#I’ll still have to fight through a lot of outside-forces

[sovietyurion]

I’d really like to have a child one day but I know that with my current mental state I’d be a terrible mother lol

[little-diable]

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him. 

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home. 

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower. 

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance. 

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing. 

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath. 

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them. 

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment. 

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own. 

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest. 

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind. 

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment. 

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again. 

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her. 

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her? 

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her. 

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it. 

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand. 

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest. 

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest. 

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more. 

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him. 

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.” 

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night. 

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible. 

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement. 

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest. 

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy. 

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to  suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body. 

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him. 

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months. 

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her. 

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements. 

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them. 

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find. 

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path. 

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her. 

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment. 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge. 

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see. 

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing. 

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her. 

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse-Matching Bands

Chapter 8 (Final Chapter)

PriceXFem!Reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

This is it! This chapter is lots of fluff, happy ending. After this is completed plan on working some more Simon things and then have an idea of returning to this, but writing it through Price's POV. Will be darker in influence than this one however. Think our Captain is a little more selfish then what this story portrays. Kind of like the other half of the coin thing.

Thank you all for taking the time and reading this series, just really wanted to do something sweet. <3 I truly do appreciate this fanbase and its readers.

Adrenaline had worn off by the time you had reached your bed. Body heavy like someone had tucked concrete into it making relief fill you by the time you had hit your pillow. After it all, you really thought sleep was going to be hard… but honestly it was the easiest that had been delivered to you all night.

In fact, when you woke up in the morning, you felt so far out of it. Honestly, you probably could have slept for another 5 hours. Finally forcing yourself to come to, you realized it was your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Quickly picking it up, you palmed it until it answered.

“Mornin’, lovie.” Your heart mended and melted at the voice.

“John.”

“How’d you sleep love?”

“Honestly… not terrible.”

“Best you have in a while, huh.” He had wanted it to sound like a question, but instead it came out as a matter-of-fact statement. You both know why you slept so well. You had no reason to fear anymore. Your biggest fear was dead.

“Yeah… How’s Abel?”

“Still sleepin’, him, Johnny and Kyle stayed up late telling ghost stories.” There was a joke hidden somewhere in there, sleep just kept it hidden from you.

“He catch any fish?” You asked instead.

“He did, learned to clean them too. Had a proper day of teaching with him.”

It made you smile. The idea of Abel spending time with a male figure that was teaching him real life lessons.

“Good.”

“I’ll have him call you when he wakes up. Think you should probably go make a cuppa’ and turn the news on for now love.” A hint. An order what had been done last night.

“Ok, see you in a while John.”

Finally doing what he advised, you sat with a cup of coffee in your hands steam still rising off the top. The remote was on the table in front of you, parallel with the TV.

It seemed so far away and the thought of picking it up to turn the TV on almost too heavy for you. Like the concrete from last night had returned all at once. A heavy breath in, you reached for it, powering it on and flipping on the news.

The very first headline BODY HAS BEEN FOUND.

Instantly, you shut your eyes, seeing the murder scene all over once again in your small bathroom. Forcing them back open, you watched. Listening intently while the newscaster explained that a male body had been found in an alleyway after what looked like a bar fight gone wrong.

The face was so mangled from a beer bottle they assumed; they were having a hard time identifying the victim. Your heart pounded so loudly, Blood trying to reach your head filling your ears, rushing like an ocean and beating like a drum. You had done this. You had destroyed any facial recognition of him… all by your hand. The thoughts came in like a flood. The father of your child. What kind of monster were you?

A loud knocking on your door brought you back, making you jump and spill coffee down the front of John’s shirt. Quickly jumping up to look through the peephole, two officers stood waiting. Like the good girl you were, you opened the door for them.

“Morning Ma’am, may we come in?” They politely asked. Giving a wide birth on the door, you obliged.

“We’re here to notify you of some news…”

Afternoon had rolled around. You sat outside waiting for their vehicle to pull up. John had kept his promise to you, and Abel had called you shortly after the officers left. After Abel had passed the phone back to your husband he asked about your visitors. Finding it strange that you had not told John about the officers stopping by yet to give you a death notification, you still told him about it.

 One of the officers had known John, his name Alex Keller, a detective for the force. Alex had called you by your maiden name, politely you corrected him and explained how you were freshly married, what your new name was and who you married.

“Have known John for a long time. Good man.”

Maybe Alex had called John to let him know he met you and what had happened…

Seemingly they asked a few questions about your personal life with your ex. How long you had known him, how you had known him. The basic stuff. News to you however, your ex had been estranged from his family for years now. He had no relationship with them whatsoever. They had tried to reach out to his parents, but they had cut him off due to behavioral problems. How ironic his own knew what kind of person he was and chose to do nothing about it. All the officers were looking for was a few answers and a place to do a proper death notification.

“Do you see it possible that he could have been in involved in a bar fight?”

“Yes,” you honestly nodded.

“Did he have anger problems?”

“Yes.”

From there you told the tale of the physical and verbal abuse from the very beginning… all the way to his untimely end.

“Well Mrs. Price, we are sorry for your loss. At this time, it is still under investigation, but it appears to us that he was involved in a bar fight. Was attacked with a beer bottle and then strangled. His wallet was left behind with his ID, but nothing else in it. It looks to be a murder and mugging. Here’s our contact if you need anything else from us.”

It seemed so routine for them, like they had expected this outcome from you already. The innocent baby momma rid of the evil that plagues her and her child. Towards the end, it was like someone had held up a seashell to your ear. You could hear the conversation… but it was like they were so far away at the same time. Shock was settling in. Thankfully it wasn’t long after that, they had left your humble abode. Pleasantries exchanged and not even a suspect on the list…  How was this possible?

And there you sat on the porch, waiting in a chair outside… Counting your lucky stars you were not placed in a jumpsuit behind bars. Still wearing the guilt all the same. Your happiness finally arriving on 4 wheels as a little boy jumped out to greet you.

“Mom!”

John had stopped to pick up dinner. Your favorite to try to cheer you up and thank you for letting him go on a trip shortly after you were married.

Finding the words finally at the dinner table, you explained to him to the best of your ability about his father passing.

Abel took it in stride. Yes, he was hurt and disturbed someone could do this his father, but he was the sweet boy you had raised after all. Abel did start asking a few questions, where John thankfully took over for you. He could tell it was hard for you to lie to Abel about what had really happened. It was something you would never ever tell him, wanting to take it to your grave now. John and his boys being the only ones who knew what had happened. Of course, none of them saw the sin in it like you did, they only saw justice. Simon, in fact telling you once that if was not you that really killed him, it was Ghost himself that had. Like it was a joke, trying to make you feel better. All it could do was place a sad smile on your lips.

“Worlds better of without him.” John had grumbled into your ear once you were both settled into bed, hand rubbing up and down your sides. That was the moment you tried to explain to John, it was not the fact that it was the man that had hurt you over and over since you were a teenager, but the fact it was a human life in general.

“Happens every day. Eventually bad behavior is answered one way or another.”

“But it makes me bad too.” You argued in a whispered hiss to him.

“No, it makes you a mother willing to defend what is hers. You really expect me to believe that you were goin’ to let him take you away from Abel and I? He paid his consequence. We could have worked it out like adults.” His hand had found your ring finger on your left-hand stroking over his mother’s band, something he seemed to do when you or he needed soothed.

Reaching for his hand, you realized it had a wedding band in return. Pulling it up out of the sheets glancing at it, knowing you had not given him one yet. It was opal on set in gold that matched yours.

“Had it made with the stone that Abel got on his field trip. The maker rushed it for me so we could match.”

“It’s pretty…” you whispered, holding it up yours. Husband and Wife finally made whole. Married for convenience for you, convenience you would ironically not need any more since your ex was dead.

It wouldn’t change anything for you though, you would pick John over and over in this lifetime and the next. He had shown you loyalty and love in a time and place no other stranger would… Except the other three of John’s that made it clear they envied their Captain that is. Who knew a group of men could care so much for a woman in dire need of it. Perhaps soldiers made the best lovers when created correctly? Who knew.

Life had changed so much in just a few years. Thinking back, you had always just pictured yourself working and slaving away at the diner. Yes, you were grateful for it, but a part of you would always want more for yourself and Abel. Here it finally was. In a new strong and sturdy house John had built for you. Working part time at the diner now, home at night with Abel and John. Sometimes John would be gone for months at a time, not always able to communicate with you either. Worry sometimes would fill your mind, but he always found his way back to you.

On one of his returns, he had given you a child. Now round with his seed, ready to pop he sat with you at the hospital. This time was entirely different. Instead of having to do it alone here John was with you. Not able to go to every appointment, he at least made the milestone ones. When worry and panic would rise within you from the pregnancy, he would quell it down. Thumb rubbing across your wedding band making you reach for his to do the same. Life was perfect. Honestly it left you confused on what exactly you had done to deserve such an outcome, but maybe if you didn’t question it, whatever greater force was out there would let you keep it.

Being thankful rewarded you with a healthy, beautiful little girl, a branch off John’s tree. Her bright blue eyes identical to his with his heavy brown locks. After all John had given you, you let him name her. A man of pattern and devotion, he named her after his mother. Sarah. So here you sat… babe bundled into a blanket in a rocking chair watching John and Abel out in the yard. No longer haunted, you were protected and loved. More importantly though, Abel and Sarah would be defended for their childhood. Something that was not provided to you or John.

Life is good.

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[pileofmush]

you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood. 

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”  

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares. 

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold. 

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed. 

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him. 

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?” 

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.” 

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows. 

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?” 

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it. 

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first. 

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.” 

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin. 

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts. 

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly. 

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?” 

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something. 

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen. 

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it. 

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple. 

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” 

Yeaaaah. It’s true.  

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used. 

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again. 

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.  

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor. 

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open. 

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway. 

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you. 

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?” 

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”  

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you. 

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.  

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his. 

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard. 

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen. 

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods. 

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe. 

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life. 

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return. 

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again. 

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes. 

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. 

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you. 

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask. 

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—” 

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out." 

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean. 

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones. 

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu. 

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs. 

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear. 

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart. 

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly. 

…You don’t know if you want to. 

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close. 

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.  

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh. 

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."  

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?” 

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement. 

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it. 

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done. 

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment. 

You scrub, and scrub. 

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command. 

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body. 

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting. 

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.” 

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night. 

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together. 

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on. 

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?” 

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—” 

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—” 

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him. 

You look at him.  

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you. 

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish. 

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?” 

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach. 

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams. 

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 3: The Girl Who Knew Despair (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

*Endgame spoilers for Veilguard ahead

** No seriously if you havent played to the end of the game dont read this

Soft candlelight flickering. An exuberant chorus of voices outside the door, celebrating victory. The smell of alcohol and Embrium and Elfroot in the Diamond’s infirmary. The Cantori Diamond, still standing like the rest of Treviso. Free of the Blight and the wrath of a God’s anger.

Thanks to Rook.

Madeleina.

Lucanis sits on a wooden chair by her bed. He asked Teia for a private room in the infirmary – a request she was happy to accommodate for Treviso’s saviour.

As grateful as he is for her help in Treviso – and he is incredibly grateful, he’s equally infuriated by her recklessness in battle. Not many can claim to have injured a Blighted dragon and lived to tell the tale, but even fewer would have been stupid enough to try and conceal a mortal wound until they were bleeding out on the ground.

He remembers the blood spilling like a crimson waterfall from her mouth. Choked gasps for air as she drowned in it. The thud of her body as it hit the ground while Viago was mid-sentence thanking her for her help.

A shard of ice from the dragon’s last attack before it fled had lodged itself into her chest, piercing her right lung. She must have quickly removed it before anyone else noticed, and her thick mage’s overcoat hid the worst of the damage. The dragon’s attacks only left them with enough time to worry about their own survival – hurling cold, sharp death their way with brutal force and terrifying speed. Even with Spite’s wings, he was barely able to dodge them.

He and Davrin quickly dragged her back to the Diamond, with the help of Teia and Viago to clear the way for them.

Madeleina was still choking on her own blood.

Hemothorax, he thought bitterly. Mierda.

The idiot actually apologized to him for getting her blood on his nice coat while her death rattles filled the air. He is fairly certain he told her to shut up. He desperately hoped those were not the last words he would ever say to her.

Lucanis started barking out orders for supplies – alcohol, a thick needle, and a mage who could heal. He needed to decompress the pressure on her lung and get the blood out before it completely collapsed. One of their mages, Lucrezia, stood at the ready to assist. She had given Madeleina a cloth to bite down on. Davrin, Teia, and Viago stood around the bed and held her limbs down.

Mercifully, Spite was quiet enough to let him get through the procedure. One he hadn’t done in a long time, but still remembered well enough.

He poured alcohol over exposed chest to sanitize the skin.

He inserted the needle through the fourth and fifth ribs in the mid-axillary line. The mage sucked the blood out of her chest, using wind magic to create a vacuum. The blood came flowing out and spattered onto the floor. Agonized cries through the fabric of the towel. Terror on her face, limbs shaking, while he stitched her back up. The mage casts a healing spell to help mend the rest of the damage and hopefully restore some of what was lost.

Then, silence as she finally fell asleep.

Davrin, the new member of the group, stood beside her after Teia and Viago had left.

“Is she going to be alright?” He asked quietly.

Lucanis didn’t have an answer for him. He was fairly certain she was out of immediate life-threatening danger. But she lost a lot of blood, and nearly lost a lung. Only time would tell how well she would recover. If she would fully recover.

“I’ll watch over her – you should go back to the Eluvian. See if you can help Neve and the others in Minrathous. It might not be too late” He answered, nodding towards the door. “We’ll meet you back at the Lighthouse when she wakes up”

When, not if, because he refused to let her die for the crime of choosing to help him. He didn’t need that on his conscience.

Mercifully, Davrin didn’t fight him on it and left soon after.

He’s not sure exactly how much time has passed. There’s no windows in the infirmary, so he measures it in forehead towel changes. Four by now, at least. Maybe a few hours he estimates.

A soft and pained groan, and the rustling of bed sheets fill the quiet room. He looks up to see Madeleina’s green eyes fluttering. She hisses and holds her right side, her face twisting with pain. She coughs, but this time, no blood comes sputtering out of her mouth. The warm towel on her forehead slips off.

“L-Lucanis?” she asks quietly, blinking at him with glassy eyes. She groans again “Ahh… Venhedis…”

“Hey, take it easy” Lucanis holds a hand in front of her, “Try not to move too much right now”

Madeleina frowns, and speaks with no small amount of strained effort “We … won … right?”

“We did. But you almost died” He points to her chest, “Would have died, if that wound kept bleeding out. Why did you try to hide it?”

“Didn’t want … to ruin the …  ‘we survived… a Blighted dragon attack’… party” She smiled weakly. Her voice was raspy and uneven. She was gasping between words. “You … know me … I hate to bring… down the mood…”

Lucanis clapped a hand to his forehead, “Mierda… unbelievable”

His frustration only grows when he sees her trying to sit up, grunting with effort. “What did I just say? You’ll rip your stitches.”

I worked hard on those, he wants to add.

“Min…rathous …. Need to get … back” She winces as another wave of pain sweeps through her body. Madeleina manages to get herself upright and leans against the headboard of the bed. “Neve … Shadow Dragons…”

Lucanis frowned deeply, “You’re not going anywhere. And if you are, it’s back to the Lighthouse.”

Madeleina sighs and leans her head back, hitting it against the headboard softly. She looks utterly defeated.

“They need my help Lucanis…” she whispers, staring at the opposite wall. She’s starting to blink away tears. “I … I left my city to burn”

He’s not sure how to comfort her. He settles by saying what is in his heart, uncertain if it will be enough to assuage her guilt.

“But Treviso lives to fight another day because of you. Free of the blight, free of Ghilan’nain” He pulls his chair closer to the edge of her bed. “And none of us will ever forget it. I won’t forget it”

Lucanis realizes she was forced into an impossible decision. Madeleina was a Shadow Dragon, she was from Minrathous. He didn’t expect her to aid Treviso. But the relief that flooded his chest when he saw her come to his home’s defense was indescribable.

A tense quiet passes between them. He watches, helplessly, as she bites her tongue to keep a deluge of tears from streaming down her face.

“You saved a lot of people today” Lucanis says quietly.

Madeleina shuts her eyes tight and bit down on her bottom lip. Her voice is quivering as she replies, “And doomed so many more.”

“You don’t know that” He leans forward. “Davrin left some time ago to help, he might have- “

“Don’t” She hisses, her chest heaving. “Don’t … do that”  

His brows lift in surprise, taken aback. “Do what?”

The defeated look on her face as she turns to him makes his heart sink into his stomach.

“Give me hope …” Madeleina says weakly, as her shoulders start quaking. “I … I don’t … deserve…”  

He isn’t sure if letting her cry it out is the right thing to do, but lets the sound of her quiet sobbing fill the little room. The weight, the magnitude of the choice she had to make is not lost on him. How unfair it all was. Few things in life are fair, he knows that better than anyone. But forcing someone as young as her make that kind of choice had to be up there.

He sees Spite manifesting beside her bed, a purple doppelganger of him. Spite leans in closer, it’s face – his face, twisting with anger.

Smells like salt and ice and smoke. Not right. Not RIGHT. The demon howls. Lucanis pinches his nose bridge and sighs. Spite’s gaze drifts between Madeleina and Lucanis. He frowns at Lucanis, Make. Her. Right.

“Mierda, not now Spite…” Lucanis whispers, exasperated.

Madeleina sniffles and stops crying for a moment. Her eyes are red and puffy. She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her tunic. “Spite’s bothering you?”

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and frowns, “Don’t worry about Spite. You have enough to deal with right now”

She looks around the room, as if she could see him.

“Would Spite … like a story?” Madeleina asks, after a few moments of silence.

Spite tilts his head and leans in closer to Madeleina. He grins maniacally and nods. Yes. Story. That will make her Right.

Lucanis is quick to answer, “Absolutely not. You need to rest, Madeleina. Leave Spite to me”

He’s still not used to the feeling of her name on his tongue.

She sucks in a deep breath, one hand holding her right side. Then, she’s looking at him with an uncharacteristically stern look on her face. “You … always say that”

“Say what?”

“That Spite… is only your problem” She grips her blanket tighter.

“He’s my demon. Of course he’s my problem”

Madeleina sniffles again, her brows drawing together. “That’s not … how being on a team works, Lucanis. We help each other”

“You’ve helped me more than enough” He replies, gesturing around the room, “You saved my home. I can’t ask any more of you than you’ve already given”

Madeleina blinks slowly and draws her knees to her chest, considering his words.

“I … want to help …” She frowns, and she’s staring at the opposite wall again.

Spite’s apparition has disappeared, but he can still feel the demon rattling in the back of his mind.

“You can help by resting” Lucanis rises from his chair, “Are you hungry? I can bring you something to eat”

Madeleina shakes her head. “No… but … will you stay? Just for a little bit”

He stands above her for a moment, letting the request hang between them. He knows he should let her get some rest before they make their way back to the Lighthouse. Before she has to face the other side of her decision. Yet, he finds himself increasingly unable to say no to her bright green eyes and tired smile, and that worries him deeply. What it means, what it could mean.

He sits back down in the small wooden chair, and she gives him a weak smile.

“Thank you”

“It’s the least I can do” he returns the smile in kind.

Madeleina is quiet for a moment. Thoughtful.

She raises one hand, and it starts glowing a familiar blue.

“Madeleina – “

“Please – just let me tell the story” He knew her well enough to know that tone would brook no argument. He can do nothing but gesture for her to continue.

“At least one person ought to know”

Her face awash in eerie blue light, Madeleina flicks her wrist.

She looks like she is struggling to keep the illusion alive. He sees a bird’s eye view of a small village, nestled between a dense forest and a mountain range. It flickers in and out and lacks the usual care and detail of her illusions.

“Once… upon a time … in a land far, far away…” her voice is shaking, and she’s using her free hand to keep pressure on her right side. “There was a small farming village. And… in that village… lived a family.”

Another flick of her wrist and the mountainside village vanishes, now replaced by three figures. The man is tall and lanky. He has a lyre strapped to his back. His hair is wild and curly, much like Madeleina’s. His eyes look like hers too. The figure of the woman is maybe a head shorter, with long, pin-straight hair. She has Madeleina’s high cheekbones. The same nose and lips and heart-shaped face. Finally, he sees the figure of a young girl. A young Madeleina. All wiry limbs and wild curls.

“Eurydice, Orpheus and their daughter”

The figures rotate in the air between them.

“Eurydice ran the town’s bakery, and Orpheus played at the local tavern”

The figures ripple and a young Madeleina is now helping the figure of her mother bake bread.

Madeleina’s glassy eyes looked sorrowful.

“They didn’t have much. The village was small… there were no mages … only regular people.”

She smiled ruefully. “But they were happy. Orpheus,” She paused and waved him back into existence, “Kept their home alive with music and stories” He’s playing the lyre for his wife and daughter, while he chases her around an invisible room.

