this form so sensitive to this?" Reno experimented with softer tickles, and somehow that felt even worse. Just the mere scribbling against his Kaiju skin, Kafka felt more ticklish than ever.

"I don't think it proves anything. You might just be too ticklish," Reno observed, scribbling all ten fingers against Kafka's tummy and making him howl.

He couldn't imagine tickling Kaiju like this. Yes, it was a silly experiment.

"But stihihill! Wahahah!" He had a hard time controlling his reflexes too. He didn't want to hurt him.

"OKAhahay okay ehehenough plehehease! Ichikahahawaaa!"

"What was that?" Reno lowered his hands, his fingers brushing against Kafka's apparently very sensitive Kaiju hips.

"HEEEHEE! PLEHEhease! Nohoho! Stohohop!"

He must've looked hilarious; a huge Kaiju giggling and begging for Reno to stop tickling him. Smiling, Reno sat back and watched Kafka catch his breath.

"Sorry, I got carried away. You will forgive me right?" he asked with a gentle smile. Kafka nodded.

"S-sure. I wanted it too. Besides, I'd crush you if I tickled you back now," he said, and he winked. Together they sat in silence until Kafka recovered from the tickle attack, and he managed to gasp for air.

"That was interesting. This body shouldn't be this sensitive. I wonder if all Kaiju are this ticklish, or it's just me," he said. Reno nodded.

"I doubt we can ever find out, but. I liked the experiment," he said. Kafka nodded, grinning.

"Me too." Reno was staring at the night sky and didn't notice him transforming back into his human form.

Kafka watched him in this peaceful state for a moment, smiling fondly. It was the perfect calm before the storm moment.

"Ichikawa."

Reno looked at him. "Hmm?"

Kafka raised his hands, holding them out like two big tickle claws. "Payback time."

"Huh WHA-?! You said- WAHahahah! Hohohold on- hehehey! Noooo!" Reno wailed as Kafka pinned him down and tickled him playfully. Looked like he was actually quite ticklish too!

"I said I wouldn't tickle you in my Kaiju form. But I'm actually pretty good at tickle fights~" Kafka sang proudly, bringing out some fun and sweet laughter that he never heard.

"HEeeheheheee! Sehehenpai plehehease hehehe! F-fohohorgihihive mehehe!" Sweet friendly Reno, even apologizing for something Kafka quite voluntarily subjected himself to. Well yeah, Reno did lose a bit of control there earlier.

"What was that?" Kafka said teasingly, and he continued to tickle.

"Forgive meeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

And just like that, their sweet laughter continued to brighten the dark and gloomy night. It wasn't a very useful experiment, but Kafka definitely thought it brought him even closer to Reno, and for that reason alone, he was enjoying himself immensely!

#unpopular fandom here I think? #except in Japan. there its huge lol #kaiju no. 8 #tickling #tickle fic #kafka #reno #kafka hibino #reno ichikawa #otomiya!writes

[herearedragons]

The Hanged Man (chapter 1)

Read on AO3

Notes: This fic relies on some plot points from the short story "The Reaping". If you want the full context for the fic without having to read the short story (which I do recommend, btw), see the AO3 notes or scroll to the bottom of this post.

Edér had imagined his own death way too many times.

There was the war, for one. He'd try not to think about it much, but sometimes things would happen and leave him wondering if that would be him, too.

Stabbing. Slashing. Arrows. Bolts. Broken necks, burned bodies. Slow deaths from wounds gone bad.

And besides your usual pick of deaths, there was Eothas.

Edér knew for a fact he wasn't the only one thinking about it. Lots of soldiers back then were going to sleep every night wondering if they'd just be... smitten out of existence, before they ever woke up.

Close your eyes, and the next thing you see is your god, and he goes well, Edér, you chose the wrong side, so welcome to being dead. No rebirth for you, either. Right into the void with you.

Not the most fun thought to fall asleep with.

Lately, though, it had all been the same thing. The rough, heavy noose around his neck, hands tied behind his back; the creaking of old barren branches above his head, and all of Gilded Vale staring up at him.

The funny thing was, now that he was there for real, it almost felt fake. The rope against his skin; the barrel that would soon be kicked out from under his feet; the silent grey crowd; there was a weird flatness to it all. It was all wrong, just a little off from how it appeared in his recurring dreams.

His dreams didn’t account for the rain, either. 

It was just a light drizzle, but Edér had been standing under it for a while, in the same shirt and trousers he fell asleep in the night before, and by now he was soaked and chilled to the bone.

Part of him was starting to wish they’d just get it over with.

And to think that he almost got out. He should have left as soon as the bell tolled three times yesterday, instead of putting it off until next morning.

Maybe he could have tagged along with that Watcher and the twitchy elf that had been staying at the Black Hound. They were strange folks, sure, but neither of them looked too sturdy; they could have used a protector on the road.

He almost asked to come along with them. Even now, Edér wasn't sure why he didn't.

Same reason why he’d waited this long to leave, probably.

A few feet away from his improvised gallows, Urgeat the magistrate was droning on and on about the "inestimable" Lord Raedric, his care for Gilded Vale, and his love for his wife.

His wife.

