#Trying to depict the teeth of all things is what made it take so long jknrjkeh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eoieopda · 3 months ago

Note

FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept.

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose proximity to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant.

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be.

So, he bites his tongue.

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones.

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis.

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various surfaces the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.”

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history.

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely.

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too.

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

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mrsnancywheeler · 11 months ago

Text

the lakes (6) // finnick odair x f. reader

merry christmas to all who celebrate, my gift to you 🎄

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

5k words

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT MDNI (y'all better eat it up while it's here bc this might be one of like twice or three times so merry christmas lmao), orgasm denial, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly mean finnick but also softdom, mentions and allusions to trafficking and sexual trauma, self-hate, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions to death/violence, pnv, usage of weapons, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, unedited, cumming inside, mental health issues, self doubt, hypocritical reader, savior complex finnick

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Cold air hit your skin as the doors to the training center opened, instantly you could feel the onslaught of goosebumps on your arms. “Remember brush up on skills, knives, spears and number one objective-”

"Katniss.” You finished for him. "You go get your hands back on that trident, and hopefully my instincts will remember what it takes to throw a knife or a spear.”

"If not, work on some survival skills, but I think the instincts will kick in.” You tilted your head to the side, uncertain but humoring the idea. He kissed you softly, “See you soon."

"I'm only going to be a few hundred feet away, Finnick.” You smiled and he did too.

“Well that's a few hundred feet too far.”

"Good thing you can come find me anytime you want.” Squeezing his hand as you reluctantly took a few steps back.

“You don't want to come and admire me back in my element?" He joked, his grin bearing his shining teeth.

“In your dreams, Odair."

“Absolutely!" Finnick's eyebrows quirked up before you finally pulled yourself out of his magnetic field to focus on the more viral thing, survival.

It had been so long since you'd thrown a knife with purpose, over half a decade which had been what you felt most confident in. Of course there had been a couple times, admittedly more than a couple, when your nerves spiked up and a moment where you were simply making dinner, chopping something up, to being spooked by a noise that led to a knife wedged in a wall or cupboard. So Finnick cooked and cut, he wasn't as easily startled or on edge.

This year they had clearly made more of an investment into the training, a little pad verifying it was you when you stood on the elevated block. You took a second before lifting the tiny weapons from where they lay, the weight was instantly familiar in a way that made your chest heave. It felt like you were that same young girl again, trying to see what could help her survive, help her overcome others. Finnick has been right, how to throw a knife, how to throw it to kill, all came back like child's play.

The instant the first hologram appeared it was like your brain went on autopilot, they weren't real but your brain was screaming, survive, survive, survive. Each knife flew from your hand with lethal aim, your arms instinctively knew what to do, how to throw precisely as fast as possible. So you trusted your body when suddenly the simulation was over, you felt your head coming back to reality. It was terrifying, you'd felt like you were in a dizzy high and suddenly you were that same young girl terrified in the arena. Full of guilt and regret for the lives you'd taken.

“I thought your weapon of choice was a spear." A voice cut through your thoughts, bringing your thoughts back to the person you were now. Peeta, ever outgoing and charismatic just as he'd been depicted, with an untrusting looking Katniss not far behind.

“No, that's what was convenient at the end, but the spear was never mine, it was-"

“Conway’s." Katniss finished the name you hated saying, hated remembering for you. “You killed in the Bloodbath with knives and then the girl from District 2." She must have been rewatching everyone's games, learning their tactics.

“Ironic, weren't they the District 2 girl from last year's weapon of choice as well?" You asked, stepping off the platform.

“Yes." She was tense, stiff it radiated off of her, stagnating the air.

“When there's such limited options, it's hard to get much differentiation. You certainly helped mix the bag last year.” Not just with her little bow and arrow, you hoped she knew what you were really saying, but couldn't with the people watching from above. She probably didn't, she was like a guard dog who didn't know whether or not one could be warmed up too, but would always assume the worst.

“I'm glad that was entertaining." Her voice was bitter as if she had no idea that everyone here has gone through the exact same trauma and felt the same way.

“It certainly was for them." You glanced upwards, towards the head game maker and his cronies observing you all like lab rats. “Most of us were." The Morphlings certainly had to be the most boring show of all, to those who couldn't realize it was such a smart tactic to stay alive, even if it didn't make great daytime television.