“And Eurydice made sure a warm meal was always on the table”

Her mother brings a plate of something to the young Madeleina, who wastes no time devouring it.

Madeleina sucked in a deep, shaky breath, before continuing.

“One day, their daughter discovers she can use magic”

The figure of young Madeleina is laughing as blue spheres of light dance around her. The figure of her mother brushes a hand through her unruly hair and pulls her into a tight hug. The figures ripple, and she furrows her brow to concentrate harder. They become solid again.

“Her parents are so happy for her. It means she will become Laetan, instead of Soporati. A chance for a better life. Her mother wants to do something for her”

Madeleina winks out of the scene, and Eurydice is pulling a garment out of a small chest.

“A new dress, she thinks… One from her youth. Her daughter is finally big enough to wear it” Madeleina blinks another tear from her eyes. “But wants to dye it her daughter’s favourite colour. She can’t afford a fancy dye but can make her own. Her daughter wants to help. She’s old enough to go pick the elderberries deep in the woods.”

The figure of the mother disappears, and a young Madeleina is in the forest bordering the village, placing berries in a large wicker basket.

“But the girl didn’t know what was coming for them, or she never would have gone to the forest that day”

He frowns, and a feeling of dread takes hold deep in his chest. He knows that whatever comes next is not likely to lead to a happy ending.

“A Venatori blood mage had escaped capture in Ventus.” The young Madeleina flickers out of existence and is replaced with a tall, cloaked figure, holding a stave in one hand and an amulet, glowing bright crimson, in the other.

“He held a dangerous amulet in his possession. The Amulet of Liberum” Madeleina whispers, “Forged by a Dreamer centuries ago, it held a pocket of the Fade inside it. Allowed the wearer to store an infinite number of demons and summon them at will with blood magic”

The cloaked figure arrives at the border of the village, her village. It takes a knife and runs it across his hand. The blood seeps onto the amulet in the other. The bright red glow becomes even more intense, and a horde of demons springs forth. They rampage through the streets, tearing the nameless and faceless villagers apart.

The scene shifts to her parents, backing away from the demons. The father, Orpheus, stands in front of the mother with a small dagger. It does him little good. They are both swiftly torn apart by demons.

The figure of the mage comes back into view, and sucks them back into the amulet, before disappearing.

Madeleina’s expression shifts between anger, grief and sadness. Something he is intimately familiar with.

“The girl comes back from the forest to see her entire village slaughtered”

The form of young Madeleina drops the wicker basket. She is walking through the main path of the village, by ruined houses and bodies torn apart. Bodies of people she once knew.

She comes to a lone house on a hill. Her home.

Madeleina breathes in sharply.

“Madeleina – you don’t have to …” He begins, but she holds a hand up to stop him.

“Yes, I do” she says, resolute. She shifts on the cot and brings the illusion back to life.

The young Madeleina is standing over the bodies of her parents, mutilated beyond recognition. She falls to her knees, and the figure starts screaming. He can almost hear it. The raw anguish rippling in the air like a shockwave.

“She screams and screams until her throat is dry” Madeleina says quietly, “Keeps going until she’s cried herself to sleep.”

The young Madeleina is still on her knees, her eyes closed, and the bodies of her parents disappear.

“In her dreams … a voice finds her in the Fade”

A faceless figure, layered in several layers of tattered cloaks, hovers above her.

“‘Have you lost all hope, child? Has it become too much to bear?’ The voice asks her. And it was … it was all too much …” Madeleina says, her voice barely above a whisper. “The voice offered to take her pain, her regret – everything, away. ‘So much for one so young’ it said”

Lucanis frowns. Spite’s rage prickled under his skin like a starved beast gnawing at the bars of its cage. Spite hates Despair.

He watches as the familiar blue glow of Madeleina’s figure starts to change colour. Veins of black light crawl up her legs.

“The Demon’s name was Despair. And it would eat everything she was, everything she would be”

As the tendrils of black light crawled further and further up her body, Madeleina continued.

“It ate her love, her hope, her joy” her lip quivered, and the figures flickered again. “It ate up her life until nothing was left”

Lucanis made a fist as waves of rage surged through the back of his head, the pressure behind his eyes mounting.

The tendrils were now creeping along the left side of her face. The figure only looked up at the Despair demon above it and continued to be consumed.

“But the girl didn’t know that the Templars who had tracked the maleficar had arrived at the village. One of them, a young man by the name of Tiberian Mercar, found her” She waved the figure of a tall man, adorned in Templar heavy plate armour, into existence.

“He would have been right to strike her down where she stood. She was becoming possessed. She was becoming an abomination” Madeleina wiped a stray tear from her eye with her free hand.

“To this day, she’ll never understand why he didn’t.”

The Templar, instead of drawing his sword, steps closer to the young girl. Lucanis watches with bated breath as he pulls the girl into a hug.

“’It will be alright child, you are going to be alright’” She says, her voice hitching. “Whether he really meant it, or he was just trying to comfort a girl moments away from dying, she’ll never know”

A bright, golden light shines from the figure of the Templar, and then slowly envelops the young Madeleina. The black light is dying out, overcome by the warm glow shared by the two figures.

“But that simple act of kindness brought her back from the brink of despair, from the brink of the abyss” Madeleina’s lips quirk into a sad smile. “He saved her that day, in more ways than one”

The Templar and the girl stand and begin walking away from the cloaked figure.

“The Templar couldn’t take care of her, so he asks his brother to adopt her into his family” She waves to life four new figures – a man, a woman, and two small boys. “His brother agrees, and she goes to live with them” The young Madeleina walks away from the Templar and towards her new family.

“The Mercars are a military family. One of a precious few non-mage families in Tevinter who enjoy more than a modest life” Madeleina explains, “She’s given an education, nice clothes, and a seat in the Circle of Minrathous. But everything comes at a cost”

The figures all wink out of existence, and are replaced by Madeleina, in apprentice robes, standing alone amongst a sea of other robed figures.

“She can never whisper her old name – the one her parents gave her. She can never tell anyone she’s not a true Mercar.” She fists her blanket, gathering the fabric in her right hand. “When the family agreed to take her in, they erased all of what she was. She was not a foundling, but a long-lost member of the family. She’s named after a great-great-great-great-grandmother, the last in their lineage to be born a mage. It gave them more legitimacy that way”

Madeleina’s eyes fall and all the figures disappear. “And in time… she forgets who she was before she joined them. Forgets her own name”

She brings her knees closer to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Lucanis releases a breath. He wants so badly to reach out. A hand on her shoulder. A hand on her arm. Anything to provide some kind of comfort. But all he can do is listen, as if some invisible rope binds his arms to his sides.

Madeleina gestures with her left hand, and a young Madeleina is standing next to an older, tall, rather handsome man.

“But she wants to help, so she finds those in the Magisterium working for the greater good” She continues. “She finds Magister Dorian Pavus, and he brings her into the Shadow Dragons. He gives her a cover to use so her family doesn’t grow suspicious. She tries to do good, tries to make use of the second chance she was given”

The figures blink out of existence a moment later. Her face falls. “But she never feels like she’s ever going to get there. Always feels like she's falling short of some unattainable goal”

“Madeleina…” Lucanis starts, but he doesn’t know where to go from there. What to say.

“That’s why I chose to come to Treviso” Madeleina is looking at him now. “I… I didn’t want another defenseless city to suffer the same fate as my home town – as Arvanitum did”

Lucanis clasps his hands together in front of him and leans forward.

“Whatever the reason you chose to help us … just know we’re grateful” He gives her a small smile. “Thank you for sharing that with me”

Madeleina gives him a weary smile in return. “It feels nice to have someone know … the Shadow Dragons, Dorian, Neve – I was never able to tell any of them. On paper, there are no survivors from Arvanitum. On paper, I am dead”

Lucanis rises to his feet and takes the towel from her pillow.

“For whatever it’s worth …. I’m glad you’re only dead on paper” He chuckles and twists the towel in his hands. “But you need to stop tempting fate, hm? Contract is no good if the employer dies”

Madeleina snorts, “I promise if I get another mortal wound, I’ll come right to you”

Lucanis grins, “Deal”

He motions to the bed, “Get some rest, we’ll go back to the Lighthouse when you’re ready”

Madeleina groans as she slithers back down into the bed. She yawns and turns to her side. “Alright … I should… need…. to check in with Varric soon ….”

Lucanis hesitates a moment before leaving the room. As he closes the door, he wonders to himself.

Who is Varric?

[anpanman95]

JACK AND JOKER: Sacrificing Love against Tragic Love | Old Love vs New Love

They did it again.

Well, they’ve been showing us these contrasting parallels ever since the beginning.

Showing us that Jack and Joke’s new love is all about (self) sacrifice, and Hope and Save’s old love is all about tragedy.

I already knew this, but it hit me hard towards the end of episode 11 with this moment:

First of all this whole scene was an absolute masterpiece. I’m a music composer for the media, I write, study and analyze music for a living, and let me tell you this scene might be one of my top 3 moments of this show just because how the music was treated here. (The music actually adds on to the point I’ll make in a bit, by the way)

First, we have our self-sacrificing lovers. Jack and Joke’s love has been all about self sacrifice since the very beginning, starting with Joke turning himself to the police to set Jack free

and coming to a full circle moment when he gives the ring to Boss in exchange for Jack’s freedom, once more.

Joke has sacrificed himself, their love, and their happiness for the sake of others (in this case, Jack) twice.

They fight for the world. Their love is new love. They have a lot they need to go through to put themselves first, to put their wants and desires first.

Then, we have our tragic lovers. Their love is old love. They’ve been fighting against the world for each other, to finally be together and free, for a long time (even if it isn’t explicitly said, it’s evident when you see the lengths they’ll go for each other)

They don’t sacrifice their love, they sacrifice the world. And it has nothing to do with their personalities, or that they are bad people. It’s just they are so damn tired of everything they only have each other to rely on. They only have each other.

But where does that lead them?

To more tragedy.

[the music on this scene was impecable]

Jack and Joke’s new love still has room to grow, which is why they can sacrifice it. They let the world come in between them for the sake of others, while still loving each other dearly.

But again, their love is new. Fresh, still technically untouched and unharmed by outside things out of their control. Yes, the world is against them, but their reluctance to choose each other relies solely on their own fears and sense of responsibility to the world and their loved ones.

Hope and Save do not have that luxury, and don’t even want to have it. Their love comes first, because God knows how long they’ve been fighting for it. Old love that certainly already went through everything you can imagine.

It’s true we don’t get much of their backstory, but through their actions we can tell why they won’t sacrifice their love for anything.

Can you imagine what they might have gone through? What their love has faced?

Of course, they choose each other above all things, they had enough.

Jack and Joke will choose each other in the end, but they still have a long way to go (season 2? haha yes i’m delusional)

This doesn’t mean Jack and Joke don’t love each other enough. But even though they’ve known each other for a long time, they haven’t loved each other for that long.

Their feelings appeared five years ago in a little spark of life but it was so short lived they simply didn’t get the chance to even acknowledge it before the world came in between them full force.

The spark was only re-born and ready to be noticed when they finally had a moment to breathe, a moment of peace with no other worries coming in between.

Hope and Save have already gone through all that, have truly gone to hell and back.

Hopefully they’ll get their heaven soon.

Honestly I did not feel so much for them in the beginning. Their scenes felt underwhelming, and I wasn’t keen on them. But this episode left me absolutely in pieces. My opinion on them did a full 180.

They broke my heart.

I do hope they get their happy ending. They deserve it as much as our main couple.

Thanks for reading! Leave your thoughts, I love reading them❣️

[strawberrystepmom]

old flame, same glow

pairing: sex worker toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: old feelings spur you on a wild journey of paying for sex with your high school crush but you find out in the process that maybe those feelings aren't as long forgotten as you thought.

contents: nsfw - mdni. no curses au, reader and toji are similar in age (i imagine reader to be late 20s/early 30s and toji to be early/mid 30s), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots and lots of pining from reader, reader is very pathetic it's very sad but she's my most special meow meow.

notes: this is a repost of the sex worker toji au on my old blog - full and final, with pretty extensive edits to make it flow better. i was personally asked to repost and who am i to say no? be warned tho, for being a fic about sex work this is surprisingly sexless and for that i apologize but i wanted to focus more on the feelings rather than the smut.

thank you for your support and for reading and i hope you enjoy it!!!

dividers are thanks to @/saradika

“Is it because I’ll never be him?” 

The words your now ex-fiance spit at you during that fateful last fight echo in your mind as you splash cool water over your face, the strap of your purse sagging over your shoulder. A sigh escapes as the droplets run down your nose and lips. 

Him. Toji. The man became a constant issue in your relationship that never seemed to reach resolution the moment you admitted to a one-sided crush you had on him years and years ago, long before your fiance entered the picture. You hadn’t spoken to him since before his first marriage and only knew about his life through social media and occasionally running into each other at the grocery store but your ex took exception after a single cursory glance through Fushiguro’s photo sharing app feed, each picture one of him with his shirt either lifted at the bottom or so tight you can make out each and every divot of his defined core.

Exhaling out of your mouth, droplets go flying against the surface of the bathroom mirror and you fight the urge to scream or cry or maybe both looking at your soggy reflection. You’ve never felt more pathetic in your life and now the outside matches the inside.

The memory couldn’t have surfaced at a worse time and it forced you to excuse yourself from the polite man sitting across from you in a crowded restaurant, shifting through the too small gaps between tables and refusing to make eye contact with anyone else currently sitting in the restaurant as he watched you retreat. 

He was introduced to you by a coworker who spent most of the week wondering why you haven’t put yourself back out there after a year of single life, but you regret saying yes. Not because you don’t enjoy his company - he’s smart, quick witted, and handsome which are all things regularly you’d be enchanted by. 

Truthfully, you know it’s because he isn’t him either.

Digging your phone out of the pocket of your dress, you sigh and open your most recent conversation thread. The bold letters of his name stare back at you, an F in a circle above his last name. Fushiguro.

Free later?

Toji texted you earlier today, while you were still at work, and you opted to ignore him in preparation for tonight. The intention was to clear your mind of distractions or any entanglements you may have lingering, even those with almost unimaginably broad shoulders and green eyes that twinkle mischievously with every salacious wink and smirk he tosses your direction but you didn’t realize you’d fail your mission before 9 pm. 

The sun has only barely set and here you stand in the bathroom of one of the nicest restaurants on this side of the city planning to meet up with your high school crush to pay him for sex. 

Perhaps pathetic is too light of a word for how you feel but you don’t make eye contact with yourself in the mirror for long enough to think about it, gaze darting back down to the backlit screen in your palms.

Your thumbs begin to work before your mind can catch them and you stop yourself, brows furrowed as you press down to highlight the text and delete it altogether. Rubbing your free hand over your face, you sigh and glance down at the text bubble indicating he’s typing on the screen.

You know I can see you typing and deleting?

A knock on the bathroom door makes you yelp as you look over the message, dropping your phone in the still damp porcelain sink with a clatter while uttering low curses under your breath. You hear your name from the other side of the door and in your rush to grab and dry off your phone, you slip the droplet covered device back into your pocket and rush toward the door to see the waitress assigned to your table standing there.

“Uh, he asked me to come let you know that he paid the tab and you can go.”

Panic rises in your chest and your stomach turns as you gaze around her shoulder and look around the restaurant, spotting the table you were just sitting at with its unoccupied chairs.

“Fuck,” you spit before gnawing on your lower lip and the waitress watches you as one would witness a slow motion car crash - incredulously, as if this is something she has never seen before. Part of you wonders if she hasn’t ever seen a woman struggling this close to her, the youthful round of her cheeks convincing you she can’t be old enough to have a lot of life under her belt. 

You shoot her an apologetic glance and she nods curtly.

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” your voice is muffled by your own shoulder while you dig through the purse and pinch out a banknote with enough zeroes to make her happy. You think it’s a 10,000 yen note but you can’t be certain and the embarrassment of the evening is carrying your feet toward the door too quickly to verify.

The door spits you out into a balmy evening but you don’t notice, filling your lungs to the brim with fresh air that feels restorative despite the heat. Patting around your body, you ground yourself with the knowledge that your phone is in your pocket. Pulling it out, you click your tongue at the new notification alert on the left side of your screen and exit your conversation with Toji to look at it.

The number isn’t saved in your phone but the words make you hiss as you look over them, shame making your face heat in a way that a warm summer night cannot even begin to replicate.

Hope dating gets simpler for you. Have a good night.

Sighing, you dawdle for a moment wondering how to respond, shifting your weight from foot to foot. People pass you on the street and you worry they’re going to start to wonder why you’ve been standing in front of the restaurant door for so long, dejectedly staring at the glowing screen in your palms.

Taking a few steps, you begin to walk in the direction of the train station and exit out of the conversation with your date, opening Toji’s contact info and holding down on his number until you hear your phone dialing him.

“Was wondering when you’d get back to me,” he doesn’t hesitate to speak as soon as he picks up the phone and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut the moment you hear him. This is so bad, you contemplate with the click of each of your steps. So so bad. “Where you at?”

Humiliated, you dare to feel almost a little comforted by how happy he sounds to hear from you. You’re certain that this is how he sounds with all of his clients, everyone who hires him for a good time, but you want to believe so badly it’s just for you. The lilt at the end of his sentences that you know mean he’s smirking, one corner of his mouth turned up. 

“Do you want to hear the truth or to hear a carefully made up lie?”

He chuckles on the other end of the phone and you wish you could listen to no other sound for the rest of your life.

“Tell me the truth. You’ve never been a great liar.”

A deep exhale deflates your posture and your gaze snaps to your feet as you make your way off to the farthest part of the sidewalk, your voice lowering to keep some shred of your dignity intact. It’s bad enough you’re venting your frustration to the man you pay for sex, you don’t want to think about how mortifying it would be to have a stranger overhear your woes.

“Well, I was on a date and got walked out on so now I’m heading toward the train station.”

A sympathetic hum and shuffling come from the other end of the line, Toji absentmindedly flicking the lighter he keeps in his pocket while you speak. The silence, no matter how momentary, makes you feel awkward and your brain leaps to overcompensate.

“Did you still want to meet? I don’t have a ton of cash but I do have time.”

Another chuckle. You hate that you feel like it’s directed at you rather than to be shared with you and the hot flush of embarrassment makes you reach for your sleeve with your free hand uncomfortably. It was too hot to wear this dress. It was a stupid idea to even come out but his voice keeps your rapt attention, his next words making you genuinely smile for the first time in hours.

“I can’t make you pay full price after getting walked out on. Come over, we’ll work it out.”

Thanking your lucky stars, you shut your eyes tightly and use every ounce of willpower inside of you to keep yourself from crying. Moisture pools at your lashline and you choose to ignore it, relaxing your jaw as you respond.

“You mean it?”

He hums affirmatively and you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel further south at the sound.

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t. See you in thirty.”

The call drops from the other end, your phone beeping to signify the ending but you can’t keep a giddy smile from creeping across your face as you press your phone against your chest and open your eyes. Looking up at the twinkling stars above, embarrassment gives way to something you haven’t felt in so long outside of these meetings with Toji that you wonder if you’re about to have a heart attack or something equally disturbing - the familiar flush of affectionate love. 

The unimpressed gaze of your coworker follows you all the way to your desk as you make your way through the rows of desktops on Monday morning. You shrink beneath the weight of it, the wool of your pencil skirt suddenly itching more than it ever has while brushing against your legs with each step. 

She must have heard about how well your date went.

The text message sent from the man still sits, unanswered, in your phone. Shame sits like a brick in your stomach and you keep your head down, even as you sit and the hydraulics of your chair squish beneath you with a “whoosh”. Bouncing back up, you refuse to make eye contact as you get settled, logging in.

“I am never setting you up again,” she spits in a hushed whisper as soon as you sit down next to her, pulling her can of coffee away from you and setting it on the opposite side of her keyboard. 

“If you weren’t ready you should have just said so.”

It’s not like you can defend yourself. You weren’t and remain unready to see anyone else yet it didn’t stop you from immediately stuffing bills in Toji’s hand, legs still shaking while he helped you button your pants and sealed your goodbye with a wink and a kiss on the forehead.

This time, though, was the first time the two of you kissed outside of sex and you’re still reeling. Head fuzzy as you recall the way his scar felt brushing against you for more than immediate sexual gratification. Soft lips, firm flesh, warmth. You swear you feel a ghost of the kiss itself as you sit, surrounded by buzzing overhead fluorescent lights.

The two of you have had sex a dozen times now, once a month your usual schedule, but this time felt different. Maybe it’s the fact that you paid less than usual, maybe it’s the tender way he placed kisses from the underside of your breast clear down to your mound, watching your every move with those glimmering peridot eyes. 

“Are you going to say anything?”

The accusatory voice of your coworker interrupts your reverie and you blink before turning in your direction with your head bowed. Words stick in your throat and you aren’t able to swallow so you mumble a simple “sorry” with nothing further. She scoffs and turns back toward her computer, typing loudly to indicate her annoyance as you click around your desktop.