When his door got kicked in first thing in the morning, guards swarming in to drag him out of bed, Edér thought it was about Eothas. He figured maybe it was also about the rebels, or because someone saw him talking to that Watcher, and that was somehow also a crime now.

He didn't think they'd say that he murdered a woman.

Lord Raedric's wife. He still didn't know all the details of it - nobody bothered to tell him, since they were all thinking he did it - but what he gathered was that she turned up dead somewhere in the village, and it was close enough to his house to make them think he was involved.

Urgeat was just getting to that part in his speech, now.

Edér had never even seen her up close.

"...spreading dissent and worship of a dead god are, of course, far from the only crimes committed by this man. When words of deception no longer satisfied his foul goals, he turned to murder, and took the life or our beloved Lady Ygrid - "

"Didn't do it."

Even from this distance, Edér could see a sour grimace form on the magistrate's face as soon as he was interrupted.

"Silence, murderer," Urgeat said.

Edér shrugged; the noose shifted uncomfortably on his shoulders.

"Just setting the facts straight," he said. "Didn't do it. Ain't ever laid a finger on her. Sure, I’ve got blood on my hands, but last I checked they were all soldiers."

Not all of those soldiers were Readcerans.

Standing on that barrel gave him a great view of the crumbling shell of the temple behind the villagers' backs - and, standing just beyond it, the house that once belonged to Osgod Rask.

They did find the corpses, eventually. Some settlers moved in, took Raedric up on his offer of land; smelled something foul in the cellar, opened it, and saw what became of the two men in the years that had passed since Edér left them there.

Those settlers didn't stay.

"So you would like us to believe," Urgeat said dryly. "However, lies will not get you out of this noose. I would advise that you save your breath."

Edér couldn't hold back a snort of laughter; not that he was trying that hard.

"Right! 'Cause I have so much breathing left to do still."

Was it his imagination, or did he hear a giggle somewhere in the crowd?

Nobody liked the magistrate. Fact was, were it him in the noose instead of Edér, they'd all be clapping and cheering.

Nobody was cheering for his hanging, at least. He’d like to believe there were some people in the square doubting that he actually did it.

The problem was that it didn’t matter.

Three tolls of the bell spelled death. Before the lady’s body turned up, it meant death for a lot of people, and probably exile for just as many; by the time Raedric was done “appeasing the gods”, Gilded Vale would have been a ghost town.

But now… Now the lord’s wife was dead, and they had one person to blame for it. And, while they were at it, they could blame him for everything else, too.

Maybe there were some folks left in Gilded Vale who didn’t want to see him hang, but they would take it if it meant that he would be the last.

Something drew his eyes back to the empty Rask house.

Daeg's ma, Lifa, had this look on her face when the bodies were found. Whenever Edér was around, she'd get that same look again, like somehow she knew. 

Edér didn't regret what he did. Daeg raised a weapon against a woman and her child, which in Edér's book meant he got what was coming to him - but it didn't mean Lifa deserved to die without ever finding out what happened to her son.

Gods know he’d give a lot to find out what happened to Woden.

"Tell you what, Urgeat," Edér said. "You're gonna hang me, at least hang me for something I did."

He took a breath, preparing to confess to everything that happened with Elafa and her child and the two guards that night - and then the words never came out.

There was a figure walking through the ruins of the old temple.

"Well?" Urgeat inquired impatiently. "If you wish to add to the list of your crimes, I will not stop you, but, by the Wheel, make it quick."

The stranger was wearing a heavy black cloak with an unusually large, baggy hood. Edér couldn't see their face, but they were moving, quickly and purposefully, towards the gathering.

"I take it you have changed your mind," Urgeat said. "Very well. Let us continue - "

"Stop!"

The cloaked stranger had crossed the temple, and stopped at the foot of the tree. She was the one speaking; by the sound of it, she was a woman.

Urgeat let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

"Miss,” he said, "Perhaps you failed to notice that we are in the middle of an official proceeding. Whatever business you have, I am sure it can wait a minute longer."

"It cannot," she said. "By the duc's authority, I demand that you stop this execution right now."

"By the duc's - excuse me, who are you?"

In response, she simply reached up and pulled back her strange, heavy hood.

A murmur rolled through the crowd.

She was Ondra-touched. Blue skin the color of a clear sky; black eyes with no whites, two glowing dots for pupils; glowing white hair, a crescent moon-shaped growth on her forehead, and two curving horns, glowing also.

That last part explained the weird shape of her hood.

Edér had never seen this kind of godlike before, but he had heard of them.

During the war, word was that there was one of them in his division. Edér had never met the guy himself, but heard that he could fly, and that any wounds he received would heal right up. Whether the rumors about his blessings were true or not, it was impossible to say now; a few weeks in, the godlike took the brunt of a spell from a Readceran priest and died.

"Agent Selene Moonborn of Dunryd Row," said the Ondra-touched woman. "You may address me as Agent Moonborn, or Selene. Do you need to see my credentials?"

Moonborn... She sure was.

Wait - Dunryd Row?

"I would greatly appreciate that," Urgeat said, but his tone was no longer as snide as it was a moment ago. In fact, Edér was pretty sure that he heard a tinge of fear in his voice.

No wonder. If this was an actual Dunryd cipher, something serious was going on.