“You should teach us how to throw sometime." Peeta inserted himself back into the conversation. "If you want, we could teach each other things. I could go over camouflage.” He offered with a smile.

“Yeah of course!" You smiled back. “When you blended into the rocks by that stream, it was truthfully unfathomable in talent to be able to do that."

“And Katniss can shoot, I'm sure you've seen, but she never misses." Katniss shot him a glare, "Just following Haymitch's orders.” Peeta shrugged before his eye was caught by Johanna finishing up with her ax training. “I should get a formal introduction." He was walking away when Katniss spoke again.

“Why'd you volunteer for that girl?" She asked, and you turned your head towards her.

“For Annie?" You felt like it was obvious, but Katniss just nodded. “I wasn't going to put her through this again, that wouldn't have been fair of me. I couldn't let any of them, I couldn't have lived with myself if I had, so I might as well die on that hill now." Your candor seemed to make her less stiff. “You know, she was the first tribute I mentored. Years after my games, I did everything I could to help her win, to prepare her, but I couldn't prepare her for what happened after. Seeing her after that it was like I failed." Annie would forever be known as the one who went "a little crazy.” Maybe that was a blessing though, maybe it saved her from a much worse fate. Katniss' eyes finally looked more soft, not off guard, but not blocked off from your words.

“Even though you know this time only one of you can come out?" Her eyes briefly flickered towards Finnick before landing back on you.

“I'm not expecting to be the one who makes it out and she wouldn't have either. It's worth it to save her, he'll be fine without me." The words were too raw, too much like being stripped naked, but you knew you needed her to trust you and being honest would probably be the most effective route. Of course she couldn't completely trust you if she'd watched your games, you didn't blame her for that, but you just needed a little of it. “It's not different from what you did for your sister, sometimes you just know when that person needs to be protected no matter what that means for you."

Katniss began walking over to where the spears were located, “Like Peeta said, if you show me how to use the spear and the knives, I can show you how to shoot the bow and what plants and berries you can trust." This was her way of some form of acceptance you realized and internally congratulated yourself.

“Sounds like a deal to me." You picked one of the heavy spears up, it was also just as you remembered. It brought back flashes of the boy who taught you how to use it, the boy you'd killed with it. You could tell what she was thinking as you held it, how you used Conway, used his emotions and then his own weapon. “You know, the funny thing is people act like he didn't know, but that’s really what made it so brilliant.” Katniss looked confused as you stepped into the platform, which confirmed it was you. "Looking back you realize how early on he had me figured out and was playing me right back, I really think that's what endeared us to each other in the first place. He was trying to beat me at my own game almost from the beginning and I didn't even realize.” You launched the spear into the first hologram before quickly grabbing the other as Katniss watched on, absorbing the seemingly impromptu rant. “I can't blame him, I don't blame him even if I'm the one who gets it all placed on my head, which I probably deserve." Another spear knocking the hologram figure apart. The final one ready to fly. “You just have to remember who the real enemy is."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"You two already have an advantage being from District 4, plenty of opportunities to practice with what you would be good at using in lessons. So stick with whatever you were good at then to impress, but don't forget to learn other skills that could be life saving in the long run.” Finnick was breaking down the plan for the two of you as the walk for the first training session with the other tributes was about to ensue. Although it went unspoken you'd also been blessed with extra practice even from back when you were dating Finnick in the district, he was so anxious that he needed to ensure you knew how to protect yourself. That you polished your skills, which he was sure you could do.

"Show off your strengths, but don't forget you're not just impressing the gamemakers, but the approval of other tributes can be vital. Alliances are important.” Ondine added.

Finnick nodded in agreement, “Another advantage from District 4, is the availability of the Career pack of tributes. All of the best trained and prepared tributes, especially if you show off enough to impress Districts 1 & 2 you're both a shoe-in. I'd encourage that as the strongest choice."

“I don't think we should do that." Conway’s voice of disagreement made you stop in your tracks. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be going on in his head that possessed him to argue with your mentor, someone who'd won before? Finnick raised an eyebrow, in a look you could only describe as patronizing. “I'm just saying that also means they're the best prepared to stab us in the back when it comes down to it. If we ally with tributes from a less prominent district it could make it easier when it comes down to it, make it less vicious.” He was delusional, it would be vicious no matter what when there were just a few people left.