“He walked out on me, to be fair,” you finally come up with after falling short on a near infinite amount of apologies in your head and she turns once again to stare at you. Her gaze burns and you shift in your seat, the same shame you felt at the restaurant weighing your limbs and keeping you pinned in place.

“He left because you were in the bathroom for 15 minutes with no explanation.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, typing away for a moment before turning toward you again, still unfinished with her thorough lecture about the wrongs you’ve committed. Your body still feels heavy, frozen with embarrassment of your own making, but you manage to sigh and fold your arms over your chest unenthusiastically.

“I was hoping you’d at least tell me you had an accident or something.”

Without thinking, you laugh the hardest you have in awhile and several heads peek above their desktops to glance at your unusual display. They probably think you’re losing your mind and if you were to be frank with yourself, you aren’t convinced that isn’t exactly what’s happening.

You are fantasizing during work about a man you pay to have sex with, pretending you’re anything more than a client with a little cash to blow and he’s a man with a lot of free time and a natural gift for cunnilingus.

Hiccuping, your laughter subsides and your unimpressed coworkers return to their tasks, the one sitting next to you still eyeing in a way that is borderline venomous at this point. You don't blame her, though. You fucked up and can't bring yourself to own up to it when your head is too wrapped up in remembering every peak of Toji's arms wrapped around you.

How the fuck did this happen?

She says nothing further, instead turning to her computer and leaving you to sit staring at the blinking cursor on the screen in front of you. You can unpack every single choice you've made since 16 right now and it still wouldn't lend any clarity as to why you are willing to fuck up every relationship around you for the sake of sleeping with a man who you mean nothing to.

Of course, you don't know that, but it's a safe enough assumption given the dynamic itself.

You swallow thickly, pride sliding down your throat like something you may choke on, and turn your chair toward your coworker.

"I handled it poorly and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

She scoffs, dipping her head low.

"The only person who should be embarrassed here is you."

Accepting the criticism, the truth, you plaster a smile across your face and nod once. Any argument you may have tied together at another point in your life dies and you instead turn back to your work, looking at the little clock on the bottom corner of your screen.

9:15 am.

So many hours left for shame to simmer between your ribs, a molten pool of your own failure to swim around in until you drown.

The lewd pop of Toji releasing your clit from between his lips and your panting are the soundtrack playing through his otherwise quiet apartment. Darkness envelopes both of you, so insatiable by the time you made it back here there wasn’t time to turn on the overhead lights. 

I need to stop, you think in the afterglow of another orgasm delivered by the impressively skilled mouth of the man whose green eyes are fixed on your face. You take in the sight of him, chin and lips soaked from your last release that drenched him. 

“Never seen ya do that before,” Toji remarks from between your thighs. Your muscles twitch on either side of his face and you giggle weakly, tired from being thoroughly fucked and devoured. He places a kiss on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he does so. 

You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, softening with every ounce of care he gives; the way his thumbs assuredly massage the outside of your thighs. It’s all so…tender. It feels like it's meant for a lover, someone you wanna fall asleep beside and rise with in the morning.

Something meant for you and someone else.

If you weren’t so tired you’d already be gone. Instead you groan softly as he rubs a final pair of circles on your skin and sits up, wiping his face across his bicep. He stands and he feels you looking at him, scoping out every nude sculpted inch of him. How is it fair that he not only fucks like a god but looks like one too?

Truly, some people get all the luck.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

Shrugging flippantly, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his bedding, getting too used to feeling it beneath you at this point. You've increased your visits from once a month to once a week, twice if you're particularly stressed, and he certainly will never turn down a chance to make some good money.

"How many clients do you have?"

The question leaves your lips before you can really think about the implication of what you're asking but he chuckles, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else over his softening cock. You can still make out the print of it clear as day and it makes your face heat, looking away and feigning interest in the peeling skin around your unkempt cuticles.

"I'm sorry, that was intrusive," you clarify, gaze flicking up from your nail beds to where he fills two glasses of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. You dare to indulge yourself by continuing to look at him rather than away, his hair falling in his face.

For the briefest moment, you think you'd like to be the person to brush it off his forehead forever but he turns to you with a smirk and holds out a glass of water before you can go any further into the delusional fantasies your mind keeps providing to you without asking.

"Why are you asking?" He drinks after asking, finishing his glass in one gulp and setting it back down next to the pitcher. You take the glass extended in your direction, sipping to try and wash down the lump in your throat before it can fully form. "You like me or something?"

Immediately you shoot up, hauling the blanket over your naked form ready to explain away your questioning and he sits down on the edge of the bed with a smile, reaching out and grabbing your covered thigh with one of his hands.

"I was just kidding, don't get jumpy."

Fighting the urge to fidget, you stay sitting up and sip from the water cautiously again, small mouthfuls at a time to keep from feeling overwhelmed. You're so anxious despite having cum so many times you truly lost track and Toji wishes he didn't find it so amusing that after all these years you still manage to be as neurotic as he remembers.

You were a good girl back then, scared of getting caught running around with the delinquent, but you still puffed each time he'd hold the cigarette to your lips. You still tagged along when he would skip class.

He wondered what happened to you when the two of you lost touch. Figured you'd ended up married with a kid or two like him, waiting for the next day and getting through it to the best of your ability.

He was shocked when you messaged him from your social media profile, the photos displayed on your page less than interesting. You standing in front of a shrine on vacation, you smiling next to your family on your grandma's birthday, you looking lonely with a smile that never reached your eyes in photo after photo.

The rest is history, as they say, and you rush to fill the silence.

"Curiosity got the best of me, that's all."

"Five."

You look up, reaching across the bed to slide the water onto the table beside it and he keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"Four occasionals, one regular."

Eyes widening at his words, you point to yourself.

"I'm your regular?"

He hums and nods and you take a moment to process the information for what it is. A surprise, certainly, and you can't quite figure out how you feel about knowing he sees four other women even if it is just occasionally. Logic smacks you in the face as you realize you hardly have the right to feel jealous over him doing his job but you let that feeling turn in your head for a moment, wondering what he'd do if you admitted how you felt to him.

Would he stop seeing his other clients? Would he let you take their occasional spots, making sure he's making the same amount of money regardless if it's all coming from you?

"My occasionals don't live in the city so we only meet up when they're in town."

Why he feels the need to explain himself is as lost on him as it is you, your head tilted to the side in confusion. Can he tell this is what you need to hear to quell your own wandering mind or is he simply indulging you to ensure that his regular stays a regular? You hate to think the worst of him, knowing he's a good man beneath the antics he has always managed to get wrapped up in, but the ever shifting boundaries between the two of you get less and less comfortable with every session.

"How about you?" He asks while you slide your knees up and tuck them into your chest, his hand falling to the side in the process. "You paying anyone else for sex?"

Giggling, you shake your head. It's embarrassing to even be asked, your desperation as apparent as your skin itself, but you feel like if there's anyone you can joke about it with it's the man whose face is still sticky with your release.

"Nope, one is plenty. I'm not rich, you know."

He quirks a brow and crawls onto the bed, making his way to hover above you with a smirk and that same hair hanging over his eyes the way you always seem to see it in your daydreams.

Without thinking, you reach up and brush it off of his forehead, your fingers gliding across the sweat slicked skin of his face. You look at him for a moment, the way he looms above you, and your stomach turns.

This is too much. Your fingers tremble gently as you trace them over the bridge of his nose while dragging them off of his face, hand flopping down at your side while you struggle to shift from beneath him to get out of the bed.

"You alright?"

You nod and he backs away, sitting across the bed rather than lingering over the top of you. Sliding your legs off of the bed, you stand and feel him looking at your back as you bend and scramble to grab your clothes.

"Yeah, just realized it's super late."

Hurriedly pulling your pants up over your legs, you stop when you realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you since the moment you left his bed. His gaze burns and you wither beneath it, burning out like a shooting star as you stand still as a statue.

“Just stay,” he offers as if it isn’t the most self destructive option you could possibly choose. Stay and what? Chew on your nails the entire night until the sun finally rises and you can blissfully leave? Watch morning cast a warm glow over his sleeping body while birds chirp outside?

A persistent echo of the word idiot dances through your head as you briefly consider his suggestion, wondering if it would truly be so terrible to bury your head against his side and sleep soundly for the first time in months.

You can’t do this. The night feels suffocating, like it’s smothering you rather than enveloping you gently, and you pull your pants all the way up and fasten them while throwing your shirt over your head and pulling it on in a surprisingly fluid motion.

“I gotta go. Thank you for everything.”

Bustling out of his apartment, Toji watches your back head toward the door and can’t help but feel as if that was your final goodbye, gone in a flash the same way you returned to him.

Hey stranger, what's up?

The latest in a series of ignored messages pops onto your screen before you can close out the notification, today marking 21 days since the fateful night you cried in the back of an overpriced car the entire way back to your apartment leaving Toji’s behind you.

The messages are all the same - nonchalant and non committal, unspoken business proposals - but you scroll up through them anyway with a broken sniffle. How you’re still managing to cry over this three weeks later is beyond your own understanding but your fingers reach out to brush the screen of your phone regardless, just as they did the smooth skin of his forehead that fateful night.

Life has been normal without him, you reason. You go to work, keep your head down, come home and fall asleep in front of the TV. You’ve been too depressed to even masturbate but you’ve tried, crying through the measly two orgasms you’ve managed to pull out of yourself halfheartedly.

Part of you wishes you’d just die and end this misery once and for all, the other wants to die thinking of how someone would feel looking at your browser history. “Green eyed guy big dick”, “big dick DILF” , “toji big dick”, the terms thay would haunt you enough you worry they’d emblazon them on your headstone if you were to perish.

It’s dramatic, sure, your world has imploded in on itself more than once already but this hurts with the intensity of three broken engagements. Your heart feels like it could give out at any moment and it nearly does when your phone begins to vibrate and ring. Dropping it to the floor below, you sniffle again and feel another round of sobs bubble up in your throat at the name on the screen.

Toji Fushiguro. Clear as day.

You let it ring and ring until you know your voicemail will pick up and you’ll delete it. Fuck, you should really delete his number as a whole but even that feels too permanent.

How did it hurt less when you left your old apartment with an empty ring finger and a few boxes full of your meager belongings than it does to ignore a man you paid for sex?

Truthfully, you know it was never about the sex and you were treading in deep dangerous waters from the start.

You love him.

You loved him back in high school when he was a bad influence, you loved him when you’d open your hidden photos folder to stare at pictures you screen captured from his social media as soon as your fiancé rolled over to fall asleep, you loved him hovering above you with moonlight illuminating every shadow of his face.

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you and through a flood of hot tears, you close out the open adult website on your phone and pull up a search tab, typing the words that will lead you to listings for apartments for rent as far away from here as you can possibly get.

Your time here is done and you know it, the ding echoing from your phone letting you know you have a voicemail almost sounding exactly like a timer would but you look at the notification anyway.

It's curious he left you a voicemail but you watch as your screen loads from the browser to the one unopened message in your mailbox. Taking a deep breath, you press play and hear his voice drifting through the speakers.

"Hey, uhh...I dunno what I did to piss you off but maybe we should talk about it. I'll be at the usual spot tonight if you wanna meet. Hope to see ya."

It ends as unceremoniously as it started and you cry harder, rewinding to start it over again. Listening to his voice, you trace your fingers along the screen of your phone a final time before deciding to take him up on his offer.

Closure will only help this process, you think, ending it all and closing this chapter for good.

“Look who it is.”

You recognize the voice coming from behind you but refuse to turn in your chair to greet its owner, instead sipping from your cocktail before tossing your napkin down unceremoniously. 

This isn’t your first time at this less than reputable establishment but you hope it will be your last, ready to get away from the shit in this city you wished you would’ve left behind a long time ago. Him included.

“Toji,” you toss from over your shoulder and the man himself enters your peripheral vision. Refusing to give him the smug satisfaction of turning to look at him, you simply nod and begin to tear the napkin you tossed down into little pieces. You’ve always loved how easy it is to transform things with your hands, from whole to broken and back again. It reminds you of yourself in a strange way.

“I could make some time for you,” Toji sucks his teeth and you roll your eyes at the sound. “If you want.”

A shake of your head is all you offer as you continue to throw bits of paper in front of you, a small pile of bits, all that remains of what once was whole. The metaphor dies as you think about it and you sit quietly as he settles in beside you.

“What would it cost me this time?”

Toji shrugs, the already clinging fabric of his short sleeved shirt gripping him tighter with the motion. You swallow thickly seeing the muscles move from the corner of your eye. He’s gorgeous and you hate it, reminding yourself that loneliness is what led you in his direction in the first place. Or at least you’re still trying to convince yourself of that.

You wish you could have stuck to your guns when you promised yourself you’d stop seeing him.

“I can make a deal for my favorite even if she has been avoiding me lately.”

A laugh escapes before you can stop it and you turn to look at him, taking in the deep jade color of his eyes and the dark lashes that frame them.

What point did you start looking for the mischievous little sparkle that lives inside of those irises? What point did this become more than transactional?

You always have and it never was.

You sigh, tipping your head back to look at the dim modern-attempt-at-vintage overhead lighting and he sweeps his large hand across the bartop to sweep your bits of napkin into his palm. 

“No charge, actually.” 

Making a show of considering his offer, you squirm uncomfortably at the boundary that has been firmly broken by it. He has given you discounts, sure, but to offer a completely free no strings attached session is almost more than you can reasonably deny. You have been suffering in his absence, self imposed exile keeping you locked inside of your apartment when you aren’t at work. You aren’t dating, you aren’t fucking, you’re just trying to exist as simply as possible.

Even the most upright girl needs to have a little fun sometimes, though, you think. Especially since this will be the last time before you go and leave him to his life. You have no place in his world and he no place in yours, two paths that intersected briefly but have to diverge eventually the most the two of you will ever be.

Despite your better judgment, you look at him with a bittersweet smile and he finds the look puzzling. There’s still the ever present softness you hold for him deep in that gaze but there’s something else he hasn’t seen before. 

His heavy stare makes you interrupt with a question. 

“What did I do to deserve a free one?” 

He shrugs, dropping your bits of napkin into your drained lowball glass where they soak up what’s left of the water. The cycle into something new begins again. 

“Feelin’ generous. You in or not?”

Dragging it out for a moment longer, you wonder if you should tell him this will be the last time. You’ve known him for such a long time there’s an element of obligation but you shrug it off and rise from the barstool, smoothing down the fabric of your pants.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Toji doesn’t bother to hide his smug half smile, tossing down a few bills to cover your drink. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you start and he cuts you off as the two of you walk so close your shoulders brush. “Told you I’m feelin’ generous, quit making me regret it.”

He’s teasing but you flinch a bit at his words despite yourself. 

What if he regrets this? What if it hasn’t been as mutually beneficial as you originally thought, you’re just another face with disposable income that wants to see what it feels like to fuck a man with reckless abandon? Isn’t this why you walked away in the first place?

The what ifs will drive you crazy if you keep it up so you let the cool night air clear your mind, gasping as he pushes you against the driver side door of your car.

“Toji,” you warn but his hands glide up your sides and you lift your chin to expose your neck, his lips and teeth easily finding the column of your throat. The vibrations of your voice feel good against his mouth and you yelp as he scrapes at your skin using his front teeth. “Someone could see us.”

He scoffs and lifts his face away from your neck, lips mere inches away from yours. 

“Would that be so bad?” You nod emphatically and he rolls his eyes, dark brows knit together as he considers what you’re saying. “Ashamed to be seen with me?” Your shoulders slump and he presses his lips against yours so quickly you wonder if you imagined it and you sigh.  “No, I’m not. Just would rather people not know I’m paying some dude I used to go to high school with to fuck me.” 

There’s too much truth to your words for him to argue so he simply leans in against, pressing his lips against yours for a moment longer than he previously did. You feel the corner of his lip rise, a little smirk, and you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Don’t seem so ashamed when you’re screamin’ about how you can feel me in your….” he feigns thought for a moment and you feel your face heat, knowing what he’s about to say next. “What is it you always say? Ah, yeah…tummy.” His lips press against yours again and you kiss him back this time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and wrapping his dark hair around your fingers. The two of you separate before the dry humping starts, catching your breath as you wipe remnants of chapstick and saliva from your lips.

“Get your ass in the car before I change my mind, Fushiguro.” 

He smiles at the sound of his name on your pretty lips. There’s no going back now and he knows it as he squeezes your ass once before rounding your car to enter the passenger side. A glance up at the night sky allows you a moment to clear your mind before you enter the vehicle yourself, shutting the door behind you as you fire up the engine. 

Something new begins again, the night revealing thing you know to be true.

You love him too much for this to be the last time.

[bestialchorus]

MOVING IN WITH YOUR WEREWOLF GIRLFRIEND INCLUDES:

-For months, you’ve both been tiptoeing around the topic. Since you first started dating, quick quips like being excited to be “roommates” one day were always uttered whenever you were forced to say goodbye to each other. How these dreams were peppered in daily conversations, holding desires you each assumed were hidden from the other. How quickly those jokes gained weight the more your lives became intertwined. You loved her, and by the gods, did she love you. The love you shared was akin to the romances you once dreamed of, romances acted out in movies but seldomly found in your world.

-On one fateful night, you finally find the courage to whisper, “I want to live with you.” Her glowing eyes meet yours as the moonlight peaks in through the window. She softly rubs her canine head against your face, instantly filling you with warmth. You feel your lover start to shift back, leaving a large woman who is as much muscle as she is beauty”. “There’s nothing I’d love more,” she purrs close to your ear before softly dragging her finger down your body, sending a shiver down your spine. Her hand meets a familiar wetness. You start to whimper as you feel two long fingers slowly enter your folds. “Relax, baby girl, I’ll take care of you. Now and forever”. A few hours later, you lie on top of her as she gently rubs your back and plays with your hair. You talk deep into the night about what kind of home you want to build together. You remember passing out at some point as sleep finally catches up with you. You could have sworn you heard a whispering voice saying, “I can’t wait to call you my wife.” But maybe you just dreamt it.

-Right off the bat, it seemed money wouldn’t be much of an issue. You don’t quite understand at first, but she explains that she’ll soon be receiving a form of “inheritance” promised to alphas who reach a certain age. You still insist on contributing, and she doesn’t fight you on this, respecting you as a partner and her mate. 

-After months of searching, you finally end up finding a place that suits both of your needs. 

-Moving day was a lot less stressful than you thought it’d be. You remember packing up the last box one morning when you heard a knock at the door. Your girlfriend opens it, and a group of werewolves greet you with toothy smiles and warm mornings as they start to pile into your small apartment. You’ve spent much time with the pack, so all the faces before you were friendly. You can’t help but smile as one jokes, “I cant believe you’ve found someone who can actually tolerates ya, let alone live wit ya”. Some join in on the teasing as others come to chat with you. Without having to ask, each ONE immediately starts picking up a box and moving it down to the large pick-up truck outside your building. You release a surprised “EEP” as your alpha picks up while you’re holding a small box, “I wanna help too,” she giggles as she carries you bridal style to the truck. You feigned annoyance as you smack her arm, secretly loving every minute of it. All of your items (and yourself) are quickly loaded into the large vehicle with your girlfriend behind the wheel.

-After all your stuff is unpacked in the new place, the best part of moving could finally begin; decorating. You spend the next few days shopping together, hitting thrift stores throughout the city, and you actually find some pretty great stuff! One may have been a brand new pair of fuzzy handcuffs that your lover INSISTS will be essential for a “happy home.” 

-You come home one day and immediately stop in your tracks as you find your partner in a tight tank top and parachute pants, her outfit covered in paint as she moves a roller against the wall. Your brain turns to mush as her prominent abs peek through the thin fabric. She can’t help but smirk once she catches you ogling her. She decides then that it’s time for a bit of fun. Without saying a word, she takes off her shirt, revealing the body you were always in awe of. “I’m feeling a little warm after all this painting, honey, do you mind getting me a glass of water”? She acts as if she didn’t just fry all the neurons in your brain. You quickly shake your head and dash to the kitchen as you feel your cheeks heat up. 

-The house renovations have been complete torture. Whether it’s putting down new hard floor or tightening some plumbing. Your alpha is always wearing very little clothing; claiming she runs warm. You can believe that, but the image of your sweaty, beyond-built partner wearing a tool belt was sending you into your own version of heat. You’ve gotten little work done because you have a literal goddess walking around with a power drill. You decide to work a few days at the office going forward…

-Every day feels like an endless sleepover. Catching each other up on your day, grocery shopping together, painting each other’s nails, etc., it truly feels like you are hanging out with your best friend….a best friend who also just so happens to be 6’4 and able to crush a dresser with her bare hands….but best friends not the less.

-Another benefit of living with an extremely self-sufficient werewolf is that she’s an incredible cook. One night you come home and immediately smell the aroma of your favourite meal floating in the air. Her lips gently meet your neck as soon as you enter the kitchen, and your breath stops for a moment. “I’ve been cooking all day and while I’m excited for you to eat, I’m starving, baby”. You don’t get a moment to think as she has you bent over the table in a split second. That night you end up being her appetizer as she helps you build up an appetite. 