Selene approached the magistrate, her cloak swaying silently, and held something out to him. The drizzling rain didn't seem to bother her much.

While Urgeat was inspecting the item she handed him, she looked up over his shoulder. Her eyes met Edér's for a moment, and almost immediately moved on, taking in the rest of the hanging tree.

Was he just a part of the scenery to her, dead already?

"...Very well," Urgeat said, finally. "Welcome to Gilded Vale, Agent Moonborn. As you can see, you find us at an unfortunate hour; we have just lost our lord’s heir, and now our lady as well. Fortunately, her murderer has already been apprehended, and we are in the process of bringing him to justice."

Selene's eyes returned to the magistrate standing before her.

"That man?"

"Edér Teylecg. A troublesome individual. Eothasian." 

Urgeat spat out that last word like it was a curse.

"I see," Selene said. "Unfortunately, you can't execute him."

What?

"...What?"

That was probably the first and last time he and Urgeat had ever agreed on something.

"The murder of a thayn, or a thayn's immediate family, falls under the duc's jurisdiction," Selene explained matter-of-factly. "In the absence of a representative of the duc's authority, the local authorities may investigate and persecute the crime; however, with a Dunryd Row investigator present, that is no longer the case. In other words, you can't execute this man until I have conducted a thorough investigation and determined that he is guilty; in fact, if you do hang him right now, it will be considered a crime and I will have to arrest you."

Something mesmerizing was happening. The longer she spoke, the more Urgeat seemed to shrink away from her; at no point did she raise her voice, but there was an underlying pressure to the calm, even cadence of her speech that seemed to have a nearly violent effect on the magistrate.

Even with a noose around his neck, Edér found that entertaining to watch. Judging by what he was seeing in the crowd, he wasn't the only one. Though, the villagers weren't exactly on the agent's side, either; many of them were smirking, but just as many were eyeing her with suspicion.

Urgeat made one last feeble attempt to resist:

"Lord Raedric - "

"I would be very grateful if you could arrange an audience with the lord for me," Selene said. "Tell him that a Dunryd Row agent arrived to investigate the murder of his wife, and would like to hear his testimony. I would like to see the body, as well."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I will relay your message to His Lordship," Urgeat said, finally.

Then, the magistrate turned around. His face was even more grey and dead-looking than it usually was.

"You heard the agent," he said to the surrounding guards. "Take him down."

If Selene's appearance earned a murmur from the crowd, the sound they were making now was more like the distant rumble of thunder.

Something was happening that had never happened before, and now every mind in Gilded Vale was feverishly working on the same question: what does this mean for me?

Every mind except for Edér's, that is. He was a little busy trying to come to terms with standing on solid ground again.

Still cold, still with his hands tied, still accused of a murder he didn't commit - but, somehow, alive.

The same guard that took the noose off his neck walked him up to where Selene and the magistrate were talking.

The crowd around them was beginning to disperse. Urgeat never gave an explicit dismissal, but the guards had stepped away from the tree and started giving the rest of the villagers move-along-now looks.

Most folks got the hint, and those who didn't got pulled along by those who did.

Selene glanced at Edér again as he approached; this time her gaze lingered. It felt as though she was assessing something about him.

Eventually she nodded to herself, seemingly having reached a conclusion, and said to the guard standing beside him:

“Untie him, please.”

The man just shuffled in place awkwardly and looked at Urgeat.

"I don’t know if this is wise," the magistrate said. "He may become violent."

Only if you keep talking, Edér thought; usually this kind of thought would come right out of his mouth, but not this time.

He wasn't in a hurry to go back to the tree just yet.

"If he does, I'll protect you," Selene said. 

Her voice and expression were dead serious, but she was definitely taking the piss at Urgeat here.

Edér decided that he liked her.

The guard unsheathed his sword and began to saw at the rope at Edér's wrists; meanwhile, Selene turned to him and began speaking.

"Edér Teylecg, by the duc's authority, I am placing you under arrest. No harm will come to you unless you attempt to resist or flee, or your guilt is proven."

The rope fell off.

"Noted," Edèr said.

It was as if she didn't hear.

"Is there a jail in Gilded Vale?" Selene asked, turning to Urgeat again.

The magistrate smiled thinly:

"There are the lord's dungeons."

"Understood," she said. "House arrest it is, then. Please inform the vilagers that they are not to visit the suspect while the investigation is ongoing."

And, just like that, Edèr’s fate was decided.

*

The walk back to his house was silent.

Edér was leading the way, the agent following behind. He could barely hear her steps; a couple times, he even got the urge to turn around and check that she was still there.

He didn't. Wouldn’t want to do anything that she could interpret as "trying to flee or resist"; Edèr had a funny feeling that, despite not having any visible weapons and being a head shorter than him, Selene had her ways of making him regret that.

His mind was still all over the place, trying to work out what his current reality looked like.

He didn't die. He was walking the path back to his house, which, about half an hour ago, he was never going to do again.

There was a Dunryd Row cipher walking behind him. She somehow knew about the murder that happened just this morning; she couldn't have come all the way from Defiance Bay, could she?

Where did she come from?

Why did she stop the hanging?