You looked at Ondine who’s eyes were closed as she shook her head, Finnick's arms were crossed as he looked at the two of you, and Conway looked expectantly right at you. Then it hit you, this was a test. In order to maintain his trust in the fantasy you'd been carefully creating you'd have to take his side, prove you weren't loyal to every thing Finnick muttered. Even if it was hypocritical it angered you, it felt hellishly unfair that he would put you in a predicament like that. Who cared about the relationship between you and Finnick when he was the mentor offering advice to save both of your lives?

Conway pointed at you, urging you for a response. “I mean, what do you think? I'm just babbling aloud, I'll drop it if you think it's stupid." Maybe you were just paranoid, no, this was definitely a loyalty test. To him your love would mean support, it would mean unwavering devotion. So you painfully forced a caring, understanding look in your eyes, for your muscles to relax, and a loving smile on your face.

“Of course we should keep our options open, I mean we're not even there yet, the Careers this year might not even be the best options. You're right, Conway, we should consider every path to help us." Of course the Careers would be prepared, he was going to get you killed if he kept pulling this. Reasoning that at least your actions were well calculated not blindly emotional scrutinization. It made you slightly resent him, but the answer seemed to satisfy him as he grinned at the other two before beginning to walk again.

The slight spring in his step was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention, it upset you. When you hoped Conway wasn't watching, you shot a look towards Finnick. It was quick, but you grimaced and hoped your eyes could express your annoyance. Although the bob of his head was equally quick you could see he understood and was feeling just as enraged as you felt if not more. How could Conway claim to care about you when he could threaten a potentially life saving alliance to try and prove a point about how much you felt for him over Finnick? Although Finnick still wore a charming smile you could feel him seething and it comforted you somehow to know that he would never, that he would always pick safety, your safety and that he wouldn't stand for Conway’s games either. Even if rationally it did make sense, you were messing with him which both you and Finnick knew, but there wasn't time to think on that when it was life and death.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“You're brilliant, even if it pains me to admit that you beat me to it." Finnick shook his head, smiling wildly. Haymitch had informed you that so far Katniss would have liked you as an ally if it weren't for the package deal that included Finnick. A feat considering all the tributes that wanted to ally with her after her impressive show in the archery station. It had truly been amazing, how smoothly she used the weapon, and how accurate she was.

“Well, you're welcome." You pecked him on the lips, smiling. Sitting down on the bed and smoothing out your robe, Finnick soon followed.

“I love you so much." He mumbled as he crashed down onto the mattress.

“I love you too, Finnick." Your head lay down by his, quietly counting the freckles scattered across his face.

“Staring is rude." His eyes shone with his internal brightness that he couldn't hide from you.

“Isn't that a perk I should get being your wife and all?" He scooted closer, nose brushing against yours.

“I suppose. Don't know why you'd need to, there's no need to memorize when you're stuck with me forever now."

“Good." There was nothing you wanted more than to see his handsome face every day, from when you woke to when you slept and every moment in between.

His hot hands embraced your cold face, making you shiver and he smirked. It was so patronizing, how he knew that his skin to yours was like fire on ice so you had no choice but to melt, but you couldn't stop yourself from softening anyways. Before you could even try and conjure up words to try and call him out, his lips were on yours.

He wasn't aggressive, never, but his gentleness didn't take away from his control. Your lips chased him and suddenly you were beneath him, swept up in his plush lips. Hands searched for him before he pulled his face away. You couldn't stop yourself before you whined at the removal of his lips from yours, pouting at him.

He scoffed, looking down at you slightly condescending, “Really, angel?" You could feel your face heating up as his eyes gazed at you, his hand delicately tracing the hem of your robe. “We don't have to do this, if you don't want to, sweet girl. You have to communicate with me, I don't want to push you, if you even don't feel comfortable you need to tell me." It felt like too much in the moment when it seemed so blatantly obvious that you wanted him, craved him. But it also made you love him so much more.

For so long it had been difficult to even be touched. The Capitol had come in and dug their talons into you, your own intimacy didn't even belong to you. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You'd tried to push it down, he'd dealt with it for so much longer, since he was so much younger. Pushing it down didn't stop the roots of trauma from taking root deep within your soul though.

