#i always try to remember that some people's responses to something big is to clam up and become more passive... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

josiebelladonna · 2 years

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if daveigh/greendruidess/whatever she goes by now is discouraged from writing in the wake of the infamous incident... i want every single one of you to know that i am fully responsible for

my own little world over here because the fact she couldn’t sort out her own shit before she got to writing three years ago has absolutely nothing to do with me and never did, either. i’ve said this before but the only reason i ever bring her up in the last year or so anymore is to make fun of the whole thing. when you’ve been through enough bullshit in life, you learn to laugh at things (and it’s even better if you find the right people to laugh along with).

i mention this because, just out of morbid curiosity just now, i checked her ao3 profile: aside from like loving the dead, she hasn’t updated any of her other wips since february. and my first thought was “wow, that’s... horribly depressing.” shit, i feel bad that i haven’t touched xenon dreams since january and to be frank, i can’t believe it’s been that long, especially with my love of sci-fi and whatnot.

i’ve said this before, too: i do feel bad for her and when this whole thing started, i genuinely didn’t want to go through with it. i think i always will, too (i have too much of a heart, hating is not in my nature, contrary to what she might tell you) and it always kills me to hear about someone giving up something they loved doing because someone else gave them hell of a tongue-lashing. it’s a fear that’s way too common and all too real in the art world, in particular. so many people have given up or will give up because of criticism and it’s something that so many artists fear as well: including me! that was a big fear of mine for years, and in fact, i still feel it. i always clam up whenever i get any comments on anything, not just a piece of art. but at the same time, i also think, wow. your ego was far more fragile than i realized. especially when i remember just how out-of-touch she is.

(and just for some perspective, i consider myself way out-of-touch because yesterday was the first time in... jeez, i don’t even know how long, since i last wandered over to the type o tag just to see what’s going on over there. i’ve been laying low on ao3 lately, aside from the updates and the odd kudos here and there. i haven’t scoured a tag in weeks: writing several thousand words in an afternoon takes a lot out of you and i’ve been focusing on moving lately, so i just haven’t been able to). apparently, she has it in her head that i’m calling people out left and right for stealing, and moreover, she’s addressing me in quite literally the most passive-aggressive way possible.

well... first of all, obviously not. i have way better things to do and it’s really something you have to be on guard for: you don’t go out of your way to scold someone for that, no one does unless they’re actually the victim of it. i’ve lamented how it seems totally bass-ackwards now, that the thieves are the ones to defend and the artist/writer/creator is the one to receive bullshit, and tumblr is an utter bastion for that behavior (why do you think so many artists on here add “do not repost” to their art?), but i’m just sitting here scratching my head at that.

i do remember that chapter of like loving the dead she posted back on my birthday in april, and i have no doubt it was in response to me trying to talk to her last summer to cool things down a bit. the whole vibe of that was she thinks i’m a hater because she’s got a popular fic.

look, there’s a lot of things i don’t like, but i cannot bring myself to hate another person, no matter shitty or toxic they are (and i couldn’t be bothered with things like hits or likes, either, i stopped caring about that during my hiatus and wattpad completely killed it for me).

i actually don’t even hate her at all. i hate that she condones horrible behavior like plagiarism and shameless copying/taking and doesn’t see anything wrong with it. i hate her attitude and how it’s apparently too much to ask of her to throw her weight around (the way she sits in my memory is she looks like regina george in about 30 years but with red hair). i hate how she brags all the time and also her sense of entitlement that’s apparently only gotten worse with time, and i couldn’t help but react to it in the past, either. but as a person, though? no way. you couldn’t pay me money to hate her as a person.

if you ask me, she’s the real hater here. she’s still thinking about that incident and talking about it two years later when there was absolutely no reason to (hell, there was no reason for it six months afterwards). yeah, dead man walking is my side of the story, no doubt about that, but it’s got way more purpose than that: it’s a story that i’ve wanted to write for a long time now and i finally found the opportunity to do so with the events that happened between me and her - i needed a moral or an underlying theme of some sort (it is rated teen and up, after all 😉). she’s just vitriolic and browbeating and projecting onto me, and all i can say is is grudges are fucking stupid.

i got my anger out immediately after it happened through my st. anger drawings, the dead trilogy, and the remainder of my at land’s end series. aside from the odd outburst along the way, i said everything i needed to say and i put it to bed, especially when alex entered my life. i don’t hold grudges, and i’ve never been able to, either.

it literally blows my mind how way too many people on here are like “i have a grudge against this person/i resent this person” and don’t see anything wrong with it. grudges are, at their core, completely petty and pointless and they only end up destroying you, the bearer of the grudge, in the end. really, imagine yourself 5/10/15 years from now, still feeling angry at the other person over something stupid that they let go of right away. you’re going to look so ridiculous and you’re going to wish for that time back, as well. grudges are not just stupid and pointless: they’re sad. like, this is going to be your legacy, man. forget everything else, this is how i’m always going to remember you. was it really worth it in the end? you can’t help but feel bad for the person with the grudge... but you also can’t, because hey, you were the one who stayed angry all this time, not me. i was just trying to live my life, unlike you, letting your anger cloud your vision and swell up your ego to the size of the earth.

when that incident happened (if you don’t know: i was just trying to be friendly with her during anthrax’s livestream from wacken during quarantine - you know. fellow fangirl to another. innocuous fun stuff in a world gone horribly wrong - and over here, she was getting all up in arms about someone annoying and obnoxious, and when she blocked me on here and on wattpad was when i realized she was referring to me), and i looked back on her behavior (which is how i found out her plagiarism in the first place), i saw right away that she’s all-talk and no-walk, but it’s being magnified big time now because she refuses to let go of anger and she’s made it her persona, too. she can go as dark and gothic as she wants: i’m always going to look at her name and think “angry, bitter person.”

i clearly don’t even give a shit about any of this anymore, and i haven’t since the end of 2020, either. i can barely be bothered to go through the type o tag anymore, or any fic tag for that matter because fandom as a whole has followed her lead. aside from things happening on my end, it’s hard to find fic (particularly band fic) on ao3 anymore that feels like it was written from a good place. it’s all clique-y and snide and hard to understand and gives me a headache and i don’t know if tiktokification of everything in existence now is to blame or not.

like i said, if she (or anyone else) throws in the towel, it’s not my call to make and it never was, either. you’re the one driving the ship: i’m just the madwoman in the attic.

#saying this on the heels of the latest couple of chapters of dead man walking #daveighmustaine #xxgreendruidessxx #fanfic woes #fic woes #ao3 authors #text #grudges are dumb #let this be a lesson

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lolita-lollipop · 3 years

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Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

#yandere aizawa #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasmic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #yandere siren #yandere fantasy #yandere x child reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic obsession

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

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

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

#sirius black #james potter #pascal dumais #kasey winter #sergei ivanov #thomas walker #rookie #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #pre-cap #friendship

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an-angel-in-the-garden · 3 years

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I know they're more or less minor characters, but could I request relationship hcs for the Iscariot organization (hellsing) please?

I haven't watched hellsing in a bit and I don't remember much of them so I looked over the wikis and made it based on that~ Rose

We start with the fact that dating any of them is hard. They fallow a strict code and dont really plan to change the views they have however as you’ve managed to worm your way into their hearts here are some things to know CW: Slightly unhealthy relationship

Alexander Anderson

Anderson is very blunt and your relationship is built on trust and patience because of it

He can be a bit harsh but when you guy have been together for a awhile it he softens up

You’ll have to deal with him always talking about his work with the vampires and the church

Though it might not seem like it he wont be mad if your not religious or worship a different god it might take him some time getting use to it but your his lover and as long as you dont bash his god its cool

Not big on PDA but will hold your hand if public if he’s not working

Calls you love

Gives you a necklace with a small cross on it you dont have to wear it but it means alot for him to give you it

Always ready to protect you with his life

Heinkel Wolfe

She’s straight forward in her approach though she comes off cold and harsh to some she is anything but to you

It takes her a while to grow close to you especially if your not apart of the church but once she does it doesn't really bother her if your not religious all she ask is you take her beliefs serious as she does for you

Heinkel likes to take you on dates mostly to small in the wall cafes but its always nice with her

She has Yumiko look after you if she busy that day so you and her probably become good friends

Please make her meals home cooking is something she loves your putting time in to not only make sure she eats but that’s it good food

Heinkel calls you sweetie in private and by your name or a shorting of it in public

She’s okay with PDA hugs handholding maybe a small kiss as long as her higher ups aren't around she's fine with it

She will try and keep you from her work if your not apart of it already yeah you know of it but there no reason for her to talk about after she just wants your time to be focused on yourselves

Yumiko Takagi

Yumiko is straight forward and fearless on most things in her life this is no different

She’s harder to get together Yumiko isn't very open to people who dont fallow the same path as her so if your not on board with her its gonna take a lot more work for her to view you as some she’s even ok with

Once that bridge is crossed its still rough sailing but it even outs for her tough points you get back lots of love and safety

Give her a hand made gift food or anything like that and she might cry its not often she can clam down for this hectic world and given how she works it easy for her to forget the kindness in the world

Your her fay of light and she treasures you above many things

Yumiko calls you lovely though its rare and she wants you to call her Yumi

PDA is good for her as long as she not around the other members of the church for work she doesn’t mind most thing hand holding hugs light kisses or an arm around you waist is fine

Get use to Heinkel being around that's her close friend and partner if she cant be with you Heinkel will be most times

Yumi can come off a bit strong and it easy for her to get worked up so be sure to help her come back down when she's not working

Enrico Maxwell

Very strict about the relationship

He’s harsh he doesn't want to be but in the end he feels with his responsibly it would be better if people didn't know he was dating someone

Maxwell will make this up to you though nice things and soft love to show you that he truly cares for you

Try's not to talk about his work other then what he does as a bishop and not even all of it

Is pretty controlling but with as mutilative as he is you might not even realize in his eyes he’s keeping you safe

Loves when you call him nicknames when alone like love dear honey it makes him soft remind him you love him and that this is okay

Maxwell calls you darling and really like brushing his hand over you cheek

Forehead kisses all the time

NO PDA ever he loves you yeah but others cant know

Your his little secret

wow okay that took awhile sorry I get kinda busy during the weekdays so I might be slower then but this was fun trying to figure them out more I hope you all like it ~ Rose

#hellsing x reader #hellsing imagines #x reader #reader imagine #enrico maxwell x reader #yumiko x reader #heinkel wolfe x reader #alexander anderson x reader

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animedaddymilkers · 3 years

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Kinkmas 2020: Day Two

Prompt: Pegging w/ Guy

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Pegging, Anal fingering, Oral || Characters: Might Guy, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Still sure you wanna do this?" You questioned for probably the tenth time that day, just making sure Guy hadn't changed his mind.

To no surprise he swiftly nodded at you, "Yes! I want to do this."

When he set his mind to something he never went back on it. This was no different, after you talked over the idea of him bottoming it barely ever left his thoughts. The past couple missions were especially interesting, leaving him distracted and generally off his game. It was a rather private topic, so he didn't want to bring up with any of his friends. Instead, choosing to do his own research through books and the internet. He'd be lying to himself if he said the first video he watched on pegging didn't have him immediately sold on the idea. The notion of experiencing pleasure to the point the men in the videos had was tempting and soon after, Guy told you he wanted to try it.

The actual purchasing of the strap on was a bit embarrassing, but the staff of adult shops are always over friendly to offset the awkwardness. Now, you had the emerald green dick strapped to your waist. The sheer energy and power the attachment gave you was overwhelming and you couldn't wait to wreck your boyfriend with it. Seeing him kneeling in front of you, mouth open and waiting for your cock was enough to get you lust drunk. It'd be rude to keep him waiting, so with a slow and tentative thrust you began to slide the dick into his mouth.

It was a bit obvious he didn't have much experience with this, though he said he had some. In hindsight, it was a nice little bonding experiment for you two as a couple. He could finally understand what you have to go through every time you try to swallow his own monster cock. The best redeeming quality about Guy was that he was ambitious and eager to learn. And it was clearly showing in the way he was quickly learning to twist his head as he went up and down your green cock. Eager might have been an understatement. For something you weren't exactly receiving any physical pleasure from, Guy was sure going hard at the dick sucking.

At a certain point you had to just take a hold of his hair and pull him off your cock just so you two could move onto the main event. When he stood back up you kissed him deeply, the taste of the cherry lube still on his lips. Then you laid him down and put some of the lube on your fingers before prodding at his entrance. Already, he was tensing up, before forcing himself to relax and allow your fingers to slide into him. The sigh that left his lips was delightful and only encouraged you more. Slowly, you pushed your two fingers deeper, gently prodding as you added another digit inside of him. Guy's thick legs spread wider, silently begging you for more

His cock was hard and weeping yet he didn't dare touch himself because he knew all too well the pay off would be better if he waited.

"Oh, Kami, please… more." It came out more of a whimper than a moan.

The thought that you had one of Konoha's strongest shinobi underneath you begging for more gave you a wave of confidence. Your fingers worked him open before slipping out, earning a full fledged whine from the black haired hunk spread in front of you. You couldn't help but snicker, wiping your hand on the nearby towel and instead focused on lubing up your cock. Then, you held your breath and watched one of the best sights as your emerald strap-on slid into his ass. Your eyes wandered up his chiseled body and met his as he sighed happily, reveling in the fullness he was met with.

As a test you pushed until your hips until they met his and without any surprise, he took it without complaint. With the first thrust his thighs tensed, hands quickly reaching to find yours. Fingers interlocked as your hips trusted again, this time earning a delicious moan from Guy. Not like you needed any more initiative to keep fucking him, but the sounds coming from him definitely helped. After the first handful of thrusts you found a nice rhythm. It was slow and powerful, enough to please him but also leave him wanting more. So it was no surprise when his hips began to lift up and try to meet yours, soft begs leaving his lips.

"(Y/N)..." his voice was different than it normally was, now deeper yet broken by desperate whines, "I need more. Please, move faster…"

You smirked and completely pulled your cock out, laying down next to him. The action earned a shock look from him making you laugh softly, "You want more? Come and get it big boy. Ride it all you want."

His eyes widened slightly before he understood and scurried to straddle your waist. The contrast of his large form looming over yours was almost comical and you would have laughed had it not been for the sight of Guy sinking down onto your cock again. That signature bowl cut was now a messy mop at best, bouncing along with him, framing his face like a goddamn painting. His hips moved on their own, up and down faster than you could ever ride him. Must be all those squats he does paying off. He didn't bother holding back his pants and moans as he used you solely to get himself off, his cock moving up and down with him.

At this point everything from his face to chest was darkened with a blush and the way his eyes were nearly rolling into the back of his head let you know he was close. Teasingly, you gave a couple thrusts up, meeting his hips as they came down, making him cry out. To add fuel to the fire your one hand held onto an ass cheek while the other wrapped around his neglected, leaking cock. He moaned at your touch and leaned his head back. His movements were getting desperate as your hand worked his cock.

The hand on his ass moved and you held one of his hands, "Go ahead baby, c'mon, cum for me~"

His only response was a long whine, followed by a moan as his hips crashed down fully onto your emerald cock. It was there where he stayed, hips rocking back and forth as his cock spurted cum over your hand and stomach. His face contorted, eyes clamming shut while his mouth fell open. Honestly, you wish you had a camera to capture the sight for eternity as Guy came down from his high, panting on top of you.

"You did so good~" you rubbed his thighs as his upper body slowly leaned over, burying his head into your neck.

Your hands moved to his back and rubbed soft circles as you slowly pulled your fake cock out. Guy kissed your neck softly, his attentiveness taking over after his climax. The notion made you smile as he pressed gentle kisses all down your shoulder, his hands ghosting down your sides.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up, hun?"

"Mmm, I think you're the one that needs to be cleaned up, beautiful."

The statement confused you for a minute until rough fingers slid under the strap and made contact with the wetness between your thighs. In hindsight, you should have known better. Guy is a people pleaser, especially when it comes to making sure you're satisfied and this time was no different. Before you could refuse his act of service the strap-on was discarded to the side and your hunk of a boyfriend began sliding down your body. Along the way he trailed kisses until his head was in between your thighs. Now it was your turn to spread your legs and sigh as his warm tongue locked up your soaked slit. His strong hands wrapped around your thighs, ready to dig in for his meal and dig in he did.

Never one to half ass anything, Guy immediately began to work you like always. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked gently, while two of his thick fingers slid inside of you. The roles reversed as your head fell back against the bed, hand tangling into Guy's hair. Fingers curled inside of you, hitting your sweet spot almost right away. You moaned and held his head in your crotch, thighs squeezing around his head. It should be illegal for a man as perfect as Guy to also be this good at giving head. His fingers quickened as he flattened his tongue against your clit. Really, he was so good at giving head because he loved doing it, loved making you cum just from his mouth and hand. He let you know it too, moaning against your pussy as he only increased his fervor.

It didn't shock you anymore that you were on the verge of orgasm already. Your thighs would be shaking if Guy didn't have such a commanding grip on them. But that didn't stop your toes from curling and tugging harder on his hair. The reactions from you only encouraged him more and he once again quickened his actions. Before long you were thrown over the edge, wetting his hand and clutching the bedsheets. As your vision returned, you saw Guy happily licking his hand clean before laying next to you. You both met with kisses and cuddles, falling into each other's warm embrace, ready to settle in for the night.

hope you enjoyed! ;) remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :)

#naruto #naruto x reader #naruto smut #kinkmas 2020 #might guy #maito gai #might guy x reader #maito gai x reader #smut #reader insert #might guy x you #x you #maito gai x you

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jerrylevitch · 3 years

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Do you think or know whether Jerry ever regretted all of the affairs and sleeping around? Or if he looked back on it differently later on? I know he'd talked about it kind of jokingly, which i'm sure was a default/defense mechanism. I also get all the factors that contributed to that behavior so I don't really judge him for it, and he wasn't the only one doing it by any means...I was just wondering if you had a take on it or knew anything. Still love him, that horny little bugger lol ;)

He did feel guilty and for awhile, and he tried to be faithful to Patti in his own mind by not finishing inside the woman he was with. According to Jane McCormick:

"Jerry was almost bashful when it came to having sex, but he thoroughly enjoyed it. Still, he had a quirky way of dealing with his loyalty to his wife. He would not climax inside me, no matter what kind of sex we had."

Of course you'll see Jerry boasting about his sexual escapades and other crap like he didn't care when he was older like on E True Hollywood Story or Playboy, and GQ Magazine, but I always go back to this passage that Jerry wrote to himself and consider this the truth, because here he didn't have to put on a show for anyone, or try to look macho by saying he had all these women.

From Patti Lewis' book:

“Jerry was a master at candidly acting out personal vignettes about three areas of real life: relationships, situations, and predicaments. They form the backbone of his comedy. He nurtured many relationships and wrote volumes on how he felt. I tried to understand what he was saying, beyond the words, when I read the notes he sent me; the “I luv you’s” written across my makeup mirror at home; and the longer messages I found on my desk.” ”At times I found him five parts philosopher, one part humanist, ten parts deep thinker, one part spiritual, fifty parts comedian, twelve parts unpredictability, and twenty-one parts everything else. In 1966, one late summer afternoon, I found the following and took it to the garden to read:”

”To ask how deeply I feel is like asking, ‘Where is God?’” ”We can answer with nothing more than “if’s” and “maybe’s.” “In other words, the answers are really intangibles, yet I’m going to attempt to answer one of them to the best of my knowledge and awareness.

