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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

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The Butterfly Effect (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Journey from where it all began to where they are now. From a 2-minute power nap to a Miami kiss, Pooja and Ethan have come a long way. From Pooja's POV (Set in OH Bk 1 Ch 10 and contains flashbacks from OH Bk 1 Ch 1, Ch 4 and Ch 5)❤

The Butterfly Effect: Discovered by Edward Lorenz, this theory suggests that something small and insignificant, can alter situations in such a way that leads to utterly drastic changes. For example, a butterfly flaps its wings at an Amazonian Jungle and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. (This has to be one of my favorite theories ever🦋)

A/N: I got inspired from a dark Academia quote and here we are with 2.4K of mess. But I enjoyed providing all the fbs from Poo's POV and filling in the gaps of the unknown. And all the DbC peeps, I am trying to finish ch 8 believe me😭

Thank you so much to @jamespotterthefirst for Pre-reading! Love you🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🦋

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.4K

Rating: General

Category: A messy mix of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: None that I found

A grain of sand, almost imperceptible to the human eye, 2 millimetres in diameter. Just a tiny little grain of sand, a single one. One would wonder how great of an effect that could produce?

A single grain of sand, eliminated from the base of a sand sculpture, can set on fire a cascade of events that result in something as drastic as the demolition of the entire sculpture. Just a trifling 2 mm sized grain of sand.

Tufts of hair gently swayed with the swooshing ocean breeze, the very grains of sand of which her mind was thinking about slip through gaps of her toes. It's a calming atmosphere, having a Zen-like effect on her racing heart and confused reasoning.

The echoing crash of ocean tides, the hushed ruffle of her shimmering purple dress, and the pattern of her footsteps of the white sand, now silver under the enchanting moonbeams.

She could not think about bad ideas and good ideas anymore. Nor could she obliterate the delicate touch of peach lips ingrained in her mind. Everything was a lock of tangled hair, a chaotic mess in her mind.

And when you can't disentangle a mess, you just tear it off.

That was what she was doing, tearing herself away before her mind got engulfed by a cocoon of ambiguity and concealed probabilities, restricting her to get out without getting transformed into someone else.

Legs exhausted after strolling for who knows how long, Pooja sits down, not bothering about the sheet of sand fragments that adhered begrudgingly to the purple satin.

A simple motion ensues, the florid hair tie holding her brown hair strands in a ponytail, now lay in her hand, giving them the liberty to enjoy the tranquillity of the idyllic scene they found themselves in.

Relaxation. That was what she anticipated. The soothing of her racing heart, the clearing of her muddled head, the easing of her bothering thoughts.

But it never came, the relaxation she desired.

Instead, her fingers, for a reason mysterious even to her, fidgeted the diamond imitation bracelet that embellished her left wrist. A twitch unveiled a vague scar, a remembrance of an old episode entirely cleared off from her mind.

Flashback

Pooja was a Potterhead. An extreme one indeed. Sometimes the thought made her chuckle. How she despised the books once, presuming they were overrated. And then, as if a magic trick had been performed on her, she became the Maven of the Harry Potter club.

But being a Potterhead and having to live in a niche under the stairs did not go hand in hand. The room under a staircase was still a room under a staircase. And every day, her mind replayed the poem of curses to her, as if to warn her to never search for an apartment on a Facebook Group ever again.

And now she stood, waiting for the century-old toaster's ping, as sleep struck like pin-pricks on her eyelids, threatening to close them off. It was a bad day today, the phone battery drained, and she, coffee drained. And the cherry on the top? Today was the first day of her residence at the most prestigious hospital in the entire States.

Uff!

She yawned the hundredth time, sleep playing a tiring game of chess with her mind, and giving it a Check! every now and then.

I don't even know a goddamn coffee shop around in here!

Displeased grunts accompanied the thought as she took the knife and began slicing the apple she had been floundering around for quite some time.

One Slice, and Another, and Ano-

Snorr!

What an ability it was to fall asleep anywhere, in any position! What harm would a "Power Nap" of a minute or two do? Right?

AAHHH!

The scream came out in bits, first when her eyes fluttered open with the sudden pain. A pause followed when she actually looked at the source of it and after her eyes and mind registered what was happening, came the second scream.

She was getting the taste of just how profitable the power nap was.

Hurrying away, she rummaged around for a first aid box, failed to find it, trotted to her Harry Potter adobe and took out the medical goodies she had brought with her. After ransacking through it, she found the antiseptic and the swabs she was looking for. Then a faint sound came from the blinking cellular and she picked it up, not waiting for breakfast. Just as she clicked the unlock button...

HOLY SHIT!

What? How? Her mind could not register. The only thing she understood was that she was notoriously late for her first day, and now she would have to do all the running that she had avoided for all the preceding years.

Letting out another pained groan, she kicked two flowerpots on her way to the kitchen, took the toasted slices of bread, switched off the stupid piece of machinery and ran.

She was sure she would have come first in any marathon if she had run in them with the speed she was racing right now.————————————————————————

Did she know about Dolores Hudson? No, she didn't. Had she planned on telling about her to Dr Ramsey? No, she hadn't.

The two words had inadvertently slipped off her tongue, not envisioning it as an indication. But as soon as they reached his ears, it felt as if a domino had been pushed. One pushed on to the other, leading to a chain of events that had given no hints, no warnings at all.

And now she was in the NICU, chatting with the man whom she considered an idol, a role model as if they were old companions. It was an enchanting experience to see the intern-terrorizing gentleman, so ... normal.

She questioned her mind's choice of word, but she did not completely disagree. To see Dr Ramsey, sitting here with an intern, talking with her, for no particular purpose other than the fact that she decided to stay back here in contrast to any other person, who would have valued their sleep than watching over a premature baby with whom she had no connection.

When sleep muddled her thoughts, she didn't realize what she was doing. Head lowered into his shoulder in a motion that felt like a reflex embedded in the nerve cords of her spine. She missed the gentle smile, decorating the handsome face of his, as he watched her from the corner of his eye, his eyes holding an emotion unrecognizable.

Was it affection? Pride? Adoration? Or something completely different? Who knew.

But if there was something she did know after that day, it was that she felt lucky, damn lucky, for that slip of the tongue.————————————————————————

How idiotic of her the decision was, she didn't want to talk about it.

Pooja had only found herself running the way she was running now on the first day of her residence, and she had only herself, and no one else to blame.

Why did she think that giving up on the most wanted position for every medicine intern in Edenbrook for friends when every one of them participated in it was a good idea?

If only her brain comprehended her priorities appropriately, she wouldn't have to rush through roads like a person who was missing their train.

Panting, grunting, and completely tensed, she arrives at Edenbrook. Steps don't slow down until she arrives before the light beige door, huffs and puffs, not pausing for a split second. She doubted if her legs still had the power to walk or if she would have to crawl into the office.

Nah, no more embarrassment, she would not be able to bear it. With the power that remained in overworked limbs, she knocked, entered and gave her reasons for the delay. And then, by a margin of a minute, she signed the sheet, absolutely normal but still holding the power to twist her entire life in an unforeseen way.

But did she regret it? She couldn't, and she wouldn't.————————————————————————

Miami. The city of gorgeous beaches, giving the aesthetic of peach and teal life. The expensive marble-floored hotel rooms in which she found herself was unreal. Definitely not made for some random intern.

Gorgeous decorated interior, delicately manicured lawns, elegantly made fountains, all standing majestically, giving a fight to each other. She glided through the vast space, joy overcoming job as she breathed the calming salty air coming from the oceanfront, which appeared like a picture frame in front of her. She had never seen anything so perfect in her life.

It was like Ataraxia.

She preferred Mountains over Beaches. She always had, and without a doubt, she always will. But when something looks so heavenly, it would be absolute stupidity to forego the chance of visiting it, even if it contrasted her preferences.

Forgetting the not-so-pleasant interaction with Declan Nash, which appeared like a stone in her perfect day, she let her sensations delve into the delicious culinary masterpieces that melted in her mouth like wax.

All the merrymaking and socializing drained her. But the gentle talks, soft giggles that she shared with him, an extraordinary, priceless moment, seemed to charge her, rejuvenate her. A corner of her heart did hope for something to happen. But she hushed it, not wanting to spoil the casualness, the beauty of the simplicity that blew in the air between them.

It felt like existing in the setting of one of those Michael Faudet quotes, one of them particularly being emphasized by her mind.

"As our eyes meet, all-time seizes to exist. The dying second frozen like petals of red roses kissed by autumn frost."

Pooja's mind still reeled, falling freely into the void as passion and some unnamed emotion overtook them. His heart steady under the touch of her palm and hers racing under the touch of his. She would not be able to remove the unreal image from her idiot of a heart, even if she wanted to.

Sleep refused to come to her, even after calling it repeatedly. She sat up, relieving the memory, playing in front of her like a sepia movie on the silver screen. Eyes travelling around, only to fall on a bouquet kept neatly at one of the antique corner tables.

It was white lilies and purple orchids.

Pooja Sharma didn't know the language of flowers when she received them, with a tag casually signed as E. A vague tag like that did not help to know the actual sender. The man whom she kissed had a name beginning with E, the hotel she was staying in had a name beginning with E.

Hell, even the hospital she worked in had a name with the letter E.

But if she had known the language of flowers, she would have pinpointed the symbolism hidden in it.

The White Lily carrying the meaning of Purity, Sweetness while Purple Orchids a clear cut indicator of admiration and elegance.

She would have been able to tell which E had sent the delicately wrapped piece that now lay uncared for in the corner of her room.

Feelings overcrowded reason, and she found herself suffocated in the very room that seemed heavenly to her in the morning.

Slowly and silently, she walked away to find the solace which he or she could not give her, in nature.

Flashback ends

As the amaranthine ocean glistens, waves crash and the foamy water rushes to engulf her feet as she stood, hands wrapped around herself, she felt she had truly found solace. There was a spiral, an unending coil of memories, a string which, when pulled, tugged in emotions hidden in darkest corners, forgotten but related, all tied together.

It was surprising, enigmatic, how much the little brain of hers, the soft heart of hers, holds in them. A constant battle of reason and emotions ravage the tired battlefields of her body. How casually, reminiscences of a bygone day appears, flicker like the reflection in the mirror of the calm pond water, but remain clear through the ripples that spread on the surface from time to time. That's how memories work, still clear, still dear, even after passing through chaotic ripples of time.

As she reaches the end of the spiral, the helix of her thoughts, she finds herself even more astonished than she was when she reverted to the first pages of the memoirs of her stay in Boston.

It was just a minute, or a word or two. Always so insignificant.

Every ignored act added one upon another and resulted in the catastrophic mess of heartbreak and affection she found herself today.

The 2-minute Power Nap of her first day? It led to the 2-degree shift of the knife and the scar that her finger was tracing now.

That 2-degree shift led to the delay in her reaching the hospital?

It resulted in her meeting her mentor, which gave her the chance to do the thoracotomy with him, to experience how it felt when his hand enveloped hers.

Those two words that slipped as a nonchalant thought off her tongue? It was why she could know how Ethan Ramsey was, behind the tough exteriors, the short-tempered demeanour, how it felt to place her head gently on his shoulder, to wake up to his glowing face.

And that one minute past midnight, when she signed up for the challenge that would change her life? That is why she is here, hair ruffling and eyes glistening, the Leucos Moon reflecting on the glistening water, the crepuscule spread mystically around her. That is why she knew how it felt to be touched by him, kissed by him, to get lost in him.

When Edward Lorenz discovered the butterfly event, he had correlated mathematics and meteorology. Had he thought that the same butterfly effect had turned an unassuming intern's life upside down, pushed her so back in the void of circumstances that it was impossible to come back?

Just a 2-degree shift of a knife, and now she was here in Miami. Just like the unassuming butterfly's flap of wing, which now ravaged a storm through her life.

Glassy droplets make a slow trail down the curve of her cheeks and drop on the scar as if trying to meet the origin which has brought her to the coordinates of the present.

And even though she did not know what would happen in the days to come, she was happy, truly happy, for that shift of her knife and for the 2 minutes of the power nap.

For the butterfly effect of love.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

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Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

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hotchscvm · 3 years

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a lifetime of illusions

Warnings: angst, implied smut, mild violence, major character death

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: A whirlwind summer romance sweeps you off your feet. But you never once regretted it.

Or: In which you fall in love hard and fast, yet when it all stops, you spend the rest of your life thinking "What if?"

You never considered yourself as someone who would be swept off their feet just because of a guy with a pretty face. But he had been so much more than that. He made you happy, made you smile, made you feel truly alive. Not once had you regretted your decision; you were happy, as happy as someone could be.

Stepping outside, you blocked your eyes from the hot summer sun. The busy, yet small city noise filled your ears, the smell of saccharine desserts invaded your nose. Smiling, you felt at home in this foreign island. The people around you smiled, not one of those tight, uptight grimaces, but a genuine, huge smile. People around here were so different. It was nice.

You called for a cab, surprised there had been a cab at the small island, even more, surprised when they hadn't made fun of your struggle to communicate. Instead, they smiled and helped you figure out where you were supposed to go. He introduced himself as Barry.

"So, ma'am, how long are you staying in Savos for?" Barry asked, taking a turn left. Besides you, the beach stretched out for miles, the sun setting above the horizon. It left a streak of crimson in the orange sky.

Grinning, you shrugged, eyes twinkling with excitement. The long plane ride did nothing to drain the energy and excitement out of you. "Don't know. But from the looks of it, I want to stay forever. This is possibly the most beautiful place in the world."

"It sure is, ma'am. Especially during the summer, you came at the right time. We don't get a lot of tourists due to the long and exhausting traveling." Barry said, pulling up to the large hotel. "Here we are. Have a good night."

"Thanks, Barry. You, too." you thanked, opening the door. You were ever so grateful to pack light, the only thing in your hands was your phone, and bag hanging on your shoulder. The hot wind made you shiver, contrasted by the cold cab, the sudden temperatures changed made you crave the summertime more.

The cab drove away, the sweet sound of the tires against the cement hitting your ears. Walking to the hotel lobby, you checked in, admiring at the antique furniture and the warm white lights. It had an olden vibe, one that you didn't mind. The girl handed you your keys without a word, pointing to the elevator. You had to admit, the hotel was kind of stuffy, a little dusty but a little dust never killed anyone. Who were you to judge for the lack of dusting?

You reached your designated floor, the elevator doors opening with a loud ding. As if you were in a hurry, your sprinter down the hall to your room; in truth, you were just eager to change and see the island for yourself. Unlocking your door, you were greeted by the sight of a clean room, a white bed, white walls, and a white carpet. For an antique-looking hotel, you'd thought the room would have more character.

No matter. You tossed your bag on the bed, slipping into some clean clothes. If you weren't so hungry, you would've taken a shower, gotten rid of all the sticky things that touched you during your flight. Instead, you practically tore your dirty clothes off just to get a fresh feeling from your clean ones. Pulling your hair up, you texted your parents and friends, texting them you had made it.

They had all been a bit hesitant about having you travel to a foreign island by yourself. It had been a little ridiculous but you finally got all of them to agree. After all, you needed to celebrate graduating from college. It only happened once. What better way to celebrate than traveling around the world for the whole summer before returning back to your stuffy life?

There was a fun-looking restaurant across the street from the hotel. A lot of people crowded the place, dancing to the loud music leaking out of the restaurant. You snaked your way through the crowd until you reached the host stand, letting out a huge breath you've been holding in order to squeeze past. It might've been crowded inside but the restaurant wasn't. The tables were all filled but there had been no line.

You made your way to the table, smiling when you reached it. The host gave you a small smile. "Hello, do you happen to have a table for one?"

"Um, lemme check." She glanced down at the booklet in front of her, then scanned the place, as if an empty table was suddenly going to appear. "I'm sorry, ma'am but there isn't a table available. If you'd like you can wait, it won't be long—"

"She can sit with me. If she doesn't mind being tortured by my company." A voice interrupted. Both you and the hostess turned towards the source of the sound, eyes widening when you saw the breathtakingly gorgeous man. He smiled at you, holding out his hand. "Hey, I'm Chris."

You shook his hand, slightly confused by his blunt offer. You told him your name and the corner of his lips lifted even more. "You look really familiar, Chris."

His eyes glimmered with amusement. "Yeah, I get that a lot. You have a beautiful name. Would you like to dine with me tonight? It's totally okay if you say no but it'd be nice to have some company tonight. I'm new in town."

"Me, too," you replied. Biting your lip, you mulled over his question. You wanted to say yes—who wouldn't? He was absolutely beautiful but it wasn't like you to have dinner with a complete stranger. On the other hand, you did promise yourself to be more spontaneous, take more chances.

Sensing your hesitance, he scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the floor. "I promise I won't bite. And if you don't have a fun time, I'll give you some money and we can call it even. What'd ya say?"

Of course, you said yes. If you hadn't, your whole life could've gone so much differently.

—

It started with dinner, then lunch the next day. It wasn't long before the two of you spent your days together, sometimes going to the beach, sometimes staying in either of your hotel rooms, staying in each other arms, stealing a few kisses. You didn't realize how much of a big deal he was. And he didn't tell you, fearing you'd ditch him.

After your third official date, you slept with him, loving the way he touched you. You smiled when you woke up in his arms the next morning, he had mirrored your expression, kissing you until you were both breathless. Only a week had passed but you were so smitten by the Bostonian. It was during the second week that you realized how smitten he was with you.

"Christopher Columbus, you know how impatient I am. Come on! Lemme see." you pleaded, a little annoyed by his hands covering your eyes. He chuckled behind you, pulling you even closer to his chest. "Chris."

His chest vibrated from his laugh. "Sweetheart, I promise we're almost there. It's not a surprise if I show you. Just wait a little longer. I promise you'll love it."

You groaned, suffering blindness under his grasp. As much as you hated secrets, you liked the way his hands were on you, the way he looked in his Captain America swim trunks. It was adorable. "Okay, fine."

As soon as your feet touched the water, you started to get even more suspicious, aware you were ankle-deep in the ocean. Maybe he was gonna drown you. You let out a little laugh at that. The man had too much love in his heart to even think of such a dark thought.

"Do I get to hear the joke?" he asked, his lips grazing your ear. You giggled at the motion, his neatly trimmed beard tickling you. "Are you ticklish?"

There was a dangerous playfulness in his voice so you quickly shook your head no. "Of course not, your wild beard just gave me neck rash."

"Darling, that's just the hickey I gave you." he teased, laughing when he felt you roll your eyes under his hand. Chris swore, quickly leading you back towards the beach before making you walk across the hot sand with it sticking to your soaked sandals. "Sorry, my mind wandered and I accidentally led you somewhere else."

"Oh my, God." you snorted, finding amusement to your boyfriend's confusion. Was he your boyfriend? You didn't have the talk, let alone labeled what you were. Three dates, days spent together, and mind-blowing sex didn't mean you were dating, right?

Your sandals thud against the wooden ground. You raised an eyebrow at the feeling, curiosity making you impatient from the long-awaited surprise. It was ridiculous how long he made you wait, almost as ridiculous as Barney Stinson's legendary catchphrase Chris once jokingly admitted he loathed.

Once you were in the angled the way he wanted, he grinned, the smile touching his eyes. "Okay, are you ready?"

You nearly yelled at him. "Yes!"

With one swift movement, his hands disappear from your eyes, leaving you to open them slowly as you took in the scene in front of you. Floating in the water, a few feet away from you was a sailing yacht, the boat rocking slightly. A tiny squeal escaped your lips, glancing between the boat and Chris. You wrap your arms around the man, head snuggled against his chest.

"It was hard finding someone that would let me rent their boat without a boating license. But don't worry, I know enough to keep us afloat. Do you like it?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

It was crazy how this man could make your heartbeat out of your chest. Grinning up at him, you gave a nod. "I adore it. It really was worth the wait, huh?"

He wasn't looking at the boat when he answered. He was too busy admiring how beautiful you were to even take his eyes off of you. "Yeah, it really was."

You pulled him aboard the boat, letting him teach you all the right procedures. He had let you steer the boat with his assistance, murmuring praises in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he stood behind you. The wind would blow your hair back, making him spit it out when it got in his mouth. Both of you laughed whenever a piece of your hair got wet from his spit; it was also very gross.

The day was spent on the boat, blankets tossed over both your bodies as you watched the sunset. Chris had decided to become the next Shakespeare as he described the colors of the sky, laughing when you jokingly mocked his Boston accent that slipped out every once in a while. Night had come, and Chris drove the boat back to the docks, thanking the owner.

That was the night he realized he was deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

—

He didn't get a chance to tell you.

He was ripped out of your arms before you could tell him you loved him. Didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

July came and went. Chris had taken you back to his hometown with the plan to introduce you to his family. Neither of you thought it was moving too fast. You wanted him and he wanted you. It was as easy as that. Yet, he was nervous. Not because he wasn't sure if his family would accept you, he knew they would immediately adore you as he did.

No, he was a wreck ever since he placed his grandmother's ring in his pocket, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come up. It never did.

You met his cute dog, one he named after Oliver & Company. It was hard to decide who water cuter—you soon chose Dodger after Chris scared the shit out of you. The summer was coming together in the best way possible and you never wanted it to end, didn't want to go back to your normal life where everything was vanilla at best.

So, you didn't. You met his parents, spent the remainder of the summer with him in Boston. It was easy being with him, so easy you thought about blurting the three words that eased in your head whenever he smiled, laughed, or moved. You had it bad. Too bad you never found out how much he did.

It happened on a normal Saturday night; you were making dinner while Chris drove back from a day hanging out with Scott. Tonight was the night, the night you told him how in love you were with him, how he wiggled his way into your heart. Your hands were trembling with anxiety as you waited for him, trying to calm yourself, wishing he would get home faster. Dodger calmed you a little but it wasn't enough.

As it got later, your anxiety faded, anger replacing the strong feeling. You had been texting Chris, only getting a few responses in return until he just stopped. Anger seeped out of you as you put the food in the fridge, cursing at the thoughtfulness of your boyfriend. You never got to say sorry for thinking about yourself when his last thought was about you.

For him, tonight would've been the night. The night he confessed his love, the night he popped the question, the happiest night of his life until you get married. He was hopeful you would feel the same way, even asked his friends if they thought you did. They all had answered without hesitation, assuring him you did. So, he picked up his balls, and got his head together. He had a plan: tell you about his actor status, professed his heart out, and get on his knees.

Fate had other plans.

Chris could tell you were anxious, even through text he could read you. He tried his best to assure you he would be home soon. He smiled at the word; home was you. He shouldn't have been texting and driving. If people realized how important those ads were, maybe they would take them seriously. Unfortunately, Chris never thought he would end up as one of those.

It wasn't his fault, far from it. He had stayed in his lane, never veering off his own space. He might've been speeding, but it wasn't his fault. The headlights blinded him, so much that he couldn't move out of the way fast enough. The oncoming car came at him, and he died instantly.

Scott had called you, asking if he could come over, unable to tell you the bad news over the phone.

Opening the door, you greeted the other Evans brother. "Hey, Scott. Have you heard from Chris? He hasn't been answering my texts and I'm really worried. A little miffed but mostly worried—hey, are you okay?"

Tears ran down his cheek as he engulfed you in a hug. His body shook and your stomach dropped. "Chris...he got into a car accident. T-they tried to rush him to the hospital but, [Y/N], he was dead on impact. Sweetie..."

You fell to your knees, the rest of the sentence trailing off as the words sunk in your head.

He was dead.

You cried for days, with the amount of tears you cried, you could've filled the huge bathtub in Chris' house. It was worse during the funeral, seeing his dead, lifeless, cold body in a wooden casket. You didn't think could have gotten worse, but it did.

His will was read, he made changes to it during the summer. If anything happened, you had the house, Dodger was now yours, a handful of millions were in your hands. Other than Dodger, you didn't care about the possessions you held. Not until Lisa, Chris' mom, came by with a blue, velvet box in her hand.

You didn't open it until you couldn't stand it. Opening it, you found the pear-shaped diamond engagement ring resting in the middle. That was when you saw him. It took you by surprise, scared you shitless when you saw him standing in front of you, alive and as remembered. Dodger hadn't reacted to his dad's return. It made you wonder if you dreamt of his death. He didn't say a word as he took the box, got on his knees, and smiled up at you.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

You didn't have kids, instead you spent the rest of your lives enjoying each other's company. You got married, lived the American dream. It confused you whenever you saw mourning posts about Chris when he was clearly alive. So you stayed off the internet, living the second chance you were given. You were happy.

Chris showered you with presents, cuddled you every night, and woke you up with kisses every morning. You barely fought, and when you did, you never stayed mad at each other long. You couldn't find it in yourself to take him for granted again, not when he was taken away from you.

Scott would visit, his face becoming more and more concerned as the visits became monthly, like he was sure you were going insane. But you weren't. Not to you, at least. He never spoke to Chris when he visited, not that Chris was in the room when he did. Scott would stare at the engagement ring around your ring finger, a sad smile appearing on his face before he would go.

You dismissed everyone's weird behavior whenever you brought up Chris. They would always look down, avoiding the subject like he wasn't there. Still, you thought nothing wrong. You were too euphoric to realize how fucked up your situation was.

Life went on, you spent most of it with him, clinging to his presence as if you didn't hold on tight enough he was going to ripped out of your arms again. You got older, so did he, just not in the way you thought he would.