-You insist on helping her whenever she puts on a tie. You love putting her together for the day but love even more that you’re the sole person who gets to see her without all the bells and frills. You may share a space with your alpha, but you’re her true home. 

-Showering together has become one of your favourite rituals. You help the other wash the day off as warm water makes you melt. It always starts off innocently enough but very quickly becomes less than innocent whenever she starts to scrub around certain intimate areas….

-You had never thought much of a “forever” home while growing up but now realize it’s not only possible with your alpha. But that you’ll have one as long you’re with her.

[waffles-art-writing]

Water Logged - Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader - JOKER

Summary: PART 2 of One Hell Of A First Mission. You end up crammed in the back seat between your team mates. You become aware that both you and your Scottish Teammate find the funny side to most things, you find out having to swim with a balaclava is like breathing through a wet sponge.

Proofread: NOPE

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader

WordCount: 4.2k ish

Age Rating: 16+

Codename: JOKER

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: COD Violence, Swearing, description of injuries, Weapons, fighting, fluff and angst if you squint. A lot of time skips sorry. Sorry if its not identical to the game… ENJOY! Oh and Graves… he’s just a warning within himself.

Please go read the previous parts here MASTERLIST

If you want more please comment! Reblogs are appreciated!

Also sorry if it’s not any good, I’m going through a huge writers block…

Taglist: @studywithrosie01 (idk if you still wanna be tagged so I’ll tag you till you tell me otherwise if that’s okay?) IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED PLEASE COMMENT!

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You sit crammed in the back seat of the vehicle. Ignoring how uncomfortable you are squished up against Soap and Ghost. Your arms crossed, legs crossed, practically twisted like a pretzel. Graves is in the front seat while Alejandro is driving, happy as Larry they are compared to you and your squished team mates, that could be compared to a can of sardines. You bite your tongue when the vehicle hits a pothole, Soap groans lightly and Ghost just tightens his grip on the seat. “Fuck this” you spit out, pushing yourself to stand, slipping over the back of the seat into the free space in the back.

“What the fuck” Soap states, looking over you, who looks a lot more comfortable than before. “I hate being crammed between two men who smell like shit” you chuckle, leaning onto your arms that are folded over your knees. “I don’t stink..” Soap growls, huffing as he turns back around to face the front. Ghost glances at you, you just shrug as you smile under the joker smile on your balaclava.

An hour passes of you sitting in the back, almost falling asleep in the darkness of the night and the few street lights that you pass by. You snap awake when you feel a hand shaking your shoulder, your mind groggy from the light slumber your brain was dancing with just moments ago. You groan lightly as you sit up, stretching out. You go to lean against the door that would open for you to be able to access the back from the outside, however your back doesn’t touch anything, you tumble out of the back. Going head over heels out of the vehicle, your gun clanging to the ground as you squeeze your eyes tight, bracing for the impact of the ground. Nothing comes, your body doesn’t hit the ground, warmth is raiding off two spots on your upper back.

You crack open your eyes to come face to face with Alejandro, his smile wide with a light chuckle. “You alright there Joker?” He asks, you just nod as he helps you up. “Yeah… thanks Alejandro.” You chuckle lightly, rubbing the imaginary kink out of your neck as you stand there looking down at your boots. “Any time.” He states as he pats your shoulder, you smile lightly, your mask shifting.

A deep voice sounds out from your left, you look over to see Ghost holding your rifle. “Oh… thanks Lieutenant'' You state, taking the gun from the taller man with a cold gaze. He just hums as he turns away, walking towards the large building you’re all supposed to be on top of. You strap the rifle to your back as you approach the building, following the rest of the team in, to your annoyance Graves is behind you.

He attempts some small talk but you shoot it down quickly with a “Shut up yank.” This caused the rest of the team to look over their shoulders down at you, Soap almost tripping up the stairs, Ghost almost getting whiplash with how quickly he looked at you. Along with nearly causing Alejandro to have a coughing fit when He coughs into his hand to hide his smile, you just keep your eyes forward passing the others on the way to the roof.

You perch yourself on one of the air condition units, looking at the fancy mansion in the distance, Ghost is a few paces in front of you, just off to the right. Alejandro, Graves and Soap all stand at the edge using binoculars to look at the mansion. Your mind focused on the heavy foot patrol around the compound, wondering how on earth you guys are gonna get in without a problem.

“Las casa de Sin Nombre?” Soap asks, which makes you look at him with a raised brow. ‘When did he learn that?’ You question, even Ghost glances at the Scotsman then to you. Alejandro sighs lightly before speaking “No. One of his Lugartenientes” you stand from your spot, walking up to stand next to Ghost. “The Cartel’s Lieutenant” you mumble to yourself, even though Soap states it louder. Alejandro states ‘Nice, brother. You’re learning’ in Spanish. Ghost looks over at you to see if you're gonna translate quietly again, you glance up at him briefly. “He praised him,” you shrug, looking back at the others.

“My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight.” Alejandro continues “Some are invited, others are, umm….” Graves speaks up this time, his accent strong “Volun-told…?” “Yes,” Alejandro confirms.

“What’s the meet about?” Graves asks, looking over at Alejandro, who in turns says ‘Us’ in Spanish which you just whisper a quiet ‘us’ while motioning to everyone for Ghost. “Las Almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire.” Alejandro states, Ghost looks over at the Mexican “Sin Nombre will be there, yeah?” His accent is not helping his pronunciation of the Spanish words. “No guarantees but this is our best shot” Alejandro states while he turns to Ghost, walking a few paces closer.

Graves and Soap have done the same, Philip Graves taking the talking again with “Then we take it.” Which causes your skin to crawl,“I got enough Shadows here to take over the whole damn country.” “I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Alejandro protests, you take a step forward to defend Alejandro when Graves speaks up again.

Your actions fall short when Soap and Ghost give you a slight shake of their heads, you just let out a quiet huff as you back down. “Just saying … one house shouldn’t be a problem” Graves states, “We need Sin Nombre alive.” Ghost growls, Graves just lets out a small half chuckle of a huff, looking from Ghost over to the compound.

“Well…” he pauses. “Then we need to meet him.” He turns to look back at the group before looking at Soap who questions how. Your stomach sinks at the next statement that comes from the Shadow Company leader “Give ‘em what they want… Intel.” You glance at Soap then to Ghost “They wanna know who’s here. Let’s tell ‘em.” Both you and Alejandro ask “In person-?” You shift in your spot, uneasy with where this is going.

“Correcto… Get one of us inside, find the boss… roll him up” he states, looking around the group then to Alejandro properly.

There’s a brief pause before both you and Soap step forward with a “I’ll do it.” You both look at eachother, both not willing to back down. “Joker no, you gotta stay out here. You’re too…” Graves starts, his excuse fading quickly when you look at him. “Because I’m weaker? A girl? So fucking what Philip, you don’t get to say what I do.” You growl, he steps up to you, nose to nose at this point. “You ain’t going in there, we need you out here with Ghost.” He sneers. “You don’t give me orders mate, Ghost or Soap can but you can’t. SO, get off your high horse and realise I am as skilled as the rest of this team.” Graves backs down when he looks you in the eye, knowing how stubborn you are from previous encounters with you. “Lass, you stay out here with Ghost. Be my eyes for me on the outside.” Soap states, trying to level with you on you not going. You stare at the blue eyed Scotsman, brows furrowed under your mask. “You’re with me Joker, I need you with me while Graves goes and gets the Shadows” Ghost states, an order. You look to Alejandro to gauge his opinion, he just looks at you and Soap. “You go in there, and they’ll kill you.” He shakes his head lightly at you. “We need your eyes out here.” You just huff and back down, stepping out of the circle as the rest of them continue their conversation.

You follow Ghost to the spot he will be situated to be eyes for Soap and Alejandro, you’re there to watch his back as well as signal spot anything that Ghost doesn’t spot. You think its stupid in reality, this man is a bloody Lieutenant, he didn’t get to this point because of luck. He got his title because of skill, he knows how to keep himself concealed when sniping, he knows he’s vulnerable when he’s laying on his stomach and looking through the scope. You’re mere six feet away from him, knowing he likes his space just by the aura that radiates off him.

You haven’t talked much with your Lieutenant, you translated some words for him when he cocks his head to the side, or just doesn’t reply to a question. You have been his shadow for most of this mission, except for when you got separated and had to be by yourself for brief moments of time. You and Soap grew close quickly though, but you never talk much unless you’re spoken to, so right now you're a little anxious for Soap who is now being escorted into the large building.

You don’t talk over the comms, Ghost taking that role pretty well in all honesty. But once Soap is allowed to walk around the building, by means of Alejandro helping after getting inside and getting a disguise. You pipe up to tell him there’s a large trellis for him to be able to climb to help get to the balcony . “What now?” Soap asks, his voice crackling to life in your ear. “Y’know those plant thingys for them to grow up a wall…” you can see him shrug lightly through your scope. “For fucks sakes… a plant ladder Soap… that black thing with leaves” you hear a long “Oh” before you see him climb it with slightly difficulty before jumping the rest of the way to latch onto Balcony rails.

“Thanks Lass.” He states, you just hum in response. Moments pass as you quietly watch the building with baited breath. Your heart sinks when shots ring out, chaos ensues quickly onto Soap and Alejandro. You don’t have eyes on them, they are still inside the building. They just broke into the room with Sin Nombre in it, which turns out to be the woman that Soap got the displeasure of meeting down stairs in the makeshift interrogation room.

You go to push yourself from the ground, to run and help your team but a hand quickly catches your wrist when you go to get off the ground. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid.” That’s all that Ghost says before letting you go and nodding to you, that’s all you need before you’re bolting towards the compound. You’re just over a few hundred metres away from the fire fight, you can easily get there in a quick minute.

You sprint through the small forest that sits at the bottom internet he hill, jumping over and dodging low hanging branches. You see that the guards are scrambling to get to Alejandro and Soap, you take advantage of the distracted guards. Sliding up behind them one by one, taking them down like it was nothing, slicing their necks, kicking their legs out from under them. A quick bullet to each of their heads before moving to the next part.

“They’re on the roof, Joker, get yer ass there now!” You hear Ghost growl in your ear, your heart skips a beat when you realise how high the roof is from your position in the ground. You shake off the icy feel of dread, quickly scaling the same trellis that Soap used. You know it will take too long to find stairs to the roof, the next best thing is using the window sills to grab the gutter of the lower roof.

You shimmy across the small outcrop of stone, grabbing the edge of the roof as soon as it came into reach. The tiles creak under your weight, threatening to slip out from under you as you push yourself up to stand. A bullet flies overhead as you peek out to see where your team is. “Fuckin hell” you curse, throwing yourself over the small wall and into the flat surface of the roof you find yourself pinned to your hiding spot.

You hear a yell from a woman, you realise it’s the woman from earlier. The one you need, the one you need to detain as quickly as possible. “Put your hands where I can see them!” You yell, your rifle aimed at the woman’s back, right where her heart would be. Both Soap and Alejandro come sprinting around the corner, coming to a screeching halt when they see you aiming at the woman. Your breathing is heavy as you keep your eyes on the target, not batting an eye when you realise Shadow Company have arrived and are just hovering off the roof in a chopper.

You’re not even registering that anyone is talking to you, or to anyone for that matter. You’re solely focused on not letting this woman who you don’t even know the name of, out of your sight before she’s cuffed and taken to the base. Moments pass before Alejandro is cuffing her and dragging her away, you lower your gun as you let out a S breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. “Lass?” You whip around to see Soap, a small smirk on his lips as he looks at you.

You probably look like shit, you haven’t slept in days, haven’t been able to actually make yourself look presentable. “Hey…” you state quietly, barely audible over the sounds of the chopper, Soap approaches you when you adjust the balaclava slightly. “Thanks… to be honest we thought she was gonna be gone” he states, his hand clasping your shoulder with affection and gratitude.

You nod as you place a hand over his, he sees that you were worried, his grip tightens. “C’mere” his voice soft as he pulls you into his side, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Let’s go kick some cartel arse, aye?” You just nod with a small chuckle as you pull away from the side hug, your eyes crinkle under your mask as you look up at the Scotsman.

——— Time Skip ——-

You’re beyond exhausted, you successfully got the missiles disarmed from the oil rigs and the large container ship. You despised being on the ship, the slippery deck and rocking of the ship on the stormy sea wasn’t helping you. The motion made you feel sick. The rain pelting down didn't help with the thunderous sound of the waves and cracking of lighting overhead, especially when the smaller containers started sliding across the ship.

You were almost crushed by one before you were dragged out of the way by Soap. Now you're in the back of one of the vehicles of the convoy, Alejandro in the front passenger seat, one of his men driving. You’re crammed in the back with Soap and Ghost again, your head lulling back with your eyes locked on the ceiling, your wet clothes now damp still sticking to your skin. Soap is man spreading, Ghost doing the same as you're crammed between the two. The sound of the rain hitting the windows and roof almost sends you to sleep, but you sit up when you feel the vehicle slow to a stop outside of the compound. Alejandro’s compound.

You lean forward, intrigued by the sudden stop. Alejandro gets out and approaches Graves, they both seem tense. The rain continues to pound against the metal of the vehicles. You can barely hear Alejandro and Graves talking, Ghost and Soap step out of the vehicle now standing in the rain. You go to follow the Ghost but he stops you, his body in the way. “Hold your tongue okay?” You just nod as he moves away, you stand next to him, slightly behind and furthest away from the others.

You can barely make out the conversation, your heart starting to pound in your ears as the rain slides down the back of your shirt, you left your jacket in the back seat. Your mask is drenched and sticking to your face uncomfortably. “Are you threatening us?” Ghost growls out, stepping forward. You look over to Graves, your eyes narrowing. You scan from the American over to Alejandro then to Soap, you want to say something, but you follow Ghost’s order.

You can’t hear a word that is being said, you're too preoccupied with watching all the Shadows slowly moving into defensive positions around you. There’s one behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on end. Suddenly Alejandro lunges at Graves, chaos erupts. You snatch the knife from your thigh holster, taking a large step backwards and lunging low, whipping around and slicing through the heavy military issued pants, digging deep into the Shadows knee.

Slicing through the tendons causing him to stumble, missing his shot. His body slumps to the ground when you hear a sickening wet thunk, one of Ghost’s knives embedded deep in the shadow. You see Johnny on the other side of the car, the brake lights bright in your eyes as you go to help him.

A hand grabs the back of your vest, dragging you backwards. “Get out of here now!” Ghost yells over the rain, shoving you towards the dark forest. “But-!” “JUST GO! GET OUT OF HERE KID! BOTH OF YOU! GET OUT OF HERE JOHNNY!” Ghost growls, his eyes filled with a swirling storm of anger, concern and desperation.

You nod as you grab hold of Soap’s vest, dragging him towards the concrete barrier. He manages to get to his feet, sending himself over the low wall. Soap slides down the slope, firing back at whoever is shooting at him. You didn't quite make it over the barrier in the same spot as Soap, you had to dash a few metres away from him. You flung yourself over the low wall, sending you into a tumbling mess down the slope, narrowly missing the trees and rocks.

Coughing as you push yourself to your feet, your legs feeling like jelly as you stumble through the thick bushes.

“Fuckin’ hell” you curse, you look up to see the light pollution form the nearby town. Branches and twigs snap back in your face as you push your way through the bushes, eventually stumbling into someone's backyard. Your arms are scraped and sliced to shit by the trees, your leg feels like someone kicked you with steel caps. You limp your way to the back door of the house, no lights are on. “Please no one be home” you mumble as you try the door, no luck. You crouch down, hissing when your leg protests against the movement. Ripping a small blade from your ankle holster, you smirk, thankful you didn't lose it in the tumble down the hill.

The house was practically empty, very few helpful items were scattered around. You managed to find bandages, which came in handy to do a half ass job of wrapping your knee. “Joker… this is Ghost. How copy?” Your earpiece crackles to life, you tried your comms before, just after entering the house to no avail.

“Alive… surprisingly” you mumble. “Good to hear from ya lass” Soap’s voice comes through, you smile gently. Happy to know your team is alive and well… maybe the well bit can be disregarded for you. “Good. Are you hurt? Ain’t bleedin’ out like Johnny are ya?” Ghost asks, you shake your head as an answer, even though he can’t see you. “I wouldn’t say bleeding out… but I don’t have as much blood in me as I had at the start of this god forsaken mission.” You state, falling quiet when you make your way down a dark alleyway between two houses.

You hear a small chuckle from Soap and a quiet sigh from Ghost. “I ain’t gonna drop dead if that’s what yer worried about L.T” you quickly add. Pushing your way through a door into a small corner store. “Good, cause I don’t wanna come back and hunt for yer body” Soap jokes, his accent thick over the comms. “We aren’t gonna do any hunting for anyone’s bodies, so keep your eyes peeled and ears open.” “Yes sir” both you and Soap reply.

What feels like an hour is more like ten minutes, you drop down from a balcony, your leg giving way immediately when you land. On your hands and knees you suck in a sharp breath as you lean back onto your heels, you have all agreed to meet at the church in the middle of the town. You’ve made a lot of distance from the very outskirts of town to nearly the middle quickly, light footwork on the tin and tiled rooftops made it easy.

Yet when you decided you needed to go by ground, you had to drop from a significant height.

You whip your head to the side when you hear a low voice talking, shuffling backwards on your ass. Crawling down a few stairs and sticking close to the wall you end up half submerged in a flowing river, a river that’s going through a tunnel. You are pretty sure it used to be a walking tunnel or driving one by the sight of nearly submerged cars.

You can hear Soap talking through the comms, replying to one of Ghost’s shitty jokes. Yet it sounds like Soap’s voice is echoing, like you can hear him talking before it comes through the comms. The next thing you hear is boots hitting the ground and a quiet groan, you peek over the edge of the wall, your hand gripping a pistol you snatched from a Shadow you killed. The dead man's rifle strapped to your back.

You stand quickly with the pistol raised, your eyes locking onto sky blue ones. “Soap?!” You question, lowering the gun as you hobble up the few stairs, drenched from the waist down. “Lass?” The Scotsman asks, his eyes widen as he realises it's you. “I’m assuming you found each other?” Ghost asks through the comms. “Yeah, found her swimming with the fishes” Soap jokes, placing a hand on your shoulder and bringing you into a small side hug.

“What…?” Ghost questions.

“I was hiding in the water cause I didn’t know it was Soap… it was gross” you chuckle, stepping away from Soap with a limp. “What’s wrong with you?” You shrug to the man's question, looking down at your knee.

“I think It got dislocated… but somehow popped it back into place?” You cringe when you lean into it more. “All I know is that it hurts like hell, and I just want to get out of here…” you growl out, moving to walk back down the stairs. “I second that.” Soap states as he follows you.

You’re soaked through, you feel like you swallowed more water than humanly possible. You ended up underwater, sneakily taking out some shadows yet one was able to get the upper hand on you. You ended up back to the ground under the water, desperately holding onto what little air you had left in your lungs before Soap shot the man point blank in the head. Your throat hurts, lungs burning like someone lit a fire in them. The urge to rip the fabric off your head to be able to breathe is strong, yet you flex your fists when Soap looks over his shoulder at you, you’re both holed up in the back of a small store now, trying to figure out where all the Shadows are located.

Ghost is saying something over the comms, you’re honestly not listening to his growling tone. “Joker? You good Lass?” You look at Soap like he’s crazy, in this situation he might as well be. “I feel like I'm breathing through a wet sponge, so I’m just peachy” the sass in your voice causes the Scotsman to chuckle. Suddenly Ghost’s rushed voice breaks through the silence and multiple gun shots ring through the air and the comms. You don’t hear everything as it feels like there’s water lodge in your ears, next thing you know is your sprinting through the open, firing at anything that moves and screams out nonsense.

Ghost is quick to climb the gate, landing with a thump next to you. Soap and Ghost talk as you watch as multiple shadows flood into the area, you hear something about needing a getaway vehicle. “I saw a pickup just across the way when we were running, looked like it still had life” you comment, which sets the plan into stone. Get to the pick up, get the fuck outta here without being shot dead.

You duck and weave through vehicles and tables, shooting and throwing whatever projectiles you had at the Shadows who were not being as effective as General Shepherd expected them to be.

You reach the pick up first, ripping the door open and cramming yourself into the middle, Soap close behind and Ghost throwing himself into the driver’s seat. You can’t do much other than duck down, allowing Soap to shoot and Ghost to drive. You slam into the dash when Ghost slams on the gas in reverse and hits one of the Shadows “I HOPE YOU CAN DRIVE MANUAL!” You yell over the chaos. “FUCK OFF” Ghost sneers as he jams the stick shift into first.

You chuckle quietly as you stay low, preparing for a shitty ride to wherever you are heading.

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Losing My Religion

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Pretty standard tbh

3.6k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up!