You felt guilty for not being able to give yourself in so many ways to Finnick who was unbelievably patient, of course he was, he understood, he cared. When you'd finally grazed your hand against his and let him grab it, the pureness of the touch was enough to make you burst into tears. That made it more difficult too though, your tears. A tactic that had once seemed wise in winning over the Capitol as a sweet, innocent girl had come back to bite you. Echoes of how pretty you were when you cried.

When you'd finally given that part of yourself to Finnick, of your own accord, the will that has usually been taken from you. He'd made sure you wouldn't regret it, he brought back the positives of intimacy which you'd forgotten about. You were so used to calling upon the tears as you zoned out, floated away. But not with Finnick, never with him. Where you both belonged to each other and were truly connected as one.

“Are you comfortable?" You asked softly. It felt selfish that he was so worried about you with what he'd been through as well, like it was too much about you.

Finnick sighed, “Don't do that." You looked at him quizzically, “Averting the question, you shouldn't be doing it to please me, I'll be okay. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't.” His hand stroked the side of your face which chased each movement. "Are you certain you want this? I'm not going to be upset if you say no, angel.” The way he loved you so deeply to be going step by step wasn't even grating anymore it just made your heart buzz even more.

"I do want this Finnick, I know what to say if it is too much.” The thumb grazing your neck was enough to make your eyes roll back, your entire body sensitive with the waiting.

Finnick nodded, slowly. Making sure you weren't just trying to appease him, "Color?”

You sighed dramatically, "Green.” He tugged your hair lightly, "Ow!”

"So impatient, trying to take good care of my girl and she's too desperate to appreciate it.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

You pouted, “I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm just-" You gasped as his hand slipped in your rope, warm hand grazing the cold, hardness of your nipple. Legs rubbing together, his other hand, instantly sitting between them to hold them still.

“Speak up, angel. Just what?" That's what you appreciated so much, he was dominant, took care of you without the casual cruelty others often used. Of course he could be cruel in the best way, a type that still cared and knew what the line was and respected it.

“Need you, please. So, so bad." Your hands grabbed his shoulders, then the sides of his neck desperately trying to feel more of his warmth.

He hummed condescendingly, “You do?" His hand left your breast to the toe of the robe which he slowly unknotted. You nodded, brows furrowed as you tried to buck your hips. The hand prevented your legs from getting closer together, hitting your inner thigh but not in a forceful manner. “Come on sweet girl, can't you behave for me, won't you be my good girl?" His ocean eyes had you nodding along mindlessly. “Words."

“Yes, please, I just, please I need more."

“So needy." The knot on your robe untied, falling open to reveal you to the crisp air. His hand trailing down to where you needed him most, the feeling already sending shocks through your body. You wanted desperately to buck your hips up once again but resisted. He chucked, “Is this all for me? I haven't even really touched you yet." You nodded desperately, the teasing made you want to cry in desperation. Which was fine, but thinking about it scared you, the way they'd taken away two things that were so natural, so personal would distract you.

“Finnick." You said shakily and the time instantly made his face get serious.

“Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head vigorously.

"No, just-” Your fingers fiddled with the blanket, embarrassed, "Can you just take some deep breaths with me?”

"Of course, my love.” He grabbed the hand nervously moving around the blankets to hold it to his heart. “You're okay, in and out with me, angel." You closed your eyes, breathing with him, his heart reverberating through you. “Let me know when you want to keep going or stop." He whispered.

“Finnick, I just want to cry, not in a bad way just it's been so, so ruined for me." Weaponized, sexualized.

He nodded, “You can cry if you want, I'll wipe them away from you." The idea made you want to cry at his sweetness alone.

“Okay." Your voice was shaky, “We can keep going, please." His fingers began moving again, right over your core. Palm slightly running against you and it took all of you to not rub with him. Fingers delicately circling your sensitive nub and you moaned out. The first tears falling which he diligently wiped away with his time and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is that good?" You nodded blissfully and he swatted at your bareness causing a yelp.

“Yes, thank you Finnick, so good."

“Good girl, such a fast learner." You whimpered, toes curling. “What do you need?"

“In me, please."