Sighing, you settled beside the love of your life, the back pain, and old age making it hard to get into bed. 70 was a bitch and you weren't taking it too well. Rolling over, you were greeted by the sight of the same Chris you met those many summers ago.

He smiled gently at you, tears brimming his eyes. He cupped your sagging cheek with his hand, the same hand you held so many times. "Sweetheart, I love you so much. You were my destined one but I never got to say goodbye. But you do. You have to let me go and live out the rest of your life."

"How...I—" you gasped softly, unable to feel him.

"You have to let me go."

And you did. Closing your eyes, you saw the past 50 years as they have been. You talking to the empty space in front of you, leaning against the couch, cuddling the pillow you thought was your lover. You truly saw the emptiness in Chris' family. They were lost without their brother, without their son while you lived a lifetime of illusions, delirious from the sadness over his death. You clung to him, even when it wasn't really him.

So, you did as he wished. You let him go and went to sleep.

But you never woke up. Because the only thing keeping you alive was his presence. And he was gone. It only took you five decades to realize how empty you were without him. Because he made you feel alive.

You had spent a lifetime imagining him.

#chris evans #chris evans imagines #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #imagines #chris evans fanfiction

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rusty-tetanus-nail · 3 years

Text

Never Look Away

Summary: Dean and Cas are forced to redefine their relationship as a decade old secret between them finally comes to light.

Dean jumps up, strangely offended.

“Okay, first of all, you’ve seen my browser history. Your true form doesn’t even make my top 10 weirdest things I’ve jerked off to, so that's a load of bull..."

Notes: This is the result of listening to Never Look Away by Vienna Teng for 10 hours gay.

-------

Careful not to wake him, Dean traces the outlines of Cas’s body illuminated by the reddish hues of the morning sun with his fingers. He can hardly believe it’s only been a year since they defeated God and pulled Cas out of the Empty with the promise of a love returned.

So much has changed in such little time. With the illusion of free will no longer binding Dean to a greater destiny and with Cas and Dean’s own feelings out in the open he finally allowed himself to want all the things he denied himself for so long, always prioritizing other people’s happiness over his own. Now he has it all. A house, a job, a family, a life, Cas. It was so hard at first, to stop looking for hunts and letting go of Sam so he too could start his own life with Eileen by his side, but in the end Dean had been too tired to fight his own desires any longer and gave in.

Fuck the voice of his father telling him his only purpose in life was to watch out for Sammy and fuck the man John wanted him to be. He helped save this world so he gets to live in it in whatever way he wants to and what he wants is to live his cheesy apple pie life waking up every day next to the man he loves.

Cas stirs in his sleep and Dean watches the translucent wings flutter against the light seemingly drinking up the morning sun. They used to be pitch black back when they first met. A beautiful sight, yet not quite fitting the man Cas would eventually become.

Then they burned and Dean could barely stomach to look at them knowing how much the culmination of all of Dean’s mistakes had hurt Cas so irreparably. And now the wings are whole again and even more awe-inspiring than before. Something about Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty or maybe a blessing from Jack has restored them leaving Dean with the desperate urge to touch the intangible. Watching one of the smaller eyes on Cas’ wings slowly flutter open Dean wonders if it would be rude to ask about the colour change and chuckles. The way the wings shimmer with all the colours of the rainbow is just so wonderfully, blatantly gay.

“What’s so funny?” Cas mumbles half asleep as a couple more eyes flutter open searching for the source of Dean’s amusement.

Dean leans over, one hand caressing Cas’ jaw and kisses him softly good morning.

“I just love you so damn much.” He whispers only inches away from his husband’s mouth and rests his forehead against Cas’.

Cas moves back to study Dean’s face questioningly. The familiar stare is so much more intense now that Dean can take all of Cas in without suffering through the burning sensation that always accompanied laying his eyes on something filled with angelic grace.

Dean swallows hard. Having all of Cas’ eyes so solely focussed on him and him alone is such a major turn on. He must be doing it on purpose. It’s unfair how such a simple action has so much of an effect on Dean.

“I don’t understand how that’s funny.” Cas says, one eyebrow raised.

“Then come and find out.”

Dean’s mind is already too far gone to care for the conversation and he pulls Cas closer by his shirt desperate to embrace the parts of Cas that he can actually touch. Now fully awake, Cas reciprocates the action enthusiastically pressing their lips together earnestly and climbing on top of Dean to explore his body with his hands and mouth. Not for the first time Dean curses his past self for not allowing himself to be loved by Cas years ago. There’s so much time they have yet to make up for. Luckily they’re both more than willing to try.

Dean’s musings are cut short when Cas’ attentions move downward as Dean’s legs get pushed apart and Cas presses against Dean’s growing erection.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean groans and sees new galaxies forming inside Cas’ body. Always good to know that Cas enjoys this as much as Dean does.

The prodding stops and Dean lets out an embarrassing whine.

“Not yet.” Cas teases with a grin, all of his eyes’ attention once again on Dean alone. The bastard. Dean has half the mind to hit him upwards with his knee in retaliation, but soon gets distracted by Cas intertwining his hands with Dean’s and leaning down slowly to kiss the sensitive spot on Dean’s neck. He gasps and moves his neck so Cas can take him apart much easier.

In their closeness Cas’ celestial body engulfs Dean in his entirety and he is left again, breathless, by the unfathomable sight of his lover’s true form. Stars and skies in colours not named by men expand and swirl inside the translutient depths of the oceans and galaxies that make up the angels body as the golden halos’ luminescence submerges them both in it’s light. Dean would lose himself in the sight if it weren’t for the thousands of eyes, holding the knowledge of millenia, watching him unblinkingly in a way that is so Cas, so human, that Dean can’t see anything else but his stupid socially awkward self-sacrificing husband.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Dean blurts out, giving voice to his thoughts.

Cas flinches away as if burned, his true form doing much the same. He wavers back against the bedroom wall as far away as possible from his vessel and curls in on himself. At least Dean assumes that’s what Cas is trying to do. Cas' true form, once taller than any skyscraper, has shrunk significantly with the absence of grace powering him up, but is still far too large to fit completely inside a house let alone a room.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks sitting up.

Cas turns away, his eyes fluttering across the room looking for an escape. Dean gingerly places a hand on Cas’ shoulder and is relieved when he’s not pushed away.

“Hey, Cas, buddy. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I know it’s weird coming from me, but let’s not do this again. No more unnecessary secrets. Please.”

Cas takes Dean’s hand into his and nods. One slow measured breath and he starts talking.

“Dean, I- I know you can’t help seeing me this way, but I dislike it when you comment on my appearance.”

Cas’ vessel is still turned away, but out of the corner of his eyes Dean can see Cas, the real Cas, watching his reaction with interest.

“Well, uh, okay, if it makes you uncomfortable I can stop.” Dean starts awkwardly. “But let me assure you there is absolutely no reason for you to feel insecure about the way you look, you’re-” Dean trails off. You’re mind blowingly gorgeous and sometimes your beauty is so overwhelming that I’m scared I’ll cry if I look too closely.

At Dean's words, Cas finally turns to face him.

“I’m not ‘insecure’, Dean.” Cas bites out emphasizing his irritation with air quotes. “In fact my true form is counted as one of the most attractive among my brethren.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. No argument there. Cas is by far the prettiest angel he’s ever seen.

“And I am well aware that you find my vessel visually pleasing, but Dean, what you’re complimenting is not me. It’s Jimmy Novak.”

“Uh, Jimmy’s a good looking guy for sure, but the one who’s beautiful is definitely you.”

Instead of being reassured by Dean’s words Cas just sighs resignated.

“It’s kind of you to refer to my inner beauty, but we both know this is not what you meant. You see Jimmy’s face and call it beautiful. I don’t begrudge you for this but don’t like being confused with him.”

Oh Cas definitely has insecurities. How can he even think Jimmy fucking Novak is anywhere near as attractive as Cas himself?

“No, I meant exactly what I said. You, the you you, are fucking hot.”

Cas’ frowns, unhappy with Dean’s reply.

“It’s okay. I understand. It’s hard to keep Jimmy’s body and I seperate. There’s no need for you to backtrack to make me feel better. Let’s just stop arguing about this.”

“Oh no Jon Snow. Not so fast. Let me put this in terms even you and your insecure ass will understand.”

Dean takes Cas’ face into his hands and stares deeply into his eyes. The staring is a habit from back when Cas was still fully juiced up. With the angel grace making it near impossible to look at Cas’ true form without feeling like his eyes were on fire, the vessel's eyes were the only place Dean’s own could safely escape to.

“Your true form is incredibly attractive. Very sexy. Wings and all. If I could hit that, I would. Inner beauty not required.” He speaks slowly as if to a child. Apparently it was the wrong thing to do as Cas slaps Dean’s hands away unable to suppress his irritation any longer.

“Dean, you’ve never seen my true form and I can assure you if you had, its inhuman nature would stop you from ‘hitting that’.”

Dean jumps up, strangely offended.

“Okay, first of all, you’ve seen my browser history. Your true form doesn’t even make my top 10 weirdest things I’ve jerked off to, so that’s a load of bull and second of all…”

Dean grows quiet. What does Cas mean with Dean’s never seen his true form before? Wasn’t the ability to see angels part of being the Michael Sword or something? How could Cas not know? And even if he didn’t, they’ve known each other for over ten years. It must’ve come up at some point.

Dean rifles through his memories desperate to find the right one, but draws a blank and visibly blanches.

Cas had no reason to believe Dean could see him. Back when they first met, Cas made some assumptions and Dean didn’t correct him, not trusting the self proclaimed angel an inch. And then it’s always been the vessel Dean’s been talking to, never the one puppeteering it. At first out simple necessity, then out of pure habit.

Determined to rectify their decade old misunderstanding Dean makes his way through the bedroom and sits down right in front of what Dean assumes must be the angel equivalent of Cas’ face or maybe his hand. Either way the body part has enough eyes to have an honest conversation with and has been observing Dean and the vessel talk this whole time.

This is Cas. The real Cas. And it’s high time for Dean to stop averting his eyes.

Cas squirms under his stare.

“Dean, childishly staring at an empty wall won’t solve this.” Cas argues from behind Dean and Dean has to suppress the urge to turn around. The voice might be coming from the vessel, but the one talking is the angel in front of him.

“That’s not what I’m doing.” Dean says, looking directly into one of Cas’ bigger eyes. Cas freezes momentarily at the direct eye contact and then his eyes swirl around frantically trying to find whatever it is that Dean’s looking at. Dean's stomach tightens. It hasn’t been fair to make Cas feel as if he’s invisible just because it’s easier for his stupid human brain to talk to the vessel.

Dean reaches out attempting to touch the nervously fluttering wing next to him, but as expected his hand moves right through it. He smiles sadly.

“I’m sorry, Cas. It seems there’s something I’ve neglected to tell you. I thought you knew, but that’s not an excuse.” Dean pauses. “I’ve always been able to see you.”

There’s a storm brewing inside Cas, a tension. One wrong move and a star could explode setting off a supernova that is held at bay by nothing but a shimmering skin made of light and colours. His husband is nervous at the possibility of being seen, Dean realises and has no choice but to confirm Cas’ worry.

“When you were still full of grace I couldn’t look directly at you without fearing for my eyes, so I got used to looking at your vessel instead, but I’ve always known and seen the real you.”

Ever since Dean could remember gigantic and intangible creatures taller than skyscrapers with wings that could pierce the heavens have been watching him from a distance, their countless eyes following his every move. Scary, yet unimaginably beautiful. As a child Dean would try to describe them and ask what they were, but apart from his mom there was never anyone trying to hear him out.

“Children and their imagination.” Adults would say and ruffle his hair whenever he tried to ask about them and by the time he was four he realised that he’s the only one who could see them.

Then his mom died and all his questions and curiosity were left behind in the ruins of their broken home. Dean learned quickly that John had no use for children and their imaginary friends. He needed to grow up and become a soldier for his family’s sake. So he followed the orders, and pretended not to see these watchers following him around.

Later, when Dean was a teen and John was gone most of the time, Sam often dragged him to libraries and Dean would do his own research on the creatures in secret, too scared to ask anyone for help. John made it pretty clear he didn’t want Dean talking about them and Dean feared that if he told someone and didn’t have proof of their existence Dean would be sent off to a mental ward for seeing things that were simply not there. In the end it took dying and coming back to life to find his answers.

Despite having seen these creatures all of his life, when they summoned the one named Castiel, Dean needed a moment to figure out what he was seeing. He’s never been this close to any of them and the proximity was overwhelming. Dean was suddenly acutely aware just how Pamela's eyes could've been burned out so easily by the creature's visage.

In an attempt not to suffer the same fate as her, Dean averted his eyes and spotted a man entering the barn, his body connected with small tendrils to the large creature around him. A puppet, Dean thought, one he could touch and subsequently kill, so without another moment's hesitation Dean took the first shot. And then the second, a third. Neither the puppet nor the creature were faced by his attempts to fight, merely curious. As if Dean was nothing more but an ant trying to fight a giant.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The puppet finally said, inhuman in everything but his appearance and so Dean stabbed him as a thanks for the introduction. Next thing he knew, Bobby was down and the guy began claiming to be an angel.

“There’s no such thing.” Dean said, but the voice of his mother telling him that angels were watching over him thought differently.

The man’s body straightened and the creature, Castiel, stood up, his form ending far beyond the barn’s roof and he spread his wings. Bolts of lighting exploded into an array of mesmerizing fireworks and Dean was left breathless before the angel. His terrifying beauty nesting deep inside Dean’s heart and he knew he was lost.

“No, you must be lying.” Cas says as his body trembles under Dean’s stare.

“I’m not.” Dean replies, leaving no room for debate and moves closer to Cas, who seems to be trying to escape through the bedroom wall. “So believe me when I say that you’re fucking beautiful and only thinking about you watching me with your many many eyes is enough to make me hard.”

Cas sputters incoherently and his body changes colours rapidly, eventually settling on a pinkish sort of hue. Oh. That’s new. Dean grins.

“Cas, Huggybear, are you blushing?” Dean teases, taking immense amusement in this new discovery. Cas swirls him around in an attempt to make Dean look at his vessel again, but with a true form as big as Cas’ it’s not hard to find a new part of Cas’ body to focus his attention on.

“No.” Cas growls defensively. “Stop looking.”

“Make me.” The reply is a bit cliché but Dean isn’t trying to win an Oscar. He’d much rather film a porn instead.

In the blink of an eye Dean is encased possessively in Cas’s wings and pushed onto the bed with urgency. Fuck yes.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #trueform!cas #time to sleep

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fortune-fool02 · 3 years

Text

dio rejects humanity and becomes fish

"Dio, no!" Jonathan cried, reaching out in vain at his adoptive brother.

Dio cackled wickedly, as he clutched the Coral Mask in one hand, its spikes extending menacingly as it was exposed to a vial of ocean water that Dio had swiped from Jonathan's study room. At his feet, George, Jonathan's father, lay unconscious, having been wounded by Dio to gain the final ingredient-- a smear of human blood.

"I reject my humanity, JoJo!" he shrieked with a sinister grin. "I become MERMAID!"

At once, spiked tentacle-like tendrils emerged from the mask and clamped onto Dio's face. A bright, shining glow began to envelop him as a swirling mist formed a whirlwind of chaos within the mansion's lobby.

"Jonathan, get down!" Speedwagon cried, tackling Jonathan to the floor. Behind them, a frightful transformation began to take place, as Dio began to morph, his clothes all tearing off to reveal his bare, transfiguring body. Golden scales began forming onto his skin, his ears lengthened into pointed fins. His teeth sharpened like those of a shark's and four pairs of gills opened up on each side of his neck. Last to morph were his legs, fusing together into a long, scaly tail tipped with a fan-shaped fin, and now unable to stand, Dio fell to the floor with a thud as the light faded away.

Both Jonathan and Speedwagon gingerly looked up in horror at what Dio had become, as the mask dropped from his face and tumbled to the floor with a hollow clank.

Dio, lying prone on the floor, slowly stirred and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "At last...at LAST!" he laughed maniacally, testing out the flexibility of his new tail. "At last I can feel the POWER OF THE OCEAN coursing through me!"

"W-what have you done?!" Jonathan cried in disbelief.

"The power of the ocean has transcended my mortal limits!" Dio snarled, though Jonathan noticed he was beginning to wheeze and gasp. "I have...ascended...from a mere...human....to an unstoppable...force of...the sea!"

"But Dio," Jonathan reasoned, "you're....you're not in the sea."

Dio, now panting heavily, seemed to be suddenly struck with a realization, as his eyes widened with terrified regret.

"W-water..." he moaned, clutching his neck in a panic before collapsing onto the ground, his gills flapping vainly for the water that wasn't there.

"Dio? Dio, no!" Jonathan cried, running to his side.

"Leave him be, Jonathan!" snapped Speedwagon. "Let the bastard fish dry out and die, he deserved it!"

Jonathan glared back sternly at his companion. "He may have been cruel and wicked, and now a mythical sea creature, but he's still like a brother to me!" He grabbed the faintly struggling, gasping Dio by his tail, feeling the drying flakiness of his dehydrated scales, and began to drag him toward the back door.

"Speedwagon!" Jonathan groaned. "Take care of my dad for me and make sure he's okay! I have to get Dio into the water!"

Speedwagon nodded thoughtfully as he rushed to George's side. The old man was unconscious but alive, with the stab wound in his flank, inflicted by Dio, still bleeding profusely. "What are you all standing around for?" he yelled at the authorities who entered the room. "Get this man a carriage to the hospital right away!" he yelled, applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.

Meanwhile Jonathan, dragging the now convulsively-gasping Dio by his tail, was slowly but surely making his way to the fountain in front of the Joestar mansion: the only source of water close enough for him to reach in time before Dio suffocated to death. With one final, heaving grunt, he lifted up the twitching merman and dropped him into the fountain with a splash.

For a few moments Jonathan watched the dark water with bated breath. Then suddenly, from under the murky water, a pair of glowing orange eyes suddenly glared up at him, before giving out a bubbling sigh of exhausted relief, before closing back down again.

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

"How's Dad doing?" Jonathan asked Speedwagon, as he arrived to the Joestar mansion in a carriage the following morning.

"He'll have to stay at the hospital for weeks, maybe months," sighed Speedwagon sadly, "but the good news is that he'll live. We're not sure when he'll wake up, but he's stable and in better health."

"That's good to hear," Jonathan replied, thankfully. "I'll try to visit him as soon as I can, but for now...I've got another problem to worry about for the moment."

Speedwagon's face wrinkled in disgust as he became aware of a fishy smell emanating from a bucket that Jonathan carried in one hand.

"Dear heavens, JoJo!" he complained. "What is that dreadful smell?"

"Just some left-over mackerel from our pantry's ice box," Jonathan replied. "I've got to keep him well-fed so he won't...try to EAT anybody."

"Who...?" Speedwagon relied, confused, as his eyes trailed up toward the fountain, where a familiar, blond figure lay in the shallow, running water.

"Here, Dio, I brought you breakfast," Jonathan crooned gently to the merman.

Dio glared hatefully up at him, with brilliant, tangerine eyes, pupils slitted like a cat's. "I am not a pet, JoJo! How dare you treat me like some lowly wretched beast?" he snarled.

"Oh, Dio," Jonathan sighed mournfully. "You did this to yourself. You were arrogant and foolish and it's just brought grief to us all. But no matter how much of a spiteful imbecile you have been...you are no less a brother in my eyes. And I know I'm a better person than to just leave you to die."

He fished out a mackerel from the bucket and uneasily held it out to Dio, who seized it suddenly and without warning, causing both Jonathan and Speedwagon to stumble back in fright.

Gripping his meal in his clawed, webbed hands, Dio messily devoured the fish, tearing into it savagely as his razor-sharp teeth shredded apart fins, bones, scales and all. Speedwagon felt sickened at the sight.

"Disgusting," he groaned. "He was vile before he became a mermaid but he's even worse now!"

"It's a shame, really," Jonathan added with a dry laugh. "Dad always used to praise him for his table manners."

As Dio finished off the last remnants of the fish, Jonathan and Speedwagon got their first good look at Dio's newfound piscine form in the yellow light of early morning. His entire body was covered in small, fine, golden scales, save for his face, throat, belly and chest, which retained the color and texture of Dio's original skin. A large, transluscent dorsal fin emerged from the middle of his back, the same see-through shade of yellow as the smaller fins that emerged from his ears, his elbows and what used to be his hips. His tail, tipped in a bright golden tail fin, was longer than Dio's legs used to be, coiling snakily around the circular fountain with the fluke dangling limply over the edge.

Still retaining his mop of messy blond hair and sharpm handsome facial features, Dio was both terrifying and yet strangely beautiful, Jonathan thought. Just like many of the sea creatures he studied in his marine researches: a gorgeous, elegant exterior concealing the heart and soul of a ruthless, predatory killer, one that was best admired with distance and precaution.

His golden scales glimmered beautifully in the sunlight, but Dio didn't seem to appreciate the glare one bit. He shrank away from the light, shading his eyes from the glare as he wriggled about in the water until he was safely in the fountain's shadow.

"He doesn't seem to like the light," Jonathan noted observantly. "His eyes must have become adapted for the dark depths of the sea, I shall have to get him some shade from the sun if he's to stay here."

"So, what are we going to do with him now?" Speedwagon asked Jonathan concernedly. "Are you going to take him to the ocean and leave him there? The sooner we're rid of him the better!"

"We may be rid of him if we do just that, but he'll be someone else's problem." Jonathan warned. "He's vicious and powerful and he's sure to use his newfound abilities to hurt others, and it would be our fault for turning him loose."

"You don't suppose we could...dry him up and sell him to the museum?" Speedwagon snarkily suggested.

Jonathan shot Speedwagon a horrified glare. "No, no, we're not going to kill him! He's perfectly harmless if we keep him confined in the fountain. This should keep him out of trouble and I can keep a close eye on him."

Meanwhile, Dio had been listening to the whole discussion: furious that they were contemplating on selling him like some common fish. Angrily, he planted his scaly hands onto the fountain's edge and raised his body up as high as he could. "I CAN HEAR YOU TWO SCHEMING!" he cried out at the two. "How DARE you treat me like this!"

Jonathan shook his head disappointedly and approached the merman, who crouched back into the fountain's shadow hissing like a threatened snake. "Dio, I don't want to do this any more than you. But it's my responsibility to keep others safe from you, and you safe from yourself. You turned yourself into this, Dio, and now I know no way to change you back."

"Damn you, JoJo..." Dio whimpered, his voice beginning to break. "So I'm going to have lo spend the rest of my life, however long that may be, kept prisoner in this stupid fountain like some kind of trained seal at a circus? As your own personal pet mermaid, huh, JoJo?" He splashed his tail in frustration and let out a loud, inhuman, mournful wail, and Jonathan felt a hint of pity, even for someone like him.

"This was your choice, Dio," Jonathan scolded, sternly but comfortingly. "There's nothing more you and I can do about the situation, but have to get used to it."

He offered Dio another mackerel. "Here you go, Dio. Eat up and stop being miserable, we'll try to find out a way to make this work out."

Dio recluctantly reached out to take the fish from Jonathan, before sinking back down into the water, bubbling indignantly about his plight.

Jonathan turned to Speedwagon as Dio ate sulkingly. "Speedwagon? This may be a bit of a favor to ask from you..." he asked awkwardly.

"Sure thing, anything that you request," Speedwagon replied.

"You see, I'm going to have to watch over my father at the hospital for a while. And I'm going to have to have someone to watch over Dio for a while to make sure he doesn't get into trouble. I know he can't breathe without water for long and can't leave the fountain for long, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Could you...merman-sit for me while I check on my Dad?"

Speedwagon nodded uneasily, and hesitantly glanced toward the fountain, where Dio, taking his time as he slowly ate his mackerel, made eye contact with Speedwagon and gave a hostile snarl.

"Dear me," sighed Speedwagon in exasperation. "Today is going to be a very, very long day."

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

***

This.... This was absolutely incredible to read! I love every second of it! Thank you so much for taking the time to write this, anon! It's absolutely amazing!

#merman dio #merman au #submission

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

A Sun-Kissed Getaway

My artist partner @reishichi beautiful companion piece to my story. Rei was awesome to work with, sweet, go check out her art!!! 💜💜 This was for the @todomomo-mini-bang-2020

The scent of the salty ocean air held hints of life and notes of esoteric mysteries swirling through the breezes that wrapped along the sun-kissed beach they stood on. He couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot to bring his wife Momo to. Secluded and peaceful compared to the hectic city world they lived in. The skies were radiant with different shades of blue as far as the eye could see and embraced at the horizon into the covetous waters like a lover returning home.

But as beautiful as this landscape was, it didn’t hold a flame in his heart like the gorgeous woman before him. Her dark raven tresses float behind her in gentle wisps and flurries, only tamed in part by the loose clip that binds it up. He watches her pause and bend down to pick up a shell, turning it in her hand before placing it back where she’d found it. Always the curious bookworm, cultured and mindful of her surroundings. She turns her attention to the ocean and closes her eyes.

He smiles at her upturned expression as she soaks in this entrancing milieu. It was one he could understand and appreciate too.