"That's me in the corner That's me in the spot-light Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no I've said too much I haven't said enough I thought that I heard you laughing I thought that I heard you sing I think I thought I saw you try." ~Losing my Religion, R.E.M

“Will, take her.” Santiago orders Will, and the stronger man tries to take you away from where you cling to Frankie.

Frankie, however, steps away. “No! You aren’t taking her from me!” He looks back and forth between Will, Ben, and Santi. Through the silence, they can all here Iris wailing over Rey’s body in the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insane! None of you get her!”

Ben scoffs. “She doesn’t belong to you, Frank.”

“YES SHE DOES! She’s my WIFE!”

Will steps forward, taking a hand on your leg assertively, looking Frankie in the eyes. His dominance quells the room. “She’s my wife too, Frankie. Let me take her.” In a lower voice, he adds just to Frankie. “It’s gonna be easier if you just go, you know that. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Frankie glances at Santi, rage bubbling in him. Will was right. “Sent someone to get Rey’s body, help Iris move him. She’s… she’s not gonna wanna leave his body. We are not making her clean up his blood the way she did Jonah’s, got it?” Francisco rarely spoke this firmly… but he cared about Iris and he wanted Rey’s body respected.

“I will, I promise.” Frankie watched as you left the room in Will’s arms, crying into his chest.

*

Francisco was dragged down the halls, Ben trailing after then after being told to follow, Santi yanking along Frankie’s still-soar arm.

“Slow down! Ow!”

“Shut the fuck up!” When they got to Frankie’s bedroom, Santi told Ben to stay outside until he was called. When the door closed, he delivered a crisp slap across Frankie’s face.

“Shit!” Frankie cried, holding his face and tasting blood.

Grabbing his shirt, Santi shoves Frankie against the door, making sure Ben hears every Santi is doing to Frankie that he can’t stop. 

“Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again!” He screams, slapping Frankie again and making his head lul to the side. “I AM YOUR GOD!”

Frankie shoves him back. “YOU’RE MY BROTHER! This whole thing is FUCKED Santi!”

Santi went for Frankie’s shirt, tearing at the fabric and buttons as Frankie tried to fight him off. There was a scuffle, slaps to faces and arms and chest before his shirt was pulled off him, showing the scars on Frankie’s arms. Scars that matched Santi’s. Neatly in a line, they were scabbed and new, bruising still around the wounds, each an inch or two long. Santiago pressed their arms together. 

“Blood brothers, Frank. Blood brothers. You were made for me, I was made for you, you know that, don’t you?”

Frankie winces at the memory, how Santiago laid him down with a knife, cut into their skin together until they bled. On a bed of blood they fucked, sealing their commitment to each other, or that’s what Santi thought the ritual meant. The whole time, Frankie tried to imagine it was Ben.

Santi didn’t let go of his arm, fingers tracing up and down the scarred skin, picking at a scab until it bled. “You’re mine, Frank. Certainly not Madonna’s. She’s here to have our child. And you’re not Ben’s either.”

His eyes went wide at that, going into defense. Deny, deny, deny, or Ben would be dead.

“Santi, no, we’re not- AH!” Santiago ripped the scab, causing blood to spill out.

“Don’t lie to me! I know you fuck him behind my back. Is that why you care so much about Saha? You fucking him too, just like Madonna?”

Bent over in pain holding his arms, Frankie looks up at Santi in anguish, tears in his eyes as he screams. “HE WAS MY FRIEND! HE WAS HERS! FOR FUCK SAKE SANTIAGO NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX!” He stood up straight, speaking strong even as he cried. “He loved Iris! He loved Iris only and Ben killed him! That girl lost her father and now is sobbing because of her lover's dead body!”

Santiago scoffs. “That’s your fucking boy toy, not mine. I don’t control Ben.”

“That’s the problem! You and Beatriz indulged his every whim, Will protected him from any consequence and now he’s a spoiled slut!”

“And what do you think you are? You live in comfort, in excess even, you get fucked by me, Ben, Will, even sliding your cock into Madonna’s little cunt for hours in those meadows because I allow it! You’re just a cockdumb, petulant child who's mad because the world isn’t perfect! You’re no better.”

Frankie locked his jaw, staring hard. “Yes, I am.”

When Santi closed in on him, Frankie braced for impact. Instead, when their bodies were crowded together, Santi simply opened the door. Ben sat there ont he floor, legs pulled up to his chest like a child whose parents were fighting, looking up at the door with wide blue eyes.

“You hear all that, Benny?”

Ben blinked, “Yeah.” He stands up, his long legs wobbly.

“Ben…” Frankie wanted to say he didn’t mean it, they were all fucked… but Rey’s blood still covered him. It was an odd sight on a boy who looked so young and innocent when he really wanted too. Or needed to.

Terror filled him, afraid Santi was going to hurt Benny, and despite just watching him kill a man in cold blood Frankie felt the need to protect him. He looked so much like that young underweight half-frozen boy in Will’s arms so many years ago. What happened to them all?

Instead of harming him, Santi beconned him in the room and kissed him so tenderly, softness Frankie hasn’t seen it since they were teens promising to be different from Beatriz. 

Ben made no effort to rebuff. He was taken aback at first of course, this was not the response they were expecting from him. He locked eyes with Frankie as Santi deepened the kiss, and narrows his eyes at his lover. Ben does not take kindly to being insulted. Arms snake around Santi’s middle, Ben grinding his cock against Santi’s stomach, moaning into his mouth. Frankie heard drops of blood drip from his arm into the wood floor. He needed to wrap it up. Instead, Santi told Frankie to get in the chair. 

*

It took everything in Santi to not watch Frankie watching them. To not see his face as he slid inside Ben’s asshole, to not see how much it pissed him off when he made the younger man moan as he sucked on a nipple. He didn’t need to look, however, because he knew, he knew just how badly it was angering Frankie, how it hurt him. Santi fucked Ben the way he knew Frankie liked, slow and tender, lots of kisses. He knew Frankie longed for those soft days so long ago, teenagers sneaking around, falling in love in closets and up in trees. Before Madonna came and fucked everything up.

That’s why they were made for each other. Raised together, brothers, as close and two people could get. From the craddle to the grave, Francisco Morales belonged to him. They were meant to be, their bodies were created by Beatriz to fit together, to bring each other pleasure. Frankie was his eve, the mother, the god of nature and fertility and-WHY COULDNT HE GET PREGNANT?!??!? None of this would have happened if Mother God had allowed them this, if he could fill his lover with his hot seed and create the savior Santiago couldn’t be. They could birth the savior together, Mary and Joseph, Frankie as the Madonna instead of that cunt causing all the problems. 

Santi was sure not to harm Ben, opening him up slowly as the boy moaned like a slut with his asshole clenching on Santi’s tongue, fingers poking their way inside in contrast to the way he liked to ram into Frankies cunt. 

Ben was so tender, so sensitive, his cockhead beat red and slick with precum as Santi slid his thumb around it. He repeatedly pulled back the skin, making Ben moan in wonton madness. He gave Ben the gentle love making he knew his Frank desired, the kind of soft touches Santi hadn’t been giving lately. No, ever since Madonna came he was ravenous. He didn’t like watching anyone inside Frankie, making exceptions on occasion for Will and Ben because he thought he could trust them.

Despite not being threatened or even ordered to watch, when Santiago turned to the chair he saw Frankie watching. santi knew Frankie liked to be watched, liked to be heard, so he wondered how being put as the watcher affected him. Frankie’s face was set into a hard glare, eyes red and burning with tears and his knuckles going white with clenched fists.

Still, his cock was hard in his pants.

*

You cried. And cried. And cried. 

Hysterics paused only long enough for Will to occasionally get some water in you as he held you close. It had been hours at this point, unsure what is happening to Francisco, what was happening to Iris, what would happen to Rey’s body.

Dead. He was dead. Your best friend was dead, Jonah was dead and Iris hated you. Everything was over now. You hold your stomach, realizing how disconnected you were from this baby in you. At month 7, there was a whole child and yet you felt like… like it was in you, not a part of you. There, not connected. You loved the baby, of course you did, you were its mom but… why didn’t you feel like it? Lately, you’d felt like you were just… here to do a job.

Eventually you calmed down, exhausted from the hysterics, and Will held you close to his chest. He calmed you down slowly, gentle hands brushing over your body. You could not fathom how the hands you’ve felt healing your body were the same as the fist that beat Jonah to death.

“Will?” You ask, listening to the beat of his heart. It was strong.

“Yes, my Madonna?”

“What happens now?” You couldn’t tell if he was pausing to think or in confusion, so you elaborate. “Jonah is dead. Rey is dead. I can never see Santi and Ben the same again-”

He sat up a bit to look at you. “You forgave Santi?”

Was Will really this naive? Really? Santiago had violently raped you, allowed your pregnant body to be burned and Will thought you forgave him? You and your baby could have died, and he thought you forgave him? Will was who you trusted. No matter what happened, you’d always trusted your Will, your smart handsome brave husband, your God of War and Medicine, your protection and your healing. 

You can hear Jonah’s voice in your head, begging you to have a shred of survival instinct, to trust your gut.

For the first time, you lie to him.

“I did…” You fib, just a little. “It’s just been a lot lately and… he did something bad. I just can’t forget all of that.”

He nods in understanding. “I get it…  I do.” His fingertips trail over your scarred skin. “To answer your question… I don’t know. I really don’t but… we’re married, we all love you and I know, I know Ben messed up today…”

Messed up? Ben killed your Rey, an innocent man. Your friend. Frankie’s friend. Dead and cut up on the kitchen floor where Iris, for all you know, is still sobbing.

You feel the walls coming up around Will. 

He continues. “But we’ll find a way to move on as a family.”

You were not a family with these people.

“Yeah, yeah okay.” 

*

Iris fell asleep on the floor, durk curls caking in blood as she rested on her lover's stabbed-open chest. It didn't matter. She wasn’t going to get up.

They won. Those fuckers won.

Santiago had beaten her into submission, cutting up parts of her she’d never had the chance to show Reyansh.

Ben raped her for years and years and year and Iris managed to hold on because she had Reyansh and to a certain extent Jonah. Jonah was disappointing, Jonah’s shortcomings were clear and she would never forgive what he tried to do to that poor girl, whatever it was, but the day he died she lost one more person.

But Iris wouldn’t clean up Reyansh’s blood the way she had to Jonah’s. She’d die here in his arms. If Ben wanted to touch her again, he could fuck her dead, rotting corpse. Iris doubted Ben would let anything as simple as death set her free.

*

When she woke up, she was being pulled away from Rey’s dead body. Iris screamed, but that didn’t matter to anyone anymore. Another few guards start pulling Rey’s body away, congealed blood dragging out from under him, and that’s when Iris started fighting. They couldn’t take him. They couldn’t have him. He was hers.

“I’m sorry.” The guard behind her said. Scott, a nice, naive young man. Many guards were loyal to Santi above all else, but Will held the most control. Still, Rey was well liked. With the exception of those who were hardcore true believers amongst the guard who knew Santi’s recent turn on Reyansh, Iris had no doubt they were, actually sorry. It didn’t change the fact she was being separated from her lover even in death.

*

“Just do what he says” Frankie tells Iris, hands planted firmly on her shoulders, eyes intently boring into hers. “He’s gonna fucking kill me for coming down here but Iris, you have to just do it.”

Her eyes burned with tears of anger as she stood near the door to the backyard, underneath the balcony. “What’s happening, Frankie.”

He closed his eyes a moment as he heard the door unlocking. “I can’t lose you too, Iris. Please. I need you with me. I don’t have Jonah, I don’t have Rey-”

“I don’t either!” Iris spat. “What makes you think I want to live after watching that?” It had been hours since she watched her rapist stab her Rey to death, powerless as Frankie held her back. Ben would have killed her too. Should have. 

“I need help! I can’t keep her alive alone, Iris! We have to be a team, for each other, for Madonna, for our ch-”

The door opened, Will bringing Madonna down with a guard. You looked awful. He hadn’t seen you since Will took you away, dealing with Santi’s shit… Blood was still on your nightgown.

“Madonna…” Frankie was no longer pleaded with Iris, went to hug his wife. Will instructed the guard not to harm Madonna in the slightest, and Iris appreciated Frankie’s addendum not to hurt her either, but Iris knew she was a second thought.

“Francisco, what’s happening?” Your hands pressed to his chest, looking up at him. 

Frankie told you the same thing he told her, to just do as we’re told and it would be okay. Iris had a sick, sick feeling. “Trust me.” He said, hugging her. He looked at Iris. “Please.” Then made his exit with Will. Iris heard crowds outside, and wondered what sick, perverted show Santi was going to make you do now? Would he make you hurt her? That was fine by Iris. 

You turned to her, those scared eyes chipping away at the ice in her heart. Iris knew you didn’t mean to get Rey killed, and blaming you for Jonah’s death was unfair and cruel… but she needed to be angry. 

“Iris…” You whimper, wet eyes trickling tears down your pretty face. You held your stomach in fear.

When the door opens, you and Iris are quickly ushered out into the courtyard where hundreds of people looked on. Taking in the scene, Iris heard your heavy breathing. What she didn’t need, was you having a panic attack… When she turned to see your horror stricken face, Iris couldn’t help feel that ice melt a little more. Fuck, you were young. 23, just a child. You deserved better. Iris took your hand.

But you were looking past her. “Iris…” You said with wide eyes. Iris turned around.

On the courtyard, Rey’s body was tied to an X on top of a funeral pyre, strung up and limp and lifeless. She felt sick to her stomach, turning up towards where the four wanna be gods sat upon their ivory tower, daring to look upon her love. She couldn’t read their expressions, but watched as someone lit the pyre. Reyansh’s body went up in flames.

Santiago spoke not to them, but to the crowd. “Reyash Saha is guilty of high treason! As is custom, those closest must dance as he burns. Not even the Madonna is above the will of Divine Mother.”

He emphasized those last words, Iris knew, to put you in your place. You weren’t a goddess to him, you weren’t his mommy dearest. You were a womb.

The music started up.

“DAAAANCE!!!!” He screamed down to you both, and as the smell of burnt flesh filled the yard, you began to dance. It was scared, it was erratic, it was for your life and the life of your child. Iris understood that fear. But she wasn’t going to dance. It’s been a while since the last public burning, 2 years, she thinks, but she’d been at plenty, danced in several. This is not how it was done.

Firstly, this was supposed to be execution. You didn’t burn dead bodies. If a traitor was dead already, the close family and friends were questioned but there was no grand show.

If this were a proper burning, there was a ceremony, there were prayers to Divine Mother, chants.

The yard would be filled with everyone the traitor knew. Most of the guardsmen would be here for Reyansh, the house laborers, townsfolk… not just trying to terrifying to women. If the Madonna isn’t above it, Francisco shouldn’t be either.

No, this was just a show for the girl.

“Iris!” You grab onto her. “You need to dance!” Your words were broken and desperte, but Iris shrugged you off. “PLEASE!” You sob, grabbing her hands to force her but Iris shoved you back.

“I WON”T BE MADE TO DANCE AS MY HUSBAND BURNS!”

“But-” You reach for her, but she slaps your hand away. If the guard cared about the abuse of the Madonna, they didn’t care. The music was too loud to hear even shouting.

“Tell me, is there anything in the world that could convince you to dance as Frankie burned?” The image horrified you, but you remained resolute.

“My baby! Please I know you can’t understand but I need you, I can’t lose anyone else- IRIS PLEASE JUST DANCE!” You scream, pulling on her.

Iris grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “I’m pregnant too.”

You were frozen in stunned silence. “You… Rey…”

But Iris shakes her head. “I never had sex with him. Ben fucked everyone under the sun and I didn’t wanna chance giving him anything… But I told him, I broke down and told him… he’d figured it out.” Iris feels the tears coming, but forces them down. Don’t let them see you cry. Hadn’t she told you that before? “Rey said… said he’d raise it as his own. That he’d take me away and now he’s dead. And those men up there-” She pointed to the balcony. “Are why. I won’t tell you what to do, because you have your own child to think of, you are much further along, but me?” She pointed to her chest covered in Rey’s blood. “I refuse to give them anymore satisfaction. They cannot take my dignity. I won’t let them.”

*

Santiago watched from the balcony, smug as Madonna started dancing. Jesus she was pathetic. He expected Iris to not dance, giving him a reason to kill the brat finally. Maybe he’d take her for a little spin to see what Benny was so gunho about. But Madonna? Weak little thing like that had been trying to play big girl recently, acting tough, testing her boundaries like a fucking teenager and thinking her status protected her. It didn’t. But look at her now, dancing around as her best and probably only friend burned, just like she did, just like her paintings, just like her dad. 

It was amusing watching you try to save Iris. Your empathy was something that he was attracted to. You were sweet, he liked watching you paint. If you had behaved, he could have lived a whole life with you here with him, his Madonna, raising the savior for his roll… But no, you had to have a temper tantrum. You had to whore around as if 4 cocks weren’t enough. And yet, when it came time to really be brave…. You were like a little puppet on a string and he could toy with you as much as he-

What were you doing?

“Santi…”  Francisco tried to sooth as Santi’s knuckles turned white, gripping the balcony with a force as the sound of the music swelled around him. You stopped. Iris put her stupid fucking hands on you the way she put her stupid fucking hands on Ben’s body and tainted you. He watched with rage building inside. She was standing too fucking close.

“Will.” Santi barked, not taking his eyes off you two. Will was the most observant. Frankie could be naive and Ben wasn’t paying attention to most things. “Are they fucking?”

He swore he heard Will sigh. “No, Santi. Jesus fucking christ.”

Then they were conspiring against him. The two girls stilled completely. And then they turned around, looking up at him.

Santiago looked right back. They were fucking dead.

Okay!!! were so close to the end! I think it flashback chapter, then the finale might have to be split lololol.

Not a super eventful chapter, but I thought things needed to breathe before the last pieces. Still, I think enough is here to entertain!!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck through all the hiatuses. Ily!!!

If anyone is interested, I just finished my finale of Blessed Be the Fruit which took over a year for a short series. sorry ;-;

anyway its done!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

Poll time!

LOVE YOU ALL!

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[sweaterrat]

Portals Plus ✦ PROMISE

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Silence drifted around the resistance camp like a noiseless fog, thick with tension and grief. Winter was nearing which only made it worse for everyone. Winter in the apocalypse was frigid and unforgiving, especially way up north where they were. Right now, everyone was getting a preview of the harsh storms to come.

Being underground helped a little bit. It was warmer here and much safer versus the freezing, kraang-ridden world on the outside. Niyah sighed as she felt herself sink into the well worn out couch she laid on. Her eyes glazed over the half of dozens of kids on a mat, all huddled together under a thick blanket. Niyah had the privilege to look after these bundles of energy while their parents were out fighting a losing battle against the kraang.

Niyah’s expression fell into a meager frown as she watched over the children. Her heart broke for the children who no longer had parents. Their parents had passed while fighting the war. They were all far too young to be forced to go through something like this.

A sigh heaved from Niyah’s lungs; the kids weren’t the only ones who lost loved ones. It’s been a few days since Raph passed away. It’s been affecting everyone, even the kids! But of course, It hurt his brothers the most. Leo has been MIA, spirits know where the hell he’s been, and Kat had to step up as leader for a while (being his second in command, it was kind of her job to do so). Mikey was helping Kat take care of everything and everyone but there was an obvious lack of energy in his step. He wasn’t as bubbly as he was but he hid it well. And then there was Donnie. He had been shut up in his lab for the better half of a week.

The door to his lab was always locked and rarely opened. Niyah has never seen it open but sometimes she leaves food out for him and when she comes back, the whole plate is gone. She suspects that Donnie opens the door to take it but then again, anything could’ve taken it. She worried if Donnie had been eating at all. She had begged him to come out or at least let her come in, but she was always met with silence.

She couldn’t blame him— he was grieving just like the rest of them. Niyah only wished that she could see him and help him. He didn’t always have to do things alone (and frankly, she was feeling a bit lonely without seeing him).

With a small groan, Niyah sat up and stretched, finally getting off the couch and started walking to the food court. It was about time Donnie should eat.

As she entered the cafeteria, she was greeted by Baron Draxum. When Draxum wasn’t a warring warrior scientist, he was (once again) just the lunch lady. With the help of Daxum’s leftover mutagen, he could mutate fruits and vegetables into way bigger versions of themselves, helping to feed the hundreds of people who joined the resistance. Thank the stars, the food was still edible and Mikey sometimes helped out in the kitchen (Donnie was tasked with growing all the mutated crops because of his not-so-secret love for botany). Things were looking pretty good food wise.

“Greetings, human. Finally coming to eat?” Draxum was behind a counter, already preparing a plate of tonight’s dinner. It was baked potatoes!

“Hey, Drax,” Niyah greeted. “Nah, I’m just getting Donnie his fill.” She feigned a smile as she leaned against the counter Draxum was at.

The other slightly frowned. “You have to eat too, you know.” He grumbled, placing baked potatoes on a plastic plate.