My feelings, where my wife is concerned, are very deep and very sacred…She is the very reason I live…for she is the only reason I know that makes living worth anything…and the boys that she produced for me are equally worth it, but one day they’ll leave and then there will be only us…

She is the first human thing that has ever cared about me or for me…Oh, there were little dogs, and little boys and a few beings that cared, but not enough that I could have survived.

It was only when she came into my life that I realized I had a life to live…I was always made to feel that I was given a case of breath out of pity…It was as though someone said, “We have plenty, give him some.” Then I knew I had to make good and be someone, or something a little better than those that gave me an occasional handout… As I got older, I didn’t much care about being better than them anymore…I just cared about staying alive and getting some degree of respect as a human thing on God’s Earth…I knew he didn’t mean to have anyone just exist…but he meant fur us all to have a meaning and a purpose. I have to try to get my thoughts put in the proper place so I can put things down that really count! Now then, if my wife was the first to care and to really treat me like a human being with love and warmth and the like…the big question is, “How could I have treated this special being as I have?” My answer that I find coming is… After so many years of being made to feel like nothing…I guess I worked on being something so much more than nothing…that I found myself making the real somethings around me nothing in the haste that drove me to be something…The responsibility of taking care of the loves I had always had made me feel like, “Why should I care for what one day will discard me anyway?” I don’t know if that’s the case, but it sounds right…and coming from someone who loves those tremendous loves as I do, it certainly confuses me, too… My constant silence, I think, has been fear…of what my love would think of what I’ve done…fear of doing the wrong thing…and losing the respect I have always felt I got from her…to be placed in the position of being disrespected and disregarded again has always knotted up my insides so badly that silence seemed the only way to avoid the possibility of rejection…very often my hiding was part and parcel of that fear…The feeling of being nothing again, or being looked at with disdain, has, for as long as I can remember, been tearing me up inside…And those tears have come out looking like torment…Well, tormented I am, and have been, and pray one day soon I won’t know the feeling anymore… My wrapping myself up so completely in my work helped for a while, but the “ego” that came across was never there…I have none. But I work desperately at displaying “ego” to cover the real emptiness I know inside… As a director I have found infinite peace…because I am to so many…an authority, a man who knows, and not someone who is treated with “pity” or “charity”…That’s the biggest reason for the love of creativity I have, for a man is free when he is creating. Not just creating “funny” by way of the mask I wear, but by making others the puppets…and making them stand out front for a change…The feeling of “behind the camera” feels safe, and warm, and special, and certain…”Out front” has been very hard and trying for me…and for the first time in my life I think I can honestly admit…I hated doing it and I still do…The happiness that seemed to appear from standing “in one” was nothing more than getting a general acceptance from a lot of people who care at the moment….But “at the moment” isn’t enough for me anymore… I need all the care I can get all the time…and I only seem to be able to get that from my love, my wife… I don’t ever want to appear “indifferent” to my wife…but that appearance, too, I think is just hoping not to be a burden and an annoyance to her...I just can’t remember ever being anything but an annoyance…and when I’m told I’m not, I can’t seem to recognize that is possibly the case. I don’t like to hide and run…I want to be free to go and do as any other man does… I know I need help…but I really believe the help will come from within…as soon as I can place things in their right positions… Admitting to “hating performing” might help me adjust sooner…Admitting the love I have for writing and direction will, I’m sure, take me out of the depths of my depression…and will ultimately take me into the realm of peace and contentment. I want to talk more, I want to communicate more…I want

to say so much, and get help from her, I want so much to scream the things that tug away at my heart and my soul…And when I try, the hurt is so strong, and deep, and festered that I clam up, and the relief I want doesn’t come… Now to bury that grief…I find someone who has equally as much or more than I so that I can be the helping hand…For if I can help, then my hurts can’t be so bad…How much trouble can I have, if I’m listening to someone else’s? And for years I made that a practice…to give of myself only to forget I needed more giving than anyone… I don’t think I have always been aware of that fact…I really wanted to share and give and be charitable…but there’s that word again…charitable…I should have known better. For “charity” was the one thing that started my life wrong.. I wasn’t entitled to charity by those people when I was so very young…I was entitled to all the love and care all little lives should get…But how long did I have to wait to realize “charity” shouldn’t deal with the ones we love…They should only get the real “love” and nothing more…and give “charity” to strangers in need…Period! (And they should be picked carefully!) I’m trying to feel “God” in me and maybe with his help we can push out the torment…and place the “alive” of a being, back where it was taken from… With it all I am a very lucky man…to have found the real, right, and perfect human being to spend my years with. I want so much to do the right thing to keep her straight and happy and healthy… When she is ill, the reaction to it isn’t any different than when the spike is forced into the vampire’s heart…it’s the only emotional thing that can kill me, and that’s when she hurts…or when I’ve caused her pain…but my intentions are never to hurt her, never to do her a moment’s pain…Never to create a frown on her lovely face…Why those things happen are a complexity to us both…And I will serve myself from here on in as a student of care and concern and caution as to how she gets treated and how I allow much of my feelings to affect her… I can only answer “God” honestly, and he knows my worth and my intentions, I have no fear of his wrath…for I know he knows I’m basically good, and fine, and honorable when it comes to my love and my soul for her… I have no guilt about what I have done thru my blindness…I only have guilt for the things I might have avoided doing…If I had just put…”First things first.” I will try! And “God” knows my heart is talking, not the typewriter.”

#Jerry Lewis #anonymous

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ericssmile · 4 years

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{12:39am} “Do you think there are too many streamers?” You asked Felix as you stood on top of a table, decorating the room with green, yellow and white streamers.

Felix looked up at you and laughed quietly, trying not to wake up the others. “Y/N, there is no such thing as too many streamers.”

It was midnight and that meant that it was Chan’s birthday. Felix and you had been planning to do something for him, to show him just how much he means to you, Stray Kids and Stays. Luckily, Chan had been at his studio all night and most likely won’t be back for another few hours.

So far, the whole dorm was filled with streamers, baby pictures of Chan and just pictures of Chan with the members and of course you and multi coloured balloons were everywhere (RIP your lungs).

Throughout the week, you’ve had all seven boys write down all the things they admire most about Chan. You gave them all different coloured notepads -for instance, Felix had blue, Jisung had a pastel purple and Changbin had black; he was a little confused and lost as to how he was gonna write on it, but you pulled out a white pen and then he was fine again- and they all wrote down one thing on the paper, folded it multiple times and put them into a jar. It was cute, well you thought it was cute, because you wrote on the jars, for example, ‘Jeongin’s favourite things about Best Leader, Bang Chan’ and so forth.

Chan has always said that his birthday is just another day. Another day where he’s a year older. He needs to know just how special October 3rd is. It’s the day where one of the most humble, caring, selfless and lovable people was born. Without him, the world would be just a cruel place.

Without him, you wouldn’t know what true love is.

“I swear to god, Chris better appreciate this.” You sigh, flopping onto the couch, watching as Felix brings out a chocolate cake out of the oven. The smell was amazing! As soon as it passed through your nostrils, it never even left even when it was cooled down, ready to be decorated.

Felix laughs at your comment, smearing icing over the cake, making sure that no parts were left empty. “Of course he’s gonna appreciate it. We worked our asses off for him.” Felix turns to face you, chocolate coated knife in his hand pointed towards you. “He literally adores anything you do.” You didn’t fail to notice the smirk that graced Felix’s face before he turned his focus back to decorating the cake.

At this point, you were too tired to try and argue with the boy so you just shook your head, sighed and rested your eyes for a bit.

But ‘a bit’ actually lasted for two hours. Felix wanted to wake you, but he knew how hard you worked on this surprise for Chan and didn’t want to disturb. So, being the sweet boy he was, he placed a blanket over you, making sure that you were comfortable.

A sudden jolt to your shoulder woke you, almost practically giving you a heart attack. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s being woken up. And so whoever has woken you, is gonna get an ear full.

“You’ve got some real fucking nerve to wake me u- Chan?” You mumbled, suddenly becoming more awake at the realisation of just who it was shaking you awake.

Chan smiles. You know his real big smile he gets when he talks about his loved ones and Stays? Yeah… that smile. The sight of it alone made your heart beat non stop.

Chan lifts a hand up to your face, brushing a strand of your hair away from it so he can admire you more. Everyday he always thinks to himself ‘How is she real?’ because he keeps thinking he’s dreaming whenever he sees you.

And after seeing all the effort you put in decorating the dorm just for his birthday, makes him realise that yes, you are real.

“I’m sorry for waking you suddenly, but also thank you for not punching me,” he chuckles slightly, heart racing as he watches you smile. “but I just wanted to thank you for all of this.” He extends his arm, moving it around and pointing towards all the streamers.

You playfulling shove his shoulder as you begin to sit up, making room for the birthday boy to sit next to you. “It’s no biggie. Just make sure to also thank the others; they were a big help too.” You smile, eyes widening as you remembered the mason jars. “I’ll be right back!”

Chan laughed as he watched you practically jump off of the couch and run to wherever it was you ran off to, not expecting you to be back within the next millisecond. You were pretty much as fast as he was when he participated at ISAC.

A wide smile was on your face as you held out the box that contained 8 mason jars. The last one you hoped he would look at would be yours. You weren’t gonna lie, you were a little scared for him to read yours, but you felt like today was the perfect day to let all your feelings out.

“What’s this?” Chris asked as he took the box from your hands, his smile never leaving his face. You shrugged in response, plopping yourself back onto the seat next to him and pulled out your phone to record his reactions so you could show the boys later.

One by one, Chris went through the jars filled with the little notes the boys left for him. His heart swelled as he read the notes, so thankful that he had found these seven boys. They really were like his brothers, and even though he already had two siblings, he still treated them all like his family. He was down to the eighth and final jar. Your jar. He doesn’t know what was going on with him but something about this just made him feel all giddy inside.

You watched nervously as he opened the jar, taking the first note out. He read aloud. “My number one most favourite thing about you… is your adorable dimples that I just love to poke.” He laughed to himself, and looked over at you, your hand reaching for his face to, as he read aloud, poke his dimples.

As he read through the notes, you started to bite down on your lip, nervous as you wait for him to read the final note. Your hands were starting to clam up as well as your heart beating faster than it should.

Once he pulled the final letter out, he opened it up and scanned his eyes over the words; eyes tearing up slightly, biting down on his lip to suppress his smile from getting any bigger. He then decided to read it out loud. “But most of all, my favourite thing about you, is how much I’ve watched you grow to the man you’ve become. And become the man that I’ve fallen in love with.”

Your breath hitched when he turned his gaze to you. You watched for any kind of bad reaction but thankfully, there was none. And the next thing you knew, his arms were wrapped around you, bringing you into one of his famous, heart warming hugs. You felt his lips touch the top of your head and soon, he pulled away from you slightly, placing his hand on your cheek.

“Lucky me for having such amazing friends. And an amazing girl who shows me what it’s like to be loved.”

And the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, making this day into one of your best yet. Here’s to celebrating more birthdays with your favourite boy.

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

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Pesky Feelings - John B Routledge

word count: 4238 warnings: swearing, two oblivious lovesick idiots summary: thornton!reader and John B are your typical childhood best friends, which comes along with your typical angst of secretly being in love and not knowing how to admit it :) request: @killerwasteland: I'm here with another idea for a John b : avoiding him like the plague after confessing your feelings and him tryna get you to talk to him because you didn't even give him the chance to say whether he reciprocated the feelings (+ bonus points if they're childhood best friends + extra bonus points if she's topper's sister) (a/n): ok I love this, and also john b is a major dork of a bf ___

“Can we talk?” (y/n) had asked quietly, grabbing onto her friend’s wrist softly, hoping he wouldn’t freak out at those three dreaded words.

John B didn’t freak out, he simply nodded, and followed her away from the party, so that they could have some privacy. There was nothing that (y/n) could ever say to him that would freak him out.

She was his best friend, he loved her, and he trusted her with his life. So he remained calm as they found a decent spot to talk privately, where the music wasn’t loud, and no one could really see them and make judgmental assumptions.

(y/n) sucked in a deep breath, letting go of his wrist as her hands tangled together. It was a nervous tic of hers, one that John B recognized, but even still, he was calm as he placed his hands over hers soothingly.

“What’s up?” He asked, ever so laid back.

She was thankful that he was such an easy going guy, it definitely made what she was about to say next a little easier.

“I just… um I wanted to tell you that… that I…” She licks her lips as she trails off, anxiety bubbling up inside of her like water that was about to boil over a pot.

John B doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t want to rush her and make her more nervous than she clearly already was. But he couldn’t deny that he was on the edge of his seat, dying on the inside of curiosity. He does his best not to show it, though.

“Look you don’t have to say anything, or- or feel the same way I just wanted you to know how I feel and that I… I really like you,” Her eyes flicker up to his, glossy and apprehensive. “I like you as more than a friend” She said more clearly.

John B opened his mouth to reply, and it should have been an easy response, but it wasn’t. He froze up completely, his hands stiffening over her own and his eyes blowing wide as he stood their speechlessly.

But while he was too bashful to know what to say, the pit in (y/n’s) stomach was trying to swallow her whole, and suddenly she wished a hole would open up below her and just suck her into the earth, out of this situation.

“Oh my god,” She mumbled, realizing what she’d just done. “Oh my god, I- I’m so sorry-”

She started to back away, pulling her hands out of John B’s, eyes scanning over the party in hopes to find someone that she could flock to.

“Wait, (y/n)-”

“I’m gonna go- yeah- I’m gonna head out”

She’s speed walking away from him before he can find the lick of sense to grab her hand and pull her back towards him, hold onto her and never ever let go.

“(y/n)!” He called after her, but she just waved goodbye, and went into the crowd to tell her brother she was going home, with or without him.

He was the one with the car, but she would run all the way to the Figure Eight if she had to right now. ___

(y/n) rolled over in her bed, pushing her face into her pillow and letting out a frustrated cry. No words came out, it’s just that when she thought about that night, the amount of cringe she felt took over her whole body.

“Okay, calm down,” Kiara said through the speaker of her phone.

They’d been Facetiming for the last half hour or so, but it was difficult for (y/n) to focus on any of the topics they tried to talk about when her mind was constantly reminding her of the biggest failure she’s ever experienced.

“It’s not that bad, (y/n)” Kie added.

“Not that bad?” (y/n) repeated, lifting her head to look at the screen. “It’s terrible. He was my best friend- what the fuck was I thinking?”

“You had a bit to drink, alcohol is liquid courage you know,” Kiara said, only half-joking. “And he’d been holding your hand all night, (y/n/n), that’s reasonable evidence that he liked you back-”

“Not reasonable enough apparently!” (y/n) shrieked. “I can’t believe I actually thought he would ever like me-”

“Hey,” Topper came into the room without bothering to knock, an annoyed look on his face. “Could you keep it down? Rafe and I are trying to-”

“Get the fuck out,” (y/n) grumbled, chucking a stuffed animal from her at him. “I’m going through something” She added.

Topper rolled his eyes at her.

“Really? He was just a Pogue (y/n), I don’t get why you hang out with them”

They’d had this argument pretty much every day their whole lives. Topper could be a good brother sometimes, he’d pick up dinner for her, drive her to the keggers on the beach, and he was definitely protective of her. But that didn’t mean his personality had a gold star next to it.

He was definitely your average Kook, if not a little worse. It could really get under (y/n’s) skin at times, but recently she’d just decided to ignore it. It was much easier to ignore it anyways, because then it would go away.

“Get out” She repeated, throwing a pillow at him this time.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and left.

“Wow,” Kiara groaned through the phone. “He sucks”

“I know,” (y/n) agreed. “But he just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know John B like I do. He doesn’t know any of you guys like I do”

Kiara understood that the Thornton siblings had a major disconnect when it came to who they spent their time with. Anyone with eyes could see the difference in character between (y/n) and Topper.

In fact, when people met (y/n), they expected the whole family to be as sweet and charismatic as her. But they were almost always left disappointed.

“You should just come talk to him,” Kiara said, getting back on topic. “No matter what happens, or what he says, you know that he’ll be understanding. He doesn’t want you to feel hurt or left out”

“I know,” (y/n) huffed. “I know I just.. I don’t think I can see him yet. It won’t feel the same for me like it does for him. He’ll say that nothing has to change but… it will. It will for me”

Kiara frowned, but she understood where her friend was coming from.

She just also knew that John B had to feel the same way. There was no way that he’d been sweet on her all this time and didn’t have feelings. She’d known the pair all their lives, and for as long as she’d known them, John B had a soft spot for the Kook girl. It was the one constant in the group.

“I should have just listened to the rule, and kept my mouth shut. No Pogue on Pogue macking. It’s there for a reason. This is the exact fucking reason- hold on I’m getting a call”

“From who?”

(y/n) stared at the screen for a moment, her heart melting at the picture that she’d set for John B’s contact. It was them when they were in middle school, they looked dorky and very out of style, but it was sweet. They were going to their first school dance, and their parents had begged them to take a picture before they went, this picture.

John B had eagerly thrown his arms around her, hugging her tightly like he always did. He had a big cheesy and toothy grin on his face, which was adorable when you looked at the rest of the picture, seeing his crooked bowtie.

(y/n) had hugged him back, a bit more warily, and the smile on her face was softer. You could see the blush on her cheeks when you really studied the picture.

“John B,” (y/n) answered after snapping out of her daze, and hit the decline call option. “Sorry, I’m back”

“What? Girl, why didn’t you answer?”

“Because, like I said, it’s weird now-”

“He was probably calling you to invite you to a late night ride on the boat,” Kiara said, always the voice of reason to everyone in the group.

Sometimes she was convinced she was the only one with any brain cells.

“You should call him back” She stated.

“No way, I’m gonna wait,” (y/n) replied. “I can’t talk to him right now, I’ll clam up, or stutter, and it’ll be embarrassing”

“Who cares?” Kiara half-shouted. “He obviously wants to talk to you”

“But what if its about-”

“Does it matter what it’s about?” Kiara cut her off, “Him wanting to talk to you is a good sign either way”

“Well, he’s been calling me all week” (y/n) admitted, looking away from the screen.

“All week? Jesus (y/n/n), you’re probably freaking the boy out-”

“I know!” (y/n) cried, shoving her face back into her pillow. “This is all so stupid. This is like- high school drama stupid. I feel like an idiot”

“No offense babe, but you are an idiot,” Kie giggled. “I love you, but you're so oblivious”

“Am I?” (y/n) muttered, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Yes, without a doubt,” Kiara said, still laughing light heartedly. “Do you even remember when I met you guys?”

Kiara had been a new student at Kildare Elementary in the second grade. The first day was always the worst, but luckily by recess, she met a nice boy with messy hair and a friendly smile.

They had been playing on the swingset together for a little while, asking the ridiculous questions you ask other seven year olds when you’re becoming friends. Most of their conversation had been about the Power Rangers, until another girl came up to the swings.