Their work as heroes was a daunting task at times. Not just physically taxing but emotionally draining when you’re dealing with the dregs of society. Villains and the victims left in their wake. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if these degenerates could just stick to battling with the law rather than dragging innocents into the mix. But he digresses. This was not the time to brood upon the negatives of their chosen professions.

“Shouto,” a soft melody crosses his hearing, and he shifts his focus to its source. He sees her outstretched hand, beckoning him to her.

He smiles once more and closes the gap between them, taking hold and entwining his fingers with hers. She squeezes and runs her thumb soothingly over the skin, wiping away the dissolution as if it’d never taken place. This is why he loved her so much. With just a tender touch, she could send away the weary and brighten his world anew. He lifts her hand and places a chaste kiss to its back. “Shall we,” he questions, gesturing to the stretch of coastline. She smiles with a light blush filtering onto her cheeks and nods in agreement.

They walk along the beach hand in hand in mellow conversation. The warm white sand speckled with various shades from corals of long ago cushion each step they take. It was nice, like a massage for their bare feet, and he appreciated that nature was kind enough not to burn today. No other souls were around to disturb them, except for the occasional call of a seabird or the skittering of a hermit crab. Just the tranquil roil of the waves ebbing and flowing against the sand or the shifting leaves of the trees that dot the edge of the shoreline.

It takes about an hour for them to make it to the end of the beach where a sheer cliff face rises up an unknown amount of stories and blocks their way. This beach was carved from a valley and only accessible with four-wheel drive. Of course, for those with a quirk like he had, travel to a remote location wasn’t so much of an issue. But to make it a day when they could forget about their quirks and just be normal for once, he’d borrowed a friend’s truck to get through the forest trail.

With no reason to hurry, they simply turn around and enjoy the stretch of paradise, making their way back to their little camp for the day. It was almost lunchtime and his wife had prepared bento meals for them to fuel their day off. Along with an oversized blanket and small cooler with drinks, it was the perfect set up for a relaxing picnic by the sea.

How unexpected, he mused as she produced a kitchen knife and began cutting into a small watermelon. It was the perfect refreshing treat for this warm summer day. He makes her a small table of ice to cut the fruit on and lay the pieces out to chill. “Lunch was delicious Momo, thank you,” he kisses her cheek as she finishes chopping.

She blushes lightly in a smile, “you’re welcome Shouto.”

He was a lucky man that his wife was such an amazing cook. Cooking was one skill that he could never master no matter how many times his sister Fuyumi tried to teach him. But he’s always been just a simple man, nothing fancy required, and content with a cold plate of soba. His wife was a different story. Raised to be the perfect balance of elegance and sophistication, used to the finer things in life, yet never pretentious or snobby.

Though they’d come from the upper echelon of society, their families couldn’t have been more different from one another. It was strange to him at first. She was so settled and worldly compared to him, a top-ranked student and yet adorably self-conscious. While he came from a broken home life, an overbearing father, while still managing to develop his own identity. But he digresses. They did have one thing in common. He leans back on the blanket and closes his eyes to the memory.

All through high school they’d been completely clueless, and it wasn’t until after graduation, with the help of their friends pointing out the blaring reality of their feelings for one another.

“What are you smiling about?”

Her voice pulls him back. “Just you,” he takes the piece of watermelon she holds out to him, “and how happy you make me.”

“Aww,” she giggles and hides her smile behind her hand, “you make me happy too.”

Even after all these years he could make her blush with the simplest of compliments. Her bright smile and the twinkle in her eye whenever she laughed or giggled always made his heart flutter wildly despite the stoic expression on his face. She’s the only woman who could pull these emotions from him. Others had tried and failed in the past, and maybe it was with that realization that he was finally able to process their friend’s words all those ages ago. ‘You love her…’

‘Yes, I do…’ It was because of her kind encouragement that he was truly able to forgive his father for all the man had done to their family. Her support gave him strength and her love gave him fuel to be the best hero he could be.

He feels a weight on his shoulder. It was Momo resting her head against it while she nibbles on a piece of watermelon and stares out over the ocean. He kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her, leaning his head against hers. This would make a for a perfect picture, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil the moment by pulling out his phone. That was okay, such memories will always live on within them.

A light sigh and a shift by his wife to further wrap her arms around his mid-section. She was so content it was a shame that they would have to leave this beach soon. One didn’t need a watch to know the time, as the sun slowly made its trek across the sky towards the horizon, and the shadows from the tree line washed over their picnic spot. He of all people understood the power of the elements, yet in that moment, even the roar of the waves was but a peaceful undertone to relax away all the painful toils of their lives and send them away to the depths of the sea.

“So beautiful,” the words wisp out from Momo’s lips as she stared at the sunset.

How often do they ever get to enjoy this natural phenomenon, and today seemed even more spectacular than he remembered? The reddish orange ball of fire sent colored heat waves stretching out along the horizon, like a distorted image on a television screen, and darkening the further it settled below the sea blue threshold. But above it, the colors blended wildly with the sky to produce brilliant purple and blue hues broken up between the spattering of pink orange clouds travelling across the heavens.

“It’s time to go,” he kisses his wife and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” she sighs.

“We’ll come back again. I promise.”

She smiles, “thank you for today Shouto, I really needed this.”

He leans his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, cradling the back of her head. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She was everything to him. “No. I’m the one who’s thankful,” he leans in and places a lingering kiss on her lips. “You make me the happiest man in the world.”

“I love you Shouto.”

“I love you too Momo.”

And as they make their way over to the car, he wraps his arm around her shoulder to guide her, taking one last look at the expanse of sand and sea. Growing up, he’d never expected to be as happy as he was with moments like this one. Nevertheless, just like that setting sun, old childhood wounds dissolve away into the abyss, leaving just the starry skies that blink of possibilities. There may not be any photographic chronicles of their adventure today, but the memories will forever be ingrained in their hearts and the love of a woman who helped him get here.

❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍🥳🥳 Bonus Birthday add on: @reishichi Happy Birthday!

As he lay there in the early morning hours, the sun’s rays were just barely peeking through the sheer curtains. Shouto smiles as he gazes lovingly over his wife’s face imagining how lucky he was to have her in his life. It had been a few weeks since their little beach outing, and oh how he wished they’d had more time for such moments. To relax and pretend all the cares of the world had disappeared. If he could spin their world into a perfect utopia for her, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He gently brushes away the stray ebony hairs that have drifted over her face, careful not to wake her. Momo’s shift the evening prior had been a long one, and he wanted to let her sleep in as long as possible. She looked so peaceful lightly curled against his side, trusting of his protection. Her porcelain skin coming alive with the light of the sun.

There was only one thing he could think of to make their lives better than it already was, but it was something that brought trepidation and fears along with the excitement and bliss. He was afraid to bring up the topic of starting a family. Was he ready, were they ready? Oh, who was he kidding, Momo would be an excellent mother. It was he and his poor childhood that caused him the greater pause.

She would probably tell him the opposite, Shouto you’ll be an amazing father… he chuckles in his head as he remembers the long-ago recertification exam. As the baby of the family, he had no experience dealing with children. They were like strange creatures to him that he couldn’t understand. Some people take to parenting naturally, but he just knew that wouldn’t be him. And yet despite those concerns, the desire to have a child with Momo outweighed those fears.

Imagine it… going back to that beach with a little one in tow. Watching him or her scurry after crabs or chasing the waves as they ebb and flow along the sand. Building sandcastles and napping under the sun after a yummy lunch prepared by his wife. A picture of pure bliss that he would love and cherish and give the child all the love he never received growing up with his own father. Bet his siblings would be thrilled to be an aunt and uncle.

When the time feels right, he’ll broach the question. He kisses Momo’s forehead and rests his chin amongst her tresses, closing his eyes with a smile. Sleep my love, as we dream of a sun-kissed future.

#todomomo #todomomo fan fiction #todomomo fan art #bnha #todomomo mini bang 2020 #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #shouto todoroki #momo yaoyorozu #todomomo fan fic #aged up #married #beach #picnic #landscape scene #petri808 #petris chronicles

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Sitting Room #1 (12/31/2020)

Click here if you’re like “what the heck is this about?”

Alastor decides that today is a good day to lay on top of a piano and sing. Valera @autokrates decides to accompany by playing the piano. Angel @sluttyspiderpolkacock plummets out of the sky and kills Alastor in one shot.

Alastor

What do we have here!

Alastor's been wandering the estate scouting out sources of entertainment—when he crosses paths with a sitting room stocked with a gorgeous grand piano. Entertainment located.

He trots over, plays a few keys to make sure it's in tune, considers his options, and then hops up to sit on top of the piano. Nice! Sturdy. He lays down on the piano.

What kind of song is appropriate to play while laying on a piano?

He thinks for a moment; then summons up his microphone, kills the lights, sends his shadow to play a dramatic arpeggio, rolls dramatically onto his back, and sings into the mic, "At first I was afraid~ I was petrified~"

Valera

Valera was happily sitting in the gardens, enjoying the ocean breeze of their home planet, the rustling of the leaves and the perfume of the flowers. It was only them and their thoughts out here.

How serene, how calm. You'd never guess their house was full of overpowered sinners hiding from a mass execution. All their fears were assuaged, not a single of the myriad of terrible incidents they'd expected had come to pass...

Wait. Was that... The opening bars for I Will Survive? Was that *Alastor* they saw through the gauzy curtains?

Fuck being alone with their thoughts, they *had* to get in on that good time. Hope Alastor doesn't mind if they hop right through an open window to offer some backing brass for his piano!

Alastor

Alastor sits up when the room is suddenly invaded—oh, how wonderful! There aren’t all that many places where you can start a musical number and fitting musical accompaniment just barges in! He’d thought he’d have to summon up his own private brass band.

Hand on his chest and hamming up as much as he can, he goes on, “Kept thinking *I* could never *live* without you *by my side*~”

Valera

Look at the man go, Gloria Gaynor would be proud. They plop themselves down next to his shadow on the bench, humming along under their breath while they ready themselves for their cue. In fact, while they're here...

A twitch of a fin, and a hazy amber spotlight flickers into existence to shine down on Alastor. There, mood lighting for the star of the show. Nothing but the best for a guest!

Alastor

Oh! Look at that! Proper lighting! They could be in Hell’s finest jazz club. Alastor’s really warming to his new role as a diva. “But then I spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong, and I grew strong~ I learned how to get along~”

He winks at Valera—time to really let loose—and belts out, “And now you’re *back*, from *outer space*—!”

Angel

Shielding his face from the glass, Angel continues to fall as he wildly fishes through his fluff for the charm Valera gave him for emergencies. It was so nice ( for his once human aesthetic appreciation ) that he told himself he'd never have to use it.

Then again, putting himself in this predicament wasn't exactly a conscious decision of his either. Making a clean enough break to salvage as he fell to his certain death was an unorthodox placement of priorities, but time was wasting. SOMETHING flashed before his eyes.

_ " ... And now you're **back!** From **outer space - !** " _

_Alastor...? I thought this was gonna be takin' me to Valer -_

And DOWN he sailed like a crimson comet into a cacophonous landing of glass, rattling keys, strings, once immaculately polished wood, and ( 1 ) local Radio Demon. A singular beat of moaning and groaning before he locked eyes with the island's Hostess with the Galactic Mostest and sprung to his feet, hip popped and arms dramatically jazzed.

" CIAO, MI LUCE DEI MIEI OTTO OCCHI ~ !! How's my BABY ~ ? "

Valera

An inhale as Valera prepares to start laying into the trumpet, smiling around the mouthpiece as Alastor belts out the lyrics. An inhale, and-- uh oh.

A tingle runs up their spine, eyes widening as they drop the instrument and jolt to their feet. Too late for any warning, here comes Angel, streaking from the ceiling in a blaze of glory and glass and splinters flying up from the shattered remains of their poor undeserving piano. They'd be more upset if they weren't immediately distracted by Angel Dust's darling voice.

Beaming fin to fin, Valera lunges forward to wrap their arms around their friend, tail all awiggle behind them as they bury their face in tit fluff. "Il mio amore! Mio caro! I'm so glad you could make it! Seapup is doing great, he'll be over the moon to see you here." A happy sigh, and they look up at Angel through his fluff and purr... Wait. Shit. Pull back, they have to peer around him to the wreck of the piano where their diva had once been.

"Alastor, do you need a medic?"

Alastor

Of all the ways to go, Alastor wasn’t expecting a meteor made out of red velvet.

And then the meteor climbs off of him and starts speaking Italian.

Alastor blinks up at the ceiling, half-dazed. “Probably, but that’s never stopped me before.” He sits up gingerly, leveraging himself out of the pile of devastated piano. “You know—I actually came to this universe to *avoid* getting murdered by an angel.”

Angel

It was very possible to not have enough arms with which to hug a dear friend, even when you had six. Angel gave her a big squeeze, tight enough to momentarily lift clawed feet from the floor as he nuzzled his face between her horns.

" GREAT! Place blew like ya wouldn't BELIEVE, Babe. Emergency getaway fa SURE ~ " he sang with a flash of an open palm of charm debris, which would promptly disappear into his fluff before he swept his cloak behind him.

" ALASTOR! THERE ya went! " Angel extended his hands to offer some help. " Ya ok? Sorry about that, uh, sudden change a plans. "

Valera

Oh to be a fish wrapped in the arms of a spider. What warmth, what comfort. A few seconds of bliss leave Valera's hearts feeling ready to melt, what could be better! A mental note to see about getting Angel Dust another charm, and she moves around to look Alastor over from a barely respectful distance. Poor thing got GOT.

Alastor

He sure did get got. He actually takes Angel’s hand to help haul himself up. “It’s not the change of plans I mind so much as your choice of landing pad!” Audience laughter. He cracks his back a few odd angles, then straightens out and starts brushing himself off. “You were at some big overlord shindig, weren’t you? Did the exterminators get in?” Oh, wouldn’t that be a delightful way to ring in the new year, getting rid of that rotten lot. The only overlords he cared about were either not the type to go to such a party or else excluded from the exterminations anyway. “Glad *you* made it out.”

Angel

" Uh... " It was settling in little by little, now. The foreboden consequences of his actions. " Yeah! They did! Uh, I wouldn't check into the place right now! Y'know, signals goin' haywire, S. O. S. 's off the shitshow... Thinkin' of it's givin' ME a headache, so I can't IMAGINE what it'd be doin' t' YOU, Smiles... Lucky ME though, ah? " _He used to be a much better liar._ Angel's ceaselessly sheepish smile left little to be assumed. Knowing this, he whipped back towards Valera, arms wildly animated as ever. " SO! How's e'ryone holdin' up over here? " He started a strut about the room, testing the soreness of his leading leg. " Ya DO have room fa one more in this fancy schmancy pad, yeah? "

Valera

She steps back, satisfied that Alastor wasn't about to keel over dead, and reaches out to take two of Angel's hands in hers to squeeze. Friend is here, nothing else matters yet! Even if the way he's acting is super sus, he's probably in shock from his DYNAMIC ENTRY to an ALIEN PLANET. That's the story she's sticking with until proven otherwise. Nobody needs that stress.

"Everyone's doing great, Angel! We've got four different Alastors, two Pentiouses, and we haven't even had any..." A glance towards her ex-piano. Another glance towards the radio demon brushing himself off. "... *Major* damage! I'll show you your room, if you want!"

Alastor

“No major damage *yet,* anyway! There’s still time to knock down a lighthouse or two!” He sounds absolutely gleeful.

At the moment, he doesn’t trust Angel at all. The dramatic entrance is perfectly fine, of course—he’d do no less himself—it’s this *insistence* that Alastor not check in on their universe. He absolutely needs to check in on it, as soon as possible.

But he’d rather hear about it from Angel first.

Not in front of their host, though. For the moment, he continues quietly straightening out his clothes and bones.

Angel

" PROPERTY DAMAGE ~ " he sang with a playful swing of their clasped hands, " Ain't a party wit'out a HEFFER of a BILL... " Angel then shadowed Valera's glances. Might be true of _some_ places, but certainly not HERE, his best friend's grand estate they've opened to such a handful of sinners out of the goodness of their heart.

" Sorry... about ya piano, though. I'll get ya a new one! " _No, you won't._ " I've got connections! " _Not anymore._ " Might not 'ave any special Veci designin' on it, but I'll do ya good! " _You just made THE worst mistake of your life. You're fresh OUT of GOOD._

**_YOU'RE never gonna know peace AGAIN._**

" I'm ON YA TAIL. Lead the way ~ " Angel belted playfully with a brush of those flickering fins and a glance back at Alastor. " Ya all good, there? If y'all wanna finish ya song later, I've got m'strings on me ~ "

Valera

"What, you want to replace my piano?" She scoffs, arms reaching up to give Angel's shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping down to twine a hand with his. "Darling. Mio caro, I don't care about that old thing. You're alive! You made it here! You're in one piece! That's all that matters to me."

Trilling cheerfully, she rocks in place. Hand in hand with her best friend, safe in her home, decidedly not murdered by Heaven's dogs. The ominous stress could come later, for now she had to be a host. "We'll get you set up with a room, get you a warm meal, and then we can all play some music together, since you've so *generously* offered. Sound good to you two?"

Alastor

"Considering what happened the last time I tried to sing it, I think continuing 'I Will Survive' would be tempting fate." He plays the whistling sound of a falling missile and a distant explosion. "You don't both need me there to assign a room, do you? Perhaps I should head down to the kitchen and get that warm meal going!" Angel certainly hadn't gotten anything to eat at that big overlord function, Alastor would bet anything on that.

Angel

Angel clung to Valera's words and the way she fussed over him with such tender loving care like a lifeline. _This_ was what he deserved, ( wasn't it? ) He planted a kiss off her temple and smiled meekly. " Sounds good t' me! But uh, " he started with a sweep of a free arm in Alastor's direction, " Ya just gonna up an' be a host e'rywhere ya go? Valera ain't got this place staffed better than ours so you can chill? I'm already here, an' no one CRASHES as hard as ME ~ "

Valera

"Oh, I don't know, Alastor. Maybe tempting fate is where the REAL entertainment is."

Valera snorts, idly plucking a few stray splinters off of Angel's fluff. "I'm pretty sure I'd have to hold him at gunpoint to keep Alastor out of the kitchen. And unlike you, I simply don't have enough arms to keep all four in check. You might as well accept your fate of trying alien cuisine prepared by the radio host himself."

Alastor

“TEMPTING fate, sure! But it loses some of its charm when fate succumbs to temptation and pile drives me!” He pauses thoughtfully. “Although ‘falling man lands on innocent grand piano’ is a delightfully ironic twist, isn’t it?”

He flings an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “You’d rather have me cooking, anyway! Valera’s helpfully provided a list of Veci recipes that are *edible* to humans—but I’ve been tweaking them to make them *palatable* to humans.” Palatable by Alastor’s standards, anyway, which are either “freakishly high” or “raw bloody meat” with basically nothing in between.

Angel

Angel combed some more splinters from his chest with his hand before abruptly bending his knees to level with Alastor's pull. " Guinea piggin' it is, then! I don't think ya ever made anythin' I passed on. " Raw bloody meat included. _Everything_ was appetizing after a hard day's work. " DO ya worst ~ " With a pat of his back, he again took Valera's hand. " I'll sample the edible stuff anyways, t' compare an' not let all ya hard work go wastin' ~ "

Valera

Gods, Angel was comically tall compared to the other two, it was easy to forget that the spindly spider was slouching all the time. She purrs and gives Angel's hand a squeeze, bumping her nose to his cheek in the approximation of a kiss. "You're a peach."

A moment, and she turns to lead Angel away. So much to do! Did she have brushes..? Yes, she could brush him off, make sure he was splinter free without needing a whole shower... Don't mind her, she's already ten steps ahead trying to figure out how many extra pillows she should put on his bed.

Alastor

“Sample shmample! You’re getting a full plate. I’ll bet the closest thing you got to a proper meal at that party of yours was an olive in your martini.” He half-bows in farewell, and leaves them to head for the kitchen.

Angel

_Well he wasn't WRONG._ If memory served him, that last shot wasn't meant for his taking, either. Lightly chewing the inside of his cheek, he gave Alastor a shallow curtsy and fell into Valera's stride.

" So ~ ! " Angel whistled as he panned his sights over the architecture and decor of the hallway, affectionately hooking his arms about Valera's elbow and shoulders. " How big IS this place? I been t' Hell's palace fa a job before, but if I learned ANYTHIN' about VECI... " He snorted to himself before he could even finish his joke. " Y'all's style is... _outta this world ~_ "

Valera

Valera saunters along, an arm looping around Angel in return to give him the gentlest squeeze. "That joke was *terrible*, darling. As far as the estate goes? Fifty bedrooms, twenty of which are meant for guests, twenty nine for staff, and then the master bedroom. Though I'd call it more of a master apartment, the previous owner sure liked having plenty of space to themselves."

The size of the place was really one of the reasons Val barely ever visited this place, too much room. But that made it perfect for this visit. Space, isolation, plenty of areas for sinners to hide away if they needed privacy... And bedrooms big enough for the stupidly tall sinners to feel comfortable in. Here's Angel's! A twelve by ten four poster bed, white marble and gold from floor to ceiling, a balcony suitable for any necessary brooding or swooning over a sea view... Just what a spider needed. Plus a tiny orange ball comfortably sleeping in the middle of that luxurious bed, but don't mind him.

#extermination party palace #autokrates #sluttyspiderpolkacock #chat log

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lilacandladybugs · 3 years

Note

Hi, I'm grateful for your religion posts, I've always had a really strong relationship with God but in recent years I've just seen so many people hurt by Christianity and slowly become one of them myself (I've been closeted bi for more than two years, it's rough...). I feel out of place with people who've abandoned Christianity and out of place with people who are still fully committed, and I want to still love God but it's hard when religion burns me to think about most days. I'm sorry if this is putting things on you that you don't want to have to think about, but I just wanted you to know that it means a lot to me to see someone staying strong (and probably doing better at it than me)

Blessings 💙

Hello friend I’m glad I can be helpful! Yes I feel the same way, and I think until I’m fully healed I won’t have the energy or the patience to go back to a Bible study and walk them through how to be friends with people who are grieving, or traumatized, or lgbt, or otherwise different from them. So I’ve felt like I have all these thoughts I’ve developed over the years about who God is and what my identity is in him without having a place to talk about it but y’all’s asks give me a place to do that and not have to prove myself to people who have never grieved or ever been rejected by the church.

I’ve found a lot of solace in Isaiah 55 and in Job and Psalms, this post is getting long so I’ll make another with pictures, but just know I totally understand. There are books in the Bible for people like us though, the Bible was written for broken people, it’s a love letter to us man. And the Bible isn’t the only place where we can listen to God, he’s also all around us in nature, in our loved ones, in poetry, in music. I loved twenty one pilots and I have a few analyses I wrote at 17 about their music and how it was a cry asking God for help. “I don’t know where you are, you’ll have to come and find me, find me,” and Tyler screams it and I would just like scream it with him.

I guess though that’s all you need sometimes. In that drought that’s all you need is that desire to ask God to show himself to you, that “want to want to” do what he says, that wishing you wanted to know him that’s all we need really. And then God takes over, and he promised where his word goes it will not return to him empty.

I’m sure you know this anon but to anyone else reading this the main story of the Bible is that God created us to be in a perfect free will relationship with him, but we used our free will to reject him instead. Since God is the source of life, when we cut ourselves off from him, it kills us slowly like a flower cut off a bush. Anything that goes against God’s will is called sin in the Bible, and so sin is basically the thing that cuts us off of the flower bush, because the natural consequence for turning away from God is death. But God was unwilling to let that be the end of the story and he chose to die in our place so that if we choose we can reenter that perfect relationship with God. And he rose again from the grave, conquering death, that separation that was originally created by our rejection of him.

In 2018 when I was first really realizing that there are people who call themselves christians and are also abusive I really had trouble delineating like who God is and who the Church is, because they aren’t the same you know? Church is made up of human beings, God is perfectly loving and perfectly just.

And one of my friends was trans and financially independent and recovering from religious abuse, and I remember him coming to my family’s house and my family’s church and realizing that God wasn’t this cruel distant judgmental being, that he loves us.

Anyway when my friend realized this he started going to church on his own, and one day as he was listening to the song “Come to the Alter” he said God spoke to him and said, “Come to me and I will be your father and you will be my son.” Which was a really big deal to him because God was willing to fill that role that his abusive ‘Christian’ parents were unwilling to fill, to use his correct pronouns, to meet him where he was, to love him unconditionally, to be his father.

When I heard that I legit cried for like three days and I wrote this:

— Feb 26, 2018

I have been overwhelmed yesterday and today with the goodness and love of God I had so underestimated. I feel the need to protect my friends and self from people who might hurt them, who don’t believe depression exists or handle them cruelly, but I didn’t realize I associated these people and my own brokenness with God himself. But God is not cruel. He does not hurt people on accident he doesn’t condemn, he meets us where we are tenderly like the gentle rays of golden sunshine peeking through the window in the morning or water of a lake lapping gentle on a stone beach.

His love is so pure, so respectful, and yet so overwhelming. Lord how cautious you have chosen to be with me, as one taming a wild deer, and Lord how I didn’t know how starved I am for your love! Oh Lord how you love my people so deeply and purely to stare into its depths though the water is clear I cannot see the end of it!