“What, my fingers?" He held one hand up, moving them in front of your face. The man was mocking you, he knew what you meant and he kept rubbing your clit, making it nearly impossible to keep verbalizing.

“No!" You stammered out desperately. He smirked and removed his fingers from your bundle of nerves, causing you to hit his arm in frustration before he was grinding his clothed member on you and your hands wrapped around his shoulder tightly. You nodded intently, “Yes please. Want you to be inside of me, want to be one Finnick, yours." It hit you that this was the consummation of your marriage which made your heart swell as well as your need.

“Can't deny you anything, sweet girl." He was such a liar, but right now he followed through. Your hands began pulling down the pants he wore, desperate to free him so he could be buried in your walls. He groaned as your hand grazed his tip, precum dotting it. You licked your lips and he smirked cockily, “Another time, angel."

"How do you want me?” You asked, you'd take him anyway he wanted just to be clenched around him.

"Just the way you are is perfect, wanna see you, beautiful.” He lined himself up with your soaked entrance, "Are you sure, you're ready? Don't need more preparation.” You shook your head vigorously, pushing yourself forward to feel the tip and he grunted.

“Don't need it, so wet, I can take you, promise."

"Only if you're sure.” You nodded again, pouting.

"Please!” You whined and with that he didn't hold back, pushing his full length in and you nearly screamed. Clenching your walls around him, fingernails digging into him.

“That feel good?"

“So, so, so good." You began sliding your hand down, but he caught it tutting in disapproval.

"I've got you, angel, just lay there like a good girl. Let me take care of you too, you're making me feel so good.” His expert fingers went straight back to your clit as he began pounding in and out of you.

“Oh God, Finnick!" Your eyebrows pulled together and eyes snapped shut as he filled you. It was like you were a perfect fit for each other.

“So perfect angel, just looking at you made me think I wasn't even gonna make it into you." Finnick groaned, he knew exactly what you liked, what pace to go. You'd been so used to faking it or them not caring at all, but with him he could get you there so fast, so hard, and could do it over and over so perfectly. His fingers rubbing into your bundle of nerves that had you biting into your bottom lip to stop you from waking the whole floor. Both actions made you want to scream in ecstacy. “Are you close already, angel? Do I really make you feel like that, so fast?” You nodded, dumbly making mindless noises as his hips thrusted in and out. “Me too. I don't know how you do it to me. Where do you want me, stomach, mouth, inside?" His groaning was making his own speech shaky.

“Inside please, need to feel it, Finnick."

“You sure?" He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as your moans from his skilled fingers working their magic as he kept moving inside of you made him even closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, need to be one, just you and me. Need it inside." He pinched the bundle of nerves lightly as he hit the spot inside of you that had you kicking your feet on sheets. “I'm gonna, oh I'm gonna-"

“I know, just wait a little bit longer, angel, I'm almost there. So close, be my good, good girl." You whined, nodding.

“Wanna be so good for you."

He nodded, the words bringing him even closer to the edge as he roughly thrusted into you. “You are, so good, just gotta hold back a little longer." You were sobbing, lost in the high as he wiped away the tears streaming down.

“Feels so good, Finnick, I can't please let me, need to."

“Wait." He said sternly, at this point he felt like he was denying himself too just to watch you squirm and listen to his every word. Grabbing your face softly so your eyes were trained on him, hand still rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Been such a good girl, don't ruin it." His hips started stuttering inside of you.

You shook your head, “I won't, I'm sorry. Wanna be good." He let go of your face with his free hand and pinched your nipple. “Finnick, please, I can't. Please don't be mean, I need you.”

"Making me feel so good, my love. Clenching around me, trying to hold back, you're such a good listener." He pinched your clit again, he was being mean, he couldn't deny it but the way you cried out and started trying to push away from him was bringing him straight to the edge. “Color?"

“Green." You choked out, “Please, Finnick, I can't." Your hands pushed against his chest.

"Then you know what to say, angel." He raised an eyebrow, “So you can." It would feel so much better, be so much harder for both of you the longer he kept this up. His lips attached to your breast and you tugged his hair, he moaned onto you and the vibrations had you desperately trying to fend off the orgasm approaching.

“Please, I need to. I know you are too." He thrust into that special spot in you again and your hands hit the sheets in frustration as your eyes fluttered.