It was fun watching her have a go at Urgeat, but, now that the magistrate was gone and Edér was alone with her, he did very much want to know what she was planning to do with him.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know what a cipher could do.

There were plenty of folks who came to Gilded Vale saying they were one, and claimed all sorts of powers: some said they could see the future, some that they could read minds and souls. Most of them turned out to be a fraud, and at least a few of them ended up on the tree.

Nothing he could remember about them gave him a frame of reference for what a real Dunryd Row cipher was capable of.

Killing him, probably. Whatever else they taught their agents, Edér was pretty sure they had that part covered.

He was still thinking about that when his house came into view.

Suddenly, Selene's voice sounded behind his back: 

"Stop."

He stopped.

"Is that your house?" she asked.

"...Yeah."

"Do you live alone?"

"I do."

"There's someone inside."

…Well, that wasn't right.

"It's just one person," Selene said after a moment. "We can approach. Stay behind me."

Before Edér could ask how she could tell, she walked past him and headed straight for the door.

The only option left was to follow her.

Up close, Edér could hear it too: something was happening inside. There was a heavy scraping noise, like something was being dragged across the floor.

The door gave no resistance when Selene pushed it open; the bolt got broken earlier that morning.

She stepped inside.

The room was a mess. There were drawers open; his clothes were in a heap on the bed; the tools that were supposed to hang on the walls were laid out on the big dining table.

The scraping noise was coming from the far end of the house, where a man was trying to drag a chest out of the corner.

The chest was heavy. Edér knew that, because that's where his Saint's War armor was; his sword and shield, too.

There wasn't much left in the house worth keeping under lock and key, but his armor and weapons were two of the things he did think could be stolen.

Turns out, he was right to worry.

"Excuse us," Selene said.

The man stopped struggling with the chest and froze.

"...Who's that?"

The shadows made it hard to recognize him, but, as soon as Edér heard the voice, he knew.

"Algar, you sheepfucker! Couldn't wait 'til I was dead?"

At the sound of his voice, the man jumped and straightened up at once, turning around to look at them, white as a sheet.

Sure enough, they were looking at Algar Bramweg: reedy, thin-haired and watery-eyed. Came back from the war with burns on his face and left arm, but he came back. 

He was a meek guy, but Edér used to think he was alright. Until that moment, that is.

"Edér!" Algar nearly squeaked. "Wh-what are you doing here? Aren't you - "

"Hanging on a tree?" Edér asked grimly. "Matter of fact, I was. They let me down so I could see who was in here, stealing my stuff."

"Well, I - I thought you wouldn't be needing it anymore!" Algar glanced around with the look of a cornered animal in his eyes. "...I'll put it back. I'll put it all back. I - what happened? Who is this?"

With that last question, he gestured wildly at Selene, who was just standing there the entire exchange.

"Agent Selene Moonborn, Dunryd Row," she said. "I take it you weren't in the square when I arrived. All you need to know for now is that the hanging has been postponed, and this building is now off limits. Please return everything you may have taken from here; it could be evidence."

Algar looked completely lost, now.

"...Evidence?"

"In the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder," Selene clarified. "Like I said, this is all you need to know right now. If you're confused, ask one of your friends who were present for the hanging; I don't have time to repeat the details."

Algar looked over at him.

Edér shrugged:

"I'd do as she says, if I were you."

When Algar was done emptying his pockets, it turned out that he had picked up a couple of smaller tools, Edér’s entire whiteleaf stash, a handful of copper pands - and the book of prayers that survived year after year of purges in spite of Raedric’s efforts, safely hidden on top of one of the ceiling beams.

That last one puzzled him.

Algar didn’t just take the book - he was looking for it. There was no way for him to stumble upon it on accident.

“Alright,” Edér said, “The coins and the whiteleaf, I get. Tools, too. But what did you need that for?”

Algar didn’t quite meet his eyes when he answered:

“Well, so many of those got burned or thrown away, I figured - the right folks would pay a fortune for one that’s still intact.”

So he was going to sell it. Made sense; more sense than Algar secretly being a devout Eothasian, anyhow.

Once Algar had left, Selene shut the door behind him. She regarded the broken bolt for a moment, then said:

"This will have to be fixed."

It wasn't clear whether she was talking to herself or to him.

Then, she turned around and addressed him directly:

“Please, take a seat.”

It was damn weird to be invited to sit down in his own house. Felt like an insult more than anything else; Edér had half a mind to say something about it, but thought better of it.

He pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down.

As soon as he did, he regretted it. His body realized that he was no longer on his feet, and took it as an invitation to crash; immediately, his limbs felt heavy, and his head began to spin.

The entire morning was now catching up to him. Waking up to guards in his house; being dragged to the square; standing in the rain, counting the seconds left until his last breath.

How long had he been awake for? An hour? Felt like two entire days, at this point.

Black bones of Eothas, he’d almost - 

No, wasn’t the time for that. He’d think about that later, or maybe never.

He kind of liked that second option better.

His hands were shaking just a little; probably because he was still really cold.

Edér looked up at the agent.

“Mind if I start the fire?”

“...Oh.” It was as if she’d just realized the same thing he did. “Not at all. If you want to change your clothes, I’ll wait by the door.”

Well, that was nice of her.