Father how can I fathom you? I knew who you were with my mind when I asked for our lives but how you have acquainted my heart with you! And you hold on and say “Here I am love, you are safe.” How safe I am with you! You are my nest in the winter where I go when frightened. Your triumph is so great I can’t speak or understand and so I just laugh and cry in joy and relief that you are here. Why do I remain so heavy laden? I should come to you or in you is miraculous peace.

Never have I felt such joy as yesterday, even when (a friend) was released from the hospital my tears were as if I were grieving I could feel all of heaven rejoicing and singing.

Oh God how lovely you are! Stunning and perfect and kind.

Light reflected through ie and silvery breath on cold winters night just a whisper and a gorgeous sight.

Comparing the safety you bring to the love of humans is like comparing moisture to the ocean, a pebble to the rocky mountains, one note to a symphony.

I feel like I have seen for the first time, been loved for the first time, like Rapunzel escaping from her tower I look down and even what is as everyday as grass to you is a wonder to me.

Lord I don’t know what abusive things I’ve taken as normal, please introduce me to life as your child.

Thank you so much Dad

Thank you <3

-------

I love you anon, keep me posted and I’ll keep giving you a ton of unsolicited advice hahahaha. The only other thought I had was that you don’t have to push yourself to worship God in any particular way! God isn’t just in worship music or just in the Bible. (although the Bible is the ultimate source of truth) sometimes the Bible can hurt to read when you’re traumatized and that is okay, God will meet you where you are. The word of God is not bound!! He’s not limited by your trauma, he’s not weakened by it, he can still do what he needs to do, just listen.

sister i wish you the best of luck, may God be with you wherever you go

#religion #religion tw #christianity #christianity tw #eslyea #i love you anon #good luck #god loves you #god loves your friends

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kmomof4 · 4 years

Text

The Moon... Tells the Sea

Oh y'all!!! I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally share this fic inspired by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 were-mermaid aesthetic for the @cssns!!!! When she showed me what she was working on back in February, an entire outline of a story just spilled out of me. And with her blessing and tremendous excitement, I wrote it! I truly hope you enjoy it! Please make sure and give Kayla lots of love!!!

Muchos love and thanks to @searchingwardrobes for her outstanding beta services. I am truly embarrassed at how all over the place my tenses were before she got ahold of them 🤦🏻‍♀️. Also to @hollyethecurious for her help in brainstorming early on, and last but not least to Kayla herself for making this GORGEOUS and PERFECT aesthetic that inspired the entire fic!!!!

Fic Summary: Nearly a century has passed since she became what she is when a new figure enters her lonely world. Who is he? And more importantly, WHAT is he?

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: Nearly 7100

Tags: Werewolves, Mermaids, Kidnapping, Smut

Find it on ao3 here

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

He appeared for the first time just after the full moon. The pale moonlight shone down on his face, turning the dark hair on his head to almost a silver. He was tall and lean, and the scruff on his face lined a perfectly sharp jawline. The melancholy on his countenance was achingly familiar and somehow soothed the restlessness and agitation in her soul. She felt a drawing to him that she couldn’t explain, a kinship, a connection. He walked back and forth along the beach of the lagoon where she made her home, sometimes keeping his eyes on the white sand beneath his bare feet, other times gazing out at the water. She hoped that he saw her beneath the gentle waves, a flash of gold from her hair or the moonlight reflecting off the sea green scales on her tail. Alas, after several circuits on her beach, he turned back into the woods in the direction of the village that she once, long ago, called home.

It was nigh on a century ago when Emma walked this beach and splashed in this lagoon as a sixteen year old girl. There wasn’t much time allowed for leisure in her life, but she and some of the other girls were able to come down to the beach on occasion for a modicum of recreation. They would remove their shoes and wiggle their toes in the sand and splash in the surf which would inevitably devolve into a water fight, competing to see who could get who the wettest before they inevitably had to return to the tavern of their employ.

It was on one of these excursions that the most lovely music reached her ears. Music from across the water. When she walked further out into the lagoon seeking the source of the tune, she was suddenly pulled under. Her companions stared in shock, too far from her to even attempt a rescue. The water closed over her head, turning her screams into a gurgle, as she reached out for anything that would keep her from being carried away. Once underwater, she became aware of what exactly had pulled her under. The orange arm of an octopus was all she could see wrapped around her ankles and working its way up her body, pulling her away from everything that she had ever known, further and further away from the sunlight on the surface of the lagoon and closer and closer to the dropoff marking the boundary and the open ocean beyond. The sense of flying under the water intensified as the melody continued on, and even became louder the deeper she went. It was working its way into her heart and mind, telling her to not resist, that she was safe, that she would live forever. The assurances did nothing to assuage her fear and anger, even as a creeping lethargy enveloped her limbs, halting her struggles against the iron grip of the tentacle. Finally arriving at the bottom of the ocean, the tentacle released her to join its brothers as part of the most horrifying sight she had ever beheld. A green skinned man from the waist up, while below, a multitude of orange tentacles waved lazily in the deep water currents.

Neal had taken advantage of her passivity, brought about by the melody that apparently he had sent to lure her into deep enough water that he could take her and make her his own. Upon her arrival in his underwater home, he immediately gave her fins instead of legs. He spoke words of love and tenderness to her, thinking to woo her to his side, but when he was unsuccessful after several weeks, his supposed love descended into a violent possessiveness, making her his by force. It was at this time that the full moon rose high in the sky and even though its light didn’t reach the depths, she still nearly drowned in her wolf form. If she hadn’t been fighting for her life, Neal’s surprise would have been comical. His surveillance had obviously been incomplete as he had no idea that he had kidnapped a werewolf. His magic placed her back on land where she’d be safe from drowning, but he warned her when the sun rose and she reverted back to human form, that she belonged to him and that his eyes would always be watching her when she was on land. He would not hesitate to kill anyone that tried to take what was his, including her, should she try to escape from him. Resigned to her fate, she endured the transformation each month and returned to the lagoon from whence Neal had taken her when the cycle came to an end. At least he allowed her that, only summoning her to his side when he wanted to remind her who she belonged to, which was, thankfully, relatively seldom all these years later.

She shuddered as the memories washed over her. Pushing them back down where they belonged, she looked back in the direction that the man had gone. She could only hope that he might come back.

The next night, he did come back. And the night after that, and the night after that. Every night, about an hour after sunset, he arrived at her beach. Some nights he would simply walk. Back and forth. Back and forth. She wished that she could speak to him, bring him some comfort in his distress. Other nights, he would sit on her beach and stare out at the sea for hours, tears tracking down his cheeks. It was those nights that the desire to reveal herself to him nearly overwhelmed her. But then she remembered Neal’s threats. She would not put this man in danger.

The next night was the first night of the full moon. She swam to the shallows as the sun set and she could feel the first stirrings of her change coming upon her. It was one thing to endure the pain of the transformation as a human, but as a mermaid, it was so much worse. She first had to face the agony of becoming human before she became the wolf.

Once the transformation was complete, her wolf still trembling with the aftereffects of the torment that had lately seized her, she ran for the shelter of the woods, desperate to hide herself among the foliage before he came for his evening constitutional. Tonight, being on the land instead of the sea and possessing the enhanced acuity of a wolf, she became aware of his presence before he was even beyond the borders of the town, about a mile away.

His steps were a bit slower this evening, and she was able to perceive details of his appearance that had been hidden in the previous weeks. The scruff that lined his jaw was tinged with ginger and his eyes were the blue of the lagoon that she now called home. He was dressed in the garb of a laborer and his hands were filthy. She wondered if he worked in the blacksmith shop.

He made the cover of the trees and her nose twitched with the scent she perceived on the night air coming off of him in waves. It couldn’t be. He turned from the path and disappeared from her sight. She was still over half a mile away from him. She ran to him, desperate to see if what she could smell was correct. Jumping over the detritus and long fallen, rotting trees that lay along the unseen paths used by the inhabitants of the forest, she raced toward her goal, her salvation. Arriving at her target, she came to a sudden stop. There, nestled in the bracken of the forest floor, was a wolf. A wolf dark as midnight under a new moon. His transformation was complete, but he had not yet recovered enough to make any sort of move against her.

She trod gingerly over to him. A low growl, full of menace reached her from deep in his chest. He may not be quite recuperated from the transformation, but he was far from defenseless, if the strength of that growl was anything to go by. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. Electric blue met verdant green in a dance as old as time. He rose from his forest bed and nosed along her muzzle. She held as still as she could while he nosed along the length of her, pausing below her tail to scent her. His tongue flicked out and the vibrating tension that had held her still since their eyes met broke. Emma spun away from him and mouthed gently at his muzzle before taking off through the woods. She didn’t need her heightened hearing to know that he was following her lead. The blood sang in her veins as she unleashed a howl at the full moon up above. He joined her in a chilling duet that carried both to the village and to the lagoon. She made to jump over a huge decaying log across their path when her back leg was caught in the rotting bark. A surprised and pain-filled whine was torn from her as she landed on top of the log. Mere seconds passed before the other wolf was by her side and ripping at the disintegrating log. Finally free, she jumped off the log, landing gingerly on the injured leg. The pain speared through her with each step she took, so she walked with a slight limp. He was by her side in an instant, bumping into her, supporting her as she tried to walk off the pain.

It took a few minutes, but the supernatural healing did its work and she resumed the chase through the woods until they burst through the foliage onto her beach. Suddenly mindful that Neal would have a much easier time seeing her and her companion when they were this exposed, she ran back for the cover of the forest. She came to a stop and turned back towards him, just as he burst through and tackled her. They rolled a few times until Emma laid on her back. The black wolf hovered over her before he lowered his face to hers and stretched himself out, half on top of her, half along her side. A wolfish sigh left her as she tentatively licked his muzzle. The crystal blue eyes half shut in pleasure and a pleased low growl left him.

She was still coming to terms with the fact that this man she had watched all month was also a werewolf like her, but as she snuggled closer into his solid bulk and her eyes fell shut, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had found her true mate. Now she just needed to figure out how to get away from Neal.

~*~*~

The sun was just breaking over the horizon when Emma woke, back in her human form. She was naked and the huge black wolf stretched out next to her was keeping her warm in the chill of the dawn. She looked around and found that they collapsed under a small copse of trees that the morning light was just barely able to penetrate. She wet her lips as her attention was drawn back to the creature next to her. She couldn’t help but reach out to touch his fur to see if it was as soft as it looked.

She buried her hand in the scruff of his neck, eyes rolling in the back of her head as the softness enveloped her. She came back to herself and studied him again. In the light of the morning, she could see that his fur wasn’t as dark as she thought last night. There was some white mixed in on his head, making it more of a dark grey rather than solid black. His underside was also more grey than black. He stretched beside her and she snatched her hand away, not wanting to wake him. With his back legs stretched out, she could clearly see that he was taller than she was.

She looked around, trying to find a place to hide from him. He’d be awake soon and she didn’t want him to see her like this. Not for a first meeting, anyway. His eyes were starting to open, the deep blue shining through his still half closed eyelids. She stood and suppressed a shiver brought on by the sudden loss of his body heat, and moved to hide herself behind a tall tree just at the edge of their sanctuary.

She hunkered down, trying to conserve her own body heat when she heard him stand in the loam where they made their bed. Peeking out from behind her tree, she was captivated by the full effect of the vivid blue eyes as they met hers. She couldn’t look away as a full body shudder ripped through him and he crouched there without moving as his own transformation overtook him. Once it was complete, he stood before her, in all his glory. He was beautiful. Tall and lean, with a dusting of chest hair leading down to where his hands covered himself. He obviously felt the same way she did about their initial meeting. His arms and legs were strong, perfectly toned muscles that she’d love to feel under her fingers. She knew that he saw her, his blush and heavy swallow testimony to that. Her eyes widened and fell away from him as she felt her own blush spreading over her cheeks.

He moved a few feet away and hid himself behind another tree. Moments later his voice reached her.

“Are you alright, lass? No worse for wear from our romp last night?”

His accent seemed to wrap around her and draw her to him. She peeked around her hiding place once again to answer him.

“Oh, my leg?” She moved it just to make sure. “Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Silence reigned for a long moment. “I’m Killian. Killian Jones.”

“I’m Emma,” she replied.

“How have I never seen you in the village, Emma?”

“I’m not from the village. Not now, anyway.”

“What do you mean, lass?”

“I’m originally from the village, but I haven’t been there in many years.”

“I see.” He obviously did not see. She knew for a fact that he hadn’t been aware of her presence in the lagoon all month, and without that essential piece of the puzzle, there was no way that he could understand exactly what she meant. “Do you need anything? Since you’re hiding yourself from me, I can only assume that you’re also nude. Do you have clothes to put on?”

She blushed even harder at his perceptiveness. “Uh, no. I don’t.”

“May I bring you some from the village? My clothes are where I left them last night and I have some time before I’m expected in the blacksmith’s shop.”

“That would be lovely,” she breathed, utterly flabbergasted that he’d want to help her in this way. “Thank you.”

“No problem at all, Emma. I’ll return shortly.”

It was only about thirty minutes before he returned to her hiding place, bearing a white shift in his arms.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you anything more substantial, but I didn’t have much money with me.” He reached behind her tree, where she was still hidden, and held it out to her. She took it and let the soft cotton slide through her fingers. She hadn’t felt anything like it in so long, she couldn’t wait to feel it against her skin.

She slipped it on and came out from behind her tree. She swallowed heavily before looking up at him from beneath her lashes, feeling very exposed and bashful now that she was face to face with him. He reached up and drew his knuckles down her cheek as he looked into her eyes. He smiled gently at her.

“It’s very nice to meet you face to face, Emma.”

“You too, Killian.” She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Will I see you tonight? The blacksmith doesn’t close down until the sun sets, and I’d assume that since you were already a wolf before I was last night and were human again before I was this morning, that you’ll be in your wolf form before I return to the woods tonight?”

She nodded. “Yes, I turn with the sunset and rise.”

“I can control my turning,” he shared with her.

“So that’s why you didn’t turn until you were in the woods, and were still a wolf when I woke?”

“Aye,” he acknowledged. “So will I see you again tonight?”

“Yes,” she answered, looking back up into his incredibly blue eyes.

He looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the town. “I have to get to work. Until tonight, Emma.” He turned back toward her and placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

Her hand raised to where the place he had kissed her still tingled as he walked away. “Until tonight, Killian,” she murmured.

~*~*~

Emma was never far from his thoughts the entire day. It’s a wonder he didn’t lose a hand, given the work he was doing and the level of distraction he was dealing with.

He may have only just met her, but the connection he felt with her last night and then this morning could not be denied.

A connection that made the wolf inside of him howl with delight and filled him with a joy that he hadn’t felt in ages. Not since long before he’d wandered into this small village about a month before.

Killian had been traveling from kingdom to kingdom, village to village after losing his brother almost three years before when he was only 15. He and his brother had been raised on the ship where their father had taken work after their mother had died when Killian was only a toddler. Today, he couldn’t imagine how hard it had to have been for his father to lose his wife and having to take work anywhere he could find it while raising two boys on his own. Two boys that were destined to become wolves when puberty hit. By the time his own time came, their father had passed and Liam was the one to help Killian through the transition and teach him how to control his shift.

It was the following year when Liam had been lost at sea during a storm and Killian had gone ashore. Life on the sea was in his blood, but with the painful memories that came with it, he decided to forge his own path on land.

Since then he’d drifted. Never staying in one place for more than a few months. Never long enough to form a connection with anyone, never long enough to put down roots. But meeting Emma last night changed everything.

She was the most beautiful wolf he’d ever laid eyes on. Fur as white as the freshly fallen snow. Green eyes that glittered under the full moon. He remembered the scent that had flooded him as he still lay recovering from his shift. The scent of were. He knew when he finally gazed upon her that she was not just a wolf. She was also a werewolf like him. He knew as they ran through the forest under the light of the moon that she was his and he was hers. His true mate.

Beholding her beauty in the flesh this morning, it was no wonder that even now, thoughts of her had his blood running south. Blonde hair that looked kissed by the sun, green eyes that had so captivated him the night before, firm muscles still supple with youth. She looked to be about a year younger than he was, or no more than two. She had said that she was from this village originally, but hadn’t been there in many years. How many years? Where had she been in the meantime? And why didn’t she have any clothes? The mysteries surrounding this woman swirled around in his brain until the sun finally set and he was free to leave.

Reaching the edge of the village, he looked up to the tree line. There she was. Mostly concealed, but the large pupils flashed under the light of the full moon allowing him to see her. He quickened his pace until he joined her under the canopy of the forest.

“Emma?” he asked. He knew it was her, but he just wanted that little bit more. Confirmation that she was what he thought she was. Her expression softened before she turned her back to him and moved forward. A grin broke out on his face as he followed her deeper into the woods.

She led him back to the same copse of trees that they slept in the night before. She turned in a circle a couple of times before curling up on the ground. Even with the white of her fur, he could barely see her in their safe haven. The light of the moon didn’t reach this deep into the forest, much less through the intertwined boughs of their shelter. It was more that he heard her settling and the pants of her breathing that told him where she was.

He settled down next to her and reached out to try and touch her. His hand found the deep, thick fur of her scruff. Never had he felt anything so soft. He moved his hand until it reached her ears and he could feel her raise her head, seeking more attention in that spot. He chuckled and proceeded to scratch at the sensitive area. After a few moments of the activity, Emma giving a contented low whine as he continued his ministrations, she stood from her spot, moved in front of him, and jumped up on him, placing her paws on his shoulders, pushing him backward into the earth. A laugh broke out of him as he lay still and waited to see what she would do next. This close, he could finally get a good look at her face. Her green eyes sparkled in the low light as she brought her muzzle close to his face and nuzzled into his cheek before she surprised him with a slow lick. He grabbed her scruff and nuzzled his own face into the softness that he found there. Pulling away from him, she turned around right above his head before she laid down again, scooching as close to his head as she could. When he raised up, trying to catch her eyes, she slid herself underneath his head, so that when he lay his head back down, it was the softness of her fur and underbelly that met him rather than the hard ground.

“Is this comfortable for you, Emma?” he murmured. His position allowed her to reach his face with another lick. She continued licking, as if she tasted something good along his skin. Laughing, he finally pushed her away when he’d had enough of her affection. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Laying there in their own safe place, he gazed up through the branches trying to see the night sky above. There was one area off to his left that was completely unobscured both by their little den and by the forest at large. He looked that way, seeing just a sliver of the full moon. He was pretty sure that he had time to tell her about himself before the whole of the full moon flooded their hideaway. Once it did, he wanted to turn and run with his mate.

He told Emma of his earliest memories aboard the ship and how he didn’t remember his mother at all. He told her about his father and brother, how they taught him about his wolf nature, and how he lost both of them. By the time he got to the current time, the full moon lit up their retreat. He raised himself up and looked at the beautiful wolf beside him.

“Are you ready to run, darling?”

She lifted her muzzle to the sky and let out a ringing howl. He raised his own face to the moon and joined her in her wolf song as he gave his shift full rein over his body. Short minutes later, his wolf senses much more attuned to the exquisite creature by his side, he tore through the underbrush of their oasis into the forest, Emma right on his heels.

They ran like the wind, indulging in their delight at being together. The scent of a rabbit crossed their trail causing them to run back toward the village that was Killian’s temporary home. Catching up to the terrified creature, they made short work of their meal before engaging in a game of tag that ended when Killian was so caught up in the presence of her that he lost track of where he was and instead of jumping to sidestep the edge of the ravine they were running along, lost his footing and fell to the bottom of it. Landing on his feet, he looked up at where Emma stood watching him, tongue lolling, her green eyes filled with mirth. Running back up the side of the ravine to her, he pounced, his front legs laying across her shoulders and neck, mouthing gently at her snout in a sign of affection. Her head turned toward his as she accepted his overtures before he got off her and she turned back toward their secret hideaway.

Once they arrived safely, they snuggled together and slept.

~*~*~

Emma was awakened by a hand rubbing up and down her naked back. She was snuggled into Killians side, head on his shoulder and the rest of her body flush with his side. She buried her face into his neck and let out a distressed moan.

“What is it, Emma?” he asked, gently, never halting his light touch.

“I should have awakened and hidden before you woke up. Like I did yesterday.”

Killian chuckled. “Why? I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m yours. All of me.” He took her hand in his other one and brought it up to his lips where he kissed each finger tip before looking deeply into her eyes. “I’ve never met a female werewolf, darling. How could I possibly be with anyone else?”

“But you don’t know anything about me,” she protested. “You only met me yesterday! At least I had the benefit of hearing your story last night and watching you all month when you walked along the beach. I knew that there was just something about you. When I watched you walk along the beach or sit and stare out at the water, I wanted nothing more than to reveal myself to you. Comfort you. Be with you.” The last part was a whisper as she looked away from his piercing gaze, only to be met with his naked body.

“So tell me,” he encouraged her. “When I felt you turn with the sunrise, I allowed myself to turn as well. I thought it might be comforting for you and I to have a few minutes together as humans before I had to go back to the village.”

She looked up into the azure blue of his eyes that she thought she would surely drown in. Seeing nothing but honest sincerity in his gaze, she began her own tale.

“I was born in the village, but abandoned as a baby. I was raised by Granny along with her own granddaughter, Ruby.” Killian’s brow furrowed at the mention of the names. “They were werewolves and owned the Red Wolf tavern. Granny somehow knew that I was were and took me in because of it. Granny taught me everything I needed to know about being a werewolf. How to live as a wolf during the full moon, how to keep my secret the rest of the month. Ruby, the other girls employed at the tavern, and I would come to the beach on occasion for some fun. Just a chance to relax, play, forget our troubles. Just for a little while…” her voice trailed away into a whisper.

Killian had gone very still. “Yes, Emma?” he questioned, “Keep going. I’m listening.”

“I was 16. I had apparently attracted the attention of a merman, Neal. The girls and I were just doing what we always did when I heard the most beautiful music. Music that he sent to lure me to deeper water so that he could take me. When I was far enough away from Ruby and the others, he kidnapped me. Brought me to his underwater home, turned me into a mermaid, and tried to win my affections. When I refused him, he forced me to remain with him. When he realized that I was a werewolf, he allowed me to spend those days and nights on the shore, after making sure that I knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone that tried to take me from him. Including myself, if I tried to escape from him.”

Emma could feel Killian’s fury rolling off of him. “I’ll kill him, Emma. I’ll kill the bastard. When was this? How long ago were you kidnapped?”

She buried her face into his neck again, not wanting to see his face when she told him. “It’s been nearly one hundred years.”

Killian grabbed her shoulders and lifted her away from him. It was all she could do to meet his eyes as he scrutinized her. “I knew that it’d have to have been many years, because the Red Wolf tavern and most of the village burned down 70 years ago. By that time, Granny was long gone, and Ruby was killed in the fire. The old timers still talk about it like it was yesterday. But I had no idea how long it had been for you.” He pulled her to him and held her gently as the tears that had gathered in her eyes started to fall.

Once her tears were spent, she looked back up to him. Raising her with him, he sat up, tenderly cupped her face within his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. A soft moan worked its way out of her mouth as she opened beneath the cautious questing of his tongue. He was so gentle and loving that she never wanted this to end. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands plunging into his raven locks as they rocked together. He lay back down with Emma atop him, never releasing her lips as his hands began to roam her naked body. Her nerve endings fired wherever he touched, leaving anticipatory shivers in their wake.

When air became necessary, they broke apart, both panting heavily. “As much as I’d like to continue this, Emma, I’m expected in the village soon.”

“I know,” she murmured into the space between them. She was loathe to let him go, but knew she must.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow morning,” he assured her.

“But I’ll be a mermaid again with the sunrise!”

“Then we’ll wait until next month.” He pushed back on her shoulders until his fierce blue eyes bored into hers. “We will be together, Emma. I swear it. I will always find you.”

“I will always find you,” she whispered back to him. She pressed another kiss to his lips and rose from their makeshift bed. Donning her shift, she turned back to where he was pulling his own clothes on.

“Until tonight, Emma,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers and running his fingers down her face.

“Until tonight, Killian.”

~*~*~

That night passed in much the same way as the previous night did. Killian arrived shortly after the sun set and joined Emma in their wolf form. They ran together under the full moon, played a game of hide and seek (Emma could only stand playing one round, her white fur making it very difficult to hide from another were), and hunted for their meal before they finally collapsed together in a fluffy pile in their temporary home.

It was about an hour before sunrise when she felt Killian change beside her. Still mostly asleep, she barely remembered him whispering to her that he’d be back in a bit before pressing a kiss into her scruff and leaving the copse. She had gotten so used to having Killian beside her the last two nights that she couldn’t fall back into the sleep that beckoned her. She finally gave up and rose to go look for him.

His scent led her to the beach. Was he walking along the beach waiting for the sunrise as he had been doing all month after darkness fell? She came to a sudden stop at the edge of the forest, just before it met the beach when she heard two voices raised in anger. One beloved, the other a voice that she would have been quite happy to never hear again as long as she lived. In the gray morning before the sun rose, she could see Killian, as a man, standing before Neal, his tentacles undulating on the surface of the lagoon. She could hear Neal’s laughter as Killian’s voice rose in a shout demanding her freedom.