“Be patient, don't be a brat." He pulled away from your breast to look at you. He pressed down on your clit and thrust into you again, “Oh god, gonna let go inside of you now, angel. Be all over your walls, gonna feel so good. Been such a good girl, you ready to let go of me."

“Yes, please!"

“You can let go, sweet girl." His lips pressed to yours to quiet both of you moans as you finally both let yourself go. You could've sworn the way his split inside you made your shaking even harder. It was so good, so worth it.

You were nearly breathless when you pulled away, “That was new."

“Are you okay?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, of course. I just, you're always incredible, I'm great.” You laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, good.” He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you."

“You don't have to thank me, angel."

“Yes I do, they've taken so much of both of us and you just bring so much of it back to just being so real, so it doesn't feel like they own it anymore."

“That's just being a decent human, I just want to take care of you. Through all the ups and downs." He was so kind, it made you ecstatic that for as long as either of you were alive you'd always be one with each other, bonded through everything you loved. “Come on, we have another long day tomorrow, let's get cleaned up."

“What if we just didn't go, just laid here together, until it passed."

“I'd love to." His eyes were earnest and like pools you could drown in, “Nothing I want more than being with you forever. But they'd drag us out and we have things to do, my love.” He helped lift you up from where you lay comfortably. Your nose scrunched up." What?”

You pulled apart your thighs, "So sticky.”

He laughed before he could stop himself, "Well I'm not the one who asked for it.” That smug, loveable ass.

"Shut up, you loved it.” Softly shoving his arms as you went to stand.

He raised his arms in defense, "Guilty as charged."

He was so perfect, the way he was so effortlessly funny, so compassionate for all your needs even if you didn't verbalize them, how patient he was yet so stern and guiding. Much too good for what you could give him, you'd go to hell and back to do half as much as he did for you. Of course he always assured you of all you did to help him, but it felt so miniscule compared to what he did for you. The things you would sacrifice to help him, to be by his side were unmatched.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading!! I haven't written smut in so long and this really isn't a smut heavy series but I felt like exploring how what snow did to the victors who were deemed to be desirable would effect their intimacy and sometimes a little spice is needed to deal with all the angst I write. if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs, anything and my ask box is already open if you have any questions or ideas! thank you all so much for reading 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair angst #thg #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fanfic #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader smut

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captn-trex · 3 months ago

Text

let me take care of you

Rex x F!Reader

word count: 5.7k

description: you have been suffering from depression for a few months and have shut yourself off from the world. a few weeks after getting laid off from your job, you get an unexpected knock at the door.

warnings: i'm gonna say this is 16+ just to be safe, heavily implied sex, depiction of depression, suicidal ideation, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining - let me know what I've missed !

a/n: okay so this is sooooo self-indulgent it's actually embarassing. I wrote the first bit of this when I was truly going through it and... yeah, it's just Rex taking care of the reader hehe, with a bit of suggestive stuff but not proper smut. if that's your kinda thing, I hope you enjoy! (also this is the first oneshot that I've actually posted so gimme constructive criticism pls !!)

Everything felt foggy.

For the past months, your life had felt like you were just going through the motions. Wake up, go to work, come home, struggle to sleep, and repeat. You didn't enjoy the things you used to anymore. It had been too long since you had taken a walk in the park, since you had sketched or written, and it hurt that you couldn't seem to even try and do them. Like there was an invisible force stopping you, and yet, there wasn't. It was just your own mind, lacking in whatever hormone would make you happy.

You couldn't find it in yourself to take care of yourself properly, and ever since being laid off from your job a few weeks ago, you had gone into the worst of it. You weren't eating properly, you couldn't sleep, sometimes staying up all night even though you would lay in your bed and just pray for it to be different. You hadn't seen your friends in months, though they would try and check in on you. You always told them you were busy, but you knew they knew what was going on. You had been like this before, though this time it was worse.

You shut yourself off from the world.

You hadn't been out of your apartment at all in days when you heard the knock. You made your way to your front door, and your breath hitched when you peered through the little hole and saw who was behind it.

Rex.

The clone stood in the hallway, his helmet at his hip, looking down the hall, and handsome as ever. There was no way you were letting him in while you were in this state. You hadn't brushed your hair in maker knows how long, you hadn't showered in… maybe a week? and the last time you had brushed your teeth was probably 2 days ago. Your personal hygiene was sorely lacking.