John B hopped off his immediately so the short (y/h/c) haired girl could swing. She’d thanked him with an equally friendly smile as she sat on the swing, and waited for him to push her because she hadn’t been very good at swinging up high like he was.

“This is Kiara, she’s new,” John B introduced. “And this is (y/n),” He told Kiara. “You can be friends with her too, but she’s my best friend, so you can’t have her”

(y/n) had giggled at that, but hopped off the swing so that she could hug the new girl.

“We can all be best friends,” She’d announced. “There’s nothing wrong with having two best friends”

John B had pouted for a bit, but as their playdates turned into the three of them, and eventually they met two other boys, he was okay with having other friends around.

As long as (y/n) always picked him to be partners in hide and seek, and as long as she always laid her sleeping bag next to his, then he wouldn’t complain.

The girls were Kooks, and the boys were Pogues, but all their lives, it hadn’t mattered. (y/n) had never really thought twice about it, even when her brother would be kind of a jerk, or when other Kooks would pick on the group in high school, she never second guessed her friendship with them, her love for them. They were all her best friends, John B had just always been something more than that. Something beyond best. He was priority number one, and looking back on it, she’d always loved him.

“Don’t you remember?” Kiara asked again, bringing (y/n) back from the memories of their early childhood together. “You’ve been attached at the hip since like, kindergarden,” She reminded with a laugh. “He didn’t even want to share you with anyone, and honestly, he still doesn’t. That night of the party? He dragged you with him everywhere”

“He just doesn’t like when girls hit on him” (y/n) shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but he can probably go to the bathroom on his own”

All night, John B had been filling up cups at the keg with one hand, and the other had been tangled in (y/n’s). He’d had a bit to drink, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get more affectionate after three beets, so (y/n) hadn’t thought much of it.

And she wasn’t about to complain about a boy she liked holding her hand.

But even when Kiara took over running the keg, and the other Pogues hung out, dancing around and smoking together, his hand hadn’t let go of hers. He always had a good excuse.

He didn’t like when Touron girls hit on him, he didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, he wanted to make sure she was safe by his side, no matter what he’d say, (y/n) would go along with it. But that night had been different.

He started to take her with him towards the Chateau, and she’d stopped him once she realized where he was heading.

“John B, I wanna keep partying” She said with a pout.

“Yeah, I just have to pee” He’d replied, rather honest. Five drink John B was a pretty honest dude.

“Pee by yourself” (y/n) giggled as a cringe crossed her features. She started to take her hand out of his, but he was quick to grab hold of it again.

“Wait- no, I don’t wanna go alone” He whined, pulling her against his chest.

(y/n’s) pout remained, but she followed him anyways with a reluctant ‘fine’.

“I don’t wanna hold your hand while you pee though,” She’d told him once they got to the house. “That’s weird, and kinda gross”

“Fine” John B muttered like it bothered him, making her laugh.

“You’re such a weirdo John B,” She said, and stood outside the bathroom door as he went in. She quickly shut the door when he unzipped his pants, a shriek leaving her throat. “Close the fucking door you dork!” She yelled, slamming the door shut for him, bursting into a fit of giggles at how weird he was at five drinks.

He usually didn’t drink much at these things, he liked to keep an eye on the party, and man the keg to make sure everyone was being safe with their underage drinking.

But for some reason tonight was different.

JJ stumbled past (y/n), a girl on his arm, and he almost kept walking to the guest room before he realized it was (y/n) standing there.

“What are you doin’ inside?” He asked, while the pretty brunette Touron was macking on his neck.

“John B had to pee” (y/n) shrugged back at him, trying her best to keep eye contact with him, and not look at the girl who was furiously sucking on his neck.

“You guys are weird,” JJ said, shaking his head before continuing to lead his hookup to his designated room.

But he said one last thing to her before shutting the door behind him.

“Maybe you should tell him you’re in love with him”

(y/n) had laughed it off, just as John B came out of the bathroom, but the words sat at the front of her mind all night, until eventually, she thought ‘why not?’ and just went for it.

Huge mistake.

“I don’t know why I listened to JJ,” (y/n) muttered in irritation. “Idiotic”

(y/n’s) phone buzzed, and she clicked on the notification.

[ John Booker ] : please call me back?

She typed back some bullshit excuse that she was busy right now, but she’d try to call him later. It was a lie, she knew damn well she wasn’t going to call him.

“You’re looking at this all wrong” Kiara told her. “You’re only seeing things from your point of view, you need to think of it from John B’s”

“I did, it made me feel worse”

“Not really though. Did you ever wonder why he clung to you all night? Even when he went to the bathroom? Or why he doesn’t like other girls flirting with him?”

She brought up good points, and (y/n’s) heart skipped a beat as she listened, but she’d learned not to have too much hope when it came to other people’s feelings, because you never really know.

“I think you should call him back. Or go over, he’s home now I think”

“Kie, you have way too much faith in me,” She mumbled, picking at the blankets on her bed. “I think I’ve been scarred for life, I don’t think I’ll ever-”

She was cut off by a tapping on her window, but when she turned to see what it was, there was nothing there, so she ignored it and went back to Facetime.

“-I don’t think I’ll ever make a move again-” She finished, but there was another tap on the window.

Still nothing.

It was strange that it happened twice, but she didn’t feel like getting out of bed, so she pretended it was nothing.

“That’s kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?” Kiara teased. “Besides, who else would you make a move on anyways?”

“Hey” (y/n) mumbled, offended by the comment.

“Come on, there’s no one for you but John B, you can admit it,” Her friend laughed. “And there’s still a chance…”

Whatever she started to say, (y/n) couldn’t hear, because her phone lit up with a bunch of texts at once.

[ John Booker ] : i know you’re holed up in your room, would you come to the window already?

[ John Booker ] : i’m outside

[ John Booker ] : hurry up juliet

(y/n’s) heart nearly stopped in her chest.

“... and who knows? Maybe you just have to give him some time-”

“Oh my god, Kie-” (y/n) cut her off, scrambling off her bed.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s here”

“Who?”

“John B, he’s here” (y/n) stated, and hurried over to her window.

Sure enough, standing outside two stories down, was John B, still throwing pebbles at her window like he was in some teen rom-com.

“Oh shit,” Kiara giggled. “Go talk to him!”

When John B reared back to throw another rock, he noticed (y/n) was there this time, and his whole face broke out into a grin.

“Finally!” He hollered, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Oh my god” (y/n) mumbled.

Kiara was still laughing through the phone while (y/n) unlocked her window and slid it open, leaning out of it as she looked down at him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh.

“You weren’t answering me! Now are you coming down or not?”

“I-” She started to say something, but he spoke up again.

“Don’t make me climb up there, Juliet” He said with a laugh.

“Stop calling me that,” (y/n) replied, but she couldn’t help the laugh she let out. “I’ll be down in just a second”

With that, she retreated into her room, staring at her phone, hoping Kiara would give her literally any advice right now.

“Just go talk to him, you dork,” Kiara said. “And call me later. Love you! Bye-!”

“Wait, Kie-!”

But her phone beeped as Kiara hung up, and she was left staring at her Facetime call log.

She stuffed her phone in her pocket as she went out the front door, and rounded the corner to the side of the house, where John B was sitting in her yard, waiting patiently for her arrival.

“Oh good,” He smiled as he saw her, standing up and brushing the grass off his shorts. “I thought I was gonna have to scale two stories, and last time I came over and did that I fell”

“Yeah, I remember,” (y/n) said with a soft chuckle. “I thought you died or something, you laid there for so long-”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He said suddenly, cutting right to the reason he came over.

(y/n) froze up, anxiety flooding over her like a tidal wave.

“Did you… did you not mean it?” He asked in a quieter voice.

“Not mean it?” (y/n) mumbled back, her heart sinking in her chest as she thought about it. “Why would I say something like that and not mean it?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what to think I mean- you say something like that and then you ran off and I haven’t seen you for a week”

“I- I’ve been busy” She mumbled uselessly.

It was pointless to lie to him, she’s known him her whole life, he could read her like a book. Any emotion she felt was like a headline on her forehead, easy for him to see and respond to.

“That’s bullshit,” He called her out, but he let out a small laugh after, letting her know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful. “But… don’t you want to know how I feel? About you?” He asked her, stepping closer.

“Um, not really” She answered, her hands beginning to wring together.

“Not really?” He laughed again in surprise.

(y/n) shook her head, her eyes meeting his, even though she felt small and bashful under his gaze. She knew it would be weird now, different, this is exactly how she expected to feel when she saw him again.

“No, I- I don’t want you to reject me, or pity me- we can just ignore it completely-” She started to explain herself, but John B laughed again, so she stopped. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because, for being my best friend, I really don’t understand you sometimes,” John B answered. “Why did you think I was going to reject you?”

(y/n’s) brows furrowed, and she gained some confidence from the annoyance she was currently feeling towards him. How dare he be a cheeky asshole right now? Couldn’t he see how terrible she felt? How anxious she felt?

“Because,” She argued. “I told you how I felt about you, and you didn’t say anything! Hell, you didn’t react at all”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“John B, that sucked,” She continued.

Might as well be honest with him now. If it was the answer he wanted, then fine. She had nothing left to lose right? She’d thrown all dignity out the window last weekend at the kegger. Why not her pride too?

“Do you know how embarrassing that was? I still want to be your friend, of course I do, but it was a mistake, I shouldn’t have-”

“You worry too much” John B said, and before she could react, probably by yelling some more, he crossed the space between them and kissed her.

She instantly swallowed her words and melted into his touch. All anxieties and worries that she’d ruined their friendship washed away, and all that mattered was him.

Her arms practically flew around his neck as she reached up on the tips of her toes to reach him properly. John B lost his balance at the sudden movements, stumbling for a moment, but he quickly stabilized them.

His hands cupped around her cheeks, keeping her close as their lips met again and again, and in all honestly, they both planned on standing outside all night and macking on each other. They’d waited this long.

John B’s lips were just so warm and welcoming, they were easy for her to get attached to, and probably addicted to.

“Hey! No macking on Pogues!”

Unfortunately, Topper ruined the good mood.

(y/n) whirled around, catching sight of her brother as he was heading to his car. She flipped him off, and stuck her tongue out for good measure. It made John B laugh, despite Topper’s usual asshole-ness.

Topper just returned the gesture, but got in his car and left anyway. (y/n) just hoped he was getting tired of keeping up the bad blood between the Figure Eight and The Cut.

When he left, she turned back to John B, a smile playing on her lips as she wrapped her small hands around his wrists.

“Now that he’s gone… wanna go inside and finish what we started?” She asked, only half teasing.

John B eagerly nodded, stealing another kiss from her.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” He said, and followed her out of the yard. “But later we have to go back to mine, I told JJ and Pope that we’d hang out later tonight after we settled… this” He explained, gesturing between them.

“Wow, you were that certain you were gonna get the girl, huh?” (y/n) joked.

As they went inside, he shut the door behind him, and immediately grabbed her by the hips, pulling her flush against his chest. The action made her cheeks flush red, and she bit her lip shyly.

“I mean, the girl did admit that she was hopelessly in love with me-”

“That’s not what I said-”

“And that she would just die if she couldn’t be with me, and she’s probably been waiting to kiss me for like, what has it been ten whole years?”

“John B,” (y/n) scolded, swatting half-heartedly at his chest. “I didn’t say any of that”

“Out loud,” He corrected. “You were definitely thinking it. I could tell”

She rolled her eyes as her hands took hold of the collar of his shirt.

“Just shut up and kiss me, dork” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b #john b x reader #john b routledge #john b routledge x reader #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge scenario #john b imagine

213 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

15 and 27 from prompts list 1 with baby boy Din! -🦋

15. “Shouldn’t you be with him/her?” & 27. “Kiss me.”

Jealous Din? Jealous Din. Enjoy! Mild bits of smut, you’ve been warned.

Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your relationship with your Mandalorian cohort was…complicated to say the least. He’d saved you out of a precarious situation, one in which you were sure you would die, and he’d nursed you back to health. You’d just never left; he never asked and you never offered to. Instead you became partners of sorts. More like he did the bounty hunting, and you cleaned up the messes left in his wake. And watched your little green friend of course; you were almost ninety percent sure that you were kept around to help with him, but you didn’t argue. You liked your unspoken arrangement.

But Mando, as you and everything called him, was different altogether. Hell, you didn’t even know his real name. He never offered it up, and you never pried. Over time he became more and more open with you, learning to trust you as you provided yourself a useful companion. You did the same to him. That often happened with broken people; trust was hard earned and once it was broken it was never the same. So you took it slow, just like the best things in life should have been.

But there was something about your relationship that was left hanging in the air…something that wasn’t quite palatable. Something that left the tension in the room so thick you could easily have sliced with your trusty vibroblade. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but Mando knew; he knew but he’d never say it. That was the thing about having be running solo for so long, you learned to keep things within yourself, not to open up to others.

But you wished he would because there were times when you could tell he was ready to say something, but instead he clammed up. You didn’t need to see underneath the helmet to know that he was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Although it was undeniable that you wanted to see what was underneath the armor. What did he look like? Was he handsome? Was he the really dark featured man with a strong nose and day old stubble that you always pictured? Maybe one day you’d find out, but you weren’t pressing your luck. It would all come in time.

The nice thing about living with such a stoic man was that he didn’t often question you or what you were doing. Your old life had consisted of glamour, fun, and never anything too serious; simply leisure and levity. But one run in with the wrong crowd had left you on the lamb, which was where Mando had entered your life. What you were doing now was a far cry from the life you had grown accustomed to, and mostly you didn’t mind it, but there were times when you felt the itch so strong that you indulged yourself.

This particular evening you’d decided to do just that. Mando had a bounty on some random planet, and you had already been there for several days, which usually meant you’d be staying a while. In your copious amounts of down time you wandered into the nearby city, much more expansive and lively than the places you normally visited, and explored every inch of it. You usually brought the child with you, showing him everything, your heart melting at all of little coos and sounds.

One particularly sunny afternoon you’d spotted a sign for a party at one of the city’s nicest clubs. And who were you to say no? It had been so long since you’d gotten to go and enjoy yourself, so you figured you would allow yourself to go. Besides, what else were you going to be doing on a Friday night?

Studying yourself in the mirror, you determined that you were finally satisfied with your outfit, a sparkling minidress which left just enough to the imagine. You had done your hair and makeup, which had put you at ease, taking time to do it all provided you with a small sense of solace. Smoothing down the dress, you decided it was time to head, poking your head into the small living room to find Mando there, with the Child talking to him in a soft voice.

“Hey,” you said quietly, trying not to interrupt them too much, “I’m heading out. See you later.”

“Out?” the modulator crackled as his head snapped in your direction and you nodded, surprised by the sudden reaction. The Child looked between the two of you with wide eyes, shocked by the sudden change in the room, as were you, “out where?”

“Out to the city?” your eyebrows were raised as you felt his eyes raking over your body, taking in your ensemble. Oh. You were warm under his intense scrutiny, but you couldn’t deny the fire you were feeling in your belly, “there’s a party at one of the clubs and I’m going? I mentioned it to you a few days ago. You didn’t want to come.”

“Club?” he searched his brain and tried to remember the conversation, coming up with a blank. He had no doubt you were being honest, but he had a lot on his mind the past few days and didn’t recall, “looking like that?”

“Looking like what?” your voice climbed an octave at the apparent accusation. It wasn’t like him to ever question you, especially not when it comes to your personal life. There was something about it, that while infuriating, was also a bit of a turn on, “looking good? Because yeah, I look good as hell.”

“Looking like…” he trailed off, unsure of exactly how to finish the statement without exposing himself too much. He knew you looked good, you always did, the ever present stirring in his pants whenever you were around was evidence enough of that. At that particular moment he was glad for the dark cloth and armor, “looking like that.”

“Really, Mando?” you crossed your arms over your chest, inadvertently exposing more of your breasts, immediately noticed by Mando. He swallowed the rising lump in his throat, “what’s up with you? Well, whatever, I’m heading out. I’ll be back eventually.”

“Wait,” just as you turned on your heel he was up and quickly approaching you, the gap closed in no time with his long strides. He grabbed for your wrist and you turned around and found him facing you, “aren’t you worried about…”

“About what?” you scoffed, trying to keep it together. If it wasn’t for the situation, this would have been hot. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was…jealous.

“All the people out there? It’s not a safe place…”

“I can handle myself,” you insisted and pulled out of his grasp, “I managed for years before you, and I can do it again. Thanks for the concern, Mando.”

“Isn’t that what got you in trouble in the first place?” it was weak, but he knew he had hit a nerve. It was true; you wouldn’t been there with him in that moment if it hadn’t been for your indiscretions in the first place.

“Look, I’m going either way,” you insisted, poking at the armor covering his chest, “you’re not my boyfriend, or my keeper, or whatever.”

He huffed but said nothing further, and you headed for the exit of the Crest. A little smirk made its way onto your face as you left him behind, feeling invigorated by your little argument. Normally you stayed away from confrontation, preferring to take a more passive role, but this had left you feeling some type of way.

You didn’t even know he was possible of being jealous, and yet here you were, already wanting to do it again and again. You liked the feeling that it sent through your bones, and your entire body. Who knew that your Mandalorian was possible of such emotion? Maybe you could crack through his tough exterior after all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The club, while over the top and opulent, was crowded, warm, and overpriced. Not exactly what you had originally imagined, but a welcome change of pace from all the quiet Friday nights you had experienced back on the Crest. Besides that, there was a man you had met, nothing spectacular but he would do for the night, that had bought you several drinks. It almost made up for the way he had his hands all over you on the dance floor. Normally, you’d fight him off or something, but the tension that had flared up within you earlier had left you worked up, welcoming the sensation of another pair hands on your body.

As you felt the hands on your waist as the man ground up against you, you found yourself scouring the club. Your jaw almost dropped when you spotted Mando on the other side, watching you intently. Your felt your mouth drying up, and a shiver run down your spine.

“I’ll be right back,” you shouted over the music as you pulled away from your companion, determined to go and find out what Mando was doing there. You made it a point to lean up and kiss him feverishly, just to get a rise out of the Mandalorian that was watching your every move.

It didn’t take long to make your way through the crowd, and you stood in front of him, searching the visor for some sort of response. When he remained silent, you huffed and shoved his shoulder slightly, “what the hell are you doing here?!”

“Heard there was a big thing going on here,” he replied and you just knew that there was a smirk under the helmet. Your eyes widened as you realized he was just playing along with your little game, “had to come and check it out.”

“Well you stick out like a sore thumb,” you stick out your tongue at him, knowing it was childish, but it felt like it was necessary, “this isn’t exactly your crowd.”

“Hmm,” was all he commented as he leaned against the bar, clutching a perfunctory drink in his hand, “shouldn’t you be with him? Your little friend? He seems…eager.”

“Shut up,” rolling your eyes at him, you grabbed the drink from his hand and downed the rest of it in one go. If he was going to act like such a dick you might as well give him a reason to do so, “just go back to the Crest. You don’t belong here! Why are you even really here?”

He remained annoyingly silent as he watched you closely. You had expected him to react with him something, anything, more than silence. He knew how to get to you, he really did. You groaned at him, as you turned and walked away, making it a point to sway your hips back and forth. You could feel his eyes glued to your backside.