Several things happened at once. Neal’s face morphed from taunting mirth into a sneer as one of his tentacles surged forward and wrapped securely around Killian’s middle, squeezing tightly and dragging him toward the water. Emma could no longer remain hidden. She knew that Neal meant to drown Killian and she couldn’t let that happen to her love. To her mate. She burst from the trees and raced to the shore where Killian was being dragged. He was transforming within Neal’s grasp, perhaps thinking that Neal would lose his grip on a wolf instead of a man.

She could see the fury in Neal’s eyes as she arrived at Killian’s side. His turn halted as his arms reached around her, resulting in a tug of war between herself and Neal. Killian’s arms grasped desperately and she pulled back with all her might, trying to get him away first from Neal and second from the dangerous waves that seemed to nearly be an extension of Neal himself. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but they seemed to be grabbing at Killian as well, trying to drown him within their depths. She was able to get close enough to one of Neal’s arms that she clamped down on it, biting all the way through, a clean amputation in between the adversaries. Neal roared, releasing Killian to fall to the beach, gasping for air. She leapt at her captor, heedless of his other tentacles writhing in agony and the waves where he could easily drown her.

Neal was unprepared for her leap, and though he caught her in his arms, her bulk pushed him beneath the waves as she clamped her teeth down on his throat and ripped it out. His blood painted her muzzle bright red as the water closed over them. His arms loosened from catching her and she watched as the light dimmed and was extinguished from his eyes. Blood continued to pour from the gaping wound into the water that surrounded them. Swimming as best she could for the surface, her head broke through just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Helpless to stop her change from coming over her, she nearly whimpered in relief as strong arms wrapped around her body and carried her to shore. Never had she been held in someone’s arms as she turned. Never had she felt so safe, so protected, so loved as she did at that moment. Killian gently lay her on the white sand of the beach, staring into her eyes so reverently as she recovered from her transformation.

When she came back to herself, cradled in her mate’s arms, staring into eyes the exact same shade of her lagoon, she reached up and pulled him down into a desperate kiss. It was when his hands began caressing her hip that realization dawned. She was human! The sunrise should have brought her mermaid form with it, but with Neal’s death, his curse on her was broken as well. She pulled away and stared down at her body before meeting Killian’s amazed and joyful gaze with her own.

“I’m human.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “That you are, lass.”

Her mouth opened and shut several times before she found her voice again. “I’m not a mermaid anymore.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m free,” she breathed, “Neal is dead and I’m free!”

Killian gathered her in his arms and held her close, their heartbeats synchronizing in their elation.

It wasn’t long, however, before they both became aware of Emma’s nude state. Drawing back from her, Killian raised a salacious eyebrow at his beloved. “We need to get you dressed, my love, before my desire overrides my good sense.”

“No one comes to this lagoon, Killian. No one,” she asserted, vehemently. Her green eyes were filled her own desire and her hands were busy opening his shirt and then pushing his trousers over his hips. “Please make love to me, Killian. Make me yours.”

A groan worked its way out of his throat as he acquiesced to her demand and crashed his lips to hers. With nothing but the light of the sun touching her skin, he drew back and drank in her beauty. Her pupils were blown wide in desire, the green only a thin ring around them. Her golden tresses shone in the light of the rising sun. If he was struck blind in that moment, he’d never forget the sight of the sun in her hair as his hands roamed her succulent body, memorizing her contours and all the places he touched that made her gasp, moan, and sigh.

She was not idle as he set about worshipping his love, his mate. Her fingers trailed through his chest hair, sending shivers throughout his body, before following the trail down to where he was hard and aching for her. He thrust his hips into her hands as they began stroking him from root to tip.

He nuzzled into her neck, placing open mouth kisses before sucking hard at her pulse point, drawing heat to the surface of her skin, and causing her to cry out in pleasure. One hand caressed the fullness of her breasts as the other sought out her most intimate place. When he found his treasure, he found her folds drenched in her want of him.

Pulling back from her, he looked into her eyes. “Are you ready for me, my darling?”

“Yes, Killian,” she cried, “Yes, please!”

He lined himself up and slowly pushed into her heat. Twin sighs of relief escaped them both as they were now joined in every way possible. He rolled his hips into her until her gasp told him that he had found that spot inside her. He determined to hit that spot every time until he watched her fall apart. He began measured thrusts into her, seeking the place inside her that would bring her the most pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust until he was helpless in her embrace. He drove himself into her, staving off the tingling in his spine as he felt her walls begin to flutter along his length. He reached between them and caressed the swollen nub just above where they were joined until she shattered in his arms.

Murmuring praise into her ear as she shuddered with the strength of her climax, he began to chase his own release. Moments later, his climax rolled through him, joining his mate in the ultimate bliss of their union.

The drift back to earth seemed to take forever. He slipped out of her and rolled to the side, not wanting to crush her with his weight. He drew her back into his arms and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Still with me, Emma?” he murmured.

“Mmmmmmm,” she hummed, still blissed out from their lovemaking.

Killian chuckled and drew her closer until they were flush from shoulders to feet. “So what now?” she asked, “What do I do now?”

“Anything you want, my love,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you like or we can stay here. The blacksmith is getting on in years and doesn’t have children to take over when he is gone. I think that’s why he was so eager to hire me. He seems to be about ready to hand over his hammer. We could make a life here. Raise children here.” He blushed, scratching behind his ear in an adorably nervous gesture. “If you’d rather leave, I do hope that you realize that I’m coming too. I can’t live without you, darling. Please don’t ask me to.”

She closed the distance between them and found his lips with her own. “Of course, I wouldn’t. I can’t live without you, either. Don’t you know that? You saved me.”

“You are the one who did the saving, darling.” The sincerity in his eyes had her pulling him to her again in a kiss that threatened to spin out of control before she broke it.

“I’d be happy to stay here, if you are,” she asserted.

Killian let out a whoop of pure happiness as he hugged her to him. “Then let's go, Emma. We have time to get to the village and get you settled in my lodgings before I have to be at work.”

They rose and made it back to their copse where they dressed quickly and departed for the village. Killian was correct in his speculations about the blacksmith. When they got into town, Killian introduced Emma as his betrothed to his boss, Marco, who was absolutely delighted to hear the news. As soon as they celebrated their nuptials, just before the full moon the very next month, Marco indeed handed the hammer over to Killian in order to adequately provide for his bride and any little ones that God would see fit to grant them.

And so, Killian and Emma Jones built a life in the small village, enjoying their children, and eventually grandchildren in their own happily ever after.

The End

Thanks for reading and sharing!

#cssns20 #krystal writes #the moon... tells the sea #art by allons y to hogwarts 713 #were mermaid aesthetic

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littobin · 4 years

Text

[1:37AM] "thank you so much for saving me. honestly i can't think of what would be of me without you in my life." still a bit immersed in tries of steadying your breath from the previous runaway, you giggle happily in response and hit your best friend's shoulder playfully the moment you heard him talk sweetly, out of this endearing trail of beauty that was his smile you've always thought as better than the sight of the red roses at your house's garden.

without doubts it only took him the simple action of curving his extra thin lips up like he did now, so you'd always feel comfy, no matter the kind of times or hardships you'd be into. even so despite days like this, where you two just ran like crazy down a bunch of streets until you'd get both rescued at your house, to mislead the uptown gang's members whose once again tried to cage moonbin in his magical transformations.

honestly you couldn't believe at all how was it possible to actually exist such few silly people organized like that only to chase after any unusual beings for experiments, in the middle of a modern city. but if you really were to think neither would it be normal for you to have a man who could turn into a whole giant beast right by your side as well, meeting and staying from nights to nights under the moon living the greatest, most hilarious adventures together as long as both of your uni's allowed you two to.

you've known moonbin before as he's been one of your neighbors for years, specifically that kind and friendly type who always talked to everyone in the neighborhood, until he started changing to be more reclusive out of sudden. but since you've got to occasionally find out about his secret, at one night you saw him when you were going to do your laundry and he vehemently asked you to keep it forever or both his safety and search to end his enchantment would be risked, and you promised him to, both of your lives no longer could be the same.

it was just about naturally how you two ended up getting to be good friends and he grew to be one of the biggest source of joy you'd happen to get gifted with by the skies, as of you got to know more the beautiful human he also was. and where ever couldn't you gladly go with him when he'd text you to come in his sneakings to skip out the routine, although sometimes they could bring way too much adrenaline at once. for sure if it came to him, again it'd be worthy for you to do so, over and over. "ahh stop it's nothing, you know you can always count on my guts. and it's just so much fun to."

you state out as your hand goes to ruffle moonbin's dark hair softly, which felt so silky in your fingers, causing both of you to laugh loud in sync by remembering the early scenes. of how you two fooled around the stupid gangers like it was nothing after you've untied him, scared them and made everyone at the late hour on the streets confused to watch both of you running for dear life, all while holding each other's hand between thrilled loud laughs.

just so you kept watching the boy in front of you move a bit closer, you two still sitting on the floor as he started playing with some keychains and laces you had stuck on your long black coat, one habit of his you'd recognize of whenever he felt enthusiasm, his teeth showing off cutely through the way he kept chuckling with his eyes inclined into crescents. "yes it truly was- did you see their faces when i growled though? that was amazing!"

"oh my god bin don't even tell me, it was the best part. next time we really have to bring a camera to record and rewatch it all seriously-"

once again you and moonbin break down in pure amused laughter with your extra remarks, you not being able to help but hold his hand tightly in the process.

moments like these were all you needed to feel that nothing could change or ruin this fulfilling within your chest. out of your repetitive routine there was moonbin beside you, enlightening everything with his presence and standing as your number one supporter. even though all the things that came with his curse, such as his always hungry state specially for rice bowls, hyperactivity and very little sense of his own powerful strength, things as such that nevertheless the trouble they could give, you still liked a lot.

"next time i'll be more careful.. just know you don't have to go through situations you can't handle, i'm the one who's always here to protect you instead, ok?" he said out with clear worry poured over his expression, causing you to let out another tender smile and rub his almost ocean wide shoulders in a comforting way. "i know. but i do this because you're too important to me, that's why i wouldn't hesitate to do it all over again if so."

this time it was the taller one's turn to feel kind of affected by your words, through he strangely felt a beat skip out his heart's pace and a bit of flustering over his stomach, fondness being the only thing to fulfill his pupils with the more he stared at you.

moonbin actually didn't know what hit him to come to act up so weird because of you, nor to make up such a bunch of sensations and warmth all at once. if was it either because of your extremely affectionate eyes, the sweet smell off your hair or just the beyond wonderful feeling of you by whole, but you were immensely important to him too, since when he got the opportunity to be close to you after the night you saw him transforming, but you didn't treat him like the monster he himself knew he was. thanks to you with time he got back to be his normal self before the curse, always bright and talkative, and in some way, somehow he wanted to show you all of this.

"you really should get a reward one day y/n, for real.." he chuckled softly again, as you raised up one eyebrow, wondering what new goofy stuff your best friend would be planning.

"what kind of reward, sir bin?"

with this for some reason moonbin couldn't get his head together at all. lots of thoughts rushed to his mind about what he should better give to you as response, but no one seemed just as right besides what his heart kept incessantly moving him to. so slowly by the proximity you were into, without taking his sparkling eyes off yours he just let his body lean in along to his arms both at your sides through he crawled a bit to you closer and closer to end the gap, stopping when he could touch your nose on his as your lips were just millimeters apart, his hot and a little heavier breathing against yours.

you just stayed still unable to move out of shock, no choices left but to sense your eyes widening the closer he got and the material between your lungs racing like neither of your runaways would be capable to make you feel so. moonbin in the other hand chose to stay this way for a second, sighing while looking at you in such utter adoration, and you swore to dear lord you've never seen something so preciously gorgeous as every inch of his face at that moment, and the fair light blushing tone on it. not even the three am blue moon, compared to all the comets in his chocolatey irises.

"moon, bin.." nervousness took over you in a matter of second through your lids went shut, tugging on the hem of his white t-shirt you gave him last month, which he still liked to wear often. in the same way moonbin closed his eyes too and tightened a bit his strong arms that supported himself at your sides, starting to lovingly rub his gelid nose on yours.

"i want, to do that so bad.."

just when you gulped, flustered by how his soft boyish voice ringed so much more intimate in your ears like he never did near you, before a word could be said moonbin just pressed his lips against your own, the unbearable warmth radiating from him and his typical smell of cocoa shampoo surrounding everything around as well as causing your ears to go off like set on fire, for the first time in a while.

you felt kind of really wrong to do this, since he was one of your most special treasures, one of your most present and sincerest friends ever. yet there he was kissing you slowly, gently nibbling and moving his flushed thin lips that felt too warm, too soft on yours, in a way you'd never express, amidst quiet melting sounds and more attempts to get even closer to you although his much taller muscular figure and large back made you hardly to be seen.

nowhere into your mind you'd be able to imagine any of this happening. but after all it was still him, it still was moonbin, so in the less matter of minute you'd see it there you were already hugging his cuddly waist the way a few times you'd do, and simply letting him go the further he wished to. as through the first opening of his mouth asking for entrance, when you corresponded him it didn't take long so he'd be on top of you, with the heat of his tongue showing up within the kiss to deepen it still ever so gently, and now your hearts to rush loud in sync at the smallest touches, either by your left hand raising unconsciously to touch his chest but soon going back to hold on his waist, or him picking it for a moment to guide your fingers to the warm skin of his neck so he could feel you there.

still it all kind of felt like a dream, even more when after some more softer kisses moonbin pulled away and you were brought back to reality, but everything kept just so clouded of only him. the way he didn't stop staring at you with tenderness overflowing his manly features, the way reddish hues bloomed up his face as he tried to catch his breath, the way the hold of his hand was the same albeit the silence formed among you two. every single thing made the space marked for him grow more and more in your heart, no doubts you've never been so sure.

"you.. are a little sore, right there-" out of sudden you whisper quietly, leaving his hand to brush your thumb besides a little scratch on his cheek, the softest you could. moonbin only closes his eyes for a bit like the creature inside him would when being petted by you and lets out a small blissful smile, what kept your hand in place so you'd just take in the endearing sight.

"i hope you're not mad.."

he spoke a bit more serious although worry came back to his expression one more time, and you could say with your all it was just loving. how would you be ever mad at him, when absolutely nothing about your love for him could change, but increase.

moonbin always made the stars above the city of your world shine bright. and you just hoped more than ever you'd soon enough find how to give back his freedom and get to break his curse. however not having any clue you already did so.

- insp. beauty & beast!au.

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hetacon · 4 years

Text

The Depths I Would Go To

Word Count: 3,500

Pairings: Prinxiety, Background Logicality

Warning: Swearing, joking threats of murder, social commentary on homophobia (as well as light transphobia), alcohol consumption and drunk shenanigans, crying, faking one’s death, light sexual jokes, kissing and all that gushy stuff

______________________________

Summary: He knew he was stuck. He definitely was deeply in love, as if his very being had always been destined to belong under Virgil’s complete control.

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A silvery song shifted Roman’s attention to one of the caves bordering the ocean as he walked along the cliffsides.

He couldn’t help himself from walking towards it and climbing down the side of the cliffs to drop down into the cave that held the source.

He heard a gasp, two frantic splashes, and a sigh.

“Great, you scared them, Roman, you idiot,” he muttered to himself.

“They’re always jumpy,” the owner of the song called out.

“And you aren’t?”

“I could easily kill you if I so wished and even if I can’t, I would be useless to you, no matter how much you think I would be worth the trouble.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Roman asked, walking further into the cave, starting to see a soft glow coming from deep in the pool. He kneeled down by the pool of water, staring at the figure.

“So sure that I’m of no value? Well, look at me, tell me if I pose any benefit,” the voice laughed and a bioluminescent mermaid rose back up from the water, blinking up at Roman.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

“You’re beautiful,” Roman muttered out, noticing as the mermaid’s cheeks lit up. Roman cracked a smile at that. “I’m Roman.”

“Virgil,” the mermaid muttered.

Roman held out his hand and Virgil hissed, his pupils dilating, spikes thrusting out from his spine in a quick second.

“Woah Jesus, it’s a handshake!!” Roman yelled out and Virgil’s expressions softened.

“That is a declaration of war. Clearly you have no knowledge of mermaids,” Virgil huffed, taking a deep breath as the spikes were hidden away once again. “You’re more stupid than I thought,” he mused, smirking even more as Roman pouted.

“Well then how can I not be stupid if you’re clearly more intelligent than I?” Roman asked, leaning against the wall lining the pool of water.

“Meet me here tomorrow night. Come alone or I can’t ensure I’ll let you make it out alive.”

Roman nodded and smiled, watching as the glowing creature splashed into the water.

As promised, Roman came alone the following night, holding out a lantern as he squinted in the fog. He heard the faint sounds of the song again and ducked into the cave, blowing out the lantern as soon as he saw Virgil’s glow.

“You know, that’s a pretty song you’re singing,” he spoke up and prominently heard a huff soon after. He chuckled as he sat next to the pool.

“What is it with you and flattering me? Aren’t there societal rules against that in the human world?”

“Mm? What do you mean?” Roman asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Virgil started to swim lazy circles around the pool. “You know, about how those of the same gender cannot compliment one another? I mean, you aren’t even allowed to have courtships with anyone but your opposites, or at least, those perceived to be. It’s all a bit stupid if you think about it.”

“Well, people court to produce offspring.”

“Can’t anyone do that?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Not humans, no. Why? Can you do that?”

“Yes, it works regardless of gender,” Virgil nodded, looking up at Roman who was nodding along.

“What else can you tell me?”

“What would you like to know?”

That sparked hours of conversation and the two were content to stay there. Roman was listening intently to a lesson on greeting etiquette currently and was nodding along.

“So handshakes are a declaration of war because of the webbing?” Roman asked, in the middle of an explanation.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, it’s basically like saying you’re going to rip the webbing off their hand, which is part of our bodies. So it would hurt,” he mused with a roll of his eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“No, really? Never would’ve guessed!” Roman joked, flinging his arms out dramatically, smiling proudly as Virgil let out a snort.

“Do you ever do anything that’s not royally embarrassing or dramatic?” Virgil asked.

“Well I am royalty after all, why wouldn’t I do everything royally?” Roman replied back, strolling away from the pool of water casually.

“Woah woah woah, your snootiness, get your butt back here!”

“Hm? Yes?” Roman hummed out, turning back around.

“The hell do you mean you’re royalty and then turn away like this conversation is over!?” Virgil yelled, slapping his hands down into the water around him.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m definitely more interested in your life than you should be of mine.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at Roman who sat back down in front of him.

They both kind of stared at each other for a moment.

“Well?” Virgil asked.

“What?” Roman questioned back with a teasing smile.

“Spill!”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh at his impatience and started telling Virgil the most interesting parts. Eventually though, the cave started to brighten up slowly but surely and Virgil saw the sun start to peek out from over the horizon. Roman glanced back too and sighed, getting up.

“I suppose it’s time for me to take my leave then, wouldn’t you say?” Roman asked, looking down to Virgil whom only nodded, casting his gaze down.

The prince waited for his aquatic companion to say anything but when he wasn’t given something to reply to, he nodded to himself and started to exit the cave.

“Will you come back soon?”

He turned back to see Virgil giving him the most hopeful little puppy face he’d ever seen and a grin spread across his own face.

“As you wish, my scaly one,” he hummed, bowing. He noticed that Virgil visibly lit up at his answer and decided not to comment on his cheeks shining brighter than the rest of him in that moment.

Months passed by and Roman would spend a large majority of his nights out in the caves. He learned lots of things about the world Virgil came from, about Virgil himself too. He got to meet Virgil’s friends at one point, Logan and Patton. They were nice but Roman definitely loved Virgil the most of the group.

Virgil was absolutely gorgeous, Roman knew that, but something just drew him to the mermaid beyond that. His voice was something completely enchanting all on its own. He learned fairly early on that Virgil was a siren and yet Virgil never demonstrated that ability, even when they met. He just liked to sing but to Roman, that voice was purely magic all on its own. He knew he was stuck. He definitely was deeply in love, as if his very being had always been destined to belong under Virgil’s complete control.

It was only a matter of time before Virgil found out about Roman’s affections and it so happened to be because of a huge celebration that the kingdom held in the early part of May.

Normally the climb down to the cave was an easy feat as Roman has mastered it months ago. However, he had scraped up his hands as he stumbled down the rocky surface, before he finally reached the entrance. Humming echoed around the cave walls and Roman giggled, hurrying over.

“Virgil!” he called out loudly, laughing as the mermaid in question was startled, spikes coming out from his spine in a split second before they settled down at the realization.

“Roman, Jesus Christ, you can’t just scare me like that,” he grumbled, turning around. He jumped a little as Roman was nose to nose with him, the prince grinning from ear to ear. “What’s up?”

“I just missed you so much and you’re..” Roman trailed off, staring into Virgil’s eyes. He giggled to himself before continuing on a completely different subject. “Your eyes are two different colors, they’re magnificent. Everything about you is magnificent~”

Virgil looked at him weirdly for a moment.

“Oh my god, are you drunk?”

“Maybe a teeny bit but it’s ok because I’m allowed to! Everyone is allowed to! Do you want me to get you some? I can go get you some, I might be a while though! Man, climbing down the cliff is hard, how do I do it every day?” he babbled to himself.

“Roman, calm down, you’re not even speaking coherently,” Virgil muttered, turning around to start swimming around the pool.

Roman panicked and tried to follow after Virgil. The next thing Virgil knew, there was a loud splash behind him and Roman had fallen in.

“Shit!”

Virgil was quick in yanking Roman up for him to breath, sighing in relief that Roman was still awake, blinking in utter bewilderment at him before smiling. Virgil stared back with wide eyes as Roman leaned in close, Roman’s lips inches away from his and Roman’s face illuminated with purple light as Virgil’s cheeks grew hot.

“Absolutely gorgeous, it’s so beautiful when you blush just for me,” Roman muttered out softly, his eyes looking down to Virgil’s lips. “So wonderful and stunning. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first laid my eyes on you. I want to kiss you Virgil, I want to kiss those pretty little lips of yours~”

Virgil barely managed to resist, knowing Roman was too drunk right now to know what he was really doing. Even if Virgil did want to give in and close the distance, he wanted Roman to be present and alert.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if I could date you. I would bring you flowers and food and lots of pretty things I find that remind me of you because you deserve a good boyfriend. Or girlfriend. You can call me a girl if you want, I can be a girlfriend too!”

Virgil laughed, shushing him. “Shh sh, calm down. I love you as a man, you’re fine.”

“You love me? Oooooo, you love me, that’s so embarrassing!” Roman cooed out.

“Yeah, I love you Roman. You won’t even remember this but I do love you,” Virgil said with a soft smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“If you remember when you wake up, you may kiss me Roman,” Virgil sighed out, rolling his eyes.

“Mmmmmmm... Ok, fineeeeee,” Roman whined out. And with that, Roman was out like a light.

Very early the next morning, just as the sun was starting to rise, Roman jolted up to see the cave surrounding him as he laid next to the pool. He looked around to see his cloak draped over his body, the rest of his clothing and his hair still damp though. He heard water moving around in the pool and he was face to face with Virgil.

“Hey,” he whispered quietly to the mermaid into front of him.

“Hey,” said mermaid whispered back.

Roman scooted over, looking down at Virgil. Virgil looked back before Roman put two fingers under Virgil’s chin, lifting him up to lock their lips firmly together. Virgil was quick to melt into the brief kiss, only to jump as Roman had fallen in once again.

Virgil laughed loudly as Roman breached the surface, only calming down as Roman pulled Virgil close once more, kissing him again. Virgil didn’t think there’d ever be a time where he wouldn’t melt, tangling his hands into Roman’s hair as pinks and oranges lit up the cave, Roman deepening the kiss.

It was only a few weeks after they kissed for the first time that Roman was sitting by the cave, just watching Virgil swim around and talking to his hearts content. He was currently recounting a story of how Patton got stung by a jellyfish that Roman was only half following.

“I mean, he was in pain but I did warn him about it. Logan was glaring at me the entire time, it was kinda funny you know?” Virgil chuckled. When he didn’t hear anything, he stopped swimming and looked over to see Roman staring blankly at his hands. He swam over to the edge of the pool and hoisted himself up, his head resting on his shoulder. “Ro?” he asked gently.

Roman snapped back to attention. “Ah, sorry, jellyfish, Patton, funny, continue!” he laughed awkwardly, quirking a faked grin.

“Roman, I may not be that gushy but you know you can tell me if something’s going on, right?” Virgil sighed, frowning.

With a light, tired huff, Roman scooted over to be in front of his significant other. He reached out, cupping Virgil’s cheek with his hand, watching as the mermaid melted into it with a warm smile.

“I’ve been set up for an arranged marriage, Vee,” he admitted, noticing the shock in the mermaid’s eyes as Virgil looked up to him.

“How come?”

“An alliance with another kingdom. They have a princess of eligible standing that’s around my age and so they... my parents want to marry me off within a month. They told me this morning. I just..” Roman paused, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered out, tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked Virgil in the eye.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine ok?” Virgil told him, pulling the prince down for a kiss. Roman sighed into it, kissing back softly. “We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

“I want to be with you and yet I cannot bring myself to put you in harm’s way by revealing my affections for you. I certainly can’t seeing as they’d accuse me of being sinful, just for loving a man such as myself. And if they knew of you, gosh, you’d probably be captured and sold on the spot and I just-! I couldn’t-! Oh gosh, Virgil, they can’t take you away from me!” Roman sobbed out, hugging on to Virgil tightly.