“I know, I know. Not hungry, though, I’ll be fine.” Niyah halfheartedly chuckled, “It’s not like I do much around here anyways. Everyone else is fighting for a meal and I’m just… doing nothing.” Her eyes were downcast, feeling guilt twinge in her soul. She could’ve been doing so much more than babysitting, she thought. Don’t get her wrong, she loved hanging out with the kiddos, but she could be doing things actually useful.

“Don’t act as if you don’t help around a lot. You do so much more than you realize.” He reassured while handing her two plates of baked potatoes.

“Draxum,” She sighed, “I said I’m not—”

“I know what you said, I’m not deaf.” He grunted, going to the back to do whatever he was doing. “Now, go eat.”

Draxum may seem big and scary, but deep deep deep down, he’s a pretty great guy. Niyah smiled a little while rolling her eyes. “Alright, alright. Thanks, Drax.”

He only hummed in response, “Just make sure that boy takes care of himself too. You know how he can be when he gets upset. Losing someone you care about is not easy.” Niyah’s smile dropped and she nodded almost robotically.

“I’m off,” she said, waving goodbye to him. He returned the wave halfheartedly and went back to cleaning up.

Niyah treaded down the quiet halls. Most people would be asleep right now after dinner. It was pretty late out anyway (she thinks. It’s hard to tell time underground), but Donnie would definitely be awake. He always was for the past few times she’s brought him food.

Niyah approached the door to Donnie’s lab, slightly hesitating before giving it a knock. “Hey Don, I got you food.” She spoke somewhat hopefully, but, like usual, he didn’t respond. She sighed, “Can you knock to let me know you’re here?”

A moment or two later, Niyah heard shuffling on the other side of the door. First, the screech of a chair against the floor, something beeping then shutting off, soft footsteps… two soft knocks sounded from the inside. Niyah smiled, he’s here.

“I’m gonna leave it out here, okay? In the front.” She placed one of the plates of baked potatoes in front of the door. Usually, she’d leave after dropping his food off, but something told her to stay.

A minute later, the lab door creaked open just a smidge. Niyah’s eyes instantly darted to the opened part of the doorway, freezing in place when she made eye contact with…

“Donnie.” She sucked in a breath, staring at nothing but his eye (the other was hidden by the door). He looked just as shocked to see her. For a second, they just stood there, staring, but Donnie snapped out of it and snatched the plate of food.

Niyah flinched at the sudden movement but blinked and shouted “Wait!” But she was too late. The door quickly shut, leaving her stunned. She tried putting an ear to the door to hear something— anything, but it was silent. Niyah frowned and let out a heavy sigh. She’s not gonna lie, she’s missed Donnie a lot. He started sleeping in the lab (if he’s even been sleeping at all) rather than the usual room they shared. It was harder to fall asleep without him there and it was a lot colder as well.

She didn’t want to be a bother to Donnie, but damn, did she miss him. She missed their ‘Good morning’s and their ‘Good night’s, she missed sharing meals together or just being in each other's company, she missed how he’d call her stunning and how she’d get to call him beautiful every day. She missed their hugs and their kisses, she missed their cuddling when it got cold and her dragging him to bed when he was so obviously tired.

Damn, did she miss him. Niyah wondered if that was what Donnie was feeling about Raph— missing everything they did together.

She sighed, pressing her back against the door and sliding to the floor. Sure, it’s only been four days, but it felt like it’d been four years. Donnie was a big part of her daily routine and most of her day involved him. But now that he wasn’t here, her day was suddenly empty. Niyah squeezed her eyes shut at the familiar stinging in her nose. She cried way too easily.

It was a silent cry, something rare for her. Maybe she just didn’t want to be heard or she was embarrassed for crying like this in front of a door that she couldn’t open. She still did that annoying hiccup-gasp-sob-thing that she hated doing. All she could really do was scream internally into a noiseless void where no one else but she could hear.

She tried to tell herself that she was acting like a child. Everyone else was going through something much worse than her and here she was crying on the floor. With that thought, she quickly wiped her tears away.

‘Stop crying, damn it,’ Niyah repeated in her head until her body obeyed. She took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself and wiped the already drying tears from her eyes. She just sat there with that extra plate of baked potatoes in her hands, deciding that she might as well eat them so they wouldn’t go to waste (even though she wasn’t hungry).

This was the closest she’d get to eating next to Donnie again, so she enjoyed what little she had. Pressing her back impossibly closer to the door, Niyah pretended (hoped) that Donnie was just on the other side doing the same.

Niyah perked up at the soft shuffling on the other side of the door. It was closer than she had thought. Like earlier, two soft knocks sounded from inside. He wanted to know if she was there. Niyah nearly cried again. She debated whether she’d knock or not (what if she didn’t knock and he’d open the door again?) but she decided to be honest and gave two soft knocks back.

She smiled. At least he was here.

Suddenly the door creaked open— Niyah nearly fell back, but she caught herself last minute.

“Donnie…?” she called, but was once again met with silence. Cautiously, she stood up, leaving the empty plate of potatoes on the floor (for someone so un-hungry, she sure did tear up that plate). She put her fingertips to the door, unsure of whether to enter or not, but she took a deep breath, pushed it open and quickly closed it behind her.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. Her eyes surveyed the dark room, spotting messy piles of blueprints and books littered around. A jungle of scrap metal was scattered across the room. She noticed the walls had scratch marks and cracks that definitely weren’t there before. In the corner of the room, she spotted an empty plate of baked potatoes. Well, at least he ate.

Niyah’s eyes landed on a disheveled Donatello who was sitting at his desk. He didn’t acknowledge her but he definitely knew she was there.

“Donnie?” Niyah echoed, taking a few slow steps forward, unsure if she should be close to him or give him space. Donnie blinked tiredly and turned his head to her, his eyes flitting across her face. All the staring was making Niyah a bit flustered.

When he saw her fidgeting, he smiled and signed a slow ‘Hey.’

Niyah smiled widely. He was talking to her (well, signing, but she’ll take what she can get)! “Hey,” she copied and walked closer to sit in the chair next to him. “Are you doing okay?” She asked, subconsciously signing the words she was saying.

His little smile faded. He hesitated, lifting his hands like he was going to sign, but he never did. He only sighed through his nose and placed his hands on the desk again. Niyah stared at him, head tilted and brows drawn together in worry. Instinctively, her hand moved to hover over his. “May I?”

He looked over to her, his gaze flickering between her hand and her eyes. Eventually, he nodded bashfully.

Niyah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and let her hand rest on top of his. Donnie’s hand was cold, it always was, but not like the harsh cold of winter. It was a refreshing kind of cold and it almost felt nostalgic to Niyah. She let the warmth of her hand seep into his as she watched him relax with a soft sigh. Slowly, he turned over his hand and let her palm touch his. They were calloused and firm, good for holding.

Niyah couldn’t help but feel giddy at the feeling. She was always giddy when it came to Donnie, no matter how long they’d been together. Everything they did felt like it was the first time again, from cuddling to kissing to holding hands. That spark was always there and Niyah admired it. A nervous smile made its way onto her face and the breathy laugh she let out caught Donnie’s attention.

He smiled warmly at her (spirits above, his smile was so beautiful) and moved his hand up her arm, to her shoulder, and finally let it rest on her cheek. Niyah leaned into his touch like she always did. She was so, so happy to see him again.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her eyes falling closed as Donnie cradled her face and let his thumb glide over her cheek softly. He exhaled and brushed a loc behind her ear affectionately as if he was saying ‘I know’.

“Why haven’t you talked to me all this time?” She suddenly asked. She felt Donnie’s fingers twitch anxiously. She opened her eyes to look up at him, a desperate tone in her voice, “Why are you trying to go through this alone?”

Donnie stayed silent, his eyes darting to the floor to avoid her persistent gaze. With a sigh, she whispered, “You’re not the only one who lost Raph, y’know.” This made him flinch and look up again. “We all did. We’re all sad and grieving, Donnie. Of course, not as heavily as you are, but you can’t just— you can’t push everyone away.”

She searched his light brown eyes desperately, feeling the sting in her nose again, but she ignored it. “Mikey and Leo need their brother right now. And I need my…” she trailed off. She had nearly called Donnie her husband even though they weren’t married. But it felt wrong to call him her boyfriend— they were so much more than just that. They practically were married but the title never stood anywhere. Niyah internally shook her head— why did that matter right now?!

“I-I need you too,” she stammered out, not knowing what else to say. Donnie just sat unmoving. Niyah searched his eyes for something— anything! Niyah had become better at reading Donnie’s expressions over the years. It was difficult at first (and sometimes it still is) but she caught onto all his tics and habits that determined his mood. Right now, however, Donnie was blank. He just slowly (and almost reluctantly) let his hand fall from her face. He no longer looked at her. Niyah nearly cried at that.

“Can you please say something? Or sign?” She pleaded but Donnie never responded or even looked her in the eye. She just wanted to help him in any way she could— it was what she was good at! Helping people was her thing! So why couldn’t she do it now? For a moment, she wondered if her being here wasn’t helping at all.

“Donnie,” she sighed, cupping his face with her left hand which made him let out a shaky breath and look up at her. “I’m here. And I’ll always be here when you need me. I love you and I want to help you, so please, just let me.” She pondered for a second and pulled her hand away, “Unless you want me to go?”

A look of alarm flashed in his eyes and he quickly grabbed her hands. “Stay,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. Niyah’s eyes widened a bit at his voice— hell, even Donnie looked surprised. He sounded like he was in pain, she knew he was, and it hurt seeing him like this. “Please?”

Well, she couldn’t say no to that. “Okay,” she whispered back. Donnie held her hands firmly as if she’d run away if he didn’t hold her tight enough. Swiftly, he pulled her into a hug.

Donnie initiating things like this wasn’t rare but it was uncommon even though they’d been together for years now. Hugging in this position was a bit awkward while they were both sitting down. Donnie acknowledged this and effortlessly picked Niyah up and placed her down on his lap where he could hug her tighter.

Niyah giggled as he nestled into the crook of her neck (he knew that it was ticklish to her). His arms were wrapped around her waist comfortably and he felt like putty in her hold; completely and utterly vulnerable.

She petted his head soothingly, trying her best to comfort him. “You’re okay, Don. You’re gonna be okay,” she muttered to him. He stayed like that for a long time, taking long inhales and quivering exhales. Niyah couldn’t even imagine what he was going through. She’s only known Raph for a few years, but Donnie’s known him all his life. Sure, Niyah has lost family members before, but she was never close to her family like that. She couldn’t even begin to comfort him because she’d never been in a situation like that before.

Niyah then wondered what it’d be like if she had lost her own brother who was safe in her original universe. She wondered if her brother was feeling like how Donnie was feeling, like he had suddenly lost a sibling. God, it’s been years since she last saw her family.

“There’s just… so much going on.” Donnie let out a shaky breath. It sounded like he desperately needed to cry. He held her tightly, refusing to let go as if she’d vanish if he did.

“I know, love, I know.” Niyah continued to snuggle into him. His breathing was heavy and ragged, he sounded strained like he was holding something back. Niyah frowned.

“You can cry if you need to, Donnie. It’s okay.”

And with that, he finally let all his walls down. He sobbed in her hold, hugging her tighter and tighter. It was a little hard to breathe, but that was okay. Niyah’s heart broke at the sound of his sobs. At times like these, she honestly didn’t know what to do.

Donnie doesn’t cry often (at least not in front of her) so when he did cry, it was devastating to her. He was usually a silent crier, just letting tears roll down his face while keeping his expression fairly neutral, so seeing him sob like this hit so much harder. Niyah pressed a small kiss to the side of his head, whispering over and over “It’s okay.”

When Donnie calmed down a bit, Niyah pulled away from the hug, but just enough to see him. She held his face in her hands and finally got a good look at him. His caramel eyes were glossy with tears. With her thumbs, Niyah hooked the bottom of his mask and gently lifted it up and off his face, revealing his beautiful, purple markings and his tired eyes. She wiped under his eyes as if to wipe the dark circles away.

“I miss him.” His eyes flashed with an emotion so deep that even Niyah couldn’t understand what it was. It looked like he was whirling around in a sea of depression and grief so deep that he was drowning in it. His eyes were filled with so much pain, it almost made Niyah cry too.

“I know you do. I miss him too.”

He closed his eyes and sighed as he leaned into her touch. “I… I’m scared,” He mumbled, voice wavering. Niyah’s eyes softened.

“About?”

He hesitantly opened his mouth to speak, “Who’s going to be next? Mikey? Leo? You?” Niyah couldn’t possibly generate a response to that, so he kept going.

“What if I get too close to someone, and— and then they die? What if you…” He trailed off, the tears in his eyes returning but not falling.

“No one lives forever,” She said honestly. “And yeah, someday I will die.” Donnie flinched at her words, but it was the truth.

“But living life is about making connections— memories with people you never thought you’d meet! Would you rather you’d never met Raph, wishing that you got to know him when you had the chance, or would you rather be happy that you got to know him and you have these good memories of him so he could live on in your mind?”

Donnie fell silent, mouth agape as if to say something, but that something never came. He just exhaled loudly and rested his head on her shoulder. “I don’t want anyone else to die,” he muttered in her ear.

Niyah’s hand made laps running from the top of his head to the base of his neck. “I’m afraid you can’t control that, Don,” she whispered back.

“I know I can’t,” he growled, gripping his hands at the bottom of Niyah’s jacket. He let out a breath and his grip relaxed. “I just… I don’t know what I’d do if you died.”

Niyah’s heart sank at that. Her hand paused in her soothing rubs for just a moment, before stuttering and starting up again.

“I won’t,” she said sternly (not realizing how stupid that sounded; she wasn’t immortal).

Donnie all but scoffed, “You can’t possibly promise something like that.”

“Maybe not.” She trailed, “But,” pulling away from Donnie just so he’d look at her again. With one of her hands, she cradled his face. His beautiful brown eyes looked up at her and she had nearly gotten lost in them.

“For as long as I live, I will always be there for you. Every step, every breath. That I can promise.” Her voice was filled with so much confidence and yet it was soft; reassuring.

Donnie seemingly searched her eyes for any sign of deceit but in the end, found nothing but truth. She meant to keep this promise.

He exhaled, letting his expression soften. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Same for me.”

Niyah only smiled, glazing over his features again. “Have you slept at all?” She asked suddenly. Donnie blinked and shook his head, seemingly ashamed. Niyah sighed gently, “Donnie…”

He darted his gaze to the floor and started fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. He looked so drained; so tired.

“Wanna take a nap?” She suggested, making Donnie perk up a bit. Shyly, he nodded again and Niyah smiled. She carefully climbed off him and held out her hand. He took it in an instant and she led him up and out of the lab.

Donnie closed the door behind them before they continued their trek to their room. On the way, Niyah had spotted Draxum walking past. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of Donnie, smiling slightly and Niyah sent him a wide smile back with a small thumbs up.

When they had finally reached their quarters, no one spoke. They didn’t need words anyway.

Niyah set Donnie’s mask down on a small nightstand and put her various other things away while Donnie mindlessly followed her around like a sleepy duckling. She turned to her lover and helped him remove his battle shell (that's been on for god knows how long), exposing his soft shell to the elements.

A small shiver ran up Donnie’s spine in the absence of his armor, but he didn’t feel one bit panicked or anxious. He felt safe. Niyah treated him so softly, she was impossibly gentle with him and it was so… different. Living with 3 other brothers, gentle was almost nowhere in their vocabulary. Donnie didn’t like the idea of being treated like glass, but Niyah never made him feel like that. She made him feel like he was precious, not fragile; knowing his strength but still taking the time to treat him softly. This was something new and sure it’s been years now but it still amazed him.

God, he loves her.

“I love you,” he whispered as she put his mechanical shell away to the side. She nearly flinched at how random it was, but she smiled all the same.

“I love you too.”

And with that, they both settled into bed (it was much warmer with Donnie here even if he was cold-blooded) and Donnie nestled in the base of her neck. Niyah traced gentle patterns of stars and hearts on his shell, letting him relax into sleep. She whispered sweet nothings to him, kissing his forehead and listening to his soft churring. He was out like a light.

Niyah pulled him closer once she heard his calm breathing and small snores. She felt so protective over him seeing him like this. She wanted nothing more than for him to be okay because he deserved to feel safe and happy. Niyah swore she was going to do everything in her power to make sure he was okay.

That was her promise.

Matching Donnie’s breathing pattern with her own, Niyah was soon washed over with a wave of fatigue. Finally, she closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep.

════════⊹⊱≼ ✦ ✧ ≽⊰⊹════════

WOOOO YAYAYYA I FINALLY FINISHED THIS WUAGHDSAJL oh my goodness. This was a nice little hurt/comfort fic to write :] I hoped yall enjoyed this! Don’t be a silent reader! I love comments so much it makes me so happy ^^ Love you all!! Have a great day <3 🍋

Big thanks to my beta readers @yourlocalartsonist @yosajaeofficial and @oleander-nin !!! 💛💕💛💕💛💕

✦ Master List

[rambyol]

What do you think about the fact that John made a therapy group and had one of his freinds (seemingly repeatedly) insult the Bruce doll. I find it wild that Jlhn aka Certified Bruce Wayne Simp let Willy into his group or was even his freind.

Personally i think he was using Willy as a pawn but... idk wdyt?

Oh this was a nice challenge! I get where you’re going. I wasn’t really sure how to structure this one but I hope it’s still worth the read!

Note: I’m a bit unwell at the moment so bear with any punctuation mistakes ( T_T) 🫶

The Purpose of John’s Therapy Group

We don’t know a lot of details about John’s immediate time in the outside world once he was released. All we know is that he was closely associated with Harley who in a way scouted him from Arkham to help with the Pact, and during John’s time on the outside he ‘frequented’ the Stacked Deck. The reason I’m bringing this up is because we need to know ‘Why’ John would make a therapy group. He claims to Bruce that the reason he started the group was so he could share some of the ‘expertise he learned at Arkham’ with them. Now whether he’s being genuine is up for debate.

I believe there are a few ways we could interpret the purpose behind John’s therapy group. Since this scene takes place in the very first episode ‘The Engima’, it plays on our preconceived notions of the Joker. The game tries to get us/Bruce to question John’s intentions, hence the question about whether John would be the type to Kill a man in cold blood, but if we associate John with the typical characteristics of ‘Joker’ the therapy group aspects feels a little more insidious. John was used to having some sense of control when he was in Arkham. He got along with the orderlies and knew the ins and outs of the place as well as being infamous to other inmates. To an extent, John could be trying to emulate that sense of control through this therapy group.

Now I have a billion readings of John’s character from him being a well intentioned but misunderstood dude to a sadistic psychopath but what’s fairly consistent to his character is that sense of control and power he wants over others. These two attributes are what arguably attract him to personalities like Harley and Bruce.

So its not unreasonable to think he would go after vulnerable people like Willy, a man who is a struggling alcoholic, and take advantage of them for his own gain. A detail that is easily overlooked is that John exploits Willy’s alcoholism as a means to get him to participate in the therapy group.

Exploiting Willy’s alcoholism is of course very messed up of John to do since he’s essentially scraping the bottom of the barrel to feel a sense of power and control over someone. So you’re right, he does use Willy as a pawn. (But I’ll get back to that)

Now for the wholesome reason. There is a part of me that believes that there was a well intentioned side to John with this therapy group. John tells Bruce how lost he felt once he no longer had the structure that Arkham provided and it’s possible that he would have wanted to seek out like minded people or at least people in similar predicaments.

If Bruce is kind, compassionate, and gives John the benefit of the doubt, then we see the positive result of that approach with John in the Vigilante route.

During the Boss fight with Bane in this route, Bruce is forced to pick between saving Willy or Agent Harrison from Bane. Here’s Jokers reaction when Willy dies:

Compare this emotional response to Villain Joker’s apathy when he shoots one of his own goons through the head. It’s evident that Vigilante Joker had empathy for him, at least enough for him to be upset by Willy’s death, even if for a moment.

Edit Note: To add, If Batman hesitates and doesn’t save either of the men. Joker uses his grapple to save Willy.

(also here’s ⬆️ Joker urging his team to get away because things were getting dangerous)

It’s worth noting that the existence of Joker’s team, consisting of Willy, Frank, and Lauren, all three of whom he encountered at the Stacked Deck, suggest that his time at that Bar was spent making a relatively genuine connection with these people which is reinforced when we see how loyal all three of them were to John/Joker.

That loyalty could stem from the fact that Joker gave them a purpose by utilising their skills that otherwise went neglected due to their afflictions— Just look at what Commissioner Gordon shares with Batman about Willy’s past;

“Machinist by trade. With a…storied employment history. He’s been fired from every factory and chemical plant in Gotham. Has a drinking problem, apparently.”

Despite this picture we get of Willy, Batman describes the work he put into crafting Joker’s custom batarang as “remarkable craftsmanship”. A clear sign that he’s a competent person when given the chance to prove himself (via Joker here), and if someone like Willy had been extended a helping hand with his problems earlier instead of thrown out by society and neglected then he’d be in a better position.