You watched the Captain through the door, your breath fogging up the glass, and jumped back when the knocking of the door reverberated around your small apartment.

What is he doing here?

You hadn't seen Rex since you lost your job, though he was among the few people who checked in with you regularly, trying to ask about how you were or convince you to come out of the house. Your stomach churned at the idea of people fussing about you, and now one of them was standing outside your door. A particular one of them that, in any given other state, you would be dying to see.

Your deep attraction and affection for Rex only made this situation more uncomfortable for you, the thought of answering the door making you feel physically sick.

You then heard your name called from behind the door in a deep, questioning voice, and your knees went weak.

“Are you in there?” He asked, followed by another knock.

You wanted to reply, to say anything, but you couldn't find your voice. What would I say? You elected to just go back to your bed, let him leave on his own, and pretend he was never here.

You scooted backwards but caught your hip on a table, sending a pile of your precious books hurtling to the floor. You held your breath, hoping Rex had not heard the noise, but it was no use.

Rex called your name again, and this time, it was gentler, “…Please let me in”

Your eyes watered as you walked up to the door, your finger hovering over the button that would cause it to slide open.

“I'm fine Rex, you can go” You tried to sound as resolute as you could, but the quiver in your voice was obvious.

“Cyare… let me in. I'm not leaving”

The nickname hit you hard, and you truly felt like clutching your chest as it pulled at the part of you that desired the clone on the other side of the door like no other.

You had met Rex years ago, at the job you had recently been let go from, working as a civilian medic on Coruscant.

The Captain could rarely be convinced by his brothers to take himself to the medbay, much more of the suffer in silence type. However, once you had begun working there, he had started making trips there for every little bump and scratch, and sometimes even when he was in perfect health, he would go claiming a cold or headache. He had always had a soft spot for you, and though he'd never admit it, he made it obvious. Everyone around him knew, everyone around you knew, but for whatever reason, you hadn't cottoned on at all.

He found you exceedingly beautiful, obviously intelligent, and just the most wonderful and bright spark of a person he'd ever met. Though, that was far from what you were feeling like at the moment.

You had also been enamoured by the Captain from the very start. The moment he walked into the medbay and made eye contact with you, you were done for. Whether it was his loyalty to his men, his commanding presence, or his wonderful smile that did it, you didn't know, but you were kriffed from the beginning.

“I can't let you in” You said, leaning your forehead into the door.

“Why not?” He said in a hushed tone that you could barely hear.

“I- I'm just not feeling well okay?” You choked out, vastly minimising the issue.

“I dont mind Cyare, just let me in. Please” He begged, but you just shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

You and Rex had grown into good friends quite naturally. In his needless visits to the med bay, he would often stay after hours and help you clean up, and you would fall into conversation about anything and everything. You shared many opinions about a variety of topics and would talk about your respective favourite things. Rex found that he learned a great deal about the wider galaxy from you, and he could hear you talk about art for hours upon end.

You were a fantastic artist, absolutely brilliant in any media, but Rex loved your sketches the most. You had brought him to your apartment once after work, when he had practically begged to see your work. He liked the simplicity of it, creating life with just a few stokes of a pencil. Your drawings held such character, such joy, such sorrow, and Rex thought that they were always so uniquely you. For that, he loved them.

“Rex I-” You didn't know what to say. You sank to your knees on the floor, letting your tears silently fall down your cheeks.

“Please…” He said one more time, and you finally broke.

You reached up and pressed the button, and the door zipped open to reveal your defeated posture to him. You dared not look up at him. You didn't want him to see you like this at all, but the thought of looking him in the eye when you knew how dishevelled, how weak you looked, you couldn't stomach it.

“Oh Cyare” He said softly and closed the door behind him, sinking to his knees in front of you. He tentatively placed a hand on your knee and began rubbing his thumb back and forth. “What's happened? You haven't been in the medbay for weeks”

“I was laid off” You replied quietly.

“What? Why would they do that?” He asked, genuinely confused. You were a talented medic. He could see no reason for it.

“Money is tight. We are at war after all” You chuckled a little bit, knowing that much was obvious to Rex.