He took her up on that offer.

Once he’d gotten a fire going in the firepit and changed into the clothes Algar so kindly left out for him on the bed, it was much easier to believe that he was, in fact, still alive.

Algar was going to take his whiteleaf, but he’d left the pipe right where it was. Figures; he had his own.

“You smoke, agent?” Edér asked, just as she stepped back into the room.

“I don’t, but you can go ahead.”

And so they sat down at the table, the fire in the middle of the room casting their shadows onto the far wall, the smoke from his pipe rising like a sheer curtain between them.

He was at home, now, and a little more certain that he could handle whatever Selene was about to throw at him.

“Suppose I should thank you,” Edér said. “If it weren't for you showing up when you did, would have been one more corpse on that tree - and Algar would’ve been smoking my whiteleaf just about now.”

For the first time since she walked out into the square, he saw Selene’s expression become something other than a distant, observing look.

Her eyes narrowed just a little, her pupils twinkling like twin stars in the night sky; she didn’t really smile, but her face softened in a way that made him think that maybe it was her way of smiling.

“It was a close call,” she said. “I’m glad I could stop them from hanging an innocent.”

Whatever Edér expected her to say, that was not it.

He didn't think he'd feel that much relief at hearing her say it, either. Of course he didn't murder the lady; he knew that. Half of Gilded Vale probably knew that too, but none of them would ever say it out loud if they wanted to stay safe.

But how did Selene know?

"...You figure that out with your cipher powers?"

The only other option he could think of was that she killed the lady, and Edér really hoped it wasn’t that.

“Good guess,” Selene said.

Her eyes drifted away from him for a moment, like she was considering something, or hesitating.

Finally, she said:

"I'll get straight to the point: I wasn't sent here to investigate the murder of Lady Ygrid. As far as I know, no one outside of Gilded Vale even knows that she’s dead.”

It took him a moment to process what she was saying.

“...Wait, so… what’s all this for?”

Selene sighed. Something was gone from her voice and her posture now - that invisible pressure she used against Urgeat. It was as if an act had been dropped.

“I came to Gilded Vale on Dunryd Row business that had nothing to do with Lady Ygrid. I happened to arrive just as an execution was happening. I read the mind of the man about to be hanged and knew that he didn’t commit the crime he was being accused of, so… I intervened in the only way I could think of.”

…By lying to Urgeat.

Wait.

She read his mind?

So that was true about ciphers, then.

Oh gods. How much did she see? Did she know about - no, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t have helped him, had she known.

Was she listening right now?

“I’m not reading your mind right now,” Selene said.

Edér couldn’t help but laugh nervously:

“You’re not really helping your own case here. How’d you know I just thought that?”

She shrugged:

“It’s the first thought people have when they realize I can do this.”

Oh.

“...Well, alright, that’s fair.”

“Sometimes, I can’t help but overhear the thoughts of others,” Selene said. “Usually, those thoughts are surface-level and charged with intense emotion. Feelings of pain or anger, for example. In your case, you were thinking pretty loudly that you didn’t do it.”

Well, now he had to ask.

“...Was I… thinking about anything else?”

Selene met his eyes, unblinking.

“You were cold. And you wanted the magistrate to shut up.”

“...That sounds about right.”

She didn’t hear about the bodies in the cellar. He must have had some unbelievable luck.

Better not waste it.

“From now on, I’ll always let you know when I’m listening to your thoughts,” Selene said. “I’m saying this because I would like us to be allies.”

She leaned forward, cutting through the protective curtain of whiteleaf smoke and bringing her face just a little closer to his. The glowing markings on her cheeks, a dot and an upturned crescent moon under each eye, stood out starkly against her skin.

“I want you to help me find the real murderer of Lady Ygrid.”

This answered the question of what she wanted from him, at least.

"Why do you think I can help?" Edér asked. "If you really read my mind, you saw that I don’t know anything."

"About the murder, maybe, but you know Gilded Vale," Selene said. "I could use the help of a local. And, for better or worse, you're the only one in town I trust right now - seeing as you're the only one who wasn't almost an accomplice in another murder today."

"...Wait, what?"

She gave him an amused look.

"I'm talking about your murder, Edér. What do you think that hanging was?"

Well, that was a charged question, wasn't it.

He glanced over at the Eothasian book of prayers, still resting on the far end of the table. Was there even a point in trying to hide it again?

"Some folks 'round here would call it justice," he said, finally. 

Selene followed his gaze to the book, gave a little nod and withdrew, putting some more distance between them again.

"I wish I could say it's not the same in Defiance Bay, but I'd be lying," she said. "Where you have Raedric, we have the Dozens. They don't have nearly as much power, and that's the best thing I can say about them."

"Seems you don't like them much."

"I don't. Like your magistrate, they like to point fingers, and make my work - finding the truth - harder."

She paused for a moment, then asked:

"You fought in the war, didn't you?"

"I did," Edér said. "On the right side, mind you. Got any doubts, you can read my mind about it."

Selene shook her head.

"I believe you. I just wanted to say - that’s another reason you’re a good ally to have. You did the right thing, even if it meant standing up to your god; that takes more than bravery."

Edér nearly choked on the puff he'd just taken from his pipe.