For a while, Virgil just held on to Roman, carding his hand through the prince’s hair as Roman continued to cry. Once he had stopped though, Virgil requested that Roman lift him up and soon he was seated in Roman’s lap. He did his best to wipe away the tears.

“You’re the most precious of things to me, I cannot part from you, Virgil...” Roman muttered, kissing the mermaid’s hair.

“What if... What if you part with the rest of the precious things you have?”

Roman sniffled and looked over. “What do you mean?”

“Would you be willing to leave the castle to stay with me?” Virgil asked him.

“Yes, of course but how could I..?”

“Fake your death.”

“What?”

Virgil smiled. “Fake your own death. We’ll figure out a day, make plans for when to meet, and once that day comes, you come here and jump into the ocean. I’ll meet you and once anyone who’d follow you has left, presuming you’re dead, I turn you into a mermaid like me. You can live with me, I’ll get Patton and Logan to help, and you get to stay with me,” he explained, kissing Roman’s cheek.

Roman thought for a moment. “You can really do that?”

“Mhm, you just have to be sure that’s what you’d want to do.”

“Why? Does the transformation only work if it’s what my heart truly desires?”

“What? No! I’m not gonna turn you into a mermaid if I don’t have your total confidence that that’s what you want you chucklehead!” Virgil scolded and dipped his tail into the pool, flicking it up to soak Roman in water.

Roman coughed and spit water into Virgil’s face. “Rude,” he huffed, glaring at his boyfriend.

Virgil merely laughed.

A date had been set, everything was all figured out, Roman knew that. But he was worried about this meeting. A few days before this was going to happen, Patton requested that Roman meet with him and Logan. He walked through the caves, seeing the two mermaids waiting patiently for him, the only glow coming from a sea lantern Logan was holding in his hands.

“Patton, Logan,” Roman said with a nod, sitting at the edge of the pool in front of them.

Patton went over and held out his hands, nodding back when Roman put his hands in Patton’s own. “Roman, I assume you know what I wanted to talk to you about?” he asked gently, looking up at the prince.

“I assume it’s about me faking my death to be with Virgil,” he said calmly, looking back down to Patton.

“Yes. I trust you but I need to make sure you know just what you’re doing. You can’t return home after this and you can’t break Virgil’s heart if you’re not completely sure about this decision. He’s precious and oh so special to me and Lo, I don’t want a human to be his undoing. We already have a hard enough time trusting them and this could hurt him badly,” Patton told him sternly.

“I know Pat, I promise you that I’m sure about this. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love Virgil with all my heart. He has mine for all eternity and I want to be with him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

Patton nodded. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. And if you ever break that promise, you will be receiving a handshake from me within seconds,” he growled, yanking Roman down to look him in the eye.

“Yes Patton, I will willingly take your hand should I destroy Virgil’s trust in me. You have my word,” Roman responded in a level tone and Patton squealed happily, hugging Roman tight.

“Alright alright, now that that’s taken care of,” Patton hummed, pulling back. “You said you had something important to tell Roman, right Lo?” he asked, looking back to his partner.

Logan nodded. “Use protection, Virgil would freak out about having guppies,” he said flatly.

“Logan!!!” Patton hissed.

Logan only smiled slightly to himself, amused as Roman laughed heartily.

The day finally came.

This was happening.

Roman wasn’t exactly having doubts, he never would. This was just a lot to process at the moment. His entire life was going to change as soon as Virgil turned him. Logan and Patton were on standby should anything happen and he saw Virgil off in the distance.

This was happening.

He walked over to the cliffside to look out over the ocean.

“Your highness, be careful of the edge,” one of his guards warned and Roman turned to the two guards with a smile, nodding.

Roman was hesitating. The idea was terrifying. He knelt down to look down at the waters, dangerously close to the ledge.

Do it.

Just do it, Roman, it’ll be ok.

He looked over to see Virgil who had moved over to just about where he’d be falling in and saw the worried expression of his boyfriend. Roman nodded to reaffirm him that he was still going to do it and as soon as Virgil smiled brightly, Roman knew this was it. His love was waiting for him and all fear left his mind at that one gut-twisting smile.

He fell over, letting out a loud shriek just as planned. He smiled as soon as he plunged into the waters.

Everything happened at once really. One of the guards tried to come after him which took a bit due to needing to take off the armor, at which point, Roman had already started to sink down into the water. Just as soon as his guard hit the surface of the water, Virgil was grabbing onto him, hissing loudly at the guard. Roman started to kick and struggle against Virgil’s hold as he was dragged down faster. He heard Virgil start to sing and he felt his lungs burning. His guard resurfaced for air but Virgil had taken him well away by the time the guard got back underwater.

Virgil swam up above Roman and smiled that warm perfect little smile again. Roman felt alright as Virgil’s lips were on his and he tangled a hand in Virgil’s hair, deepening the kiss.

The pain went away from his lungs as gills grew on the sides of his neck and at his hips. Webbing grew between his fingers. Before he knew it, a solid tail replaced his legs and he ripped off his torn clothes, now fully transformed just as Virgil, Patton, and Logan.

Virgil pulled away with a grin but kept his nose nuzzled to Roman’s.

“Welcome home Roman,” he breathed out gently.

“It’s good to finally be home,” Roman said with a smile, dipping Virgil down for another kiss.

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A/N: I spent way too long on this. Please let me know what you think. This took entirely too long-

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Taglist: @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @ambersky0319

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #background logicality #stan writing

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narnie3313 · 4 years

Text

Let Me Burn-Chapter 1

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Smut

Warnings: Language, Violence, Explicit,etc....

Summary: The moment you saw those piercing eyes in the corner of the club, you knew you were hooked. There was never a question about it…You knew this man would burn you, yet you embraced the flames.

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

The deafening bass was exactly why you came here. Your body had long been overtaken by the music, moving and swaying with the beat as if possessed. Nothing else existed. Your hands slid up your hips and through your hair till they landed, tangled in the air as your head fell back. Careful, calculated steps, one after the other, allowing you freedom to sway your legs and hips more as your hands move back down your chest, over your stomach and down to your thighs. You’d lost track of how long you had been like this, but the fact that you were thirsty pulled you out of your trance. Standing back upright but still allowing your hips small movements, you open your eyes slowly as you push some stray hair out of your face. Looking up to find a way through the sea of bodies melting together, you begin to walk forward, gently pushing people out of the way slightly to get yourself through. You could see the bar now but as you walked up to the last few people on the edge of the dance floor and gently push, they don’t move. As if bolted to the ground and they don’t feel you. Being pretty small, you just squeeze yourself in to push past their backs. Not ideal but better than being trapped. You managed to squeeze past only for them to move as you’re about to take your last step out and away, causing you to stumble 2 steps forward and only just keep yourself upright. You take a breath to steady the mini heart attack you just had at almost eating the floor and brush yourself off while pulling your dress back down. Steeling yourself, you stand upright and brush the hair out of your face, harder this time in annoyance. As your eyes raise, you notice two, piercing cerulean eyes in a corner looking straight at you. That corner of the club is dark as they’re private booths about 10 meters away and with the lights flashing all around you can only make out quick flashes of them. As one of the strobes spin toward the eyes you can quickly make out spiky, black hair and….metal? On his face? Maybe piercings. But those eyes…You feel your whole body shudder and weaken as the eyes watched you. Shit. If they look that good from this far, I want to see them up close. You realize all too late that you’re staring and quickly turn your head to look towards the bar to your left before quickly looking back for the eyes. He’s gone? The eyes were gone. Was it just a figment of your imagination? Maybe a trick of the light? You drop your head and rub the balls of your hands into your eye sockets. Good job. You’ve drank too much and you’re seeing shit. You start to walk to the bar anyway because, well, why not? No work tomorrow, no plans. Get drunk, dance, go home and sleep in. Leaning against the bar and propping yourself up a little, you catch the attention of a bartender almost instantly.

“Hey! Can I get a rum and coke please? Just add it to card 261.” With that, the bartender nods and heads off to grab the drink. The payment system here was a shock when you’d first found it but now totally made sense. Since drunk people don’t do so well at holding onto stuff, you checked in your belongings to a numbered locker. In the locker there was a slot for a credit card. Once you slipped the card in, they could take payments just by typing it into their computer. Definitely was more secure than holding cards on you all night.

The bartender returned shortly, sliding your drink to you and giving you a nod. Smiling back at the man, you took your drink to sit down on the mezzanine level and enjoy the music while watching everyone else dance. It was only early at 11pm so you could take a break, enjoy a drink then head back down to dance till you were tired. You couldn’t get those gorgeous eyes out of your mind though. Come to think of it, there’s no way it could have been real right? No one has eyes that blue. They were almost superhuman. It was almost as if there was a whole ocean behind them…and you couldn’t wait to drown in them.

Sipping on your drink, you watch as the DJ swaps some discs around during a song, you can see all the bodies below. Some moving in sync with a partner, some dancing on their own, a few not even dancing just making out. Get a room, jeez. You hear a few whispered conversations from around you. People sitting in groups in the lounges chatting away. Standing abruptly, you see them again. Those eyes. As if they were glowing and calling your name. This time in the centre of the dance floor. Not moving. Just standing. Watching. Watching you, again. You begin to walk the length of the railing towards the stairs, not looking away from the eyes even once as they followed your every movement. Each step down the stairs, they eyes followed. Each step through the bodies of dancers, the eyes never moved. Just watched you with an unreadable expression. Whatever this was, was captivating. You couldn’t help but think that you should be terrified. That you should be scared of the attention you’d attracted from just this one person. If it even was a person and not just a hallucination. But the gaze seemed to do the opposite. It was calming. Soothing. It almost felt….familiar. Keeping your eyes glued on the blue lights, you carefully push past body after body to work your way forward. You can see flashes of the body surrounding the eyes as dancers move and twist. It’s a man. He’s tall. The black hair sticking up in all directions while a few pieces fall over his face. You can see better now…the metal… the piercings…look like staples, and that’s when you see it. The club lights shine brighter for the change in song and you can see it. The different skin tones on his face. His bottom jaw and under his eyes littered with the same purple colour skin, almost looking like burns, looking like they were held together by the stables along the different skins. His eyes seemed to bore straight into yours as you approached, his expression never changing. As you got closer your steps slowed, becoming more careful and deliberate. Each step bringing you closer to the source of the lights till you were in front of him. He looked down at you with tired eyes. You were entranced by him. So much so that you felt like you had no control of your body in that moment. Your hand slowly moving up towards his face as if something had taken over you. Your hand comes to just slightly rest on his cheek, feeling the contrast of textures. The soft, regular skin, the hard staples and the rougher purple colored scars. Your eyes never leaving his while your hand ran over the staples and scars carefully.

BOOM BOOM

Suddenly there is a loud explosion sound from behind you, tearing your vision away from the godlike figure in front of you. Your eyes dart behind you as everyone freezes. You look back to the man in front of you who hasn’t moved except lifted a hand out to extend in front of him above your shoulder. His eyes still not leaving yours when you see his lips move and hear the faintest whisper slip from him. I’m sorry. You’re engulfed in a blue light. It’s filling you entirely taking over all of your senses before everything goes dark and that light is gone, along with the man with the eyes that will stay in your mind forever. There is only the darkness as you feel yourself drift off.

***

You sit bolt upright snapping your eyes open and gasping for air. What the fuck happened? Where were you? You didn’t know the room you were in. It was a well decorated, professional looking bedroom, almost like a hotel. Standing up slowly, allowing you to ground yourself, you take slow steps towards the door. Turning the handle to find that it was locked. Quickly glancing around the room for some kind of key or, really, anything I guess, to get you out, you notice a key on the table next to the door. Well that’s awfully convenient. Opening the door with the all too convenient key, you enter a dark hallway with dim lights spaced periodically down it. You’d walked through here before but never hung around long enough to care but you knew where you were at least. These were the clubs private rooms. The club had rooms like a hotel that you could rent out for obvious reasons or if you just needed a place to crash. Now the next mystery… how did I get here… You try to remember what happened. You remember him. The eyes. The scars. His hand outstretched but eyes never leaving yours….then…the blue light….just like his eyes. What happened…?

You walk along the hallway noticing light at the end of the row of rooms beaming but flickering slightly. All at once, you’re overtaken by a wave of emotions as you turn the corner facing towards the bar and dance floor…..

“What….what happened….?” You say to no one in particular. Shock spreading over your body at the scene before you. The club looked like it had been set on fire and abandoned years ago…. The DJ booth was just the charred remains of a table and a turntable. The alcohol bottles behind the bar were broken and burnt and the club had this charred aura to it.

Wait. What time is it? You scramble into the locker room to the left of the bar past the rubble and remains of the dance floor and grab the key out of your bra to open the locker. Oh thank god. The lockers hadn’t been to badly affected so your phone was still inside. 2%. Shit. Wait….4am?! What the hell had happened here for you to have been standing on the dance floor looking at a god of a man, to losing 5 hours and waking up in a back room of a club burnt to smithereens?! There’s no way you were drugged, you were the only one to touch your drinks beside the bartender and you knew because you were so damn vigilant about it! This had to have something to do with that guy. There’s no way it didn’t…he lifts his arm behind you and there’s bangs crashes then a searing blue light?

“Way too much of a coincidence…or I’m just going mad.” You mumble to yourself.

“You’re not going mad.”

The hairs all over your body stand on end at the sound of a deep, scratchy voice coming from behind you. You’re body froze, too afraid to turn around. Why would someone be in here? Unless they were in a room like me…I didn’t even think to check the other rooms. Shit. What the fuck is going on.

“I’m sure you’re confused and probably scared.” The voice speaks again.

“Um, well yeah? I’m currently standing in the burnt remains of a club that I was happily drinking and dancing in about 5 hours ago, I’ve since lost those 5 hours of my life and have no idea what is going on and feel like I may have been teleported to another dimension and can only tell myself to thank whatever guardian angel is watching over me that decided to keep me safe even if I don’t understand why it did…” You began to ramble from…shit. What were you even feeling? Scared? Shocked? Sad? You didn’t even know. There was way too much going on for you to begin processing. You heard the crunch of a footstep behind you and turned sharply to tell the person to stop and not get closer, only to be met with a mop of black hair and….those eyes….Oh why did it have to be THOSE eyes….

Author note: I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1 of Let Me Burn! Let me know any feedback and if you have any requests send them through! <3

#bnha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

A World of Our Own Pt.01

The Big Boom

08/05/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 8,630

Masterpost Warnings: language, dead bodies, Bucky’s lower back dimples

Prompt: Castaway AU

A/N: This is for @ruckystarnes ‘s Summer of AUs Challenge. I’ve had this idea in my head since I signed up but wasn’t sure where to start or how long to make it and I think it’s now officially been established that one shots are nearly impossible for me to do. So, here’s another mini series. Not sure how long it will be but I do have a beginning, middle, and end in mind. I hope you like it and as always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

The cabin is quiet. Save for the jumble of white noise that deafens you to everything but the subtle ding of the seatbelt sign.

There’s a comfort in the clouds that roll past your window, obscuring all the world beneath you as you slice the heavens in the mass of painted aluminum.

Alone, you booked your ticket, boarded your plane, and sat until you fell asleep. You were in the air when you woke up only a few minutes ago.

Wiping at your sleep heavy eyes, you scan the seats beside you, in front of you, and behind you. All of them are empty.

For one paralyzing moment, you remember all of the horror movies and TV shows were people disappear on planes. The Langoliers sticks out vividly and you fumble to reach up and press the call button.

You wait only a minute before a smiling stewardess with soft corn colored hair pulled up into a tight and neat bun moves towards you then politely leans in. She smells like pastries. Cinnamon and vanilla, soft bread and glaze.

“Yes, ma’am? Is everything alright?” She asks, sweet honey like voice that sounds so put on you almost scoff but it’s her job to be as customer service friendly as possible.

“I-Am I the only one on the plane?” You wonder, eyes drawn into narrow slits as you consider the woman and look for signs of possible body snatching.

What if she’s an alien?!

“Oh.” She gives you a more genuine smile, laughing lightly as she shakes her head. “No. There is a gentleman sitting a few rows up and to the left.”

You push yourself up almost frantic, craning your neck to see this mystery flier and spot a dark chestnut brown head of hair carefully pulled back, his body slumped against the window he’s sitting next to.

A sigh of relief slips through your lips.

“Why are there only two of us?” You wonder, curious as you’ve never flown on a plane with only one other passenger.

“I’m not sure.” She admits, brow kindly furrowed despite the deep tone of curiosity in her voice. “All of the seats were paid for but only you and the gentleman over there came aboard. We waited until the last possible second, but we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Oh.” You reply lamely, your mind racing to think of reasons every other person on this flight wouldn’t show.

Had there been an accident? Something big that had prevented people from getting to the airport?

It seems highly unlikely. What other reason could there be though? Had sixty people all woken up late and missed their flight?

“Can I get you something to drink?” The woman asks.

“Oh, no. Thank you. How much longer do we have? How long was I asleep?” You wonder, staring up into her sharp green eyes.

“We’re not even halfway yet.” She smiles, the more she speaks the more she settles into genuine friendliness. “Eager to get home to someone?”

“No.” You reply lamely, sadly. The ceaseless cavity of the empty plane suddenly too quiet. “No one. You?”

She nods. “My husband and little boy will be waiting for me when we land. I’ve been in the air for almost three weeks.”

How nice.

“Sure you don’t want anything to drink?” She asks again, hand gently placed on your forearm.

It’s soft and warm. A tender gesture as she watches your expression for betrayal of thirst.

“I’m sure. Thank you.”

“Alright. We’ll be serving your dinner in about an hour. If you’d like seconds when the time comes, just let me know. We’ve got lots of paid for food that won’t get eaten.” She curls her lip, a wry smile at the free food then moves back down the aisle and disappears behind a deep blue curtain.

Fifteen minutes later she comes back. She escorts you into first class and allows you to sit wherever you’d like. You pick a window seat on the right side of the plane and quickly glance out to see if you might see land.

Instead you spot water in the breaks of the heavy clouds the plane is currently soaring through.

Water?

You look for the stewardess again, heart beating heavily as a small bit of panic creeps in. You aren’t supposed to be flying over any oceans.

Distraction from this red flag comes in the form of the stewardess moving back into the first-class cabin with the man from before trailing behind her.

He’s tall, wide, with broad shoulders, thick hips, thighs the size of telephone poles, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, dark almost black t-shirt underneath a thick black jacket. He’s wearing a black cap over his long brown hair, a plain black backpack on his back.

He keeps his head down, avoiding your gaze but when the stewardess stops beside where you’re sitting and gestures to the seat next to you, he looks up at you.

He’s wide awake, despite the slumber he’d been in. Steel blue almost ice-like eyes bright and alert. His jaw is fuzzy with a five o’clock shadow and his hands are covered with black leather gloves.

He must be cold.

The square line of his jaw, straight nose, deep brooding brow accompanied by his stunningly fit physique, set him apart from all other men you’ve ever seen.

He’s gorgeous. Handsome in a roguish kind of way. He looks familiar but you’re not sure why.

You give him a timid smile, friendly but unsure.

Stern eyes turn to the stewardess before he moves around her, through the two center seats, and sits down on the left side of the plan as far front as he can. He takes his backpack off and shoves it underneath his seat before pulling his hat down low and probably going back to sleep.

It would be foolish to feel offended by this snub because he doesn’t know you so why should he sit next to you but you do feel offended and you exchange a look of surprised upset with the stewardess who is blushing deep pink at her failed attempt to make her two charges sit together.

“I didn’t want to sit with you either.” You grumble, knowing that he probably can’t hear you over the roar of the plane.

“Sorry.” The woman says but you shake your head. “Dinner?”

“Please.” You nod and she disappears one more time.

She takes forever.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

As you’re about to rise to check on your food, the seatbelt sign above you illuminates as a ding disturbs the otherwise silence of the plane.

“The pilot has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. It looks as if we are headed into some rough weather. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated. Thank you.” The stewardess says, her voice tight with tension.

You quickly do as she says, glancing out of your window again as the previously gray clouds darken into a threatening purple.

The man to your left does the same, eyeing the curtain suspiciously when there’s a sudden jerk as the plane falls a foot.

You gasp, grabbing the back of the seat in front of you and the arm rest on your right. It shakes again, the pitter patter of heavy rain added to the hum of the plane. Thunder shakes it as the bloom of lightning flashes outside your window.

It all happens so quickly that your mind has little time to make sense of it all.

The plane shakes and throttles, jerking up and down, left to right. It hurts your joints and makes your teeth click as you clench your jaw in fear.

More than once your eyes wander to the man on the left side of the plane and he looks at you too.

Something in your eyes—probably the paralyzing terror you’re feeling—prompts him out of his seat.

“You okay?” He asks, voice smooth and rich.

It makes you feel better but only for a moment.

He makes his way towards you surprisingly agile and when he settles into the seat beside yours, he fastens his seatbelt again and turns to look at you, placing his right hand over your left which is currently clutching your arm rest.

“It’ll be okay.” He says. “Planes are very safe.”

Liar. Your mind reels. You nod, hoping more than believing he’s right.

The plane suddenly drops several feet, moving fast and throwing your body up out of your seat to hover for a few seconds. The stewardess on the other side of the now swaying curtain is seated in her own seat, fastened in, screaming at the top of her lungs.

This isn’t normal!

The man beside you wraps his right arm around your shoulders and helps to hold you steady, but the two of you are being pulled and jerked in every direction as the plane continues to shake and tumble.

“We’ll be okay.” He nearly shouts beside your ear, but you barely hear him over the roaring of the plane as it suddenly shoots forward, angling downwards as it starts to plummet.

The lights begin to flicker and then completely shut off making the lightning storm outside the only source of illumination.

You reach over and fist the man’s jacket, clinging like a child as the plane loses power.

There’s a sudden explosion behind you to your left and you feel the sudden rush and pull of powerful air, heat, flame…fire? In the air?

You huff in panic, breathing fast and shallow as the cabin pressure changes and your head begins to feel dizzy. Like a swirling vortex you’re pulled deeper into darkness as the man beside you pulls you closer.

There’s a loud click and safety masks fall from the ceiling. You’re too terrified to reach for one and instead look up at the handsome man.

There are worse ways to die than staring at the face of a beautiful stranger. He also meets your gaze and frowns before reaching up to grab a mask.

He ignores protocol and begins to put it on you, but you black out just as the thick yellow cup closes around your mouth.

The tremulous call of seagulls pull you from oblivion. You aren’t ready to wake up and yet consciousness comes upon you anyway.

Clinging, wet heat chokes you. It weighs your body down, suffocating your lungs into a gasping breath. You’re also wet. Clothes heavy and damp like you’d been swimming in your clothes.

Something hisses and your mind sounds a warning.

Snake!

You scream, sit up, and search for the threat.

It hurts to look around. It’s bright and you blink against the light of day.

The sun almost seems to shine straight down on you, though you don’t see the warm yellow of summer. Instead the light is filtered. Bright but darkened by layers and layers of cloud cover.

“Hey! Wake-Finally. Hey, get up.” That previously soothing voice says.

You turn in search of it as your memory comes flooding back.

You’d been on a plane. Nearly alone. It had started to rain. The plane had begun to shake and then fall.

As you look around, you see an endless white sand beach. It extends to your left. To your right. Curving around as if it extends out to the ocean before you, teal blue waters made whiter by the black storm clouds that paint the horizon.

“Get up.” The voice says again, and you turn around to look behind you.

He’s there, sans jacket, dark gray shirt clinging to his toned torso as he lugs what looks like a five-foot section of the plane you’d just been on. It’s cut and torn as if someone had taken a saw to it but more wild and without the precision of a defined man-made cut.

You see two windows and several seats still attached to the cracked floor.

Had the plane actually crashed?!

“Grab those carts.” The man tells you, gesturing with his chin at two silver food carts to your left as he disappears into a split in the dense tropical green.

Palms line the edge, rising high and then twisting and bending in wild angles. Huge ferns litter the bases, emerald conifers fill in the gaps. You can see pretty magenta, white, and yellow flowers throughout, and the occasional dry brush. All of them swaying dangerously in the chilling air of the coming storm.

You’re not quite sure why you listen but you crawl onto your knees then slowly get to your feet, swaying from side to side for a moment before you find your footing and trudge through the wet sand towards the carts.

It takes all your strength to pull just one up along the beach towards the tree line. You nearly make it, giving your cart one last grunting pull before you fall onto your bottom, hands slipping from the handle you’d been holding. The man emerges, hustling down to the other cart and lifting it up onto his shoulder as if it weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

He sighs when he sees you sitting, gaping with your mouth open at his display of strength.

“Move.” He shoves your hands away, nudges you out from in front of the cart with his knee, then takes hold of it and drags it the rest of the way through the trees.

You’re slightly affronted by the pushing, but you get to your feet and in stunned silence, take another look around you.

Where’s the rest of the plane? Is all that’s left the bit you’d seen the man carrying? What about the pilots and the stewardess?

Her husband will be waiting. Her little boy.

“Hey.” The man says again, startling you into a small jump as he pulls your attention back towards the trees. “Come on, unless you wanna try your chances out here when the hurricane hits?”