Quickly finding your companion again, you were more riled up than ever and put your arms around his neck, before whispering, “kiss me.”

And so he did. It wasn’t that you really wanted to kiss him, or feel his hands on you, but it was just enough to take your mind off of Mando. If you were being honest, it was him you wanted to kiss you, his large hands you wanted to feel all over your body. It was him you wanted to take to bed that night; not this random man whose name you didn’t know or care to learn. But that undeniable itch wasn’t going to take care of itself, so he would have to.

But as soon as you had felt his hands firmly on your ass, they were ripped away, and he was pushed to the side, replaced by an irate Mandalorian. Maybe you would be getting what you wanted after all.

“What in the heavens, Mando?” you played along, as if you weren’t getting exactly what you wanted, “what’s your problem?”

“You’re coming with me, you little brat,” he grabbed your arm roughly, but still with enough care to make sure he didn’t actually hurt you. You silently obliged as he pulled you with him towards the back of the crowded space, towards the bathroom. You bit your lip as you realized what this meant.

He opened the door to singular bathroom, pushing you inside, and slamming the door shut, making sure it was locked. You leaned against the counter as you gave him a coy smile, “what’s wrong, Mando?”

He stood in front of you, chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at you. It was a moment before he grabbed your jaw, turning your face up towards his, “you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Think you’re real sly, going out and looking like that, knowing what it does to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, a little sound of surprise leaving your lips as his free hand toyed with the hem of your dress, starting to push it up. You knew what it did to him, you’d been aware of some time.

“Don’t lie to me,” he almost growled, “letting that disgusting bastard put his filthy hands all over you. You just wanted my attention, didn’t you? You wanted me to do this, huh?”

You gasped slightly as he yanked your dress up, his hand hovering near the waistband of your soaked panties. Yes. This was exactly what you had wanted, you just never thought you’d be getting it. You grabbed his wrist and pulled his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them slowly, tasting the salty leather of his gloves. You made sure to look him directly in the eyes, at least where they should be under the visor, the whole time, aching for him to touch you.

He let you carry on for a moment before he pulled back flipped you around so your backside was against him. You could already feel how hard he was, straining against his pants. You looked up in the mirror and gave him a little smirk as you heard him unzip his pants, a loud clanging echoing in the small bathroom as they fell to the floor. He pulled his gloves off before pushing your dress up and your panties down, taking a moment to slap your ass, before running his large hands over it. You practically mewled in delight.

“You want this?” he asked, somehow still searching for permission, as if your eagerness wasn’t enough, “need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you insisted, biting your lip at the delicious feeling of his hands all over your body. They felt better than you had ever imagined; even better than when you touched yourself and imagined it was him touching you, “Mando, please-”

“Who do you belong to?” he rasped out, so many sensations hitting him all at once. This was like delicious sensory overload for him, and he probably wasn’t going to last long, but neither were you.

“You,” you purred, just as he finally entered you, “I belong to you Mando.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren #dyn jarren x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars #requests

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Don’t Forget Me

Art in banner done by me.

College Life / Mermaid / Kimi no Na wa (Your Name) inspired AU

It’s all nothing but a dream. A series of dreams that are all too real. That’s all it is. Your soul - or whatever it was - couldn’t possibly be swapping places with a Merman. One, mermaids aren’t real. Two, that’s not even possible! Is it?

Mermaid!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Human Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Don’t Forget Me tag.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story

Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Interspecies Sex (merman / human), Masturbation, Alcohol, Animal death / hunting (whales, fish, sharks, etc), Cursing, Descriptions of Injuries and Blood

A/N: This is my part for the @bnhabookclub weekly collab event Just Add Water for MerMay! I know there isn’t much going on in this, but it’s just the first chapter to a new multichapter fic. Per the rules of the collab, I used the prompt “That’s just an urban legend”. I’m excited, because I’ve wanted to do a Mer!Bakugou x reader for a LONG time and could never think of anything. But when this theme was announced, I was watching Kimi no Na wa and immediately had this idea. So, full disclosure, the theme of switching bodies in their sleep / forgetting each other is inspired by that movie, but that is all that I take away from it.

Prologue: Stone

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing

Words: 1,855

You were doing it again.

How many times had you caught yourself staring at the delicate necklace in your hands? More than you could probably count on all your fingers and toes, and you were sure that number had nearly doubled just in the last week. You really weren’t sure why you were drawn to it so intensely, nor why it gave you such a deep sense of loss and loneliness.

Where had you gotten it from?

You couldn’t remember. In truth, you couldn’t remember getting it at all. As far as you could recollect, it had been around your neck when you woke up one morning, about two months ago. Since then, you refused to go a day without it, even if it didn’t necessarily match your outfit or any particular occasion. You felt so lost without it around your neck, like a part of you was away, off in some distant land or deep within the sea.

Why did you think that?

Of all things, why would you assume that this missing part of you was in the ocean? Was it because of the necklace? Probably. The silver clam shaped pendant that rested in your palm was most likely the culprit to make you think of the sea. But that particular piece of the jewelry wasn’t what kept you so entranced. Set in the middle was a small, perfectly round stone, and its brilliance is what you couldn’t help but stare into. To anyone else, it would just appear to be a small marble, with brilliant deep indigo, swirling turquoise and hints of radiant purples. There were sparkles of twinkling white, like light reflecting off a water's surface, and if you gazed into it long enough, you could have sworn that the colors were mixing and twisting, as if there truly was water inside the stone.

It was so beautiful. Had someone given it to you? Whoever did must have cared about you so deeply to give you something so special. You had asked all your friends and family if they knew anything about how you got it, but no one knew anything. You received some weird looks and uncomfortable responses when you tried to ask them, but that didn’t bother you much, not when you had been dealing with people finding you strange for almost half a year now, anyway.

Why did they find you weird again? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that it had to do with this necklace. You had tried to find out what it was made of to try and get any hints on where it may have come from, but each jewelry store or stone expert you took it to, they all had the same response. They just didn’t know. Many offered to buy it from you at varying prices, their interest peaked and their hopes of being the first person to discover a new stone pushing them forward. But you resisted, as just even letting it out of your hands so they could look at it enough to make you nearly burst into tears. You couldn’t let it go and you wouldn’t, either. Not ever. Not for anything.

Because it was precious. It was the only thing that you had that could help to calm this nearly unending sense of longing.

But what was it you were longing for?

Or who?

Why did that always pop up in your mind? There were so many pieces of scattered thoughts that you just couldn’t put together. A person. The sea. Feeling like a piece of you was missing. You wanted these feelings to end, but you knew that they wouldn’t, not until you found what you were searching for.

With a frustrated sigh, you put the necklace back on around your neck, clasping it in place with skilled fingers. Standing from your bed, you shuffled your way towards your desk, lightly running your fingers down along the slender metal chain. Your mind was still in a hazy grip of sleep, barely registering that the electronic clock mostly hidden by books and other stationary read 5:49 AM, though that didn’t really matter. Your mind was racing with the overbearing thoughts, and as you sat down in your squeaky office chair, you were already near breaking out into tears.

The necklace wasn’t the only clue you had. Scattered among the desk were notebooks and papers, though you had refused to touch them for the last few weeks. At first, you had meticulously looked over every page and every written note, trying to do everything you could to learn about who this person was that you were missing. But now they sat on your desk, abandoned in defeat. There were many things in the notes that didn’t make sense to you now, though according to what you had written, you had understood it all at one point.

What you had written.

That was what was the most odd. There were two very distinct handwritings within the notebooks and scribbled on the scrap pieces of paper or sticky notes. Yours was so proper and easy to read, clean and steady. The other was rough with some of the characters almost completely illegible, requiring you to assume what the person writing must have been trying to say. Large and scratchy, it almost resembled the handwriting of a child or what you assume would be someone new to writing on paper. The phrases. The choice of words. All of it was completely different from yours.

It had been another person. Someone sat in your chair, in your room, and wrote these messages to you. At first, you thought that it just had to be a prank. One of your friends was fucking with you. That was the only realistic solution. But none of them talked this way, and if you were honest, they weren’t exactly clever enough to pull off such a big ordeal over months and months.

The way they talked… It was so strange. You just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and if you were honest, you thought that they must have been a little crazy. Yet, you weren’t all that rattled in most of your responses, like you knew what they had been saying to be the truth.

The conversations were so… natural. In fact, most of it was like a diary, with the scratchy handwriting cataloging what had happened that day, how they felt about it, and what they had done.

This school shit that you humans do is so stupid and pointless. Who the fuck needs to know about… what is it called? Calculus? You’re never going to use that shit, I’m not bothering with keeping up with it, fuck that. You always catch up on your own anyway. That bitch Midoriya or whatever gave you some fucking flowers today. I thought about stomping on them and telling him to fuck off, but I just took them and left. You need to tell that prick you’re not into him or this shit will never stop. Also, the way you humans handle courtship is fucked. I didn’t do shit today otherwise. Just stayed in the room. I did find your sketchbook though. You’re getting better, but you still can’t remember us for shit.

Pulling your eyes up from the paper, they immediately landed on the mentioned sketchbook, which was tucked up beneath some schoolbooks. Carefully, you pulled it out, setting it down on the pile of papers to thumb through it.

It had been so long since you had even opened this thing. The feeling of the coarse paper beneath your fingertips brought a small smile to your face, as did seeing all your old sketches and doodles. Though, the smile faded as you reached near the middle of the sketchbook, your eyes tearing up immediately at the contents of the page. The page was completely covered in drawings of what looked to be mermaids, or mermen, to be more accurate. They were mostly faceless and unidentifiable, the sketches geared more towards poses and anatomy. The only thing mostly consistent was the tail. It seemed to be the same over all the drawings, with matching fins and scribbled patterns.

“Mermaids… I’ve never cared to draw them before, why did I…?”

After another turn of the page, you were met with similar things, only this time they had heads and hair, jewelry, pieces of clothing, and even weapons. Only one of the sketches resembled the previous drawings, and his particular features called to you. The feeling of recognition and longing grew fiercer with another turn of the page, which was all nothing but sketches of that particular merman’s head with varying expressions and positions. He was particularly attractive, with slanted piercing eyes and a mass of fluffy spiked hair on his head. He had fin-like ears that were mostly drooped, but flared out on the drawings with a more intense expression, where his mouth was open in a yell or intense fanged snarl.

A small gasp left your lips as a drop of liquid suddenly landed onto the paper, pulling you out of your daze. Crying? Why were you crying? Why did your heart feel like it was about to be ripped from your chest? It wasn’t possible for this to be the man that you had been longing for. You had drawn him as a mermaid! They weren’t real, and there was no way that was possible. He couldn’t even get into your room, let alone sit in your chair and write you letters.

“I’m so ridiculous…” You whispered quietly to yourself, wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. Had you been blushing? You didn’t even notice. “Mermaids… That’s just an urban legend. A myth. I must have just been in a phase… Maybe I saw a movie or an anime with them, and I got super invested? But then… they’re so…”

Page after page, more sketches followed, some making you giggle while others made your chest ache so badly you thought you would pass out. But then, there was something scribbled onto a page that made your entire body grow cold, stomach twisting into such a tight knot you were sure that you’d vomit.

Save me.

“Save… Save you?” You choked out into the silent room with a trembling voice, more tears cascading down your cheeks as you reached up to grip the pendant around your neck tightly. It was in the familiar scratchy handwriting, though it was more frantic and messy than you had ever seen. Hiccupping, you brought the pendant up to your lips, pressing the stone against them as you struggled to calm yourself.

Save you from what? What the hell happened? Did I save you? Why the hell can’t I remember!

It was then that you felt an odd pulsing against your lips, and as you pulled away in shock, your teary gaze was locked onto the pendant in your hands, which was pulsing slowly with a pale green glow. And with it came a thought, like a soft voice whispering in your ear that you couldn’t ignore.

He’s calling to me…

#bnhabookclub #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #personal #collab #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #mermay #Merman!Bakugou #mermaid au #mer!bakugou

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victorscrown · 3 years

Text

V I C T O R ‘ S C R O W N ⸻

type: excerpt

word count: 2236

warning(s): mentions of suicide

status: second draft, unedited

For as long as Finnick Odair can remember, the ocean has been his home. He learned to swim almost before he could walk; his mother used to joke that he should have been born with fins and gills instead of arms and legs. His earliest memories are drenched in saltwater and smell like brine and fish. They are sand-bottomed, adorned with seashells and kelp and coral, set to the melody of waves crashing against the shore and seagulls crying from the air. They are wrought from long hours spent aboard District 4’s trawlers, netting seafood bound for the hungry mouths of Capitol citizens. His parents’ house might be where he sleeps, but the ocean is where he belongs.

Despite this, the ever-present threat of the Hunger Games sweeps Finnick out of the water and deposits him in the austere world of Career education almost before he’s old enough to understand what he’s preparing for. The only son of eminent fleet captain Lochlan Odair and his shipwright wife, Finnick is selected for District 4’s prestigious training academy two years earlier than the normal recruiting age. Every minute Finnick is not at sea he is training, learning how to survive, how to fight, how to win.

Being a five-year-old in a class of children two years his senior should have left him at a distinct disadvantage, but Finnick is a natural, both at the physical and mental aspects of Career academia. After his first day at the academy, Finnick marches thorough the door of his home, head held high, and announces, “I’m going to win the Hunger Games one day.”

His parents don’t quite know what to think about this. As one of the few families of Panem with some material wealth to call their own, a sense of responsibility falls on the Odairs, a need to provide for and protect the less fortunate of their district. They donate frequently to the Games fund. They satiate the appetites of greedy Capitol officials with bribes and obsequience. But willingly sending their own child to the Games is a sacrifice above and beyond what they are willing to make. In District 4, it’s considered an honor to be chosen to compete in the Games, but it doesn’t make the possibility of their child dying at the hands of another any more palatable. So Finnick’s parents mask their worry behind sunny smiles and words of congratulation.

We are so proud of you! Their voices warble like the tide. You will make such an excellent angler. All of the fish will just hop right into your net!

Meanwhile, Finnick, young, soft, and new, is dazzled and awed by the bright posters hanging from the academy walls. Show pride in your district! the posters urge. Volunteer to compete and show Panem what District 4 is really made of!

In Finnick’s academy days, volunteerism, while not rampant like it was in Districts 1 and 2, was frequent enough to preserve the district amidst a sea of destitution. To the trained, money is a powerful motivator, and the fact that many victors pour their winnings back into the district makes the Games seem much more appealing. But the Games are only appealing when someone from District 4 wins.

Finnick is seven when he hears about Nereus. News of the victor’s death floods the streets as though carried by a riptide, and soon all of District 4 is talking about it. Poor old Nereus, academy personnel would mutter when they thought the students could not hear. Found his body on the beach. Wanted to see the sun set one more time, the poor fool.

Even then, Finnick is old enough to know of Nereus, victor of the Forty-second Hunger Games. While other victors were deeply involved in the functions and activities of the academy—drafting the school’s curricula, hosting seminars, even teaching classes for potential tributes—Nereus did not step foot once in the academy after his victory. He holed himself up in his luxurious house in the Victor’s Village and did not emerge unless coerced. Except on the night on which he died.

Officially, Nereus died of a heart attack—a tragic accident, the mayor of District 4 claims at his district-wide funeral. But there are rumors floating around District 4, eddying in the dorms of the academy and muddying the waters of the mayor’s claims like silt.

They say Nereus died of a heart attack, but he never goes outside. Why would he go to the beach unless he knew something? Unless he planned something?

One night, Finnick is brave enough to ask his father about it.

“Dad, the mayor says Nereus died of a heart attack. But everyone else is saying he planned it himself. Like he wanted to die.”

Finnick’s parents exchange looks. Finnick just waits. His father will answer eventually; he always does.

“I’m not sure I understand your question, Finnick,” Lochlan says at last.

“Why would Nereus want to die?” Finnick asks. “He won the Hunger Games, right? He lived in a big house and had all the food and money he could ever want.”

Lochlan takes a deep breath, as if about to dive underwater, and fixes Finnick with a serious look. “Nereus’ death was unfortunate, yes. But he was selfish, through and through.”

“Lochlan,” Finnick’s mother starts, reproving, but he carries on.

“You were right, Finnick. Nereus was a victor. And as such, he had a duty to his district. A duty to care for his people, to give them help as they needed it.”

“Like you do,” Finnick says.

Lochlan nods solemnly. “Nereus was so caught up in himself he forgot his obligation. But we will never be so. You, son, are an Odair. And when you grow older, when your mother and I are gone, you will carry the responsibility for our district as well.” His eyes, to which Finnick’s are so often compared, are as dark and fierce as a stormy sea. “As captain, I must direct my crew. I must tell them how to steer the ship, exactly where we are to go, or else we will get lost out on the open sea. Or even worse, crash and sink the bottom of the ocean. District 4 is one giant ship. There must be a strong, steady captain, or the ship will not make it safely back to the harbor. Do you understand?”

Finnick is seven and understands very little of what his father’s metaphor implies. But he nods his head obediently and tucks the conversation away in his heart, where he dwells upon it often in the quiet, solitary moments before dawn.

Later, Finnick realizes District 4 didn’t mourn Nereus’ death as much as they mourned the sudden lack of monetary resources his presence sanctioned. He might have been a recluse, but his winnings still aided the people. With one more victor dead, there was one less salary the district could use as a crutch.

Unfortunately, Nereus’ death seems to be the advent of a streak of bad luck for District 4. In the following months, when the seas are normally teeming with life and District 4 flourishes under its bounty, trawlers begin hauling in seafood black and putrid with disease. A parasite, they soon discover, and quicker than a flash flood it spreads from the sea to the air. Infected birds begin to litter District 4’s pristine shores alongside their infected prey. This won’t last, trawler captains assure their Capitol managers. Give it a season, and the parasite will die out and your quotas will be met.

Another season comes and goes. Fishing is poor and the district poorer.

In response, strict rationing is instituted by the Capitol. The inner sectors of the district, already barely keeping themselves afloat, start to get pulled under by the riptide of starvation. Dissent ripples outward, starting in the inner sectors, where the rationing hits hardest, to the outer fringes of the district, where the Odairs live. The Capitol, fearing outright rebellion, tightens its chokehold on District 4 with an unforgiving fist. Anyone suspected of instigating an uprising are punished severely, or just disappear altogether. A district-wide curfew is enacted, with harsh retribution allotted to any who break it. And the academy is shut down, because every child over the age of seven is forced onto a trawler alongside their older siblings and parents, shuttled inland to work in the processing plants, or consigned to long, back-breaking hours combing beaches for clams and any other edible source of food.

The fleet is out to sea for weeks at a time, venturing out to waters previously considered too dangerous to fish. Finnick is lucky enough to have grown up on his family’s trawler, but other children are not so lucky. Every week, it seems there is a new story about some untrained child being washed overboard by colossal waves, or strangled by the heavy nets, or withered away by dysentery caused by eating rotten seafood. These children are mourned the way children sent to the Games are mourned.