Gods damn. Would he ever figure out what she was about? Every time it felt like he was starting to get a beat on the conversation, she'd hit him with something else.

"Now here’s something you don't hear a lot these days," he said.

Now Selene smiled, but there wasn't an ounce of joy in it.

"I dedicated my life to digging up things others desperately want forgotten," she said. "Maybe I haven't gone to war against Ondra, but I can't imagine she's too happy with me, either. You had to go even further; I think that calls for respect, not persecution."

Edér stared at her for a moment.

"I've got to ask," he said, finally. "Are all of you Dunryd folks like this, or is it just you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You're getting real involved in something you've got no stakes in. Sharing all kinds of opinions. Round here, that's how you end up on the tree; trust me, I know."

Something in her expression shifted; it became cold and pointed, and, for a moment, Edér was sure that he fucked up.

"I don't like seeing people be disposed of," Selene said. 

And then that chilling look was gone.

"...Besides, solving crimes is what I do. I wasn't ordered to investigate this one, but I don't think my superiors would mind, as long as I completed my original mission as well."

Edér decided that it was probably safe to start breathing again.

"You're goddamn weird, agent," he said. "I don't know what exactly I can do, but - I think I wanna help you."

Again, that smiling-without-smiling look.

"I'm glad," Selene said.

"Well... What's our move, then?"

She regarded him for a moment.

"Take a minute to recover. Clean up, eat something," she said. "Then, we'll go see the crime scene."

Notes (spoilers for The Reaping):

In The Reaping, Edér and his ex Elafa end up killing two of Raedric's soldiers, who were threatening Elafa and her Hollowborn child. Edér hides their bodies in an abandoned house; Elafa leaves the town with her child the same night.

#pillars of eternity #edér teylecg #herearedragons writing #project: the hanged man #and so it begins #oc: watcher selene #technically my birthday is tomorrow but I'm posting this early so people can get around to actually reading it

[that-ari-blogger]

"Do you want to know a secret?" (The Portal)

I think that the rules of writing are overblown.

Don’t get me wrong, there are things you should and shouldn’t do when telling a story, but those are more guidelines than actual rules.

Case and point, She-Ra is a story predicated on repetition, which shouldn’t be as entertaining as it is. The “bad ending” is effectively another season, which is a unique premise, and a threat that the story absolutely delivers on multiple times.

But, to me at least, the story is enthralling, and keeps me coming back to it. It works, not despite its repetition, but because of it.

Although, that isn’t exactly true. I’ve described the story as cyclical before, but it isn’t entirely. It’s a spiral, because the cycle of abuse is an innately unstable dynamic, and will only end in tragedy if it isn’t broken.

If you don’t want to take my word for this, I give you the season 3 finale, The Portal, which spells out the series’ thesis in about as blunt of a way as is possible.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Watchmen, Batman: The Killing Joke, Superman: For The Man Who Has Everything, Justice League Unlimited)

I grew up reading Alan Moore comics, and if you don’t know who that is, I both pity you and envy you. Alan Moore is one of the most misrepresented writers of the modern age, and its entirely his own fault.

Moore is known for writing V For Vendetta, The Killing Joke, and Watchmen, all of which have a distinctly grim tone. He is one of those writers who seems to care more about the story he is telling than how much people enjoy it, and so he usually has a point to make.

Unfortunately, we end up with the Cyber Punk dilemma, in which Alan Moore’s genuinely unrivalled literary talent leads to people really enjoying his stories, which means they unintentionally miss the actual themes of those stories. In the case of Watchmen, this led to people seeing the gore and the violence and the depression and trying to replicate that.

This is where we get The Boys from, shallow sadness and spectacle. If that’s your thing, go for it, but it isn’t mine.

But I bring up Moore in a discussion of She-Ra for a reason, and that is the relentless hope inherent in his writing. In Moore’s stories, hope prevails every single time, with the only exception being extremely subjective. The Killing Joke focuses on the idea that everyone is one bad day away from becoming evil, and that gets proven wrong. Watchmen is about how small humans are and how annihilation changes people, yet the characters are able to find joy and an escape from their trauma, and show kindness to each other even when the sky almost literally falls on their heads.

The Boys isn’t very good as an adaptation of Moore’s themes (In my opinion). If you want one that actually understands the source material, watch The Incredibles, or Justice League Unlimited, or She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

I have praised She-Ra for its animation and pacing, as well as its overarching story, but I think its greatest strength is its humanity. Characters in She-Ra are incredibly fragile, psychologically, and yet they are incredibly resilient.

Catra and Adora’s development gets methodically and efficiently destroyed by Shadow Weaver, and yet Adora becomes a hero and Catra… well, we’ll see how that works out in later seasons.

One of my favourite Moore stories is a superman story from 1985 called For The Man Who Has Everything. This was adapted into an episode of Justice League Unlimited, but I prefer the comic.

The story follows Superman being forced to live out his greatest desire. It doesn’t sound that bad, but the point is that he is kept happy and therefore out of the picture while villains can do villain things. It’s very much a story from its time, and I love it.

Interestingly, however, Superman’s dream takes him back to Krypton, where he isn’t Superman, and he is happy. He has a wife, and a son, and he never lost anything. He can spend time with his parents.