These people, like John, were outcasted by society, but have now banded together under a common cause, which is, to get back at Institutions/Authority groups like the Agency, one that preys on vulnerable people like them, for the harm they do. In this sense, I completely understand why John would associate with the guy.

Funnily enough, even in the Villain route, it’s assumed that Joker still kept Willy around as he’s the clown guy that introduces Villain Joker at the start of the episode and he survives the virus bomb since he was supplied a gas mask. Unlike the other henchman who gets his mask torn off by Harley so in both routes Willy does have a valuable part to play in Joker’s plan.

Messing with Bruce

Now I watched this part back a few times and the reason for this really depends on whether or not Bruce places a tracker on John. For this post I’m going with the option where he does track Johns location because there’s more to work with there since we can then assume that John could’ve planned ahead for Bruce’s arrival and set up the therapy circle so that the two things would inevitably coincide.

Why would John do that? Because it was a way to mess with Bruce. Something John does throughout the game.

It’s revealed by John that he’d speculated for some time that Bruce and Batman were the same person and when we consider John from S1 where he heavily implies that he practically knows the man’s identity as the vigilante then what we have here is another example of Johns latent sadism, except it’s enacted through an emotional/psychological sense.

This is Bruce’s reaction as soon as he enters the Stacked Deck and hears Willy yell “Batman!”, it clearly throws him off for a second. If we go back to ideas about power and control, this is arguably the one small sense of ‘power’ John has over Bruce. He would never of course out Bruce but he knows it makes the man nervous and we know this because one of Bruce’s responses to John’s accusation/reveal at the Funhouse in Ep4 is to immediately get defensive and assume he’s about to be blackmailed.

This emotional and psychological game that John plays with Bruce appears again when they’re at Cafe Triste. Maybe it’s just me but there’s a slight emphasis on the word ‘bat’ in Anthony’s delivery. Clearly implying the connection between Bruce and Batman there.

So to answer that last question, yes he was definitely using Willy in that scene as a way to mess with Bruce. On the whole however I personally think Willy’s role far outweighs a pawn and that there’s definitely a more significant aspect to the character.

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 22

Word Count: 3.4K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N:  can't believe how different my characters are in my twilight stories. this Paul is so much different than Speak Paul, and so is Jake, it kinda breaks my brain 😅

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A moment can feel like an eternity when the soul isn’t at ease. Time seems to reverse and turn over on itself, holding the body hostage to its grapples. It twists the mind, numbs all reason, and feeds doubt. Time can sometimes be scarier than death itself.

(Y/N) could have sworn the entire day had passed before the pack finally walked through the doors. But the light coming from the outside told her it was still early. They walked in as though nothing had happened, and they hadn’t just torn a vampire to shreds. The boys laughed and patted each other on the backs, celebrating as though their lives had not been in peril.

As soon as they came into view, the girl ran to her brother and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She wrapped them around his neck as his own caught her by the waist. Once she felt him with her own hands, she finally let out a strangled breath, allowing all the anxiousness to roll off her body.

“Oh, thank the spirits you’re okay,” she breathed shakingly. “I thought something happened to you.”

“You need to give me more credit here, bean,” he chuckled. “We take this job seriously.”

“I was scared.”

“Come on, he was outnumbered,” Sam shrugged. “There was no way we were going to let him go. He was easy meat.”

“So, none of you got hurt? You’re all okay?” 

“Of course we are,” Paul interjected. “That guy had nothing on us.” 

“I told you they would be okay,” Emily said, carrying a plate of fresh biscuits that the boys dug into as quickly as it reached them. “The boys always come home. Especially when they know that there’s food on the table.”

“I knew I could smell chicken,” Jared grinned. “I’m starving, man.”

“When are you not?” Embry teased as he walked past him.

“Oh, the young kid has some bark in him,” Jared chuckled. “You’re finally one of us.”

Laughing, Embry, Jacob, and Paul walked right past (Y/N) and to the dining table. Jacob was about to do the same but stopped next to her. “Bella’s okay,” she said. “She got home a while ago. She’s still a bit shaken up, mostly because of the giant wolves she saw.”

“Okay,” he said as he let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.”

“She’s tougher than she looks, Jake,” (Y/N) smiled. “She’s also smart, and she has a lot of questions.”

“I know,” Jake sighed. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Forcing the imprint bond hasn’t worked out?” the girl teased. “I thought it would.”

“Not funny, (Y/N),” he pouted. “But no. I guess everyone was right. It’s just… she deserves so much better.”

“Don’t we all, Jake? Don’t we all,” she said as she patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Now, go eat. You gotta refuel.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”

“Bye, Jake.”

As the boy left her by herself, her gaze found her brother. He was sitting on a bench in the backyard, his shoulders slumped and a hand over his eyes. Sam was tired, that much she could tell. But it wasn’t because of the vampire. No. It was a fatigue she knew very well.

“Hey,” she said softly as she sat next to him. “How’re you doing?”

“I told you we’re all good, Bean,” Sam smiled weakly.

“That’s not what I mean, Sam. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed. “Just… tired. I was worried before that. We caught the leech’s scent first, and we were ready for a fight—finally finish up who’s been killing all those hikers. But then your scent was mixed up in it and I got so stressed that I wouldn’t get to you in time. I’ve been worried that a bloodsucker would take you away from me, but I never thought it could’ve happened this way.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sam,” (Y/N) said as she wrapped her arms around her brother. “Not for a while, at least.”

“It was scary to realize how easy it would have been for that guy to kill you.” His voice trembled as he spoke, the protector mask quickly falling away. “With how things were going with the doctor, I was sure I would have to get used to not having you near again. But today reminded me about how you could have been gone for good. And what would’ve happened if you had no idea who we were? You would have no idea that we were trying to protect you, and you would have been just as terrified as Bella was. You would have been scared of me.”

“Well, I guess that’s one thing you can be grateful about him,” (Y/N) smiled, squeezing her brother’s hand comfortingly. “This is one secret you don’t have to hide from me.”

“It’s a shitty secret.”

“It’s a necessary one, Sam. You taught me that.”

“Yeah, it’s the reason two of the people I love most in the world got hurt,” he grumbled. “It’s a shitty secret.”

“What? You’re saying if it had been a choice, you would have said no?”

Sam sighed and let his head fall back as his eyes closed. “I don’t know, honestly,” he admitted. “It’s an honor to have been chosen to protect our people. But sometimes, I just wish the responsibility fell onto someone else. If it hadn’t been for this, so many lives would have been different. I know I’m meant to be the strong one, but I just can’t help but wonder why me sometimes.”

“Do you remember what you told me before I left for school?” (Y/N) said. “I wasn’t sure why I had been the one chosen for the scholarship and I was so scared that the school had made a mistake that I wanted to stay home. You told me that the only one who didn’t believe in me was myself —that I would always be my harshest critic and that I would never believe how amazing I was no matter how much people told me. Well, now it’s your turn, Sam. You’re doing an amazing job as an alpha. You’re keeping out people safe, you have a beautiful fiancée that loves you, and you’re the best brother a girl could ask for. If the universe chose this job for you, it was for a reason.”

“Yeah, an alpha that didn’t have a hold on things and managed to not only scar the woman I love, but I couldn’t even stop you from getting hurt,” he exclaimed. “And now all these hikers are dead, and even though we killed this leech, another one with a vendetta is gonna come here for the Swab girl. I just can’t seem to do things right. I have no business caring for all these people.”

“Sam, I can’t think of anyone else that would be perfect for the job. You’ve been taking care of me and mom for a long time. Even when you didn’t have to, you always made sure we were okay. You made me dinner when mom was at work after school, you were there at every science fair, you even taught me how to ride a freaking bike,” she chuckled. “I don’t think you realize how good of a person and a leader you are. How you always step up to the plate when anyone needs you, no matter how trivial the matter is. You’re an amazing brother and an amazing alpha. We are all gonna lose someone sometime, no matter how hard we try to save them. Our job is to save those we can.”

Sam allowed the words of his sister to skin into his head, slowly allowing his body to relax. He settled into the bench comfortably and draped an arm around (Y/N) to bring her in for a side hug. “Since when do I have a little sister that is so smart?” he teased lovingly. “Don’t remember the moment you got old enough to give me advice.”

“Sam, you’re barely older than me.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m older.”

“No. You’re just old.”

The pair of siblings joined the rest of the pack soon after, gathering around the table to enjoy the feast that Emily had prepared. They ate, they laughed, they talked, and finally, they crashed all around the fireplace in the living room. Jared and Embry had taken the sofas, and Emily and Sam had excused themselves to their room while Jacob had said his goodbyes and gone back home. The only people that were left awake were Paul and (Y/N), tension surrounding the air around them.

(Y/N) knew that avoiding Paul couldn’t last much longer, especially not when she could have lost him that afternoon. She had waited for him to come home, breathless and terrified that the last moments she had spent with him had been avoiding him. The survival of their friendship rested on the conversation she did not want to have with him, but she knew it was essential if she ever wanted him to stay her best friend.

“So,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you finally have some time for me in your busy schedule?” Paul teased. “How lucky am I? Maybe I should face vampires more often.”

“Very funny, Paul.”

“Hey, I’m not the one that has been avoiding you for weeks now,” he shrugged as he threw his hands up in defeat. “What’s that about?”

The girl sighed as she restless her head against the wall, staring up at the wooden ceiling than into Paul’s eyes. She could feel his state burning a joke through her skull, seaman ding entrance into her innermost thoughts.  “Paul, you know what it’s about,” she responded. “You were getting too attached, and I didn’t know how to manage that.”

“Are you serious, (Y/N)? I was growing too attached?” Pail spoke in shouted whispers, wanting nothing more than to explode at that. But exhaustion clawed at his body, and the last thing he wanted was to let his wolf out. “And what have you that brilliant idea?”

“Paul, come on. The night Jacob finally turned, I could hear it in your voice,” she recalled. “You said there was something you just had to tell me, and I’m pretty certain I know what it is.”

“Oh yeah, Einstein? And what’s that?”

“That you want more,” she stated. “That you want us to be more.”

Surprise ran through Paula’s face before quickly transforming into an angry scowl. It had been what (Y/N) had wanted to avoid, but it was no use to continue pushing the inevitable. “Come on, (Y/N),” he exclaimed. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t make sense. We work well together, we have chemistry, and we have known each other for so long. Why won’t you just give it a chance?”

“Because I don’t see you that way, Paul, and I never will,” she responded. “You’re my best friend, yes, and we get along well because of it. It doesn’t mean that I want to be with you. I told you from the start that this was not gonna be anything other than just a physical thing—I was very clear on that.”

“So, what? You just use me for my fucking body but won’t even give yourself a chance to see if you might have feelings for me?” Paul spat. “Is it because of the bloodsucker? He broke you so much that you won’t give anyone else a chance?”

“This has nothing to do with him. I simply don’t have feelings for you, Paul.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” His voice rose as he jumped to his feet. “He’s not coming back, (Y/N)! He left you. He took his family, and he left you. Why won’t you get over him already?”

“Whether he was here or not, my feelings for you wouldn’t change. I see you as a friend, and I’ll always see you as a friend, Paul,” (Y/N) stated, trying her best to stay calm. She knew that playing into his game would only work to make him angrier, and the result could be catastrophic. “If you can’t handle that, then I think it’s best we just cool things off.”

“Oh my god, you are still in love with him,” he scoffed. “After all that bullshit that you went through for months. He told you he didn’t care about you. He said you were only a moment in his eternal life. He doesn’t love you, and he never fucking did.”

By that point, the pair had gotten an audience, the two teens that were asleep on the couches had woken up and Sam had come out of his room. But none of that seemed to deter Paul from continuing with his rant. He was seeing red and didn’t care if what he said hurt her. “You don’t care that he stomped on your heart and didn’t give it another thought. I bet you’d take him right back if he asked,” he spat. “I guess you both have something in common, though. You take what you want from people and, once you’re done with them, you throw them away.”

“That’s quite enough, Paul.”

“No, Sam, it’s okay,” (Y/N) interjected. “From the beginning, you knew what you were getting into, Paul. I didn’t want a relationship, and I sure as hell have never given you any indication that I wanted one with you. I’m sorry if you are hurt, but I was very clear about what I did and didn’t want. It’s not my fault you believed this could ever go anywhere.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing when you asked me to be your fuck buddy,” the boy seethed. “You knew you’d be leading me on, and you held it over me like a fucking toy.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me, Paul,” she said, her tone rising as frustration overtook her. “I was very clear. I was very honest. Not once did I ever say or even insinuate that I wanted to be with you. I’m sorry that I did use you for your body and the convenience, but it is not my fault that you deluded yourself into believing that we could be together.”

“You are honestly unbelievable, (Y/N). You used me, and now you wanna make it my fault,” Paul pushed. He closed the distance between them, towering over her like a dark cloud. He could see or hear reason; he couldn’t even admit that everything he was saying was a lie. All he could see was red. “No wonder you fell for a bloodsucker. You’re just as heartless and cold as them. I bet you wouldn’t even give betraying us a second thought if it meant you could save one of them. Maybe he left you before you could leave him. After all, it is in your genes.”

The words struck a chord in (Y/N). She gathered all the strength she had, recoiled her hand, and slapped Paul firmly across the face. But where everyone was expecting her hand to shatter at the contact, the hit went through and made the boy’s face snap to the side. The mere surprise had him stumbling a couple of steps back, holding his face as it grew pink from the strike.

After the initial shock, anger bubbled inside him, and he charged toward (Y/N). But he couldn’t even make it a step toward her before Jared and Embry were shielding her. The boys grabbed Paul’s arms and held him back as he fought, yelling at them to let him go.

“That’s enough!” Sam’s voice bounced off the walls, sending shivers even down (Y/N)’s back. “Get out of here, Paul, and cool off. That’s an order. Go with him, Jared.”

The second-in-command pulled Paul out of the house and far from view, leaving Sam and Embry with a tearful (Y/N).

“Hey, Embry, can you give us a second?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he mumbled. “You okay, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she sniffled. “Thanks.”

 “I’ll, uh, be in the guest room until my shift starts.”

Once the boy had left, Sam wrapped his arms tightly around his sister, allowing her to crumble in his embrace. “He’s an ass, (Y/N),” he whispered. “And he had no right to say any of those things.”

“But he’s a little bit right,” she cried. “A few months ago, I was ready to leave everyone behind for a man that didn’t even spare me a thought. And then I used Pau to fill a void someone else left, knowing he had feelings for me. I’m just like dad.”

“Hey, absolutely not. You are nothing like him,” Sam affirmed. He cradled her face in his hands, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. “You are by far one of the most amazing human beings I know. You’re intelligent, you’re caring, and so determined. I don’t think you know just how proud I am of you. Paul’s just butthurt that you don’t like him. He doesn’t deal well with rejection.”

“It doesn’t mean he’d no right.”

“What could he possibly be right about? He’s barely passing his classes.”

“I still love him,” she answered meekly, her voice so low and broken she wasn’t sure she had said anything at all. “I miss him every single day, no matter what I do to forget him. I keep waking up thinking he’ll be just a drive away, but then I get to the hospital, and his office is empty. It’s not a bad dream, Sam. It’s my reality.”

“Bean, I didn’t… why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?  I thought things were better.”

“Well, I thought the last thing you wanted to hear about was about my ex-boyfriend, who is literally centuries older than me and is your natural-born enemy,” (Y/N) chuckled through her tears. “And it’s not easy to say that I’m not over the guys that told me I was just a spec of sand in his lifetime.”

“Love is a strange thing, (Y/N). It’s hard to come by, and it takes forever to move on from. It hurts for a really long time, until one day you wake up and it doesn’t anymore,” he said, brushing back strands of her hair. “I don’t care who this guy is, Bean. If you need me, if you need to talk, you just have to tell me. I am here for anything you need. He may have been my enemy, but you are my sister, and that trumps everything.”

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

“Maybe not in our lifetime. The last time they left, they didn’t come back for almost seventy years. If they do come back, it’ll be long after we’re dead,” he shrugged. “Do you want them to?”

“Is it selfish if I say I do?”

“I mean, it does make me question how we’re related,” he teased. “But I don’t think you’re selfish for it. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If by some weird trick of the universe they do decide to come back, that you won’t go back to him, (Y/N). Or at least give him hell for it first.”

“I can promise you I will make him grovel until his knees give out,” she grinned softly. “But I do hope that, if they don’t come back, living without him gets easier soon enough. I hate carrying this black hole inside me.”

“It’ll get better one day, Bean,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her. “But while it isn’t, let me carry this burden with you. And just take things one at a time. Focus on school and work and forget about this whole thing with Paul. He’ll see reason soon enough.”

“I love you, Sam. Thank you fed everything that you’ve done.”

“I love you too, kid.”

“I’m only a year younger than you,” she laughed.

“A year is still a year,” he smiled as he chuckled. “Now, let’s get you home so you can rest and forget this all happened.”

Yet, it was a moment none of them would be able to rid from their minds. (Y/N) should not have been able to slap Paul without hurting herself, and she most definitely should not have hurt him. But, at that moment, no one was thinking about that. All they wanted was comfort and rest, and that’s all they did. Because in their town, there was always something new lurking around the corner.

Next ->

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@lainlovelain

[mizuissad]

tw: stockholm syndrome, yandere, manipulation, gaslighting, abuser comforting, kidnapper

time to fuel my repetitive fantasies once more

The days blend together now. Every morning you wake to the same sterile room, the same soft light filtering through the window, and the same voice waiting to greet you.

He’s been more careful lately. Gentler. Less forceful. He’s stopped talking about escape, stopped reminding you that you can’t leave. Instead, he fills the silence with meaningless chatter about how the weather looks outside, what he’s made for breakfast, how he just wants to make you comfortable.

And in some twisted way, you’ve started to believe it.

Today, as you sit curled up on the couch, he enters the room with a small tray. There’s tea on it, steaming, along with a few biscuits arranged neatly on the side. “I thought you might like something warm” he says softly, setting the tray down in front of you.

You glance up at him. You’ve grown used to his presence but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. He’s always so calm, so composed, as if the weight of what he’s done doesn’t exist.

He sits down beside you, close but not too close. His knee brushes yours, sending a shiver through your body, and you instinctively pull away, though not as sharply as you once did.

“You’re quiet today” he comments, pouring the tea and handing you a cup. You take it with trembling fingers. It’s easier to accept the little things than to fight all the time. But you still don’t speak.

He watches you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I can tell you’re thinking about a lot,” he says quietly. “You always have that look when your mind’s somewhere else.”

You stay silent, staring into the swirling steam rising from your cup. Your thoughts are a mess, tangled between anger and exhaustion, hope and despair. You know this isn’t right none of this is right. But the fight inside you feels duller now, harder to hold onto.

He reaches out, his hand brushing over yours. You flinch, but don’t pull away. His fingers are gentle, tracing the back of your hand. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmurs. “I know you’re scared. I know you don’t understand this yet. But I’m here for you.”

The words twist something inside you, making your stomach churn. You know what he’s doing. He’s been breaking you down, piece by piece, trying to make you dependent on him. And worst of all, it’s starting to work.

A part of you craves the comfort he offers. The reassurance. The idea that, despite everything, someone is there, taking care of you. It’s terrifying.

But as much as you hate it, you find yourself leaning into his touch just a little. The warmth of his hand, the soft cadence of his voice it’s easier to fall into it than to keep resisting.

“I don’t need you to be strong all the time,” he says, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I know this is hard. But you don’t have to carry it alone. Let me take care of you.”

Your chest tightens, and your vision blurs with tears. You want to scream, to tell him to stop, to push him away. But instead, you sit there, letting the warmth of his touch seep into your skin.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he continues, his voice soft, soothing. “No matter what you feel, no matter how hard it gets. I’ll never leave you.”

The tears spill over, sliding down your cheeks. You don’t want to believe him. You don’t want to let him in. But the weight of your loneliness presses down on you, crushing your resistance.

You take a shaky breath and close your eyes. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, this could be enough. Maybe you don’t have to fight anymore. Maybe you can find peace in this strange, twisted version of love he’s offering.

But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you pull back, withdrawing your hand from his. You wipe your tears quickly, biting your lip to keep from sobbing.

He watches you, his eyes dark with understanding. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “I can wait. I know this is hard for you.”

You nod weakly, too tired to argue.

As he stands and leaves the room, you curl back into yourself, clutching the cup of tea in your hands. You tell yourself you won’t give in. You’ll keep fighting. You’ll never let him break you.

But deep down, you know the truth. your resistance is fading.

[bonesandchalamet]

the kind you take home - j.harlow

masterlist

pairing: jack harlow x fem!reader

warnings: anxious thoughts + fluff

a/n: ahhh this took forever to write and I’m still not a fan about it!! feedback is appreciated and requests are open!!