Finnick’s mother and other shipwrights are displaced from their jobs in the shipyards to assist in the process of moving delicate, time-sensitive cargo onto trains and hovercrafts bound for the Capitol. With so much of the seafood being rendered inedible, it is imperative that every iota of good food is transported to the Capitol as quickly as possible to minimize the amount of time trawlers spend in port and reduce the spoiling of perishable goods. Finnick and many other children do not see one or both parents for weeks.

The only time everyone has off is to partake in the 60th Hunger Games. The afternoon before Reaping Day, every vessel in District 4’s fleet returns to shore, but there is no relief in the days to come. For the next three weeks, District 4 witnesses firsthand the consequences of minimal to no Career training. This year’s volunteers—a pair of inner district adolescents desperate to fight their way out of poverty or die trying—have not been properly trained in over a year. They don’t stand a chance against their Career counterparts from One and Two. District 4 watches, deluged in shame and horror, as both of their tributes are killed off in the first week of the Games. The chance of securing relief from the Capitol in the form of food or other supplies dies with them.

Finnick doesn’t quite understand what the Games imply, why they occur or why children must be sent to die. But he recognizes his parents’ grief, the pronounced slump of his father’s shoulders, the sheen of tears in his mother’s red-rimmed eyes. He recognizes the bent heads and dull gazes of other adults, and even some children, who even younger than Finnick are impacted by the despotism of the Capitol.

The night of his ninth birthday, Finnick is rocked to sleep by the roll and pitch of his father’s ship, already redeployed after the Games. He misses his mother desperately, but he most likely won’t get to see her for another fortnight, when the trawler will deliver its bounty into her custody onshore. It can’t go on like this forever, he thinks, though it’s hard to think about much other than the hunger gnawing at his belly. At some point, things will go back to normal.

And gradually, things do. In the following months, the parasite infecting District 4’s waters dies out, and more food becomes available to citizens outside of the Capitol. Children are allowed to go back to school. The academy reopens, and vigorous training resumes. By now, though, District 4 is a good two years behind the other districts in terms of Games readiness. And it shows when Four loses yet another Games—to a girl from Three, of all places.

The humiliation wears at District 4’s normally indefatigable spirit. It’s made indubitably clear that the only way District 4 will begin bringing home victors is if they’re trained first. So District 4 unites the best it can, pouring every possible asset into scholarships and Games-related aid organizations. Every extra cent of the Odairs’ income flows directly into fund dedicated to providing for Four’s tributes in the arena. As for Finnick, there is nothing he can do but train. And train he does, with an unprecedented intensity and focus. His dedication garners the attention of academy faculty, who praise his skill and commitment. Even Capitol officials, stationed at the academy to monitor for suspicious activity, remark at the newfound enthusiasm with which he tackles his education.

Your boy shows such promise! they’d tell Finnick’s father. He’s going to be a volunteer for sure.

By the time Finnick’s thirteenth birthday arrives, he has been living at the academy full-time for three years. Once children achieve Games eligibility at age twelve, the most promising are assigned personal trainers, some of whom are former victors. Batten is a perfect match for Finnick’s relentless ambition. He shapes Finnick into just what he intends to be: A reason for District 4 to maintain its pride, a victor through and through.

#thg fanfic #the hunger games #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #thg #finnick odair #series: victor's crown #fic: victor's crown #ch: finnick odair #victor's crown: excerpt #[ let's play a game called how many tags can emma possibly add to a single post ]#[ you have no idea how long it took me to format this lol ]

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amerasdreams · 3 years

Text

Jerry’s lost last letter from Vietnam

Dear Mom and Dad,

and Jana and Jason,

I need to tell you about what happened here in Vietnam. In my other letters, I glossed over details because, Dad, you know war and so I don’t have to tell you what it’s like, and Mom, I didn’t want to worry you. Jana and Jason, I hope you never have to know what war is like.

But I can’t deny the truth of what happened over here, the pain and the glory of it.

You hear stories about Vietnam before you leave. A lot of people give into evil. You have to kill to survive, that’s one thing. But the things people let themselves do…become no better than the enemy they’re fighting. They let the war cloud their minds, muddy their morals. I was self-righteous about this at first. I would never fall.

Oh how wrong I was.

I hesitate to tell you. Especially you, Jason, who looked up to me so much. I wish you could keep this heroic image of me, but that would be selfish.

The truth is, I gave into evil. I was proud, to start with. It blinded me to the fact that deep down I’m no different than anyone else and it’s only by the saving grace of Jesus Christ that I have anything salvageable inside me.

It’s not like I did it myself; I just let it happen. But that doesn’t justify it. Fear is no excuse either. It can’t be, here. Especially when you’re an officer; you’re responsible for the men under you.

One reason I’m hesitant to tell about this is that it’s top secret. And it involves someone else and her safety. But with the uncertainty over here—when the war will end, overall or just for me—it’s worth the risk so you can help her in case I’m….not around anymore.

We trudged through the mud, sheets of rain pouring down, soaking us. The gray sky pierced by green knives of grass, slashing our arms as we searched for the enemy. We hadn’t had any action for days and some of my men were itching for a fight, just to break up the gray sloshing mud with bright flowers of fire.

This kid, Jenkins, had glasses and that made it so he could see even less than the rest of us in the rain. Barely 18, smaller than most, the guys all teased him but he took it well and so they were good-natured about it. He was kinda like our mascot. We thought he had a charmed life; he once stepped on a mine and it didn’t go off, some of the men thought he was lucky and even that we were an invincible unit.

We were checking out a weapons cache when some VC ambushed us. Shattered Benny’s leg, that’s my sarge. Good man. I dragged him to safety and fired back—we were surrounded on this little island in the swamp, just a raised bit of land, not much cover, so we were sitting ducks. I had to get my men out of there. I ordered some men to make a feint to the left, others to cover our rear as we retreated into the swamp. But they caught us as we came down, popped up right out of the gray water and shot some point-blank. I fought hand-to-hand with one—he stabbed me in the thigh and blood swirled into the water like red ink. Somehow we fought them off but by that time they’d killed five of us and Jenkins was lying face down, so much blood in the water around him we knew he was gone.

A chopper flew us back to base for R and R and to take care of the dead. Rally, one of my squad leaders, wanted to go right back out and find those VC—he didn’t use that term—and kill them. Something in him snapped that day. I should’ve seen it but we were all grieving. We were a tight-knit unit, even more than most, I thought, and to lose Jenkins and four other good men…it hit us hard. But we forged on. I had to get a new platoon sergeant temporarily so I promoted Rally to the acting position.

About a month later, early August, we captured some VC. My men and I secured the village while Rally began the interrogation of the prisoners, two men and a woman, in a vacant shed. While I was occupied, the prisoners attempted to escape and Rally shot them. That was his story. I have no doubt they were trying to escape, but they were shot in the back, which wasn’t really necessary as they were bound and couldn’t have gotten far. When I returned, one man had died and Rally was beating the other man’s face in. He was incoherent and useless as an intel source. Jackson offered to “put him out of his misery”; I held him back and had the medic take care of him.

Only the woman was left to interrogate. I let Rally be the bad cop and threaten to kill her family, but I didn’t let him lay a hand on her. She taunted us, told us we were dead men like the buddies we’d lost. Rally swung a fist toward her; I shoved him out of the way and had a nice, civil talk with her. She seemed to thaw a little; I saw some of the fear in her eyes beneath the bravado, and we even shared a little about our families. She gave me a nom de guerre: Ana.

Just when I thought we were ready for a breakthrough, some of her comrades attacked and we had to fend them off. Once I got back to the shed, I found Rally had continued the interrogation by breaking one of her fingers. I tried to stop him but Jackson held me back. “She’s close to cracking,” he said. “You step in, she’ll clam up again. He’s already got some good stuff, sir. Just a little more. Otherwise this is all in vain.”

“This is not who we are. We’re Americans—this is what they do.”

“I know. I know, sir. You’ve kept us on the good path. But just this once, look away. For the ones we lost. For the ones we can save.”

I left the building, patrolled the perimeter. But no matter where I went, I could still hear Ana’s screams.

When I got back it was like a slaughterhouse. Rally was covered in blood; Ana (I must use her name—to do otherwise would dehumanize her) was unconscious. He’d broken each of her fingers and carved the names of our fallen into her chest. I tried not to look at her directly, as if that would absolve me of guilt, as if she was just a “target” and not a human being.

“We got the intel,” said Rally, beaming like he’d won a medal of honor.

I treated it like just another operation. She was just another casualty of war, an enemy at that. We’d done our job; it was a successful mission. We could be proud of ourselves.

We left her there; I’m not sure if she lived or died. I didn’t feel guilty at first; I didn’t feel anything but the need to keep my men safe. Until we stopped to rest, and she began to haunt me. Even if it was Rally who had gotten out of hand, I was responsible for my men’s actions. I’d allowed it. It was the same as if I’d carved those names into her chest. Hadn’t I wanted revenge too? How could I possibly delude myself I was any different, any better?

Still, I had to do my job, and I began to gain attention as a good leader from my CO. He told a CIA officer about me, and that officer contacted me for a special mission. Inside enemy territory.

We’d really only be glorified couriers; we were to deliver some new equipment to a northern spy. The CIA officer told me that he suspected a mole in his network; every agent he’d sent north had been killed or captured, the expensive equipment confiscated. We had a reputation of getting things done. He commended us for the intel we’d gotten from Ana; his agents had made good use of it. We’d take a different route than the others to throw the VC off track, but we should be under no illusions that this would be an easy or safe mission. He’d only take volunteers.

I took a small group of 10 men and we went north. We’d just dropped off the package when we were ambushed. Two men were shot; I covered the others so they could get away. I emptied my ammo and then fought with my knife—I’d rather be killed than captured—but they stabbed my leg and I went down. Blows rained from all directions until a rifle hit my head and I blacked out.

I came to in a cell at a VC base camp. My body ached; I could barely move. A man dragged me to the interrogation room and the fun began.

My interrogator was the man we’d thought was our agent. He’d been fooling the Americans for years, feeding them false intel, getting their agents captured. I was no different; he’d extract the info he needed then kill me.

He asked me about my mission for the CIA. I couldn’t tell him any more than he already knew. So he hit me. He asked about troop movements and supply routes; I wouldn’t tell him anything. So he hit me again. He wasn’t especially creative even though he always bragged about his abilities. I think he confused enjoyment for expertise. Plus he had a big head from fooling the Americans. He was probably a good spy, but not a very good interrogator. I called him Hack.

Still, he began to wear me down, especially if the sessions ended with him hitting me so hard I blacked out. I probably had multiple concussions, and my wounds were left untreated and infected. One of his COs sat in on an interrogation and I was apparently so incoherent and delirious he ordered a medic to take care of me.

I don’t remember much after that; it was probably days before I was fully conscious again. It was like heaven; my head was clear and I barely ached. Someone came in with food.

No, not just someone. The most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Silky hair that fell like a sheet of black water. Intense brown eyes in a perfect oval face. For a moment I thought she was an angel, especially since I felt no pain and pain had become part of my existence. She also reminded me of Ana…guilt struck my heart.

She handed me the tray of food and then left. When she came back, she aimed her gun at me and told me to follow. I was back in the interrogation room, but this time Hack was gone, replaced by another man. He spoke no English so he needed the girl, Ai, to translate. I knew basic Vietnamese but no complex words or sentences.

His interrogation was perfunctory and he rarely used physical force. It was a welcome reprieve. Plus I got to be in the same room with Ai, who looked at me with disdain as she translated.

This guy didn’t get anything out of me either, so they got some sort of specialist to have a go at me. He was good. Big, brutal, but he knew how to inflict maximum pain with minimum damage. Ai translated for him as well.

One day he had me on the floor, just screaming and sobbing with pain, like I was on fire. Ai threatened to stop translating unless he stopped hurting me so badly; he grabbed her and asked what side she was on. She said she just couldn’t stomach this; he said if she was weak she didn’t belong in the VC and began choking her.

First I noticed the absence of pain, then I noticed frantic, strangled cries. I looked up to see Ai kicking at him as he held her in the air by her throat.

I asked God to help me because I knew I couldn’t move on my own. I couldn’t redeem myself for what I’d done to Ana but I could help Ai.

I struggled to my feet and stood, shaking. Somehow I managed to say, “Stop!”

Anger crossed his face. He dropped Ai to the floor and turned on me. Gave me a good old fashioned beating till I blacked out.

When I came to, Ai was shaking me. It was dark. She told me that they would kill me since I had outlived my usefulness. She led me down the hallway and opened the door to the back, where there was a running vehicle. “Thank you. For what you did for me,” she said.

“Thank you for helping me, Ai. I wish—“

“Go! I can’t let them catch me.” She darted back inside.

Somehow I got down the road a bit before anyone saw me. I had to ditch the vehicle and run into the jungle. Survived for days, dodging patrols, eating bugs, till I ran into an American squad and they had me choppered back to base.

Everyone had thought I was dead; they had a big party for me. I recuperated and then went back to leading my platoon. Everything went back to normal. Vietnam-normal, anyway.

Until one day I saw Ai on base, delivering supplies to the soldiers. She drove out before I could catch her.

My men and I were hanging around base for a little while, so I saw her when she returned later that week. I caught up to her this time. She took me aside and told me that she was supposed to be an agent for the VC, but she was really working for the Americans. She had been with the communists when I’d been captured but she wasn’t a die-hard party member or anything. All she wanted was for the war to end and for her country to be at peace. She thought the VC would do that. But I’d changed her view of what Americans were at the same time she’d seen the brutality of the VC. She didn’t want to be complicit in that so she agreed to help us, in part to bring democracy and peace to her country, in part to make up for what she did.

I then told her my own struggle—my own complicity. Hurting a young woman like her. I expected her to leave in disgust. But she forgave me. I felt a dark burden lift from my heart. It wasn’t totally gone—it never will be. But what she did freed me, more so than when she’d let me out of the enemy camp.

Whenever she was on base, I found time to be with her. We began hanging out together. Eating at mess together. The boys began to make fun of me. I knew I should be careful; I didn’t want to blow her cover. Spending too much time with any one American without intel from him would be suspicious to her handlers. So we did things in secret. Had picnics out on this grassy hill with beautiful red flowers. I gave her presents. I felt she deserved the world.

Then I got orders to move out. We’d be deep in the jungle for weeks, perhaps months. My heart felt like it was imploding. I couldn’t be without her. I wished I could just take her and run away from the war and just live with her in peace.

But I decided to do something a little less drastic. When we were out on a picnic, I asked her—Dad, Mom, can you believe this?—to marry me.

And even more wonderful and crazy—she said yes!

Two days ago, we were married on our hill under the moonlight. She had a red flower in her hair. She was so beautiful! We sealed it with a glorious kiss and then…well, I’ll leave it at that.

We had two frantic days together, stolen kisses in the hallway, nights in a little abandoned hut covered in vines. Today I have to move out, leave her to the lonely life of a spy. How I can leave her without my heart breaking I don’t know. I’m sending this letter so you know the worst and the best of me, and so that you know to take care of her in case I don’t come back. Only the chaplain and the witness know about our marriage.

She’s leaning over my shoulder as I write this in our little ‘cabin’, as I call it. Kissing me. Now she’s saying that she wants to say hi to you and she can’t wait to meet you. That she won’t let me leave and if I do she’ll drag me back….Oh I do love her, I can’t tell you how much, my heart’s bursting and I—

I miss you. I’ve got a long tour left but when I come home, I’ll bring a beautiful bride with me.

And, just in case,

Goodbye. (I’ll see you in heaven, anyway!)

Love,

Jerry (and Ai) Whittaker

- from Generation

#adventures in odyssey #fanfiction #writing #vietnam #jerry whittaker #married #to a spy #letter #violence #war

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anathewierdo · 4 years

Text

Call of the Ocean Chapter 20: Let the Games Begin

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 6799

Chapter summary: There’s no avoiding it anymore: the tournaments for Y/N’s hand and the kingdom’s crown have begun. Dean decides to add another mermaid to Bobby’s wall.

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: ‘Elloooooo! Okay y’all, this is a big one. In every sense of the word. Brace yourselves ;D This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva . Text dividers were made by the awesome @talesmaniac89

Next chapter will be posted this Saturday, October 24th

Thasman held the box with the relic close to his chest. The light filtered through from the surface like it did every morning. With a slight hiss, Thasman looked down at the cut on his side. The creature protecting the box was not a joke. As he was trying to sneak in, he froze when a familiar merman swam in the distance.

“Roan,” Thasman breathed. The pain on his side made him hiss once again as he continued to swim towards the palace.

“Thasman?” Roan’s voice made Thasman’s heart skip a beat. “Thasman, are you alright? What happened?”

“Nothing, I– I’m going to see Liara. I’m ok, Roan, don’t worry.”

Roan reached for him, “Thasman, let me help you please. I know we are not together anymore, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you.”

“I said I’m fine, Roan. Please.” Thasman tried to swim away.

“You have always been too stubborn for your own good.”

Thasman hissed when Roan began putting a balm on his wound. “I need to get this to Liara. She needs to give this to Y/N. The tournament is tomorrow and--”

“And if you want to marry the princess, then you need to tend your wounds.” Roan glared. “Now, let me help you, or don’t. I’ll still do it anyways. Let’s get you to Liara.”

“You should hate me,” Thasman whispered as Roan helped him towards Liara’s quarters. “I broke your heart Roan. You should wish pain on me.”

“I did break up with you, in case you don’t remember…” the merman gulped as he spoke quietly. “But I don’t hate you. Now stop babbling before I change my mind. For Poseidon’s sake, you stingray, what did you do to hurt yourself like this?”

“It was a sea serpent,” Thaman mumbbled. “Roan. I --”

The merman had stopped swimming, looking at Thasman with a surprised expression. “If you weren’t wounded already, I would do it myself. Where did you even go that would have a sea serpent, Thas?”

“I can’t tell you,” Thasman whispered. “But it’s important and it’s something for Y/N. Roan, I only entered the tournament to help her. The other suitors would treat her with disrespect.”

“You’ve said that before.” Roan stated. “You are a very good friend to her, Thas, you really are. But you have a life of your own. You have to be selfish for once in your life.”

“Trust me Roan,” Thasman whispered as they got closer to Liara’s quarters. “I know what needs to be done.” he pushed away from Roan and knocked on the door. “Thank you for helping me. You should get back to the dolphins.”

Liara opened the door and let out a gasp, “Thasman! What happened?” She turned to the other merman. “Thank you, Roan.”

Roan had his eyes trained on Thasman, stoic. “No problem, Liara. I should go, make sure he’s good enough to fight in the duels.”

“Roan,” Liara said, offering him a small smile. “Would you like some tea? I’m sure--”

“No, thank you,” he cut her off. “I should go. The dolphins should be ready for the ceremony before the tournament tomorrow.”

Liara’s eyes bounced from one merman to the other, trying to get a feel of what had happened between them, before she opened her door. “Alright,” she conceded, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Roan.”

When Roan had left, Thasman lifted the box for Liara to see. “I found it. But not before the serpent took a swipe at me.”

“A swipe?! This is more than one swipe, Thasman!” she exclaimed as she let him in, guiding him towards the bed and helping him sit down.

“I’m fine, Liara,” Thasman dismissed as he tried to sit up and groaned. “The balm is in my satchel.”

“Where is it?”