Even with the shenanigans that ensue (because this is a comic), his time in this dream is fun, and relaxing. Until he works out he’s dreaming, and has to let it go. Superman gets the choice of happiness, or duty, and he takes duty.

The scene in which he says goodbye to his “son”, who does not exist and therefore does not matter, is heartbreaking, and if I ever do comic reviews, I’m talking about this one first.

I now turn your gaze to queen Angella, from whose perspective this story is being told.

The episode actually does a bit of a bait and switch with the point of view, convincing its audience that it is about either Glimmer or Bow, and it kind of is, but not entirely.

Angella has everything she could possibly want, her daughter, her husband, her city. There is no war, there is nothing. Everything is perfect.

“This is perfect, my love, but it’s not real. I remember now. I miss you so much, but Glimmer needs my help, and I can’t stay with nothing but memories. Goodbye Micah”

Does this ring any bells?

I want to point out that this is still Catra’s hallucination, the thing that she wants. So why does she want Angella and Glimmer to be happy?

Catra wants Adora, and arguably loves her, but in an extremely dysfunctional way that says "if I can't have her, nobody can". She is petty, and fully the villain in this episode.

So, the way that she gets Adora to be hers is by ensuring that the people who accepted her would have no space for her in their lives. Why would Glimmer want to spend time with Adora? She has her father. Why would Angella accept Adora? She has her family.

What Catra doesn’t understand is that love isn’t transactional, and that these people are genuinely kind and accepting.

There's the idea of "what you are in the dark." The concept of what a person does when there are no consequences. Characters in this episode keep getting moments like this, when they know that they are fading from existence, and are given moments to show their true colours. Entrapta chooses to be grateful, Bow chooses to be reassuring, and Glimmer chooses to be emotional.

The thing that breaks people out of Catra’s reality is the unexpected. Its Catra’s lack of understanding of people that leads to those people being themselves and instinctively breaking free.

Case and point, Angella and Glimmer help Adora, and because this world was completely unprepared for that minour act of kindness, it can’t keep them contained.

Now, I know what scene you are expecting me to talk about, so I’m going to make you wait, and talk about Catra instead.

Catra is the villain of this episode. If it wasn’t for this being set in her mind, she would have zero nuance. By which I mean, everything about her as a character here is done externally, the way she acts makes her seem like a generic, abusive partner.

Because let me be clear about Catra’s actions here. This is abuse, and it is treated as such by the story. The show doesn’t make apologies for her in this episode, or try to justify it here. Subtlety be damned here, Catra is abusive.

And so, I will read her this way, for this episode. We have seen the nuance leading up to this moment, and we will see a redemption arc. But this is Catra at her lowest, and so I will put aside the past and future to examine the present and the present only. Catra is abusive.

There are two ways you could read this drop in subtlety. One, there are parts of this character that you aren’t seeing, left blank. This episode is presenting you with a character and not showing you the whole thing. Or two, this is a character who has been broken by the story, almost as if parts of her have been removed or lost. Catra is now a fragment of her former self.

I wonder if any of this is reflected in her character design.

“If you hadn’t gotten captured, your sword wouldn’t have opened the portal. If you hadn’t gotten the sword and been the world’s worst She-Ra, none of this would have happened. Admit it Adora, the world would still be standing if you had never come through that portal in the first place.”

This hurts Adora because it’s true. Ok that’s unfair, and inaccurate, but it’s not entirely wrong, and that’s the kicker.

Catra isn’t making this up, she’s just leaving out important details. Because of course, if Adora hadn’t been captured, things would have worked out better, but who was it that captured her? Who was it that made the choice to pull the switch? Who was it that destroyed the world out of spite?

Catra blames Adora for her own actions, and that is, once again, abuse. Which is why it’s so satisfying when Adora stands up for herself.

“I didn’t make you pull the switch. I didn’t make you do anything. I didn’t break the world. But I am gonna fix it.”

Hope is relentless.

But I also want to point out the claiming of agency here. Catra was weirdly insightful at the start of her monologue.

“It's always the same with you, Adora. ‘I have to do this. Oh, we have to do that.’”

Adora’s word choice is a flaw. I looked back at the past few seasons and did a word search through the scripts. I don’t think Adora uses the word “want” more than once at all up to this point.

Essentially, Catra sees things, but extrapolates exactly the wrong message from it. It’s almost as if she’s only seeing half of the world, like her vision is impaired or incomplete somehow.

I wonder if that is reflected in her character design.

In any case, Adora frequently says that she “has to” do things. “Need” is also something she says a lot, and this has the effect of making her an extremely passive character in her own story.

Like I said, this is a moment of agency, but the entire story is a story about that agency. The characters are making choices to either get out of or go along with the downward spiral that the tragic form has set out for them. Catra made the choice to follow, but Adora didn’t. Adora’s word choice makes her look like she has made no choice, but a lack of action is still a decision.

So here, when Adora declares she is “gonna fix it", she takes her agency and decides to walk in a different direction.

This reminds me of an earlier episode, that being Promise.

Hey, look at that action. Looks familiar, right?

This is the only episode I found where Adora says she wants something, although her actual wording is “I never wanted to leave you” when talking to Catra. Go figure.