Jack Harlow is known for many things. his music, his humor, and his love for Kentucky; his home. the thing he’s not known for, is a stable long term relationship.

his life style was so different compared to the many women he’s been with in his life, and it was never that he fell out of love, it was more the distance that tore them apart.

his time with you had been a lot different. distance was never easy, but it didn’t drift you away like his past relationships did, it only ever strengthened your love and excitement for each other. which was new for him, he never found himself this giddy, but just your name on his phone was enough to brighten his day.

“you seem tired.” you sigh, watching him relax against the sofa in the studio. he’s been working hard lately, and that sofa had become his bed with many late nights perfecting his album.

“just a little.” he shrugs, a lie that you both knew well enough to catch. he was more than just a little tired, he was burnt out. he needed that big white plush mattress, thick linen comforter, fluffy pillow, and your body beside him. the sofa was growing uncomfortable very quickly.

“why don’t you come home? I’ll take care of you, you know?” it’s an offer he can’t refuse, one he wants to take, but he knows tomorrow is an important day for you. your family would fly in and visit you for the first time in months, and he didn’t want to step on any toes and be in the way.

it’s not that he didn’t want to meet your mom and dad, or your siblings, but he was afraid of becoming close to them, afraid somehow this good thing he’s got would all soon disintegrate into nothing.

“it’s okay, baby, I’ll just stay here.” he looks at the pillows that have caused him two nights of neck pain, and the sofa cushions that had become like sand paper against his body. a day or two at your place wouldn’t be bad, but again, he’s just too afraid of a good thing coming to an end.

“jack, if you are not sleeping just come home. stop fighting me.” you rise from your place on the couch and begin to search for your car keys. he was as stubborn as could be, and you knew showing up would force him to get in your car and come home.

“what about your family? do they really want to see me?” the thoughts slip their way out into the air shocking both of you. you could feel the pit of your stomach flip, car keys slipping out of your hands once the words hit your ears.

a frown forms against your lips, why would he ever think that? the question roams your head as you search for words to express that it wouldn’t be the case. for six months your family had seen nothing but bright smiles on your face, and it’s all because of jack, they were hopeful to meet him. hearing those words hurt, because he had no clue how much of the opposite it really was.

“jack, they want to see you more than you even know. just come home, okay?”

—

the mattress feels like a cloud against his body. it’s the first time in two days he’s sleeping against something comfortable, and your body is beside him.

it didn’t take long for him to get comfortable. his eyes grew heavier as your nails gently rake through his thick caramel colored curls.

the morning sun was just peaking through your curtains, and the sound of commotion outside your front door alerts the both of you. they’re here. your whole family’s flight must’ve been moved up, because there they were knocking and ringing the doorbell.

“shit,” you push the covers off your body, careful to not wake up jack, who was still sound asleep despite the noise outside.

you quickly fled down the stairs, opening the door wide open to bright smiles and happy cheers, “y/n! oh it’s so good to finally see you.” your mother pulls you in for a tight long hug while the rest of your family enters the house.

“I didn’t know you guys were getting in early?” you ask taking a quick glance up the stairs, your bedroom door was still closed. you knew by now Jack had to have been awake, and you were sure he was anxiously trying to figure out his escape plan to avoid your family.

“everything alright?” your father places his hand against your upper back, eyes following where yours are, and he sees the door creeps open a bit, “tell him to come down, we’d love to meet Mr.Harlow.” he flashes you a wink before sending you upstairs to grab your boyfriend who’s now back, fake, asleep against the mattress.

“j, come on, they want to meet you.” you shake his body, knowing he’s awake, however he plays it off like he has been sleeping. you knew him better than he thought, seeing your eyes narrow on him.

“are you sure?” he sits up, realizing the time was nearly nine in the morning, the studio was calling his name. he needed to be out the door or else his manager wouldn’t be pleased by his late arrival.

“just say hi, that’s all they want.”

he nods, taking the white shirt in your hands, throwing it over his body. he follows you down the stairs to your family, awaiting with happy cheerful smiles and welcoming words.

“there’s mr. harlow! we’ve been waiting to meet you.” your fathers excitement is evident, the smile on his lips, hands reaching out to pat the shoulders, they shake the anxious thoughts from his mind and stomach.

“it’s nice to meet you.” jacks hand extends outward, but he’s greeted to an embrace that’s comforting. one that makes him realize he’s worries were for nothing, your family had already accepted him without having to meet him.

the bubbly attitude and optimistic outlook that jack gave you, it was all they could ever ask someone to do for you. he was the kind you could take back home, even if he didn’t think he was capable.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Nothing Else Matters, Eddie Munson

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Established relationship, fluff

Word count: 3487

Tw: description of anxiety, mention of food/refusing to eat out of stress. Mentions of throwing up but it’s a throwback and it doesn’t actually happen. Swearing (duh). Not proofread. S4 centric.

Summary: You and Eddie had always had each other’s back, regardless of what happened. Even now, as he is accused of murder and violence, you decide to help him in whatever way you can. Even if that means you’ll have to fight an interdimensional creature named after a d&d character.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“So close, no matter how far.

Couldn't be much more from the heart.”

This was insane. This was batshit insane. Two weeks ago you were worried you weren’t going to show up to work on time because you were stuck in traffic, and now you were fighting an interdimensional d&d monster.

Against all odds, Nancy had woken up from whatever trance she had been in and was busy recovering in Max’ living room. You? You were still recovering from the fact you had been in another world, hunted by something you would have laughed at last week.

You were standing in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water with shaking hands, still unsure of what you had seen and what had happened with Nancy. None of it had felt real. You were still convinced all of this had been one weird fever dream. But the panic had felt real. The pounding in your head felt real.

“Forever trusting who we are.

And nothing else matters.”

You don’t know which words had been exchanged whilst you had zoned out, but before you knew it, Max was running to her room, leaving the rest of you in the living room, seemingly ready to take off. You stared at them absentmindedly, setting the cup onto the counter. The group hadn’t been paying much attention to you, still caught up in their earlier conversations, but Eddie had.

“Hey sweetheart,” he drawled as he walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’ve been awfully quiet this entire time.” His voice was quiet enough for the others not to hear, unless they were really paying attention to you. You were grateful for that, far too overwhelmed to form a good talk with anyone other than Eddie. You hadn’t even really known any of them to begin with.

“I’m just processing everything,” you whispered, leaning back against his embrace. “It’s a lot.” “Yeah,” he hummed in agreement. “I’m still having a hard time believing all of it.” He added, resting his head atop yours as his hands fiddled with your fingers.

“What’s going to happen now?” You asked, not having received any information since you had arrived in Max’ trailer. “I’m going to do something I’ll probably regret.” You turned in his arms, looking at him in worry. “I’m going to steal a truck.” “Eds,” you scolded. “It’s not really gonna get worse from murder.” He shrugged.

You sighed in defeat at that, knowing he was right. He might not have done it, but no one in their right mind would believe you if you told them what you had been through in just one day. You wouldn’t have.

“Never opened myself this way.

Life is ours, we live it our way.”

Max quickly re-emerged, a Michael Myers mask in her hand. She gave it to Eddie, who got out of the embrace, putting the mask on. “Huh?” He teased - his grin almost audible. “Am I Jamie Lee Curtis?” You reciprocated, forcing a fake smile onto your face. Eddie lifted the mask over his head, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead.

“You know you can stay here if you want to, right?” He whispered. “No one is forcing you to go with us.” “I know,” you returned, your smile quickly fading. “But I’d feel safer with this group now.” He looked at you for a brief second before nodding. “Okay,” he spoke softly, placing another kiss on your forehead. Then, he slipped the mask back on, leading the group outside the trailer. You followed them quietly.

“All these words, I don't just say.

And nothing else matters.”

How you managed to sneak around a trailer back with a big group in an open field, you really couldn’t tell, but somehow you had made it to the back of a camper, watching as Eddie clumsily hoisted himself through a window. When he fell through, you waited a short moment, not sure if it was safe or not. As if he had heard your thinking, two hands came out of the window, gesturing for you to hold onto them. You couldn’t help but smile slightly at that, accepting the offer.

Grabbing Eddie’s hands, you made a slight jump, falling through the window as he did earlier. A loud huff was heard as you ended up on top of the couch, Eddie underneath you, his mask now off. He grinned at you sheepishly: “Well, hello there.”

You leaned down briefly, meeting his lips for a short kiss before getting off of him. Eddie followed you suit, locking the camper door before urging everyone else to get in as well. He jumped over the driver’s seat, grabbing a handful of wires underneath the steering wheel, already getting to work.

“Trust I seek and I find in you.

Every day for us something new.”

“Where'd you learn how to do this?” Steve asked, leaning over Eddie’s seat as he watched him work. “Well,” the boy began. “When the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire.” He looked up at Steve for a short second, a sarcastic smile on his face: “Now, I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did, but now I'm wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh,” he hesitated. “I'm really living up to that Munson name.”

“Eddie, I'm not sure I love the idea of you driving.” Robin called, leaning against Steve to catch onto their conversation. “Oh, I'm just starting this sucker.” Eddie defended, twisting the final wires. “Harrington's got her.” He leaned forward slightly, a playful expression on his face: “Don't ya, big boy?”

With that, the car started, music loudly sounding from the speakers. “What the hell?” You heard from outside, followed by a male voice: “Hey! Open this door!” Loud knocking was heard on the door as all heads turned towards the source of the sound. Eddie shot out of the chair, placing his hands on your shoulders as he manoeuvred past you, giving Steve the ability to take the passenger seat

“Hey! They locked the door!” “Shit!” Steve cursed, before he hopped into the seat. “Go!” Lucas shouted, followed by panic from everyone else. You heard Steve hyping himself up from your place. “It's just a car.” Then, he turned around, shouting at the group. “Everybody, hang on to something!”

“Oh my God!” Dustin shouted, clutching onto one of the pillows. “Let's go! Let's go!” “Drive, Steve! Drive!” “Go, go, go!” You clutched onto the back of the passenger seat, Eddie’s hands clinging to your figure as the camper swerved through the trailer park, your heartbeat back in your throat. “Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!“ “Shit, they look pissed.”

“It's not every day you lose your house and car in one fell swoop.” Robin tried to put in, a nervous chuckle escaping her throat as she held onto one of the bars in the camper.

“Open mind for a different view.

And nothing else matters.”

When you finally reached the open road, the group had begun to calm down. Nancy was seated in the passenger seat next to Steve, whereas the rest had settled on the couch in the back of the camper. You found yourself at the table, your head against Eddie’s shoulder as you watched the trees pass by.

“You falling asleep there?” You heard Eddie hum, his arm finding its way around your body. “I wish,” you returned. “Could do with some good sleep.” “Then, get some.” The boy mused, rubbing your upper arm soothingly.

“I can’t,” you answered. “Too much going on.” You just got a hum of understanding in response. Eddie might not have been the best at verbal comfort, but it was his effort that mattered.

Instead of reassuring you of things he himself doubted, he just held you there, listening to the music on the radio as he enjoyed the weight of your head on his shoulder. It was a gentle distraction for him, however brief.

“Never cared for what they do.

Never cared for what they know.

But I know.”

“Someone’s gotta stay behind here and watch these two.” Steve spoke as he parked the camper. His words were met with a piercing silence, forcing a little chuckle from Eddie.

“I’ll stay.” Dustin spoke up, shrugging as if it was nothing. “You?” Steve asked, getting out of his seat as he looked at the younger boy. “What are you going to do when they find them?” “Nothing,” Dustin spoke matter-of-factly. “Because I’ll be the look-out.”

Steve didn’t seem sold on it. “I can drive if I have to.” You added, raising your head from Eddie’s shoulder. “They’re mostly out for Eddie.” “Yeah, but the last time they saw you, you were in the boat with me.” Eddie pointed out. “They’re definitely out for you too.”

“I’ll be the look-out.” Dustin repeated, then he turned to Steve: “Unless you want to stay behind.” He observed the three of you for a long time, before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Fine.” He turned to you, pointing his finger at you. “First thing goes wrong, you leave, okay? We’ll take a bus.” Dustin rolled his eyes, ushering everyone out.

“We’ll be fine.”

“So close, no matter how far.

It couldn't be much more from the heart.”

“This is so boring,” Eddie groaned, now seated with his back against the backrest of the driver’s seat, situated on a pile of blankets. “At least you’re safe.” Dustin mumbled, his eyes still glued on the entrance of the War Zone. He was taking his job as a look-out really seriously.

“Want a snack, princess?” Eddie asked, holding up a half eaten bag of chips to you. You dismissed him. “I’m fine, thank you.” “You need to eat something.” He countered. “You haven’t eaten anything since we went to that screwed-up Hawkins. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” “I’m just not hungry.” “Mhm,” he hummed, putting the chips on the table as he stood up.

“Don’t forget yourself, sweetheart.” He whispered as he pulled you into his arms. You didn’t quite know what to do with it. You were glad for his input, and you wanted to assure him you were fine, but something about his hold on you just made you want to fall apart.

“I don’t get how you’re so calm,” you mumbled, your voice shaky, even though you thought you kept yourself together reasonably well. “I’m not,” your boyfriend confessed. “But I can hide fear really well.”

“Forever trusting who we are.

And nothing else matters.”

“I’m just so scared,” you admitted, the words being the final drop for you. Your hands trembled around his jacket as the first tear slipped down your cheek. “Hey,” Eddie tried to comfort. “It’s okay. I’m scared too. Dustin’s scared too.” “Sorry?” Dustin asked confused, not having followed the conversation at all.

“You’re scared too.” Eddie repeated, a warning look shot towards the younger boy, though you couldn’t see it. “Absolutely.” You quickly heard. Eddie slowly parted from you, keeping you at arm’s length to properly look at you. “See?” You forced a smile onto your face, furiously wiping the tears from your face. The lump in your throat that had grown within seconds felt heavy, almost restricting you from saying anything: “I just feel like I’m the only one losing it here.” “That’s not true,” Eddie denied, one of his hands making its way to your face to wipe your other cheek.

“I don’t really know what to do with myself now. I was just lucky to have you around to ground me.” You didn’t know what it was about his words that broke you, but after that, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. You took a step closer to him, letting your face fall against his chest. Eddie returned to embrace almost immediately, clutching to your figure tightly as he began to rock from side to side, doing his best to calm you.

“Never cared for what they do.

Never cared for what they know.

But I know.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I would have been toast by now.” He continued, slowly descending to the floor, taking you with him. When you sat down, you got closer to him, one of your hands finding his as you toyed with his rings, trying to distract yourself. A desperate sob escaped you, though you tried to silence yourself quickly, knowing the walls on the camper were thin.

“Sweetheart, don’t do that, you’re gonna make me cry too.” Eddie sympathised, letting you toy with his rings as he blocked your figure with his own from Dustin’s view. “I’m sorry.” You cried softly, throwing your head back as you did your best to check your surroundings - doing anything to keep yourself from straying too far into your mind.

“No, no, don’t apologise.” The boy dismissed, placing a kiss to your temple as your sobs slowly but surely lessened. “God, I just wish I could keep you in my pocket or something and just shield you from everything.” “You guys are gross.” Dustin called from his seat. “Shut up, Henderson.”

Then, Eddie turned back to you, his head on your shoulder as his breath was hot on your neck. “We’ll be alright.” He reassured. “I’ve got you.”

“I never opened myself this way.

Life is ours, we live it our way.”

Again, Eddie was not good in verbal comfort, even as he held the best of intentions. He was, however, really good at distraction: “You know, I learned that solo a couple days ago. Haven’t really gotten the time to mention it considering… everything.” He trailed off, waving his free hand off absentmindedly. “I’ll let you hear it when we’re back home.”

You didn’t respond to that. You heard him, but you were too caught up to properly respond to him. The crying had begun to slow down, but hiccups still remained. It was times like these you were so incredibly grateful to have Eddie at your side because, regardless of his flaws. He always managed to work something out.

“Hey, remember that time Garrett threw up over my guitar?” He started with a chuckle. You couldn’t resist the small laugh that escaped you. “Yeah, it was such a pain to get out.” He went on. Your breathing had become more steady, the tears now finally stopping. “You bought me a new one after that.” Eddie voiced when he noticed the change in your posture.

“It got everywhere,” you whispered. “Even after washing it, it still smelled.” “Yeah,” Eddie laughed. “And it just felt disgusting to hold.”

“All these words, I don't just say.

And nothing else matters.”

“I had some good memories with that guitar, though. It was the one I played when you came to our first gig.” An exhausted sigh came from you as you simply rested in Eddie’s arms, fatigue now finally settling in. “Oh god, you remember that?” You mumbled.

“How could I not?” He snickered. “It was like, only a year ago.” You just nodded at that, your fingers now entwining with his. “Yeah, you were dressed in your work outfit because you just got off your shift.”

A smile appeared on his face as he remembered the day. You had been working at the Starcourt Mall when it still stood, making long days whilst awaiting your college letter. You had barely kept in touch with Eddie over that period of time, yet you came to his first gig when he asked you.

“You were half asleep during the entire gig.” He voiced. “I had a long day.” “And yet, you showed.”

You looked up at him, his hair now tickling your face as he leaned down to make eye contact with you.

“You asked me.”

“Trust I seek and I find in you.

Every day for us something new.”

He hummed: “Never expected you to actually come, though.” At that, you furrowed your eyebrows together, already forgetting all worry from earlier. The two of you never really talked about that day, even though it had been important to both of you. It was a fond memory, the beginning of something you had been sharing for a while now. But the urge to properly discuss it never really came up. There wasn’t really any need to. So, to hear the insecurities he had held about it had taken you aback.

“Really?” “Yeah,” he scoffed. “You were this amazing, badass girl and I just worked on a project with you once.” “And I got you your records.” You added. During that year in Starcourt, you had gotten a job at the record store. It was weird, considering you and Eddie never had much contact, yet you’d always have a record for him if you were to meet up for whatever reason.

“How could I forget?” The boy laughed. “You were already out of school and we were as good as strangers. And yet, you showed up.”

“Open mind for a different view.

And nothing else matters.”

“We were never strangers.” You comforted. “No?”

“No.” You assured. You noticed the way his eyes softened slightly at that, a fond smile crossing his lips. You leaned up slightly, placing a kiss to them, enjoying the feeling for a short second. The moment was interrupted when Dustin coughed obnoxiously, almost as if reminding you he had still been there.

Eddie smiled against your lips, pressing another kiss to it before parting. You sighed at the loss, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “I guess there’s no shame in saying it now, but I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”

“Really?” He questioned incredulously. “Me?”

“Eddie.” You deadpanned. “Yah?”

“We’re dating.”

“I know. Embarrassing for you.”

“Never cared for what they say.

Never cared for games they play.”

You snickered at him, shaking your head at his comments. Yet, Eddie kept you there, confusion still evident on his face: “You had a crush on me?” “That so surprising?” “Yes!” He practically shouted. “You were this cool chick who was just perfect in every way and I was a social outcast.” “But a sexy social outcast.” You added in a humorous tone.

Eddie’s free hand fell over your entwined ones, tracing patterns on the back of your hand, a new-found pride settling into his system: “You’re telling me we could have been dating all that time?”

You grabbed his hand, kissing his palm gently. “You would have worked up the confidence to ask me out?” “Absolutely not.” He answered honestly. “I should have.”

You shrugged.“We still ended up here. Guess it worked out for the best.”

“Never cared for what they do.

Never cared for what they know.

And I know.”

Finally, you stood up from the floor, groaning slightly as you stretched your arms. You shot Dustin a teasing look: “We’re done being lovesick, Dustin,” you sang. “You can look.” The younger boy immediately looked at you, pointing his finger at you and Eddie in accusation. “You two are disgusting.”

“Ah, I love that little guy.” Eddie smiled from his seat on the floor. “Disgusting.” Dustin emphasised. “I cannot wait until the rest returns.”

With that, you took a quick glimpse at your watch, noticing the amount of time that had passed. “About that,” you began. “They’ve been gone for an awfully long time.”

“You think they’re compromised?” Dustin asked, his eyes widening. “No,” you shook your head. “You would have seen them, right?” The boy just shrugged, swallowing thickly.

“So close, no matter how far.

Couldn't be much more from the heart.”

“What the hell is taking so long?” Dustin groaned, running his hands through his hair in impatience. As if they were waiting on the other side of the door, the group suddenly came barrelling in, taking you three by surprise. By the evident distress on their faces, something had gone wrong.

“What happened?” “Gotta go,” Robin rambled. “Your old friends are here.” “Shit.” Eddie cursed, leaning his head down beneath the driver seat. He opened his arms, urging you to join him: “Come here, sweetheart.”

You took his invitation, crawling back into his arms as he swung a blanket over the pair of you, doing his best to keep you hidden. Robin stood in front of you, blocking you from the windows. “Let's go! Let's go!” Erica shouted from the couch, her eyes glued to the outside. “I'm going! I'm going!” Steve yelled back, driving the car from its parking spot. “Sit down!”

And just like that, the panic was back: a painful preview of what you were going to endure. The only distraction you had now was the warm embrace of Eddie. And for now, that was enough to keep you grounded.

“Forever trusting who we are.

No, nothing else matters.”