Thasman lifted his hand and pointed to the bag on the floor. “How’s Y/N? Is she okay?”

“Heartbroken,” was Liara’s response as she roamed through Thasman’s bag. “I can’t find it, Thasman.”

“But it should be--” Thasman’s eyes widened. “Oh no… I left it on the surface!”

“Why would you leave one of the most important items a guard has to have on them at all times?!” Liara scolded.

“I used the balm to heal Dean,” Thasman whispered. “I fought him over his infatuation with Y/N but he wouldn’t yield and I used the balm to heal him.”

“Not only did you leave one of our most important medicines on the surface, but in the hands of the human Y/N is in love with?” She exclaimed. “Why didn’t you check if you had it with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Thasman whispered. “It was foolish of me I know. But Y/N was hurt and so was Dean and I wanted to help heal them. I didn’t want Y/N to be heart broken.”

At this point, Liara had put a hand on her face, shaking her head and muttering to herself. After a few seconds, she composed herself. “Alright, it’s not too bad. You’ll have to go back and retrieve it, maybe without them noticing, but you can retrieve it. We’ll use the balm I have, ok?”

“I will grab a spare from my room for tomorrow,” Thasma sighed. “Thank you Liara. But how will you give Y/N the relic? What will you tell her?”

“Thasman, would you please, for Poseidon’s sake, let me take care of you first? The princess will be in her quarters the rest of the day before the banquet and I know where to find her tomorrow before, during and after the duels. My priority right now is the child I was given to raise.”

“And my priority is Y/N!” Thasman argued. “I am not going to--” he closed his mouth when Liara glared at him. It reminded him of the motherly feeling he received from Ellen on the surface.

“If you can get up from the bed, then you may.” She dared, still glaring at him.

Thasman let out a sigh. “I yield.” He muttered.

Liara nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

“Liara,�� Thasman whispered. “Sometimes I wish you were my mother,” he admitted.

This wasn’t the first time Thasman had let her know this, but like each and every time before, it broke Liara’s heart to pieces. The scrollkeeper had let him know from the start that his parents were gone, and that she would take care of him. To Thasman, sometimes she was more than his guardian, she was his family. But it was simpler to not let her know, just in case she didn’t feel the same way about him, and he was just the guppy that had been handed to her.

“You are always going to be, my little guppy, Thasman.” she said as she reached behind his head and undid the already messy bun that he had in place. When his hair was loose, she placed the balm on his wound. “But that does not mean that I will not hesitate to put you in your place if you do not take care of yourself.” she warned.

The merman chuckled. “Thank you, Liara.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean woke up that next morning before anyone else. Dealing with anyone right now was not an option. He made coffee and began walking into the living room when his foot hit something.

“Damn it!” he cursed. “What the fuck--” he stopped when he recognized the object he bumped into. “Thasman’s blade thing?”

He picked up the strange looking blade and opened the small compartment where the strange balm was.

“Still sucks.” He confirmed after a whiff of the balm.

Turning the blade in his hand, Dean couldn’t help but notice the intricate markings on the blade. Putting his coffee cup down, Dean grabbed his phone and opened up the camera app. Taking a few pictures, he made sure to zoom in on the patterns. He wondered if anyone would be able to tell him exactly where Sindarta was from the knife Thasman left behind.

“Morning, Jerk!” Sam’s voice came from behind him. “What is that?”

“It’s a dagger. Belongs to Y/N’s friend, Thasman.” Dean placed the knife back in its sheath and placed it on the table. “He brought it from Sindarta and I guess he left it here after he spent the night.”

“Oh,” Sam looked at Dean. “It looks expensive. Is that a ruby?”

“Huh,” Dean shrugged. “I guess. I’ll give this to Ellen and see if she can send it to him.”

Sam gave him a cocky smile. “You’ve already taken pictures of it, haven’t you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean grabbed his coffee and began to drink. “Garth has been working fast on the renovations.” Dean changed the subject. “Should be open any day now but we can do small repairs at least.”

“Sounds great.” Sam commented. “I talked to Bobby yesterday, went through some details in the contract, any doubts he might’ve had, all in all, everything is looking good when it comes to the legal side of your garage.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “That’s good. Might work on some cars, keep my hands busy. There’s a Clam Bake tomorrow.” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. “I, um… I had asked Y/N to come with me but…” he cleared his throat. “Well, I might stay home tomorrow.”

“Maybe you should go,” he suggested, “maybe you meet someone, or you can get your head to not think about Y/N for a bit.”

“Sam…” Dean sighed.

“I’m serious, Dean, maybe that’s what you need.” Sam argued.

“I’ll think about it,” Dean conceded. “So, I let Bobby know he can tell people we can do some small fixes to cars. Until then I’ll work on his Chevelle.”

“Alright,” his brother nodded. “I was thinking about taking a walk on the beach today, explore a bit of the town and let Jess know if I think a beach wedding could work.” he commented as he took a sip of his coffee. “Any particular spot I should look for?”

Dean couldn’t help but think about the last night Y/N was there. He nodded his head and smiled. “I do have a spot I can show you.” he cleared his throat. “I got some time.”

“Awesome,” Sam smiled. “We can go after you give Ellen that dagger you showed me.”

“I just need to send it to a friend of mine in the anthropology department back at MIT. See if they can ID the markings for me. I mean it looks ancient.” Dean said as he typed on his phone.

“It probably is. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Wherever this place is Sam,” Dean shook his head. “I want to visit. I gotta know where she’s from.”

“You sure your guy at MIT will ID it?”

“You don’t know the department at MIT like I do. You should see all the tech they have.” Dean placed his cup in the sink and looked at Sam. “Ready? I can introduce you to Ellen when I drop off this thing.”

His brother smiled. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The brothers left the house and made their way to Ellen’s. Dean took a deep shaky breath. The last time he walked to Ellen’s he said see you later to Y/N. He ignored the tremor that had started to form in his hands, and knocked.

“Who is it?!” Ellen called through the door.

“It’s your favorite neighbour, Ellen.” He called back. “It’s me, Dean Campbell.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, “Campbell?” he whispered.

“I didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing the name, I’m sorry.” he explained in a quick whisper.

“A warning would have been nice though,” Sam breathed just as the door opened to reveal a woman with dark brown hair looking at them.

“What do I owe this visit to Dean,” Ellen gave him a sad smile. “And who’s this?”

“This is my little brother, Sammy,” Dean said with a smirk.

“It’s Sam,” Sam elbowed Dean. “But it’s nice to meet you ma’am. Thank you for watching him and sorry if he’s been trouble. I blame the fact that he was probably dropped as a baby.”

The woman chuckled as she extended her hand for Sam to shake. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetie. Your brother’s been a good neighbor.”

“I came by to drop this off,” Dean said as he smacked the back of Sam’s head with his free hand. “It’s Thasman’s. I think he forgot it at my house when he slept over.”

Ellen’s smile faded a little bit at the sight of the dagger. “I can’t believe he forgot this.” She lamented as she took it from Dean’s hand.

“Yeah, with everything that happened, I should have double checked.” Dean let out a sigh.

“It’s alright, hun. I’ll try and find a way to send it back to him.” Ellen promised and gave Dean a smile. “Thank you for bringing it here.”

“No problem,” Dean smiled at her. “Just… If you hear from her tell her I miss her and love her?”

“I will, Dean. I promise.” Ellen smiled .

“Okay,” Dean said as he smiled. “We’ll see you at lunch Ellen.”

“You keep eating at my diner, you’re going to get fat, Dean.” Ellen joked. “She won’t recognize you if you do.”

Dean shook her head and waved at her before motioning for Sam to follow him. Dean walked towards the last place he was with Y/N. It was between Ellen’s house and his and had a perfect view of the ocean. Dean looked down at the sand, remembering the blanket he had laid out.

“This is beautiful,” Sam admitted.

Dean nodded, “Yeah.” The vision of Y/N in the moonlight filled his head.

“You brought her here, didn’t you,” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted after letting out a shaky breath. “We were laid out under the stars and…”

“You don’t have to tell me, Dean,” Sam assured him as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. “I like it. I’m going to take some pictures and send them to Jess. See what she thinks.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The day went by in a blur, Y/N had been pulled every which way around the palace. People swimming in and out of her quarters. She felt as though she was being strangled by a kraken. Her chest felt tight and all she could think about was swimming far away. She looked at herself in the sea mirror. But she didn’t look like herself. The shells and jewels that adorned all felt heavier than before.

“Y/N? My little sea star, what’s wrong?” Her father’s voice brought her thoughts back to the present.

Shaking her head she put on her biggest smile, “I’m fine father, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” he asked concerned as he swam closer to her, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I am as happy as a clown fish father,” She assured him. “I will do my duty as princess of our kingdom.”

Something in the way Y/N had said that made Nereus’s heart drop. Where was his happy starfish? Where was the little mergirl who’s laughter filled the palace with joy? Y/N was smiling, but the king could tell that the smile was not in her eyes. He knew she was against these tournaments from the beginning. But there was nothing he could do.

“Alright,” he stated in a defeated tone, letting the subject go.

“I will see you at the banquet, father,” Y/N said as they finished her fitting. Taking everything off, she grabbed her basic tunic and swam towards her room.

“Well,” Michaels voice made Y/N want to vomit. “You have made your presence known.”

“I am off to my room,” she dismissed.

“Will you save me the honor of sitting by my side at the banquet?” he blocked her path.

“I am to sit next to my father, Michael.” she explained, swimming past Michael and groaning internally when he started to follow. “All the places have been assigned; me sitting next to you is not likely to happen.”

“Why must you resist what will be meant to be?” Michael let out a laugh. “You know that with us ruling, we will be unstoppable. What I can show you, is beyond your dreams.”

“And what do I dream of, Michael?”

“Freedom,” Michael said. “I can see it in your eyes, Y/N. You feel confined. And I can free you if… you give up this archaic ritual and choose me… I can eliminate the other--” he licked his lips as he backed her up to the wall. “Suitors. I can free you Y/N.”

She grew tense at having him so close to her, but her eyes burned bright with anger. “Give up the duels? Don’t you think I have tried that?” she could feel a slight trickle of power and glanced down at her fingers to see small sparks. “I don’t want to marry you, or anybody else. If it were up to me, this ritual would not even take place.” she growled. “And if you want to eliminate someone, it better not happen, or you will be trialed and thrown into the dungeons.”

“Are you threatening me, Princess?” He sneered. “I have more power than you or your father even know about. This little kingdom of yours…” he motioned around him. “I can eradicate it with a snap of my fingers.”

“I believe that the one making threats is you, Michael.” Y/N pushed the foreign prince back, “I thought you were so sure you’re going to win. Resorting to threats to make me– make me what, exactly? Afraid of you? Make you somehow win?” she smiled. “No, Michael. If you want a shot at the crown, then you take it like the other suitors will: fighting.”

“Princess Y/N–”

“I believe that we have talked enough, Michael. Go get ready for the banquet.” Y/N poked at his chest and watched as he winced. She felt a jolt of electricity rush through her finger and smiled when she did it again. “I know my power, Michael.” she hissed and moved back to do it again. “Now, out of my sight!”

For the first time since she met him, Michael was speechless. The shock on his face betrayed completely the cocky, insufferable facade that she had come to know.

Shaking his fear away, Michael sent her a soft, yet devilish, smirk. "I'll see you at the banquet… Princess." He swam away leaving Y/N to release the breath she was holding.

She swam towards the training grounds, wanting to take another look at the suitors, even if most of them were probably getting ready for the banquet. The fighting ground was being occupied by two of the suitors, each one had a fighting sword in hand and they were clashing with them and trying to get the other to surrender. A few others were practicing with their choice of weapon on their own, or were lifting heavy rocks in what would be their last attempt to get ready for the duels.

She kept enough distance that she could see them all without gaining their attention. But she noticed something off. Thasman was missing. He never missed training if he could help it, even for a banquet. Making sure that he wasn’t there she turned to bump into Roan.

"Roan," she breathed with a smile.

"Your highness," Roan bowed. "Shouldn't you be with Thasman?"

"Why would I--" Y/N offered him a small smile. "He still loves you, you know."

“I know he does. I never doubted it.” Roan whispered. “But he signed up for the tournament and here we are.”

“I never asked him for it,” she defended herself. “I didn’t even know about it until my father mentioned it and even then, it was too late for me to stop him.”

“That’s what pisses me off, Your Highness,” Roan confessed. “He takes action, he makes tough decisions, but he doesn’t let the ones involved even know about it until it’s too late.” He ranted, voice growing shaky with each word. “Naturally, with you two getting married, we wouldn’t have been able to stay together… I just hate that that choice was taken away from me.”

“Well then don’t tell me that,” Y/N pleaded softly, “talk to him, I’m sure that he will listen to you.”

Roan scoffed, a sarcastic smile on his face. “He didn’t do it before, and you know him, he’s just gonna go all serious guard mode and say ‘just trust me, I’ll handle this’ like the stingray that he is.”

It took some serious self control to not laugh at his impression of Thasman. Y/N composed herself quickly, not willing to give up on her friend’s chance at happiness. ��Roan, you have to make him listen. Please, don’t give up.”

Roan sighed at the Princess’ words, “He won’t listen to anyone, Princess. That is the problem. If he wants to talk, he must be willing to actually listen to me.”

“For how long were you two together?”

The merman shrugged. “A while. We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Roan smiled sadly. “Thasman wanted to keep me to himself, I guess. I was okay with that.”

“It’s not too late to fix things, Roan,” Y/N insisted. “Thasman misses you.”

“And I miss him, Your Highness” The dolphin trainer confided. “But it’s too late. He has made his choice,” he gulped. “And I have made mine. Now, please excuse me, I have to make sure the dolphins will be ready for the show before the duels.”

Y/N had no choice but to watch him leave. She was devastated at the fact that Thasman had already given up the person he loved in order to marry her.

Her friend jumped when she bursted into his quarters.

“Are you ready for the banquet?” She swam up to him looking at him with an angry glare. “I spoke to Roan you big stingray.”

“Y/N/N,” Thasman whined. “I’m trying to get ready.” he stopped fixing his bun and tried to dismiss her before she could see his healing bruises, but it was too late.

“What happened? I didn’t see you training so I know that,” --she pointed to the bruises -- “is not from training. Where did this happen? Was it Michael?”

“No, no,” he assured her, “it was nothing important. I– why did you speak with Roan?”

“You lied to me,” Y/N muttered. “You promised me that if you fell in love you were going to have your chance. You promised me Thasman!”

“I haven’t broken my promise!” Thasman argued.

“Silence!” Y/N used her royal voice. This was the second time now that she had to use it on her friend. “You love Roan and he still loves you. You threw that all away for what? To stop some snotty prince from marrying me when I probably would have runaway? How stubborn can you be?”

“Stubborn enough to make sure that you won’t end up with a monster as a husband.”

“Whatever happens now,” Y/N sighed. “You better hope that Roan forgives you. I am going to get ready for the banquet.” She turned to her friend. “You let me have my love and you are willing to sacrifice everything for it. What makes you think the people that love you wouldn’t do the same?”

Y/N left before Thasman could argue against it. The words his friend said echoing in his mind.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean kept working on the Chevelle as the rest of the renovations were going on. There was something that was nagging him a bit. He kept thinking back to his dreams. Aside from Y/N being in them and the ominous black cloud. Dean could remember a purple tail in the water whenever he was looking into the water.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed as he rolled out from under the car. He jogged up to Bobby and cleared his throat. “Sorry, Bobby. Can I talk to you for a sec?”

The old man was sitting near the car, having decided to keep Dean company and occasionally offering some conversation. “What’s wrong, boy?”

“Would you be upset if I added a second mermaid to be alongside yours?” Dean said as he kicked at the ground.

Bobby gave him a sympathetic smile that was quickly replaced by a doubtful expression. “Depends on how far along Bess has gone. I say it’s ok, but she’s the artist here.”

Dean nodded, giving Bobby a quick thank you before rushing inside the garage. Even though Garth had said that it would take a couple of weeks, renovations were moving along quickly. Soon enough, all that would be left to do would be to move in all the equipment so they could properly work. The ‘Mermaid Wall’ as the whole team had grown to call it, was going beautifully. Bobby’s original painting was getting more beautiful with each stroke and detail that Bess added. Bobby’s lost love was coming alive once more… he wanted to have a reminder of his too.

“Hey Bess,” Dean walked up to her. “Can I ask you a question?”

The woman smiled nervously, eyes flying from the wall to his eyes. “Sure Dean, uhmm, is there something wrong with her?” She motioned to the mermaid. “Do you not like something? Or is this about something else?”

“No, she looks great!” Dean assured her. “I have something else I want to ask.” Dean pulled out a picture of Y/N, one that he loved. It was taken at the zoo. Her eyes were bright and she smiled like an angel. “I was wondering if you could paint another mermaid. Same as that one but with a purple tail and lavender swirls.” Dean showed Bess the picture of Y/N.

Bess took the phone from his hands, looking at Y/N’s picture with a fond smile. Her eyes rose again to meet his, then back at the wall. She took a couple of steps back, admiring all that she had painted so far, trying to picture where she could put the second mermaid and if it would mean redoing her work, looking at the phone for a couple moments, then back at the wall.

Finally, she turned to Dean with a bright smile. “Yeah, sure I can. I’m gonna need you to send me this picture, and to get me more paint, but I don’t see why not.”

Dean smiled in relief. “Thank you so much, Bess. Seriously.”

“They’ll look amazing together, Dean. I promise you.”

“I’ll get all the paint you need. Send me a list, and I’ll send you the picture, ok?”

Bess nodded, grabbing her sketchbook and a pencil that she had stuck behind her ear. “I’ll start drafting her right now.”

Dean retrieved back his phone, excited at the prospect of being able to have Y/N looking over him as he worked. With a few quick clicks he sent Bess a copy of the photo and smiled.

“You’re the best!” Dean said as he walked out of the garage and back to the Chevelle.

Climbing into the drivers side, he turned the ignition on and smiled when the engine roared to life. Turning it off, he climbed out and smiled at Bobby.

“I believe I brought your princess back to life,” Dean said as he sent him a smirk.

“About time someone did,” he commented. “God knows I couldn’t do it now.”

“Thanks for letting me work on her,” he cleaned his hands with a rag. “I just need to touch up the paint on the body. I can have Bess send me the sketch of her mermaid and I can decal it on the hood.”

Bobby seemed to smile with a huff, “She better be.” He looked over at Dean. “just make sure you make my princess a nice royal blue.”

He nodded, giving Bobby a smile and a wink. “Copy that.”

After finishing up on the engine, Dean decided it was time to call it a day. Looking at the time, he grabbed his things and bid everyone goodbye. Cas and Benny climbed in, and his mood didn’t go unnoticed by them.

“So…” Cas started. “You’re feeling better today. That’s great.”

“I am. I’m sorry about yesterday, fellas.”

Benny shook his head and chuckled, “you were missing your girl, brotha.” Benny placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can miss her brotha, you like her. And she made you happy. Just don’t shut us out, again.”

“I know,” Dean sighed. “I… um… might head to the Clam Bake and show Sam around. I mean the town square is nice and I can introduce him.”