“H-hurricane?” You squeak, but he doesn’t wait for you and heads into the trees.

Fear pulls you after him. Stumbling as you race to catch up to him, you turn your eyes to the floor of the tropical jungle to move faster.

You look up to find him again and see nothing but black as you crash into his chest.

You gasp, hands reaching out to keep yourself upright. He grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him so that you can find your footing.

“Keep up.” He orders, then releases you to follow him.

“Wait.” You complain, he’s moving too fast.

Your floor length navy floral summer dress seems like a silly travelling outfit choice now, and you hike up your skirt to keep from tripping over it. Though, you’re thankful for the thin racerback spaghetti straps. This heat is unbearable.

Even with that, it takes all your strength and energy to keep up with him. You also realize that you’ll have to make a choice. Keep up and fall or stay upright and fall behind.

You fall twice.

The second time, you stab your hand with a sharp black rock, hidden beneath the large serrated leaf of a fern, also scraping your knees through your dress on solid ground.

Your hand bleeds and you wince, scurrying back onto your feet before you lose him.

For the second time you see black and crash into his chest.

“Ow.” You gasp, accidentally stepping on his foot but your weight seems to mean nothing as you scramble backwards off it.

He reaches for your wrist again, this time angling your right hand up to look at the fresh wound on your palm.

“If you get hurt, you need to say something.” He chastises you then bends down, takes hold of the bottom of your dress and rips a long piece of the thick blended fabric.

“Hey!” You complain, surprised by his grabbing your skirt.

Frowning at your protest, he shoots you a small glare but then wraps your hand up with the strip of fabric.

“Hold that tight.” He instructs and suddenly you’re very aware of the lack of carts.

“Where are the carts?” You wonder, looking around for what must be the food and drinks.

“I already dropped them off.” He says, which is impossible.

“How-?”

“Come on.” He says, sliding his right hand down into your left.

He curls his fingers around it, holding tight as he sets off again, moving slower as he pulls you along.

You’re silent the rest of the way, nervously glancing around at the trees. Wondering if maybe you should be more worried about wandering into the jungle with a strange man.

The walk from the beach takes about five minutes when the trees suddenly part to a small clearing. The torn-up bit of the fuselage that you’d seen him carrying into the trees is set up against two trees. Most of the curve is still there and he’s angled it so that it can almost shield from all directions but most especially the top.

The two carts are indeed already here. Pressed against the last exposed side of his makeshift shelter to cover it from all sides but one. The end, to be used—you assume—as the entrance and exit. The windows are angled so that they provide sight straight up to the sky.

“Get in there and get one of the bottles of Vodka and clean your hand. In my backpack you’ll find some bandages. Wrap it up.” He points at the fuselage and lets your hand go.

“Where are you going?” You gasp, turning to look at him as he moves back towards the beach.

“I saw some bits of the plane we might be able to use to make some tools. We have maybe two or three hours tops before that storm hits and we’ll need something for when we go to the bathroom.” He’s thinking so practically.

He’s sprung into action so quickly despite the swaying trees, the air whipping against your bodies, or the strange cracks and animal cries coming from the jungle around you. You’re still wondering what happened to the stewardess and the pilots.

Are they also somewhere around the jungle? Is this an island? It must be.

He turns to leave again, and panic drives you towards him. You reach down and take hold of his left arm. Having been expecting warmth, you’re slightly stunned when you feel cool metal. You turn your gaze down to it, noticing for the first time the sleek black bionic arm.

How you hadn’t noticed it before when he’d wrapped up your hand you don’t know but now you can see it. All the way up to the bulging metal bicep.

You’re thrown for all of a split second before your eyes are blazing into his, “Please don’t go.”

He looks at you, taking in your scared expression then pulls his arm from your grasp but only so that he can take your right hand, holding it more gently as your cut is there on your palm.

“You’ve been so brave until now.” He observes. “I need you to stay that way.”

“What happened?” You ask, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know. The storm blew us off course, but the explosion is why we went down.” He explains.

“Explosion?!” You cry, remembering the big boom behind you right before you’d passed out.

“We can talk about this later. Right now, I need you to be brave for me again. Can you do that? I have to go get what we need before the storm hits.” His reasonable tone is what prompts you to nod.

He looks at your wrist and points at one of the black hair ties you always carry there.

“Can I borrow one of those?” He asks.

You pull your hand from his grip and peel off the first one and hold it out to him.

“Get inside the fuselage. I’ll be back in a bit.” He tells you as he quickly sweeps his hair up into a high bun.

“You’ll come right back?” You ask, so afraid of being alone here where no one will know to find you.

“I’ll come right back.” He promises, then moves to head out again.

“What’s your name?” You ask him, hoping that maybe if you know his name, you’ll feel more comforted that he’ll return.

“James.” He tells you. “James Buchanan Barnes. But everyone calls me Bucky. What’s yours?”

“Bucky…” You repeat the name quietly, clinging to the way it tastes as you speak it. “Me? I-I’m Y/N.”

“I’ll be back, Y/N. Get inside.”

You nod and finally obey, moving to the entrance then drop to your knees to crawl in. The space isn’t small by any means, but it is low and close to the ground. You can sit up straight inside with plenty of space overhead but neither of you will be able to stand inside.

When you turn around to look outside, Bucky’s gone.

The hurricane lasts three days.

Bucky keeps you in the shelter as the storm rages overhead. You’re absolutely terrified. The tempest tears trees up by their roots and you tremble with fear as you hear the distinctive creak and crack of large thick trunks being torn apart.

When it passes, Bucky’s survival instinct truly kicks in filling him with a relentless drive.

He takes you down to the beach, hand in hand, slowly waiting for you to step over the mish mash of foliage and jungle debris.

It’s hotter than ever, even more so after such a big storm, and you have to stop several times to catch your breath.

“You okay?” He asks, waiting patiently despite the energy you can see him nearly levitating with to begin running around doing his own thing.

You’re in his way but he’s trying not to let you see it.

“Yes.” You gasp, skin dewy and sticky from the compressing wet air that labors your lungs.

He releases your hand.

“Sit.” He orders and you gratefully do as he says, finding a small fallen tree to perch yourself on.

He gives your dress a glance then moves towards you and with that sleek bionic arm of his, he tears at your dress to make it shorter.

“Hey.” You reply, startled.

He rolls his eyes at you, frowning at you with a look of exasperation, full pink lips puckered with his disapproval.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just in the way.” He quips, then holds out the excess fabric and begins to tear strips for what you assume is makeshift bandages.

He pulls his backpack—it’s surprisingly still intact after the plane crash—around and stuffs the fabric in before giving you another glance.

You flinch as he reaches out, tracing with his right thumb the length of your lower lip. You can feel the pull of his heated skin against the chapped mess of your lips.

Once more he delves into the black abyss of his bag and pulls out a large bottle of water.

You know now that it’s filled from a small flowing stream close to the fuselage, and the only reason he’d chosen that particular spot for the shelter is because of the close proximity to that wide stream of fresh water.

“Here. Don’t drink too much or you’ll make yourself sick.” He instructs.

“How does someone get sick from drinking too much water?” You ask, slightly irritated but you take the bottle and begin to guzzle it down.

“Don’t-” He sighs, “Ugh, whatever. Make yourself sick.”

He gets to his feet and offers you his hand again. With a quarter of the water gone, you rise wincing at the pain in your ankles and the soles of your feet but happy with the slosh of liquid in your belly.

Your feet burn and ache as you put your weight on them. Your attempts not to wince fail and Bucky looks down at them.

Self-conscious, you shift uncomfortably trying to hide your sandal covered feet underneath the green ferns that cover the ground.

“Come on.” He pulls you along again, water bottle sloshing in your free arm as he pulls you slightly faster but still slow enough that you can maintain your balance.

As the beach comes into view, the dark skyline in the horizon seems to be fading, turning more blue than gray.

The water shines like turquoise jewels, bright and pretty. This beach, with its white sands, curving palms, and beautiful clear waters is the very definition of paradise.

A dream destination for any vacation seeker. And yet, you hate it. You’re stuck here. No modern amenities. No escape. Just Bucky.

He releases your hand. He’s already talking, pointing down the long length of the beach to your left and then your right but you only hear a buzz in your ear instead of the words that he speaks.

You stumble forward, staring out at a section of shallows about fifty feet out into the water where the cockpit juts out, nose in the air, windows somehow still unbroken. About twenty feet in further, the section of the plane you’d been sitting in sits halfway submerged, torn apart from the front during the crash.

“Y/N!” Bucky nearly shouts, two feet in front of you, shoving himself into your line of sight.

You tear your eyes away from the front of the plane and search his gaze for the fear that you’re feeling, the hopelessness.

“What?” You ask, voice choked.

“I need you to walk the beach, look for anything that might have washed ashore that we can use.”

“The black box?” You ask, stepping towards him. “Did you find the black box?”

Bucky breathes in slowly, watching your composure fall apart.

“It was destroyed in the storm.” He explains. “The first one. The stewardess and the pilot had been going on about how it was malfunctioning before we even began to feel turbulence.”

“H-How do you even know that?” You demand, desperate for him to be wrong.

The humid island breeze whips your hair, somehow never drying your skin despite the constant flow.

“I have really good hearing.” His mouth is set in a tight disapproving line.

“But they’ll know where we are, right? They’ll just search the flight route.” You bargain.

“We…” He hesitates.

“What?” You demand, moving closer again, stopping right in front of him, chin lifted to stare up into his shifting blue eyes.

He searches yours too, looking for something. Sanity maybe.

“We were off course for a while. About two hours, I think. I’m not sure. I really was asleep before the stewardess moved us to first class, but we weren’t on the right flight plan.” He explains and all hope seems to fade.

You very nearly lose it right then and there, but Bucky’s hands come up to rest around your biceps.

“I need you to keep it together, Y/N. I need you.” He says, deep voice smooth and calm.

He needs me?

The words fill you with an odd sense of calm. There’s a whisper of truth in them and you’re sure he does need you but it’s not for survival. Not in the sense that you need him. How long would you have lasted without him?

A few hours that first day? The hurricane would have hit, and you would have probably died.

“Can you do that?” He asks, voice careful and gentle despite that same hum from before that he’s vibrating with to get started.

His patience is wearing thin and you can see his irritation returning.

“Yes.” You whisper, nodding small.

“Good.” He tells you, then pushes you back, forcing your knees to buckle.

He shoves you back until you’re sitting on the hot fine grains of sand.

“Wait here.”

As he moves to turn, you reach out and grab his metal hand, clinging to it tightly as your fear returns.

“Where are you going?” He ask, desperate.

Bucky looks down at your hands around his arm, a strange look of confusion in those dazzling blues. His five o’clock shadow has turned into a full-on scruff, hiding the chiseled square of his jaw, the small dimple on his chin.

His gray t-shirt clings to his torso still, the humidity making him sweat but he’s somehow also not as dewy as you are. His skin a bit drier. Not as shiny.

“I’m just going to swim out to the cockpit and the front of the plane where we were sitting. Your carry-on was on there, right? You moved it when we moved?” He asks, checking but he seems to already know.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Did you have shoes in there? Better shoes?” He eyes your sandals again and you shift your feet, once again self-conscious.

You think about the other two pairs of strappy sandals you’d had packed away in your checked luggage but yes, in your carry-on there was a pair of sneakers.

You nod, staring out at the water as it laps at the crashed nose of the plane.

“The pilots? The stewardess? Did you find them?” You ask, worried, your mind flashing with the kind smile and shining green eyes of the kind woman who’d set you at ease on the plane.

Her husband…her son.

Bucky takes a deep breath and squats down in front of you.

“I buried the stewardess down that way.” He indicates the beach to your left with his chin, eyes never leaving yours.

Sadness overwhelms you at the thought of her family, missing her, worried, not knowing that she’s already dead. They’ll search for her.

You look in the direction he indicates, eyes watering at the thought of her now motherless son.

“She was married.” You gasp, not realizing that you’re crying just yet.

“I know.” Bucky says, softly. Gently. Kindly. You look at him and search his now blurry face.

With a hard swallow, you tighten your hold on his hand.

“The pilots?” You ask, scared to know, desperate to find out.

Bucky shakes his head. “I didn’t find anyone else. They might have gotten out before the plane went down. I blacked out shortly after you did and when I came to the cockpit was gone. I just barely got us out in time.”

So, Bucky saved you?

You are already highly aware that you’re still alive because of him but that initial plunge into the sea while the plane was careening out of the sky is the reason you’re still alive.

“H-How did we survive the fall?” You ask him, absolutely baffled.

“I’m stronger than I look.” He replies, a small subtle curve to his lips.

He looks pretty strong…

“Y/N, this is what I wanna do. I want to get you some proper shoes. I need to get as much supplies out of the front of the plane, electrical equipment too in case I can build some sort of beacon so that maybe someone might be able to find us.

“I want to get a nice big signal fire built here on the beach to keep lit in case a plane passes overhead or a boat out at sea comes close enough to see it. I wanna build us a proper shelter in the spot with the fuselage. Up off the ground so that when the inevitable wild animal comes around, you’re not on the ground waiting to be sniffed, gored, or bitten.

“I have a lot of work to do.” He finishes.

Everything he’s said sounds like brilliant ideas. Perfection, really, and your heart begins to swell. His words indicate an innate worry for you.

“Why did you save me, Bucky? In the plane? Before the explosion behind us when the plane had just started to shake, why?” You ask, searching his patient expression for truth.

“I-I don’t know, you just looked so scared.” He admits. “I know what that feels like.”

Bucky? Scared?

Questions flood your mind. Questions that you’re suddenly very eager to have answered.

Who is Bucky? Where was he going? What does he do for a living? He does kinda look familiar but only like a face you’d once seen in a dream. What would he have to be scared of? Where did he get the bionic arm? How did he lose his original one? How old is he? Does he have family waiting for him? A girlfriend? Boyfriend? A wife? Husband? Kids?

“Y/N?” He probes, sliding his warm metal thumb across the back of your hand, caressing the skin.

“Yes?”

“I kinda need my hand back to get all of that stuff started.” He confesses and with a surprised gasp you let his hand go.

“Oh, right.” You curl your own into fists, laying them on your lap while ignoring the stretch of the scabbing skin on your palm.

Bucky had already checked it this morning.

“Wait for me here, okay?” He asks, cautious with you.

You hate to see him go. The past four days on the island—three trapped in a small confined space with him—have been spent with Bucky at almost every moment.

He must also not like leaving you, or so you hope, because he turns to look back at you as he walks to the water.

He stops at the edge, just beyond the reach of the low-tide, and finally turns away from you to pull his t-shirt over his head.

You shouldn’t be thinking it. You should be focused on the realities of your situation. The dangers, the precautions you need to take. You should be making lists in your head of things to do for survival, to keep yourself alive on this island but instead you trace the exposed length of Bucky’s sculpted torso.

The muscles on his back flex and stretch against taut slightly pale white skin. God, I hope he’s single. You think wildly. And at the very least bi.

Wherever he’d been before he was on the plane, it had not been sunny. Definitely not a tropical island. The dimples on his lower back draw your focus and your heartbeat quickens as he suddenly begins to step out of his jeans.

You blow a soft rush of air through your chapped lips, reaching beside you blindly for the water bottle Bucky had given you.

With a quick gulp, you watch him wade into the glimmering ocean water, your eyes appreciating the ripples of his biceps, both metal and flesh.

Maybe it won’t be so bad being stuck on an island with Bucky?

Fuck Y/N. Get a grip. What are you thinking?

*****

Bucky lugs your carry-on up onto the shore, tossing it with ease down beside you as he pulls his now clinging briefs up a little higher on his hips.

He tries not to think about how exposed he is to you or anything else that doesn’t have to do with his and your survival.

He’s got one goal here. To get you both off this island in one piece.

Running his hand back along his wet hair, he smooths it, your hair tie wrapped securely around his wrist for when he’ll need it again.

“I’ll be back.” He tells you, watching you struggle to pull the bag closer.

His words pull that terrified stare of yours back to him, that inescapable look of need that had pulled him across the plane to you in the first place shining up at him from your battered, chapped, sun-burnt face.

You burn so quickly. He’ll need to find you some aloe in case it gets worse. Your skin is already cooked despite the short time the two of you have spent out in the sun.

Today it’s shining down brightly. Maybe he should have put you in the shade of a palm?

“Where are you going?” You ask him, your fear drawing him close to you.

You tilt your head back, stare up at his face.

He finds your helplessness annoying…but also refreshing. He likes feeling like this. Needed. Wanted. And he’s not blind. He can see the way your eyes roam over his body.

It’s nice to know he’s still got that to him too. He’s still human. Whatever it is that’s left of him. He still somehow has something to offer.

“Back into the cockpit.” He’s not sure that telling you why will really help or if it will make you cry again like with the stewardess.

He’s still recovering from the way that had made him feel. He’s not sure he can take feeling like that again so soon. He’s not even entirely sure what it had been.

It had definitely felt bad to watch you cry but he’s unsure of where it stems from. Is it discomfort with your vulnerability? Disgust at your weakness?

The Winter Soldier in him—the memory of his thought process that is very nearly gone—see it as such. Crying over a dead body? Useless. It helps no one. It provides nothing.

Bucky knows that’s not true. Grieving can be cathartic. He’s grieved before. Very recently he grieved over his time lost as the Winter Soldier. He grieved the loss of his best friend to old age.

Steve had made his choices. He’d lived his life. Now it’s time for Bucky to live his own.

Of course, crash landing on a deserted island had not been what he’d had in mind. Would Sam already be looking for him? Or…maybe he thinks Bucky ran off again?

“Why?” You plead, eager to keep him close.

His chest warms at the thought that you want him near. The fact that you’re not afraid of him, of his arm, is reassuring. He likes it. He likes not being scary.

This island is scary for you. Being stranded here, is scary for you.

“I found one of the pilots.” He admits, waiting for the words to register with you.

“Dead?” You ask, voice cracking.

“Yeah.”

“Wh-what are you going to do?” You ask him, pretty eyes searching his own stern expression.

He has to remind himself to be softer with you. You’re not like his friends or associates. You’re soft. Civilian. Gentility is what you need.

“Pull him out. Bury him next to the stewardess.” He tells you, and watches as your lower lip shakes.

You let him go and he makes quick work of the body. He doesn’t pull the pilot over to you and instead heads straight for the spot he’d buried the stewardess just next to the tree line where the sand shifts into soil.

It doesn’t take you long to catch up, but he tries his best to keep you from seeing the swollen, waterlogged body of the pilot. Dead eyes open to the world, though they no longer see.

You’re crying again, wearing your sneakers, kneeling a few feet away.

He doesn’t like the weight in his chest that your crying brings. He frowns, annoyed again.

It takes him half an hour to dig the grave and another half hour to bury the pilot.

He’d been the older of the two with graying black hair and deep umber skin, made pale and gray by the lack of life.

“The other pilot?” You ask him, turning your sorrowful gaze back on him and he’d prefer the needy one.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, tired of burying people.

“Bucky?” His name falls timid from your lips, unsure.

As he turns to you, he sees you holding out his pants.

“We’re gonna make it, right? I don’t know anything about surviving in a jungle. I don’t-don’t know how to help you.” You confess.

The disappointment in your voice is telling. You’re blaming yourself for not being more knowledgeable about surviving in the wild?

Cute…and understandable.

“Just do what I ask.” He orders, taking his pants from your hold gently then slipping them on, grateful for the coverage.

You give him his t-shirt but instead of putting it on he shoves it into his backpack. It would be smarter to wear it while he works but he’s not a regular human and he’ll be fine without it.

He doesn’t want to get it all dirty and sweaty as he does what he needs to do.

“Scour the beach.” You say, looking down past the graves towards the curve of white sand, jewel waters lapping at the shore.

“Yeah. Don’t go too close to the water.” Bucky instructs, fearful suddenly. “The water is in low-tide right now, but it’ll rise.”

What if you get too close? What if you get swept out to sea and you drown?

Fear like this Bucky has never felt. The charge he’s taken in ensuring your safety over the past four days is suddenly made clear. He cares whether you live or die, despite the denial he’s been forcing on himself.

Telling himself that he’s only trying to be nice isn’t working anymore. The thought of you walking away from him, being out of sight where he can’t keep a constant careful watch on you terrifies him and he can understand the look that you give him now every time he walks away from you.

“Maybe…” He begins, staring across the endless beach. “Maybe we should just wait to scour the beach together?”

“Why?” You ask, rising to your feet, planting your carry-on in the ground more securely.

“It might be dangerous.” He realizes.

“But you have things to do.” You tell him. “It’s just walking across the beach, Bucky. I can do at least that much. Especially now that I have my shoes.”

You’re taking offense with him. Does it sound like he doesn’t trust you to do such a menial task? He very nearly doesn’t but it’s not for the reasons you might be thinking.

You’ve proven you can take instruction, despite how clumsy you seem to be in this terrain. His lack of trust is in your ability to stay safe.

Since he’s known you, you’ve passed out, nearly drowned—though you still don’t know about that and he’s not sure he’s going to ever tell you—fallen and cut your hand, you’re dehydrated, you’re not eating as much as you need to, you’re scaring him.

Can he keep you alive? He must.

Reluctantly he nods. “Fine, but do me a favor and if anything even remotely scares you, scream for me.”

“How are you going to hear me?” You ask him, confused.

You don’t know he’s a Super Soldier. You seriously don’t know who he is, and he likes that more than he should.

“I’ll hear you.” He assures you. “Promise me, Y/N.”

“I promise.” You relent and then head down along the beach with heavy, clearly pained steps.

Your body must be aching, adjusting to the environment in harsh ways.

You’re so soft and fragile. He watches you until you’re small and his need to build you a proper shelter becomes overwhelming.

First things first; fire.

*****

You walk for hours. You stop only to take drinks of your water bottle and turn over what looks like something that might be useful.

You find small items, cups and seat cushions. A few wet blankets. A metal box shut so tight you can’t open it. Whatever is inside weighs a bit. A first aid kit. Two more small bags—carry ons that probably belonged to the pilots or the stewardess.

You pile everything on top of the bags, struggling to pull them back towards the section of beach you’d left Bucky on.

Above you, the sky is fire. Blazing red and orange as the sun begins to set. It makes the island cooler, almost cold compared to the higher temperatures of the day.

A large almost five-foot-high bonfire blazes in the distance but Bucky’s nowhere to be seen.

As you grow closer, the sky above you deepens to a bruised black, scattered with a shock of white stars as the horizon fades to pink and yellow.

“Bucky?” You call out, huffing and puffing as you pull the two bags to a stop.

You’ve had to stop and pick up the items you kept dropping and you’re exhausted.

Collapsing beside them, you suddenly remember your own carry on back by the makeshift graveyard.

You groan, fall onto your back, and stare back towards the spot, upside down.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice falls on you like a security blanket.

You’ve been with him non-stop since you arrived that at first it had been bliss to be alone. Silence, where no one is giving you orders or frowning down at your inability to keep up, had been nice.

As you’d walked further and further away from him, your fear began to grow, and you stole quick tense glances at the dense tree line. What monsters lurk inside? How will you die?

By the time you turned to head back, you were missing Bucky desperately.

You push yourself up, smiling at him, so giddy to see him it’s stupid.

He struts towards you, clean and bathed, wearing a tight white t-shirt, the same blue jeans, munching on something that looks like mango.

I hate him.

“What’d you find?” He asks, moving to look at your haul. “These cushions will work nice for sleeping on. We can put these together with the ones we have in the fuselage. We’ll have to share.”

He slurps up the sweet nectar of his mango, making your stomach growl and your mouth water.

With amused blue eyes, he looks at you and then huffs a very small laugh.

“Hungry?” He asks, then holds out the mango for you to take.

You grab it, shove it into your mouth and nearly moan around it as the juice hits your tongue turning bitter salt into sweet candy.

“Easy. We still have the rest of the airplane food back at camp. There’s plenty of food to stuff your face with. We need to finish that within the next three days. It’ll go bad by then.” Bucky says, grabbing the two bags in one hand, the first aid kit and the metal box in the other, leaving you with the cushions you’d found.

“Thanks. Wait, my bag.” You gasp, getting to your feet to follow him.

“I already took it back to camp.” He moves towards the trees and you follow.

You reach the small split that he’d first led you down, the one you’d stumbled and fallen over, cutting your hand. Bucky keeps walking but you stop, gaping at him then down at the ground and the surrounding trees.

“How-?” You begin but you’re so emotional, you might just cry again.

“I can’t have you tripping every time we need to come down here and we’re going to have to keep coming back to the beach.” He explains, but with no patience to let you have this moment, he walks on. “Come on. It’s getting dark.”

Bucky seems to have spent the day clearing a path about three feet wide. Rocks and boulders that had been in the way have been shoved aside, the green ferns that had covered the ground have been pulled up. Thrown aside too, the earth dug up so that a single dark path leads from the beach and as you follow him, all the way back to camp.

“Bucky…” You whisper, stunned and appreciative.

Then your eyes fall on camp. The fuselage has been lifted onto a platform built with the fallen trees from the storm. It looks very temporary but it much better than anything you could have done.

“Saved some time on the platform by using the tress that had already fallen.” Bucky explains. “At least this way we won’t be sleep on the ground. At least until I can get a better shelter built. Your bag’s inside. Put those cushions next to the other ones.”