The moment in question was the episode’s namesake.

“It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.” “You promise?” “I promise.”

Agency. Adora is making a decision to stay with Catra and protect her. She is knowingly choosing to do something.

It’s telling that the two most prominent times Adora has done this have been to protect people. It’s almost as if she wants to be useful, or helpful, or protective. Almost as if she wants to be wanted. It would seem Adora is just as addicted to the highs of Shadow Weaver’s programming as Catra, she just has a better support group.

Although this isn’t a full victory, she doesn’t want to save the world, she is just going to, – we still  still don’t know what Adora wants – this is a partial success. Hold onto that idea, it will come back later.

“Do you want to know a secret? I am a coward. I've always been the queen who stays behind. Micah was the brave one. And then Glimmer, oh, Glimmer. So much like her father. And once again I stayed behind, letting her make the hard choices, letting her be brave for me. I told myself I was being responsible, but, Adora, I was just scared. And then I met you. You inspired us. You inspired me. Not because it was your destiny, but because you never let fear stop you. And now I choose to be brave.”

Queen Angella is voiced by Reshma Shetty. She doesn’t get much praise, but for this monologue, I think she deserves so much more than she got.

In my fourth post about She-Ra, I discussed Adora’s ability to inspire and linked her to Batman, something I stand by to this day.

In universe, She-Ra isn’t important because she’s a warrior. She exists as a leader, to protect people and pull them into a greater tomorrow. She shines a light for others to follow.

That is what happens in The Portal, Adora succeeds not by fighting the enemy, but by being herself. She only becomes She-Ra to destroy the portal at the end. To save Etheria, the giant sword lady isn’t important.

I mentioned earlier that humans are fragile and resilient at the same time, and I give you Angella as evidence for that claim. Here is someone who has lost her husband, and makes decisions based on that fear and trauma. But when push comes to shove, the fear is secondary.

Reality falling apart lets directors get away with true nonsense. Micah's staff has no reason to be here, other than the fact that it makes a phenomenal metaphor for Angella's trauma. But that's all you need.

Jon Pertwee was the third doctor, and while he isn’t nearly as iconic or influential as some of his predecessors and successors, he did deliver the line that defined the whole series.

“Courage isn't just a matter of not being frightened, you know. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway.”

I started my discussion of this season by claiming that this is the season in which the characters put a dent the tragic cycle, and I have mentioned several times that the cycle of abuse is unstable. So, here is my thesis.

Catra’s arc fails, not in a story sense, but in a personal one. The idea that every character has a single story arc is something is a specific bugbear of mine, and Catra is kind of my case and point for that. She has a redemption arc up to this point, and she ends up as a villain. Then the story continues and she has to start again and decide where to go next. She has no choice but to move in a different direction from here.

But she tasted redemption already. The crimson wastes gave her a taste of what she is missing, and it offered her an out. It gave her a choice, she made one, and consequences were served. I can’t help but imagine that for the entirety of the next season, she is considering running off to the wastes again.

That idea of consequences comes back with Adora, who makes a good decision, and is rewarded for it. Or rather, she makes a decision to actually do something. Adora becomes an active character, and that is what starts to break the cycle. Because now the motion is halted, and the puppets are pulling the strings.

But, this isn’t a complete victory. Angella is lost, Entrapta and Micah are still gone, none of the villains actually get defeated. For an episode with lasting consequences, not much actually happened.

This episode is big on the fact that this is all a dream, which should destroy the engagement. But it doesn’t. In reality, it preserves the status quo physically, but lets all the characters spontaneously experience character development. The victory of this season is that growth, but it came at a cost.

But I want to briefly talk about that final shot, before I go, because this is how you introduce a villain. Sure, the voice acting is impeccable, and the cinematography gives an air of mystery and menace to this threat, but the showstopper is the reveal that this villain can destroy a moon with ease.

You see a fleet of ships, there was no battle here, just a villain showing off for nobody but himself. He gets interrupted by the plot, and he’s busy DESTROYING A MOON.

Horde Prime is f***ing terrifying.

This scene is in this episode too. It's meant to show how reality is falling apart, but I actually have a reading of why it's here. I think Catra wanted to preserve who Adora was, hence why she is the source of all the paradoxes. But Catra doesn't understand that Mara's legacy and Razz's teaching are a big part of Adora.

Final Thoughts

I’m going to talk about the implications for later seasons for a moment here, so if you’re avoiding spoilers, now you know.

I think Catra being the villain here makes her redemption so much more compelling, because she actually needs it. There is a difference between this and, for example, Hunter from The Owl House, who doesn’t really need redemption because he hasn’t done anything wrong.

Catra here has very much done wrong and is evil as defined by the show. But the show’s message is that anyone can change, and that the cycle of abuse isn’t set in stone.

So, Catra will redeem herself, and she will struggle, and fall back, and try again. Forgive her or not, the redemption is the effort to be better.

Next week (or whenever the next post is released, I have a terrible work schedule), I will be discussing The Coronation, so stick around if that interests you.

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#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #what's so special about...? #character analysis #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #she ra #spop glimmer #she ra spop #spop angella #spop adora #spop catra #alan moore #for the man who has everything #king micah