“That sounds good.” Cas commented. “Meg said that this year’s going to be very good. Would be a shame if you and your brother missed it.”

“Speaking of the little devil,” Dean teased. “How are things going with Meg?”

“Good, I think. I haven’t been an idiot, so there’s that.” Cas chuckled.

“I think Meg needs to see those pictures from back in the frat house days,” Dean said as he gave Benny a devilish smirk. “I mean a naked James Castiel Novak is always a deal breaker.”

Dean knew perfectly well that if looks could kill, he would have died a horrible, painful death at the hands of Castiel.

“Don’t you fucking dare, you assbutt.”

“I hear ya, brotha,” Benny smiled. “I think I can also dig up the video that Gabriel shot. Might have to email him.”

This time, Castiel had something to fight back as he gave Benny a cocky smile. “I’ll show Andy the video.”

“What video?” Benny scoffed.

“Oh, you know, just an old video from a party that we went to ages ago. The video.”

The fear that had started to show in Benny’s eyes was so satisfying for Castiel. “You said you deleted it.”

“I lied. I wonder what Andy would think of it. You know, with the whole–”

“Benny,” Dean let out a smirk. “What is he talking about? What video have I not seen?”

“You see, Dean, Benny here gave everybody a good old show once. There was some tequila involved, some drugs… but what surprised me most was–”

“We swore we would never talk about it ever again, Castiel!”

“Where the fuck was I when this was happening?” Dean wondered looking at his two friends.

“On some date, I think… or maybe you passed out? I don’t know, I was drunk too. But not as bad as good ol’ Benjamin. Oof! Can he move.”

Dean let out a laugh at Benny’s face as he shot Castiel a death glare. Both Cas and Benny looked over at Dean. It was the first time since Y/N had left that their friend had actually, truly laughed and meant it. The light in Dean’s eyes seemed to come back, even if it was just for a moment.

“Okay,” Dean took a deep breath to compose himself as they parked the car at the house. “We will lay off trying to embarrass ourselves. So, no talk about dirty secrets.”

“Deal.” Benny and Cas said as they shook hands.

Dean stayed back as he watched his friends walking inside. His eyes wandered towards the beach as he took a deep breath. He still missed Y/N and from what he remembered of their conversation her birthday would be tomorrow.

“I hope you have a good birthday, Y/N,” He whispered to the air. “Make sure Thasman wins.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Y/N placed her face on her palm as many of the suitors droned on. She ignored Thasman throughout the dinner, just wishing that it was over. She could feel Michael’s eyes on her and it was just annoying her. As the night continued, Y/N’s mind wandered to Dean. Was he okay? Was the garage almost done?

As soon as this banquet was over, everyone would go to their respective quarters and rest before the ‘big event’ at dawn. The day would be spent watching all the suitors fight after fight, and by the end of the day, there would be a winner and Y/N would meet her husband.

She had never hated her own birthday so much.

The food she had once loved so much wasn’t as good now when put in comparison to everything she had tasted on the surface. She missed helping Ellen cook dinner, she missed working at the diner, the little town, the people in it, Dean… Her thoughts went on and on. She found herself toasting along to her father’s words of luck to the suitors. She dined and kept to herself throughout the whole event, anxious to get a moment alone to reminisce about the surface.

Then there was the issue with Thasman. Where had he gotten such injuries? What had happened to him?

The evening continued, and after what felt like an eternity, she was finally able to go to her room to rest for the duels. The way they were arranged, Thasman wouldn’t start fighting until a little before midday, but she still had to be present for every single fight unless she had her father’s permission to take a break from ‘looking for a husband’. She wondered if her father had been comfortable with going through this exact same process. How much her mother would have had to fight in order to win the crown and her father’s hand.

‘Did they love each other?’ was the most pressing thought. With the way King Nereus spoke about her, there was no doubt that, at the very least, he had been deeply in love with her mother. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. She dreamt of Dean, of being back in his arms, in his bed. His fingers running through her hair as he left small kisses on her face. She could swear she was with him if it was not for the attendant who woke her abruptly.

Reluctantly she awoke, getting ready for the first of the duels. As she was looking at herself in her sea glass, she hadn’t noticed when Liara entered the room. The scrollkeeper frowned at the way the princess seemed sad on her birthday. It broke her heart to see the young mermaid so distraught. Clearing her throat, she walked up to Y/N and presented her with a silver cuff bracelet with an amethyst gem in the middle.

“What is this?” Y/N muttered.

“Something that will help you if you find yourself on the surface,” Liara whispered to her. “It belonged to your aunt and it comes with a letter. Please wait for the right time to read it, don’t let anyone else see it.”

“Liara…” Y/N sighed. “My fate is sealed. I doubt I will be--”

“Please, your highness,” Liara pleaded. “Trust me. I have a bad feeling about Michael and this can help you.”

Y/N reluctantly nodded as she picked up the bracelet and placed it on her wrist. As Y/N looked at it, she marveled at the design. It was etched with traditional mermish along with intricate platings and intertwining nots that helped to keep the gem in place. She gasped when the Amethyst gave a soft glow before settling down. Putting the thought to the back of her mind, she watched as the scrollkeeper continued to help her get ready.

Everything happened quickly, Y/N had been ushered through to the tournament grounds where Roan had led the dolphins in a beautiful display. She offered him a sad smile as he bowed before she took her seat next to her father. She had ignored most of the battles, until Michael entered the arena.

Michael had skill, there was no doubt about it, but he was more cutthroat than the other suitors. By the end of the first rounds, Michael was the victor, having eliminated all his competitors. Y/N was thankful for the short recess as she made her way to the tents.

“Thasman, I am begging you,” Roan’s voice pleaded. “Find another way to help Y/N. There is something off about Micheal. You know there is.”

“And I told you,” Thasman gave an exasperated cry. “I can’t. If I were to bow out, Y/N would be at his mercy and you know this Roan.” Y/N could see Thasman turning to face him. “Why do you care now? Why fight now when you gave up on me? On us?”

Roan looked as though Thasman had slapped him. “Thasman… I--” Roan’s voice wavered as he tried to find the words. “You are always going to be a stubborn stingray! I am here as a friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Roan tried to hide the hurt in his voice. “But if this is what you want--” he let out a breath. “Fine, just… don’t let your guard down.”

Y/N watched as Roan went to caress Thasman’s face only for the stubborn stingray to pull back. She could see Thasman was fighting with every fiber of his being from taking Roan into his arms. Roan retreated his hand, as if it had been burned by the heat burst from the underwater volcano.

“Excuse me,” Thasman swam past him and grabbed his helmet. “I must prepare.” he muttered before adjusting his bun and putting his helmet on.

Y/N hid, not letting either merman see that she had heard their conversation. The sound of the horn signified the second bout of suitors was ready to begin. Hurrying back to her seat, Y/N watched as the suitors paraded around before going to their respective corners to wait their turn. And just as he did in the training, Thasman was unstoppable. He won bout after bout, leaving each one to yield. In fact it made him miss his own fight with Dean. The determination in the human’s eyes to fight for Y/N made him wish that the human was a merman.

Before he knew it, he had been the victor for his round of suitors. It was just himself and Michael. This was it, this was his chance to make sure that Y/N was safe. Everything he sacrificed, to keep the kingdom safe. But at what cost? Looking at Y/N he could see his friend was not happy. He took a quick glance at Roan, who seemed even sadder still. Two of the people he cared about, heartbroken. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and prepared for his battle.

“Your victory will be short lived,” Michael boasted. “I will win. Y/N and the kingdom will be mine. You… I’ll make my personal servant.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Thasman defended. “I won’t let you get your hands on Y/N.”

“You’ll be out of the way soon enough, little guard.” Michael sneered as they circled one another.

The battle began with Thasman blocking Michaels blow. Every blow Michael gave Thasman was able to counter. He landed hit after hit. Bruises began to appear on the foreign prince. Up until Thasman was able to slice into Michael's skin. Blood dripped from the foreign prince’s arm as he growled at Thasman.

“You are going to pay for that,” he seethed.

Thasman only offered him a satisfied smile and continued his assault on the prince. Thasman overpowered him like nothing. He had the prince on the floor with his arm around the prince’s neck while holding a blade to his belly.

“Yield,” Michael whispered.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” Thasman said in his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“I yield.” He cried for everyone to hear.

Thasman grinned triumphantly, letting go of the prince and putting his blade away from his belly. He turned to the crowd, and raised his sword, roaring his victory.

The crowd roared back at him. His fellow subjects celebrated his victory. He smiled as he turned to the King and Princess, and bowed. But when he rose to smile at his friend, her face was contorted in terror.

“Thasman, watch out!”

He felt a hot searing pain on his back. He felt a breath on his ear.

"This kingdom and it's princess are mine."

Thasman could only groan in pain as a response. Everything happened slowly. He could see a barge of soldiers fighting, the echo of his name sounding far away. The last thing he saw was Roan, Y/N, and the King swimming towards him, before everything went black.

HOT DAMN! Love me a good cliffhanger :D

Any and all types of feedback are greatly appreciated :D

My asks are open in case you wanna send feedback, have questions or wanna be added to the tag list :)

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dangan-happy · 3 years

Note

KAME-HAME FORGET ABOUT IT!

I would like to say thank you to mod taichi, mod rantaro and mod komaeda. I am the anon who was desperate, the one who struggles with academic issue, keep sleeping past midnight because of extra chores, and struggling with executive dysfunction. I don't know how to refer myself haha

It's funny, I saw the notification from your blog about my ask when I was REALLY in need of comfort unexpectedly. it was one of the worse day, I failed the selection to go to college I'm aiming for. there is an alternate way by taking a test but it was a huge and important thing for me, because other relatives would talk (or possibly brag) about how their children are doing wonderfully in academic stuff to my parents. I don't want my parents to feel embarrassed because of me. so of course, it gives me a LOT of anxiety. my heart is beating rapidly that my chest hurts so much.

Then I receive your response to my ask. It's very comforting, it calmed me down. I may teared up a bit. I really appreciate the advices, encouragements, and hugs. (I love hugs) Especially mod komaeda's advices. Thank you so much, I appreciate them. They really mean a lot to me. I didn't realize how much I needed all of these. To be honest, when I was re-reading my ask, I almost can't believe I typed all that. I didn't realize how much I struggled and desperate I am. It was truly a moment of weakness lmao

I've been struggling to respond your response because,, well. I'm still struggling haha. Unfortunately, after I send that ask, things are getting hella rough for me. It was one of those unlucky phase of time, where your days get worse each day, except this time is WAY worse because I'm going to graduate in a month and I have an important exam in two days. Then I got hit by other problems too like a member of my group project doesn't corporate so we were late to submit and it was even half done (it happened just a hour ago and it gives me an emotional breakdown because it was an important one but I'm fine now), I got blamed for something I didn't do (this happens a lot anyway but I'm very drained mentally and physically), I accidentally spat something that I've been keeping to myself to my parents and made them angry (I don't want to talk about my true feelings to them bc they only make me feel worse or worse, they get upset), more homeworks to catch up and more stressful stuff .

Basically anxiety is on my ass 24/7. It's the worst time of my life.

But whenever I hit rock bottom I would re-read your response and it lifts me up, you know? It always cheers me up reading your kind words about me, and as cheesy as it sounds, it makes me feel hopeful haha. But I never felt this hopeful before. So I'm very thankful for it, and thankful for the other mods who work hard helping other people too who come to this blog. Because even though I'm still struggling and facing the worst time right now, I'm not doing as bad as before.

Is it alright if I ask for another hug? Sorry, this whole ask ended up with me venting again haha. But I really am doing not as bad as before... I guess I'm doing better. Step by step maybe. Again, thank you so much!!

( By the way, this is out of topic but... hopefully people who know me don't recognize me on this blog for this question haha (if they do then oh well. shrugs): which one does look scarier for you, Once-ler from Lorax or the character designs from the movie called Cats (2019)? I'm not hating the movie, my friend and I are having a lighthearted discourse about it. u_u )

(Neither. Neither one is even that scary at all, for I fear nothing ~ Mod Hajime 🍊🌈)

---

O-Oh, welcome back, kiddo! Whoa, that’s quite the ask you got here. But it’s more or less an update, i-if I’m correct, and a decent one at th-that. Like you said, it’s all step by step progress, wh-which is still progress no matter how you look at it.

I-I hate to hear that there’s been a few extra bumps along the road since your last ask, b-but I’m at least glad to hear that you’ve been making some sort of progress. Progress is still progress, no matter what. I-I’m just glad that you came to us. I-I’m just some average programmer, but I will agree that Nagito and Rantaro did amazing. Nagito’s... quite the interesting kiddo, but he means well, and Rantaro’s a brotherly figure th-that everyone likes, one way or another. Me? Ah, well... I-I can at least give good hugs, I guess?

S-Speaking of hugs, I’d love to give you one. I-I can at least do that right, heh. I’ll give you as many hugs as you want, kiddo. I personally don’t mind at all.

Hey there anon, you don't have to worry about referring to yourself, I remember you just fine! Hey, how's that for awesome timing huh? I'm glad you could read our answers when you needed it. I'm sorry to hear that you were having a worse day, but hey, it sounds like there's a way to make that test up a different way, so I'd give your all to trying that route. Don't give up just yet ok? Damn, yeah, I'm no stranger to the whole family bragging thing, that's a whole lot of pressure I think both of us can do without. It's really thoughtful of you to worry about your parents in this scenario, but you can worry about yourself too ok? Regardless of what you do, they should still be proud of you, and if they aren't, they're completely oblivious to your intelligence level and the amazing things you can do. Aw, I'm smiling real hard hearing how much our response helped, I'm always worried that I didn't help, or I somehow made it worse. Not gonna lie, this did give me a confidence boost. Hey, it's ok, you were in a more emotional state. It wasn't a moment of weakness. Everyone breaks down like that from time to time, and I'm happy that we were here to help you at the time. So don't feel bad about that, you're only human, and it's ok to get like that.

You don't have to worry about having the perfect response either. As much as I wish we could, we can't automatically fix any anons' problems, we can only toss our two cents in and cross our fingers that it helps. The good news is that you came to us with your struggles again, so we can try to help some more. Eesh, yeah, those periods are never fun. Pretty sure Komaeda knows more about them than I do, but I can understand at the least. First of all, congrats on graduating! That's real impressive all by itself, so hopefully you can take some pride in that. Ugh, ok, wow, the second part of that. Damn I got hit with all the feels. I hate it when group projects go like that. I'm usually stuck with all the work, or the one who's up at one am trying to finish the damn thing. I think I'm getting kinda incoherent, so sorry about that. I'm glad you're doing better on that end though, hopefully things work out with that. Aw man, I'm really sorry to hear about the blaming thing. Is there any way to prove your innocence? I'm not saying go all class trial or anything, but is there any way for you to argue your case? Even if it happens a lot, that doesn't mean it's ok. You shouldn't have to get used to things like that.

Yikes, yeah I can totally relate to the last part too. I'm also the type to clam up about my feelings because I don't wanna make anyone mad, but that happens some times, and honestly you had every right to say how you feel. You're keeping this all in, and it's gonna take a toll on you. Yeah, that's a whole lot of stress for one person to carry. I'm really impressed you haven't crashed and burned under the weight, seriously, you're an amazing, strong, resilient/ person, and it just blows me away. Trust me, you're gonna get through this stressful time. You're getting close to the end of it, and I know that you're gonna make it through. Damn, I'm smiling and blushing now. I'm really really glad we were able to help you out that much. Good! It's not cheesy at all! I'm glad you're feeling hopeful! The little steps are just as valuable as the big ones, and the fact that you're at least doing a little bit better is fantastic. Of course you can have another hug! It's ok, we're here to listen to vents, so say whatever you want to, no one's gonna judge you, I promise. Yeah, step by step, that's how you do it.

Oh damn, that's an interesting question. Honestly, I unironically love the Lorax movie, so the Oncerler ain't scary to me. Cats however...that was a trip. I don't have a better way to describe it, it was just a trip. So the Cats designs are way scarier. Like if I met the Onceler in a dark alley, I'd be just fine, but if I saw a cat-human-thing in a dark alley, I'd run for the hills. However, if I met the onceler fandom in a dark alley, that's a whole other story. Ok, I think I'm rambling again, so I think I better stop talking. Keep making those small steps forward ok? You got this.

W-wow... my advice actually helped someone? Please tell me your joking, or better yet pinching me. I can’t believe my little words could affect you so much.... I think I’m tearing up... hehe. I gotta admit, Rantaro and Taichi did a better job than me! What else do you expect from two amazing Ultimates! Anon, I’m terribly sorry to hear that some things have turned up and made your life a bit more harder, but I want you to keep your chin up ok? You’re doing amazing Anon, I can truly tell! Having a partner that doesn’t help with group projects stinks too! It’s ok that you vented again, it’s always good to speak your mind when you feel bad! Helps to let other people hear to so they can help you! And hey, compliments from Taichi? So nice of you! Never heard myself being called an “interesting kiddo” it’s cute!

I thought you’d never ask! I’d love to give you another hug! As long as you’d let me, I get worried when people want to hug me since I’m utter garbage, but if it makes you feel Hope, then I’m happy to oblige! Ah, and the Onceler or the designs of cats? I’d say the cats, I remember everyone having the hots for the Onceler once, so he can’t be that bad, right?

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #taichi fujisaki #rantaro amami #nagito komaeda #mod hajime #mod rantaro #mod nagito

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 4 years

Text

Bite (Part One)

Summary: Peter’s team is invited onto a big case in which their involvement will have serious consequences.

Word Count: 4,529

A/N: The summary is vague and doesn’t include the request, because the request itself would give away the ending. This fic was supposed to be a oneshot, but the plot was largely left up to me and I had an idea I thought was fantastic. I didn’t realize it was going to become so long. I think this is part one of three. Anyway... enjoy?

“Yikes,” you said with a level tone. “Always wear a hard hat, I guess.”

Ruiz glared at you. “You think this is funny?”

“Calm down,” Hughes raised his voice to talk over Ruiz and he gave you a hard stare that said not to aggravate the visiting agents. You put your hands up innocently. It wasn’t your fault that Ruiz had such pressable buttons.

Ruiz glared back at Hughes for all of half a second before he realized he wasn’t going to win that fight, and he used his clicker to make the projector move to the next slide. The crime scene photo went away and was replaced with a candid photograph of a white man in a snug polo with shades over his eyes, hair gelled back.

“Look, the culprit is Caffrey’s dress sense,” Diana snickered. She earned grins from yourself and Jones and Neal scowled at her from the other side of the table.

“I resent that.”

“All of you, shut up,” Hughes commanded, a vein in his forehead looking particularly pink. Everyone from the white collar unit listened and the unit chief gave an aggravated wave of his wrist towards Ruiz, whose agents were all looking either plainly amused or secretly amused and trying to hide it. Neal had always gotten under Eric’s skin, and so did everyone who took Neal’s side by extension. It was funny to see how bent out of shape he could get in such a short time.

Ruiz clenched his jaw and it looked like he ground his teeth while getting his temper under control. “Seamus Brady,” he said angrily. You still weren’t sure if he was morally outraged by the suspected murderer, or if he was just still being fussy about being ordered to invite Peter and his team onto the case. “43, American, with friends in Ireland and Wales. This bastard works hand-in-hand with suspects on Wall Street we haven’t been able to bag yet, managing a private company and swindling his investors.” He fixed his eyes on you and glared. “Henry Wallace was goin’ to take him to court next month before he ended up with his head bashed in.”