“Do we need a better shelter?” You ask him, desperate to keep your roots on this island shallow.

You’re no Gilligan. You’re not planning on living here.

“Just in case. We don’t know how long we’ll be here. Better safe than sorry.” He makes sense.

You have to crawl up the two-foot-high gap from floor to platform since there is no ramp but you’re so grateful for the elevation that you don’t complain. Why would you?

A cleared-out path to make walking to and from the beach easier for you. An elevated shelter so that no animals will easily reach either of you. Cushions gathered and lined up to make up a narrow makeshift bed.

There’s a roaring fire a few feet in front of the now elevated fuselage, a small metal panel placed over the open flame with two plastic plates full of airplane steak and white rice, a side of mushy carrots and green beans on top. There’s two pale rolls of bread also warming up beside the plates.

Bucky has indeed been busy.

You do as he says, making the bed slightly bigger and it actually looks like it might really be big enough for two now. Still small. Tight. You’ll have to sleep right beside each other.

“Grab a change of clothes.” He says, and you do as he instructs, grabbing a new pair of underwear, a pair of jeans, and a plain white t-shirt from your carry on, subconsciously thinking about his own white t-shirt.

You meet him by the fire.

“Ready?”

“Where are we going?” You wonder.

“Follow me.”

He leads you around a small thicket of trees towards the spot you know the fast-flowing freshwater stream is.

When he stops beside it, your eyes are drawn to the four-foot-deep hole disrupting the flow of the water. The hole is lined with large shining green leaves, made dark by the fading sunlight. You can see clearly enough however to understand that Bucky has built you both a tub of sorts.

The water flows in, fills the tub, and then continues to flow down along the stream keeping the water moving.

“Bucky…” You gasp, once again stunned by the work he’s put in, in one fucking day!

“I’ll make it better over time. The leaves will have to be changed in a few days at least until I can find something that’ll last a while longer. I’ll see if I can find some plastic or tarp. The back of the plane is still missing. There might be something in there.” He explains. “Will you be okay in the dark?”

There’s still enough sunset light that if you bathe quickly you can get back to the campfire before it’s completely dark.

“Yes.” You smile, the first since you crashed here. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky smiles back at you, wide, pearly whites on full display. He’s even more handsome than you realized, and you already knew how good looking this man is.

“Good. I’ll go finish with dinner. Hurry back.” He says, then turns to head back.

“Bucky,” You call, eager to thank him.

“Yeah?” He turns to you, still smiling lightly.

You can’t help yourself. You move towards him, the pull of safety and security overwhelmingly seductive.

With a push onto your toes, you press a quick soft peck to his bearded cheek. The dry, cracking skin of your lips must feel like a scorched desert against the somehow soft flush of his skin.

He doesn’t pull back though, and he doesn’t complain. He lets you hold that kiss for two seconds before you fall back onto your feet to smile up at him.

“Thank you. For everything….so far.” This journey is just getting started and you’ve been very little help.

“Go on.” He says, stern but the warm glow of his eyes is kind. “It’s getting dark.”

He leaves you there, feeling protected. Secure. And maybe slightly less fearful about the journey that you and Bucky have found yourself forced on.

With Bucky, maybe it is possible to get through this.

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queenmuzz · 4 years

Text

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter XII

Living on Borrowed Time

Read the full story on Ao3 Here!

Warning: Descriptions of Violence, and mild descriptions of blood. 10:56PM

He looks so peaceful, you thought to yourself as you watched him doze off that night. He was floating gently, with only his tail moving slowly to keep him from drifting too far up to the surface, or too far down to the floor. It fascinated a part of you, of how his people had adapted to live in such a starkly different world than yours. Another part of you was enthralled by his culture, the way his kind lived, interacted, their stories, songs, customs.

And yet, there was yet another part of you, the part that had grown to like him, and then to love him, who knew this couldn’t last. You needed to set him free, and in an hour, you’d finally have the way to do so.

You thanked your lucky stars that you had not, in your ignorance, attempted to free him earlier. You would have never forgiven yourself if you had inadvertently cursed him to a fate worse than death. Perhaps being a meek, indecisive person had finally been a source of good.

But there was no indecisiveness now, no meekness. You had a job to do, and by the Tidemother, you’d see it to its completion, no matter if it broke your heart.

Of course, Vergil had been completely left in the dark in all of this, you’d seen to that. You’d kept up the facade of being a happy, excited bride to be, blaming your bouts of silence and furrowed brows on ‘just being nervous’ about the upcoming nuptials. And he’d bought it hook, line, and sinker.

You placed your hand on the glass, as you once did when you two first met, but this time there would be no reciprocating hand on the other side. It was probably better this way.

You quickly put on your jacket, keys at your hip, and codes in your head, and you slipped out into the late spring night.

It’ll be all over soon, Vergil.

11:17PM

You pulled up to the deserted building with some relief. In your haste to get out, you’d forgotten to check the security feed one last time. But it seemed okay, no one was there, and the closest person who could be alerted to the break in was your father, and he was coming home from a business meeting, and wouldn’t be back until early morning.

Still, you fumbled a bit as you picked out the correct key. Part of you wished you had had drank something, like Sarah had once suggested, to settle your nerves, but you reminded yourself you couldn’t afford being pulled over for impaired driving tonight.

You made your way through the darkened building, before reaching the safe door. This is where your family kept its most priceless documents, artwork, financial statements, and heirlooms. Placing your finger on the scanner, you waited as the computer analyzed your fingerprint, and it registered you as a family member. Once it recognized your biometrics, it asked for a six digit passcode.

After a moment’s hesitation, you punched it in, knowing that it was logging your entry into the safe. That’s why you had to do it tonight, and the plan had to go flawlessly, you’d never get another chance at this once your father checked the security logs.

And once he did? What’s the worst he could do? Call off your wedding? You laughed at the thought. After this was done, there was nothing your father could do, if he didn’t want to endanger his precious business deals that hung off this wedding. So doing this would cost you nothing…

Save for your happiness.

The hiss of air as hydraulics opened the seal, like some 80’s sci-fi movie, and the buzz of fluorescent lights buzzing to life as they lit up one by one. You cautiously made your way, pausing as you approached an old painting of your great grandfather, currently being kept here until a restorer could fix the frame and touch up the varnish. Would he be disappointed at what you were doing? You forced yourself to walk past him, your target next to the metal filing cabinet.

There, leaning against it was that damned briefcase, with locked clasps. Well, you might not have the key or code to unlocking that, but you did have something more versatile: your jackknife. Slipping the blade under the clasp, you applied pressure, and with a loud metallic CLINK that echoed throughout the space, the lock cracked. Taking a deep breath, you opened the case…

There, surrounded in custom cut polyurethane, was the most beautiful weapon you’d ever seen. Dante’s sword might have exuded strength and power, but this...this practically radiated precision and discipline. The saya was made of the finest blue lacquered wood...but not just any wood. It gave off the distinct smell of being at the beach...driftwood. You’d never thought something as worn and rough as that could be carved into something so gorgeous.

Wrapped around it and the tsuba was a sageo, but instead of rope, it was some sort of seaweed, finely woven. And despite this weapon being trapped in dry stale air, it was still as flexible as if it had just come out of the ocean. How odd. There was so much you didn’t understand about mer culture, whether they were capable of magic, or if it could be easily explained by science.

Your hand grazed against the tsuba, inlaid with mother of pearl that gleamed even in the harsh artificial light. You felt a spark, not unpleasant, but strong enough to know it wasn’t just in your head. A warning? Slowly, you placed your hand around it, and now you could swear it was humming. Taking a deep breath, you gripped a bit tighter, and with a smooth motion that you’d not expected, you expertly unsheathed the blade, with only a whisper as it left the confines of its saya.

Transfixed by it, you raised it up, to closer marvel at the metal work. It was unlike any smithwork you’d ever seen, with possibly only the finest Damascus Steel coming close to it. Ripples and waves, like an oily sheen, coated the metal, and you could have sworn that the patterns slowly changed.

You marveled at how unblemished the metal was, your reflection on it’s mirror-like surface, the reflection of your great-grandfather’s portrait, the reflection of Doctor Griffon.

Wait, what?

You turned around suddenly, to come face to face with the Good Doctor himself, his arms crossed, and a very fake smile plastered onto his face.

“My dear,” he slimely said, “I suppose it was a good thing that I forgot some of my papers tonight, because imagine my surprise when I came back to pick it up, and I came across a thief, stealing not gold, nor gems, but something much more priceless; my life’s work.”

“Steal!?” you questioned, “Strange, I could have sworn that this,” your eyes motioned to the weapon, “wasn’t yours to begin with.”

The bastard dropped the facade of fake friendliness. “You, a spoiled rich girl, coming in to dictate how I use my resources. I already gave up my access to Subject Angelo for the desperately needed financial aid your father provided, all so that his little girl” he practically spat out the insult, “could have it as a pet. But no, that wasn’t enough for her, she wants to steal the one thing that could get me into every single prestigious scientific journal in the world, to usurp my place as the preeminent expert on Merkind.”

“What?” You were perplexed. The man was so up his scientific ass, he had just assumed your attempt at a prison break was actually a burglary for his stupid research.

“You’ve got the wrong idea…” you tried to explain, knowing it was fruitless, but it didn’t matter, he cut you off.

“Oh I know exactly what you’re up to, I haven’t spent four decades being mocked by my peers in the scientific community to be that naive. I know how they backstab each other for the merest crumb of success. Now hand me back the weapon.” his hand reached out, as if he was a disappointed parent who caught his child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Never,” you hissed, and his face turned a dark shade of red. “Of course, ‘daddy’s little girl’ has never been told no,” he practically growled, and he lunged towards you. “I won’t give my life’s work to some know-nothing rich bitch”

You dropped the saya as you barely evaded his attack, his fists missing your face by a hair. Yamato buzzed dangerously in your hand, and you placed both hands around the tsuba, almost instinctively. You brought it up in a pale imitation of a Samurai pose, the tip shaking noticeably.

Griffon now snarled and attacked again in almost animalistic rage, and this time you dodged more easily, as if you were being guided by an unseen hand.

Unfortunately, the doctor still blocked the way between you and the exit, so you would have to play this bullfighting game until you had an opening, and then make a run for it. But right now, he had you pinned, the portrait frame digging at your back. In this cramped space, you’d have only the tiniest bit of time to avoid the attack. He seemed to notice as well, as with a maniacal grin, he yanked an antique brass candelabra from one of the shelves, and after smacking it into his hand to test its weight, he struck.

You had no space, no time to move, so you brought up Yamato in a futile attempt to block, but then there was the sound of rushing wind, the smell of sea salt, and the sound of ripping fabric.

For the briefest of moments, you stood confused. You’d somehow escaped from being bludgeoned. But what was strange was your position. You hadn’t moved, and yet it was if you and the doctor’s places had switched. You stood back to back, both of you stunned.

“What the-” the Doctor started to say, but you didn’t let him finish. Your hands fluidly moved, manipulating the tsuba of yamato as if you had practiced decades with it, twirling the weapon around, and without even glancing, you thrust the blade backwards. It hit resistance, but something in you continued pushing, before the pushback stopped, letting the blade move quickly.

Immediately, the scent of copper filled your nostrils, and warmth sprayed at your back, and as you were released from whatever mysterious force had taken control of you, you heard the sound of the candelabra clattering to the ground. You turned around, already knowing what you had done, but forcing yourself to face it.

Doctor Griffon was still facing away from you looking down, as if he was admiring the disfigured face of your ancestor. A long gash marred your great grandfather’s face, caused by the edge of the candlestick. His arms now dropped slack. And sticking out of his back, like a pearl in a pile of refuse, was Yamato’s tsuba. Blood had sprayed everywhere, including the painting. He was making a strange gurgling sound.

Panicking, you gripped the katana, yanking it out of his torso before his legs could buckle out from underneath him.

As you did so, he fell backwards, nearly bowling you over with his dead weight. Blood smeared your shirt, your face, everywhere, as you frantically attempted to stop the bleeding. You took off your jacket, planning to somehow stem the blood flow, but already his skin had gone unnaturally pale. To your growing horror, you realized he wasn’t going to make it.

And then the Doctor chuckled, punctuated by wet coughs, “Ironic,” and his blue tinged lips formed into a smile, “my life’s work...leading to my death”

And with that, his head rolled to the side, and the cruel light in his eyes faded.

So there you sat, with the body of the man you hated more than anything, the man you had just killed. Perhaps some mysterious power of Yamato had guided your hands, but the fact remained, your hands were responsible for the taking of another person’s life. And just the thought of what you had done caused such a flurry of emotions, and then… you vomited on the cool cement floor.

Between heaves, you sobbed. You’d just done something you’d never thought in a million years thought that you’d do, and the guilt was threatening to drive you mad. You mentally grasped the one thing that was your sole thing to ground you: rescuing Vergil. You had to save him, and only after that, could you focus on whatever happened next. One step at a time…

Grabbing Yamato and it’s saya, you wiped your mouth, and quickly left the safe, leaving the blood spattered body, and the desecrated portrait of your great-grandfather behind.

******

You sat in the driveway in your home, car door open, attempting to spit out the taste of bile and vomit out of your mouth. But only for about a minute. The clock was ticking, and that little stunt you had pulled with the deceased doctor had cost you valuable time. You checked your clock.

11:30 PM

You had no doubt that Dante would linger as long as possible at the rendezvous point, but still, you wanted to get this done and over with as fast as possible. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and, leaving the car running, you walked into your home.

Vergil was awake, and seemed agitated. Did he somehow know via Yamato what had happened? His agitation turned to outright panic the moment he saw you, and it took a moment to remember you were coated in blood, now quickly drying into a rusty red into your clothes.

“Oh don’t worry,” you assured him, masking your own emotional turmoil with faux cheerfulness. “It’s not MY blood”

It didn’t assure Vergil at all, who looked even more horrified.

You scaled the platform steps as quickly as possible, as he swam up to meet you. “You don’t have to worry about that damn doctor anymore, he’ll never hurt you again.”

“Sifa, what did you do...”

“Added bonus too, I got you a gift,” you chirped, ignoring his question, “well, technically it’s not a gift if it originally belonged to the giftee… but let’s just say I managed to retrieve a lost item,” and you thrust the katana into his arms.

Vergil gently grabbed it, dumbfounded, before clutching it close to his chest. It almost looked like he was communing with it, just like with the amulet.

As touching as this reunion scene was, you both didn’t have time to enjoy it. Without warning, you quickly gripped him around his arms, and thanks to your weeks of practice, you swung him into a bridal style hold. He had only time to give out an undignified squawk of protest, before he swung his free arm around your neck to steady himself. As you did so, you felt your engagement ring loosen, slip… and then fall off. You’d retrieve it later, if you had the opportunity.

“Now,” you said, carrying him to you car “let’s get you home”

Behind you, the pink diamond studded gold ring sank to the bottom of the tank, settling into the sand.

******

Ordinarily you’d have some tunes playing out of the radio, but it was silent.

11:43 PM

You glanced at the clock as you drove down the deserted road, with only the full face of the Tidemother as witness. Vergil, buckled in securely in the passenger seat, caressed Yamato like it was a long lost pet that recently came home. Eventually, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blue flash, and a brief burst of salt air, before you noticed the blade was gone.

“How did you know?” he finally said, attempting to get comfortable in what was no doubt an interesting position for him.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to hurt your brother?” you responded, your eyes never leaving the road. Only a few more minutes, just needed to cross the bay’s suspension bridge, and then a side road to the beach.

“Of course, Dante would put you up to this” he muttered.

“He didn’t.”

“Pardon?” you didn’t have to look to see the shock on his face.

“This was my plan, he just gave me the final information to put this into motion. Mind you, I wasn’t going into this with the intent of anyone dying, but...well…” you looked at your hand gripping the wheel, still covered in flakes of the Doctor’s dried blood. Another wave of nausea threatened to blow up, but you managed to keep it down. Besides it didn’t seem like there was anything left in your stomach to vomit.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do this?” he asked.

“Seriously Vergil, you’re asking me why I set a man free who had been imprisoned for over a year? A guy who constantly tells me how much he misses the goddamn ocean?” your temper was beginning to get the better of you, and it took more and more effort to remain calm. “The question SHOULD be, why didn't YOU tell ME? Even in the beginning, if you had just said what you needed to go home, I would have gotten your soul-weapon for you. I would have done ANYTHING to get you back home. Did you not trust me?”

“In the beginning…” Vergil started out slowly, his breathing a bit erratic, “I suppose trust was an issue, with what I had already endured….”

“But afterwards, after we got to know each other, when I thought we could learn to trust each other? Why not then…?”

“Things...had changed…” he hesitantly replied.

Just admit you had feelings for me, dammit, your mind screamed, that you didn’t want to leave me, the woman who imprisoned you, the daughter of the guy who killed your parents. The thought of someone in that situation loving the person you were was confounding.

Ah, but you haven’t been truthful about your feelings either, another voice in your mind chided you, for all intents and purposes, he has no clue about your feelings about him, so you have only yourself to blame for the pain you are about to cause.

11:51 PM

“Sifa…”

“Stop.”

“Pardon?”

“Stop calling me that, please,” you attempted to blink the tears away. “When we get to the ocean, your brother will be there waiting, you’re going to go with him, preferably without fighting him. He’s going to take you somewhere far, far, away, I don’t know where, and frankly it would be better if I don’t. I’m just going to ask you to do one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Forget this. Forget me. Forget us.”

There was complete silence as Vergil sat staring at you, in complete shock. You might have well asked him to serve you a piece of the Dawnfather on a plate, judging by his reaction. After a few moments of stunned stillness, he faced forward, and sighed.

“I...I… cannot.”

The tears fell down your cheeks, and the streetlights became nothing more than blurry halos lighting the deserted road as you finally approached the bridge.

“You’re crying.”

“Great observation!” you gritted out sarcastically, cursing yourself for lashing out. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your ire.

“You ask me to forget you, but I…”

“Your brother should be nearby, can you feel him with your amulet?” you cut him off. You didn’t want to hear him admit that he loved you, because it took all of your willpower to maintain your plans. It would be too painful to say goodbye in any other case.

Vergil paused, taken aback, before nodding in resignation. “Yes, he is close.”

“Good, something is going right tonight at least”

“What about you?” he queried, concerned. “You have blood on your hands, literally and figuratively speaking, and you humans do not look kindly on that,” his brow furrowed, “even if I think he deserved far worse” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll deal with the fallout.”

“I still care abo-”

He didn’t get the chance to finish, as a bright light from behind, temporarily blinded you. Some idiot was driving with his hi-beams on, and was now tailgating you, as if he…

Oh no…

You recognized the car, even in the darkness. Mercedes-Benz E-class. The preferred car of…

The vehicle pulled up alongside you, the driver’s side window down, and to your horror, your fears were confirmed…

Your father.

The man began waving at you in the universal sign to pull over. In response, you gave him the universal sign to mind his own business. And then you slammed down on the gas, accelerating away. You could hear the sound of creaking leather as Vergil gripped on the seat, no doubt alarmed at the speed you were going.

Shit, as if things couldn’t get worse, you thought as you did as your father was left behind momentarily, before speeding up to match you. He must have gotten home early and found out the security alert. And he must have checked the video footage, and put two and two together. Shit, shit shit….”

You were halfway across the bridge, less than two kilometres away lay freedom for Vergil, all you had to do was get there…

BUMP

You and your passenger were jostled. You looked at your indicators, to figure out if you had blown a tire or something when

BUMP

And then you realized your father was attempting to run you off the road. Was he crazy? The lights glowed in your rearview mirror.

BUMP

And this time, the hit was strong enough that you lost control, and when you attempted to correct, you inadvertently overcorrected, causing you to fishtail in an increasingly erratic manner, eventually turning into a full blown spin out.

Eventually, you realized that you had no control over the car, and you let go of the steering wheel and gas, hoping you’d just straighten out, but the car kept spinning…

“VERGIL! HOLD ON!” You screamed as you spun towards the concrete median. You closed your eyes and went limp.

11:55PM

That was the time on the clock before the entire electrical system shut off. You pushed away the rapidly deflating airbags, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. It wasn’t a sharp pain, but it still hurt like a bitch.

A dribble of blood leaked from your nostril, but only a dull throbbing pain, so to your relief, it was probably just a bloody nose.

“Vergil!” you called out, fearful for the worst. You shoved aside the fabric to see to your relief a conscious, if a bit dazed merman. He was bleeding from the mouth, and had a few cuts on his face and torso from the shattered glass, but they quickly faded away.

“I’m… I am fine” he said, as he licked the blood off his lip, “what about you?”

“Not important right now,” you quickly scanned the bridge. There would be no way to carry Vergil to the beach now, it was much too far. Tears began to form in your eyes, you’d been so fucking close!

And then… as you felt as if you were about to give up, you looked at the guardrail of the bridge, a mere twelve metres away from the vehicle. Perhaps…..

Pulling out your jackknife, you began to saw through Vergil’s seatbelt, before pulling him out of the now crumpled up passenger seat. You winced slightly at the pain in your shoulder as you carried him, but the adrenaline would be enough to deal with it.

“Change of plans, Vergil” you said as you began to carry towards the metal guardrail. “Prepare to dive.” Part of you was secretly thankful. At least this way, the parting would be quick and painless.

Three metres away, a loud BANG rang out, and sparks sprayed far too close to you. Instinctively, you spun around, to find the source of the sound, and came face to face with your father, shakily pointing a pistol at you.

“Dad….” you shouldn’t have been surprised, the man had nearly killed you by trying to stop your car. But still, this is the man who raised you, loved you, cherished you. How could he do something like this? Or maybe… maybe you’d just assumed he had. Or had he just looked at you as an investment, a stock portfolio that he needed to increase its worth? “Sweetheart, please don’t…” your father’s voice brokenly begged, “You don’t know what damage that creature will do if it’s set free. Our family company barely broke even with all the repairs from what it has done.”

“So you’re totally okay with imprisoning him? To experiment on him!?” You yelled back in anger. Vergil stiffened against you.

“Look, is this about what happened to Doctor Griffon?” your father asked, totally missing the point. “Look, don’t worry, I can take care of everything! The police won’t ever have to know! I won’t let them arrest you!”

“Really, you think that I’m doing this because of that bastard?” you spat out. Your rage and adrenaline could only mask the growing pain in your shoulder, and you struggled to keep Vergil steady.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, sweetheart!”

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WANT!” You screamed at him, and you could see the growing fear in your father’s eyes. “ALL THAT EVER MATTERED TO YOU WAS YOUR GODDAMN COMPANY! YOU DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT ME, YOUR OWN FUCKING DAUGHTER, YOU JUST WANT WHAT’S BEST FOR YOUR LEGACY! MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE HAS JUST BEEN A WAY FOR YOU TO GROW YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS!” Finally expelling the long contained rage and bile you’d held back for years, no decades, felt so good.

You calmed down a bit, “I’ll deal with the consequences of my actions on my own… and you can deal with yours.”

And with that, you turned back around and continued your way to the guardrail, disregarding your father’s orders and threats to stop. You were confident he’d never have the balls to shoot you. He might not care about you as his daughter, but he wouldn’t risk his ‘investment’ anymore than he had already done.

Two more metres to go, when another shot rang out, and you felt a blinding white hot pain in your lower back, and you stumbled forward a bit from the agony. Your eyesight blacked out about momentarily, and you felt yourself hit cool metal.

Only the soft voice of Vergil calling your name was enough to bring you back. In all the months you had known him, he’d never called you by your name. “What’s wrong?” he asked with fear, something you’d never heard in his voice.

Your body began to feel numb, starting at your fingertips, but there was a growing warm wetness blooming from your stomach. And the realization hit you, you’d been shot, and you were going to die.

Leaning against the guardrail, you chuckled. Of course, your father, who had practically dictated every thing about your life, would choose the manner of your death. At least, you could choose one thing. Your final action.

“Farewell, Sifa…” you managed to force out, despite the pain, and the shortness of breath.

And with his shock at what you had just said, his grip loosened, giving you the opportunity to jostle him loose, and he fell into the moonlit darkness. You could hear him hitting the water, then after a few moments of tense silence, the sloshing of water, and to your relief, you heard Vergil, screaming your name. He’d made it unharmed... and now you prayed that he would swim far, far away.

You clutched your stomach, instinctively trying to stop the blood flow, but even you knew it was fruitless. You were only delaying the inevitable.

Another voice from behind you called your name as well. Using the guardrail to prop you up, you slowly turned around to see your father running towards you, terror in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’m so, so, sorry...I was trying to shoot a warning shot! I just… I just got so nervous! Don’t worry! I’m going to call an ambulance, you’re going to pull through this. Please, just stay with me!” One hand on his cellphone, he reached out to steady you with the other, to slowly guide you to the ground

You were wrong. You still had one more choice you could make, how you would die. It was morbidly funny. You’d discovered the existence of merfolk over twenty years ago when you had almost drowned. And now you could pay for living on borrowed time by returning to the ocean. With your last bit of energy, your hand carrying the jackknife swung out, slicing your father’s palm. He pulled back in pain, out of instinct and you used the moment to lean back over the guardrail. With a contented smile on your face, you felt the rushing of wind.

You fell.

#Deep Blue Sea #Devil May Cry #Vergil x reader #Mergil

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