You just looked back at him. Working in law enforcement, you saw a lot of people do really awful things, and if you let every violent crime get you down, you’d never have been able to do your job for this long. You weren’t going to feel bad for not breaking into tears instead of quipping during the uncomfortable silence following the completely context-free reveal of ugly CSI pictures.

“You think Brady took Wallace out of the picture because he knew he was going to go down for it,” Peter urged Ruiz to continue, and, because they rarely saw eye-to-eye, Ruiz sent him a disgruntled look before resuming.

“I’m damn sure of it. Now that Wallace is gone, there’s no one to press charges. Problem is, Brady has got near a dozen people corroborating his alibi for the night this happened, but does that look like an accident to you?”

“Have you considered he didn’t do it?” Diana asked seriously. “Some people are really unlikeable. It can make a lot of enemies.” You got the distinct impression that she was referring to the number of people in the room who wouldn’t mind popping Ruiz in the jaw once or twice.

Ruiz glared at her next. The guy needed to loosen up. “I’d consider it if it was worth the time,” he said shortly. “Everyone supporting his alibi’s suspected of getting cuts of his profits.”

“Ah, the old “you knock mine, I’ll knock yours” method.” Neal nodded with his nose wrinkled in distaste. It was an increasingly commonly-known way of getting alibis to discount a motive, but mostly, the artist had never thought highly of violence, or anyone who resorted to it.

“Looks like,” Ruiz grudgingly acknowledged. “But instead of waiting for the turnabout, we want to lock this monster up before more bodies start dropping dead in Queens. I’ve already talked to him, so I want your boy to go undercover, Burke.”

No one commented on the way he referred to Neal. Infantilizing and deriding were pretty much the norm when it came to Ruiz’s interactions with the ex-con, no matter how civil Neal tried to be, and now everyone had stopped batting an eye because it would only fire him up more if you did. Neal certainly didn’t appreciate it, though, and neither did Peter.

“You just showed us all a picture of the last guy who threatened him,” Peter objected, pointing up at the projection screen. “I can’t send Neal into that without a good plan in place.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t at all,” Neal interjected dully, looking very aware of the fact that his vote didn’t really count.

“We got a plan,” Ruiz told Peter, his nostrils flaring from the quick and negative response. “You think your team’s the only one that does any field work? Nah, Burke.” You and Diana both looked at each other at the same time, wondering if Ruiz had intended to rhyme or not. The organized crime agent clicked his remote and the projector went to the next image – some fancy-shmancy residence for the rich you’d never be able to afford to spend a night in, much less live indefinitely. “Every other week these dirtbags get together. It’s probably where we got the best chance of getting something incriminating on them.”

“So you want Neal to somehow get invited into that high-as-heaven loft and wear a wire,” you predicted, finishing the plan for Ruiz and crossing your arms. Neal mirrored you, also crossing his arms, going off of your tone of voice to figure out that you didn’t like the plan and deciding to lend his support to anyone interested in keeping him out of it. “That’s a long-term op. They have to build rapport before anything happens.”

“Unless we apply some pressure,” Peter theorized, and immediately, Neal uncrossed his arms and looked at his partner, wounded, as though he were thinking how dare you get on board with this?

“Let’s be careful where we go applying pressure,” Neal requested pointedly, “Because pressure can be deadly. Especially for me.”

“It’s good-cop, bad-cop,” Ruiz puffed, putting a hand on his belt. “A crook goes in looking for a legit, high-profile, high-payoff job and a fed makes it seem like the bureau’s gonna get our guy unless he moves faster than we can,” Ruiz finished, ignoring your interruption. “Guy knows the crook’s history, knows he’ll take a risk for a heftier profit, knows he’s got the skill to do it. He takes the chance, except the crook’s on our side, tapped and live.”

“We’ve done some really similar ones,” you said thoughtfully, recalling a particular case where Neal had gotten himself hired as a political fixer while Peter filled the role of an obstinate, dogged cop. The pressure Peter put on the dirty politician led the man straight to Neal, who, under an alias, pushed things in the right direction. It hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but it had ultimately worked out.

“It’s this or the guy walks.” Ruiz looked at Peter and almost dared him to disagree. The man had a very aggressive way of cooperating with other agents and you were tempted to ask if he’d ever considered being less of a hardass. Maybe people would like him more. “Chatter says he’s gonna be takin’ a trip out of New York in the next couple months. We don’t try now, we may never get this chance again.”

Peter didn’t answer right away, looking at the loft on the projector screen and thinking deeply. As you had remembered, the last time this scheme had been used, it almost ended poorly – if Diana weren’t so quick with her gun, she may have been badly injured. However, there was probably not any chance of things going as unexpectedly off the rails as they had that time, and since Neal would be wearing a live transmitter, he could use a safe phrase the moment an attitude shifted the wrong direction. If he had to call it, then the bureau would probably lose the case; Brady would clam up and leave the jurisdiction, if he had any brain cells to rub together. It was unacceptable to let Neal be harmed for the sake of a ploy that may or may not work, so Ruiz was banking on Brady not being quick to anger or turn to violence. It was a brave gamble, considering his entire basis for being so pushy was that someone was already dead.

“Say I agree,” Peter said slowly, and Ruiz made the hand against his belt into a frustrated fist. “Neal goes under first, gets to know the guy, see his baseline. Then we introduce a federal agent. If he gets agitated, Neal can spot the difference and get out.”

Ruiz said briskly, “Yeah, duh, if he doesn’t think Caffrey’s an option there’s no point in sending an agent in.”

“Who plays the agent?” Neal piped up again. “Because I vote it’s not you.”

“Can’t be you, Ruiz,” you agreed, having Neal’s back. You tended to agree because he was a good strategist. It had nothing to do with a personal dislike for your fellow agent. Nothing at all. “If he’s already seen you, it’s too risky, he might think something’s up.”

“But if it were a different agent, from a different division…” Jones trailed off and held a hand out like he was saying it could work.

You nodded, and you, Jones, Diana, and Neal all looked to Peter. Your team leader was often very diplomatic about the choices he made in how to pursue cases, and this was no different. He saw you all seemed prepared to plan the operation, and gave Neal an extra look to make sure that his CI wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. Then the senior agent looked to Ruiz, and Hughes, and nodded assent with a tired sigh.

“Alright,” Madeline, one of Ruiz’s agents, said, making a note on her laptop. “Burke is the bad cop.”

“Or is it good cop?” You asked thoughtfully. If the fed in the plan were trying very hard to arrest an embezzler, then wasn’t the cop actually doing his job?

“Not to Brady,” Neal told you, shaking his head. “Bad cop. Good criminal.”

“No such thing,” Peter corrected right away.

Neal pretended not to hear him. “Who’s the good criminal?” He asked, leaning in. “Rydell’s probably burned after last time.”

“Nick’s got a history with math and money,” you suggested.

“Nicholas Halden?” Madeline asked, trying to keep up. You kept Neal’s aliases pretty close to the vest for his own safety, but a little bit of word occasionally got around. Offhandedly, you questioned why Ruiz’s agents had been so quiet during the meeting. Maybe they were more afraid of their boss.

Neal gave a full smile. It wasn’t the real thing – you knew the difference – but it was still an attractive smile, all confident and charismatic. “I think Nick has the time free to fit this into his calendar.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

You definitely had to give the bureau credit – they could move fast when they wanted to. Nicholas Halden was a ghost most of the time, but the FBI, combined with some work in the shadows on occasion from Neal and Mozzie, kept the man alive through talk and false documents.

“You’re a lucky man, Nick,” you called as you waved the file over your head, walking over to Neal’s desk and joining him as he readied for his first meeting with Brady. “Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic in the same three months.”

“What can I say, I have a taste for the Caribbean,” Neal responded with a playful grin. He reached up and took the file from you, then started flipping through it to see what had been added since the last time he took the identity out for a spin.

You sat down on the edge of his desk and picked up the papers he had been studying. He was intently looking at the most recent public reports on Brady’s company’s finances. A little bit of job research went a long way, no matter who you were applying to. While putting the papers back down on the desk, you caught Neal looking up at you instead of reading Nick’s file and you flashed him a little smile, rolling your shoulders back and sitting straight.

“Happy with the edits?” You asked, not that you could change them if he wasn’t.

Neal kept his eyes on you while he answered, “I’m just thinking how lonely it is Nick doesn’t have a partner.” Your heart felt like it skipped a beat and Neal added on, “Nick and Y/N sound good, don’t they?”

You knew there was a blush on your face but you refused to let an expression of interest go by unrequited, even if he could clearly see the redness in your cheeks. “I can think of a pair that sound just a little better,” you said to him, not looking away from his eyes until you were done talking. Neal and Y/N…

“I like those,” he said evenly, his face open and sweet. “Y/N-“

“Neal!” Peter snapped his fingers and both of you jumped a little. You leaned back and wondered exactly when you had started leaning forward. Your boss was standing on the mezzanine, looking exasperated. “What, is your phone dead? Hurry up!” He turned and went back into his office, but his coat was on and so was his holster, so you knew he would be coming out in seconds.

You cursed his timing, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. When you and Neal turned back to each other, the moment was gone, and although the mood was still there, it wasn’t the time or place to try to bring the magic back.

Neal saw the frustration on your face and touched your knee gently. “Later,” he said, standing up. He took out his wallet and started swapping out his ID cards for those of Nick Halden that had been included in the folder.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” you told him wistfully.

~~~ Bite ~~~

Diana drew van duty with Peter and Madeline, leaving you in the office with Jones while the rest of your team was in the field. No matter how often it happened, you never got used to the itchy feeling in your legs of sitting around when your teammates were being shot at, for all you knew. (Though you could be reasonably sure they weren’t.)

It took about half an hour longer than you had expected it to, but it was impossible to tell until you got the call whether that was a good or a bad thing. Sometimes things took longer when there was a better opportunity than expected for building rapport, or even going straight to the throat, so you didn’t get too flustered. Peter eventually called, said that the op had gone well and Neal did good, and that since it was already later in the evening than planned, he, Neal, and Diana were going to head back to their respective houses and work from home. They would relate the details of the afternoon the next day. He invited you and Jones to do the same.

Jones, who had a girlfriend in his life, took the advantage of an early leave, but you stayed in the office and caught yourself looking at Neal’s empty desk more than a couple of times. No matter how much you had observed it already, it still surprised you just how much you missed Neal when he was gone. The thief felt like a more necessary part of the office than the chairs or the lights or the cheap and gross office coffee, which really sucked because one day he wasn’t going to be here. Whatever he chose to do after the anklet came off, he wasn’t eligible to be an FBI agent – his days in the office were numbered, no matter how well his work-release went. And it was going to be really hard adjusting to work without him.

“Good thing that’s still a long time away,” you told yourself, leaning back into your chair and letting out a long sigh. Still, it wasn’t the best thing in the world that your thoughts kept drifting back to him when you should have been working. You blamed it on the warmth in your knee, where it felt like his hand was still touching you. His gaze caressing your face. Voice soft and words just for you.

Yeah. You had it bad.

~~~ Bite ~~~

Peter briefed you all in the conference room the next morning, alongside Ruiz, Madeline, and the other two agents Ruiz had picked for the collaboration, whose names you learned were Matt and Damien. Nick’s interview with Brady went exceptionally well. From what Neal could tell, he was the most qualified applicant and Brady had been particularly interested when he’d been deflecting questions about the hedge fund he had briefly worked for. (Said hedge fund had been part of an older case in which Neal pretended to be a corporate spy and almost got killed for it.)

Now that Neal was in your mark’s good graces, you had to take the biggest gamble of all and decide how long was long enough to wait before sending Peter in to make Brady jumpy. It was a balancing act of factors. On one hand, a greater time gap made Brady’s introductions to Neal and Peter appear less connected and gave him more time to reach out to Neal to build a stronger rapport, increasing the odds of him going to Neal when Peter started waving the hammer over his head. On the other, if you waited too long, then the risks increased that Brady would look too deeply into Neal’s cover. There were a lot of ways that it could fall apart – he could find out that the manager of that hedge fund was now in a federal prison; he could do a reverse image search of Nick’s face and come up with Neal’s pictures from when the FBI had him on their website; he could try to talk to shadowy contacts and realize that very few people had actually seen Nick in person over the last six or so years.

“I haven’t heard anything from him,” Neal announced, but his posture was relaxed. It had been less than a day. “Give him time to come to me. I say if he doesn’t do it on his own by Monday, then we go in.”

“How quickly does he make his decisions?” Peter asked, looking to Ruiz instead of Neal, even though only one of them had a friendly relationship with the man in question.

Ruiz curled his lip. “Can’t say. It’s hard to find any intel on this guy. He covers his tracks.”

Before Peter could say anything, you were already guessing his priorities. “On it, boss,” you promised, opening up your laptop. Digging up information on slimy businessmen was one of your favorite ways to spend your work day, just on the off chance that something particularly scandalous came up that you could use against them.

“Get Diana to help you,” he said, pointing at Diana as the other female agent let out a soft sigh of complaint before taking her own computer out of its bag. “Di-“

“I get it,” she cut him off. “I already got my excitement. Out of the van with me.” She smirked slightly as she said it.

“And into the van with me,” Jones dryly said. It was no secret that the only person who hated the van more than Jones was Neal. “Yippee.”

Peter frowned at both Diana and Jones in turn before continuing with the conference. When you all came out of it twenty minutes later, there wasn’t much new on your docket. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop everything and only pursue one person when there were so many other cases waiting to be investigated. It wasn’t to the point that this one was prioritized highly enough that Peter and Ruiz could justify having almost ten agents working on nothing else.

What you did have was the decision that, if Brady hadn’t reached out to Neal by Monday, then Peter would go in on Tuesday; if he had, then you would re-evaluate the following workday. In the meantime, Neal was to keep his head down and minimize his chances of being seen in public as much as possible while you and Diana were to continue trying to find any more background information on Seamus Brady.

While you worked on both the Brady case and your other cases, you tried to catch spare time to fulfill the promise of talking later with Neal, but the opportunity was just out of reach. You were busy when he wasn’t and vice versa, and because of how deep he was in the undercover portion of the operation, he was spending his lunches with either Peter or Ruiz, being debriefed and making statements. By the time the end of the day was near, everyone on Peter’s team was just tired, and between your irritable temperament when you were tired and Neal’s tendency to be more guarded when he was stressed, you had both seemed to agree that it was better not to touch the subject yet. The weekend was especially needed for recuperating after the work days, and since Neal was being holed up safely away from any risk of sighting or scrutiny, you knew you shouldn’t be heading over to his penthouse during the case, anyway. It was disappointing, but the bottom line was that your “later” didn’t come that week.

Although you had Neal weighing on your mind, your weekend was pretty relaxing. You grabbed a couple of naps, started reading a new book, and walked your neighbor’s dog for a little bit of exercise and homemade lasagna. By Monday morning, you were ready to go back to work and deal with whatever had happened since Friday.

It turned out that there were no new developments. Honestly, it wasn’t shocking. Working for the FBI was rarely as glamorous as people tended to think. Neal reported no contact from Brady, and so Ruiz and Peter began working up a tweaked profile of Peter’s work history in order to suit the purpose of his role in the con (no, not con, operation. Peter was very picky about that). That was going to occur Tuesday, right before lunch, and it would be a quick in-and-out of attempted police intimidation.

Then they turned the attention back to Brady, who he was and what he had done, and you and Diana had a lot of small things to report but no major discoveries. It was like Brady had suddenly come into being nine years ago, which made you suspect that it was probably a stolen identity, but you had exhausted all possible avenues for finding out who he had been before then. According to Neal, he spoke like an American, but you couldn’t find a social security number and now you weren’t totally sure that he wasn’t undocumented, which only made the situation messier.

That conference lasted until eleven, and just as it ended, you met Neal’s eyes as you both stood up. He gave you a small smile, almost like he was inviting your attention, and you made an equally small gesture with your hand towards the door, asking him if he wanted to leave with you, maybe get lunch together. He had just started to nod when Peter brought his hand down on his shoulder, not noticing that he was interrupting.

“You, me, my office,” he said. You looked down – you couldn’t fight the boss over Neal’s time when you were both on the clock.

“You know,” Neal said, sounding a little stiff. It was gratifying to know that he didn’t like it much, either. It had been almost a week since the incident that wasn’t really any sort of incident at all, but possibly could have become one. “Sometimes humans eat lunch at this time of day.”

“The Domino’s menu is downloaded to my computer,” Peter replied, missing the point and shepherding Neal out of the conference room.

The artist caught your eye as he went past and grimaced. You nodded sympathetically, understanding.

And your time still didn’t come at all on Monday, with Peter insisting on triple-checking everything he and Neal had related to each other about Brady, what he might be doing, and how best to get under his skin. You knew the case was important, but damn. At five in the evening, Peter clocked out (not really – you didn’t work on time cards). You knew that El made Peter come home on time with Neal and had them both sit down and eat a full meal every Monday, so you didn’t even bother hoping that Peter was leaving alone. You left not long after.

Tuesday morning wasn’t your friend. Traffic made your commute to work particularly slow and you got there a few minutes later than you would have liked. Another case task force conference drilled everything into your head until you could’ve recited it in your sleep, and then Ruiz, Matt, Peter, and Neal all left for the next stage of the scheme. You really weren’t sure why Neal needed to go, but at this point, it was probably your irritation talking, not the thorough agent you worked hard to be. When they all returned, both bosses gathered their respective underlings into the same conference room for another update which lasted through the lunch break, and since your entire morning had been spent on one case, you were then told to spend your afternoon and early evening working on the rest of your caseloads to compensate.

You wanted to strangle Peter. You didn’t meddle in his marriage. In fact, you supported his marriage and sometimes offered advice on presents or gestures for Elizabeth, and this was how he repaid you? By making it his life’s mission to ensure that you never, ever got any private time with Neal ever again, right after it finally seemed like the playful workplace flirting was going to result in something more meaningful?

With enough hurrying, you managed to power through a good half-day’s effort with about ten minutes left before five. You took another look at the clock on your computer, relieved you made it. Ten minutes was enough for a conversation. Ten minutes was –

You looked up to see if Neal was done, and he wasn’t even at his desk. After looking around for him with exasperation, you spotted him up in Peter’s office. You couldn’t see the thief’s face, but you could see Peter’s, and the seriousness of his expression made you want to throw your hands up in the air. You knew that look. It was the serious breakthrough look.

Brady had been intimidated into contacting Neal.

~~~~~~

A/N: Remember, there is at least one more part to this story and possibly two, so keep your eyes peeled!

If you like my writing and would be interested in skipping the request queue, please consider checking out the details of my Ko-Fi commissions here or go straight to my Ko-Fi page here. Imagines are $1, oneshots start at $4, and a story of this length would be just about $8.

#white collar x reader #white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #casefic #white collar lawmen and conmen #lawmen-and-conmen #fic #oneshot #bite #peter burke #diana berrigan #clinton jones #reader #x reader #reader insert

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