“What are you upset about? I'm sure there's somewhere else that would take you, you're a great medic” He asked so innocently that you could almost laugh.

“It's not about that…” You sighed, running a hand over your face, still looking down.

“What is it about?” Rex said softly, shuffling forwards so his armoured knees touched your bare ones.

“I just… I can't do it anymore Rex” You whispered, the first time you had freely admitted it to anyone before.

Rex tensed up. He brought his other hand up and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to look at you properly. The look in your eyes already told him the answer to the question he was about to ask, “Can't do what?”

“It. Life. Anything. I just want to disappear” You said, choking on your tears and overwhelmed by the thoughts that weighed you down. Rex's amber irises burned into yours with such an intensity, but not for long, as his arms made their way around your body, and he pulled you into his lap.

You cried into his chest, with him stroking your hair and holding you close to him with the other arm, scared that you would somehow get your wish and disappear in his arms.

He was at a loss for words. He couldn't understand how someone he thought was so wonderful and incredible could be harbouring such hateful feelings about themself. He feared saying anything that would upset you, and the last thing he wished to do was deny how you were feeling by telling you that you were wrong, so he just held you in his arms, silently letting you know he was there for you, no matter what. The sound of your crying was making his heart break, but he stayed like that until it died down.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked tentatively, drawing back and holding your jaw so he could see your face.

“I dont know… four or five months, maybe?” You replied, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

How had he not noticed anything was wrong? He felt like he had failed you, that your friendship was for nought if he couldn't even tell when you were upset. He didn't place any of the blame on you, but he had to ask…

“Why didn't you tell me?”

You sighed, “I didn't want to concern you with it. It's for me to deal with”

“What? It's not just for you to deal with, of course I'd want to know if you're not okay. I'm so sorry I didn't notice” He said, his tone so heavy with guilt.

“It's okay, it makes sense that you didn't”

Rex almost took offence to the comment, but the small smile on your lips didn't evade him, “Why does it make sense?”

“Uh, I guess I was always happy around you” You admit, “You- Uh we’re good friends, you know? I like spending time with you”

Despite the comment about being friends, Rex's heart soared, “I like spending time with you too Cyare”

“Why are you calling me that all of a sudden?” You asked. You knew what it meant, you'd spent enough time among the clones, and it was impossible to escape when you overheard their unabashed flirting on your few trips to 79s.

“Um” Rex gulped, not feeling like right now was the best time to admit that he was wildly in love with you, “I don't know, I care about you, you know? Like you said, we're good friends”

You nodded, seeming satisfied with the explanation, and Rex breathed out a shaky breath.

“I'm sorry you had to see me like this” You looked down, playing with your fingers as heat rose to your cheeks.

“It's fine, I really don't mind. Besides, you still look good to me” He said, and your eyes snapped back up to his instantly, your breath becoming short. Rex thinks I look good?

“Thanks Captain” You grinned shyly, your face feeling positively on fire at the compliment.

“It's no problem” He smiled, then he became more serious, “Have you eaten today?”

“Uh- no” You looked away again, feeling ashamed.

“Alright, let me fix you some food then” He readjusted his hold on you and picked you up, setting you down on your couch. Your head was spinning from the intimacy of feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“I don't really have any food here” You admitted sheepishly.

“Okay, how about this then” He crouched by the couch so that his eyes were level with yours, “Why don't you go and have a shower, do whatever you need to feel a bit better, and I'll go out and get us some food”

“Rex… I can't ask you to do that for me” You spoke hesitantly, but he shook his head.

“You're not asking, and in fact, neither am I” He said with a playful glint in his eye, “Go and freshen up, that's an order soldier”

You giggled at him and took the hand that he offered to help you up.

“Yes sir” You saluted him and marched off in the direction of the refresher, earning a laugh from the clone.

You stepped into the refresher and looked yourself in the eye for probably the first time in days. You did not look good. Your eyes held bags that looked so heavy that they could weigh down the skin they inhabited, your hair was a complete mess, and your skin was dull and lifeless.

You sighed, grabbed your hairbrush, and decided to start there. It took a few minutes, but soon, your hair was completely knot-free, and you stripped off and stepped into the shower. You took your time finding the perfect temperature, which ended up being almost scalding hot. You leaned your elbows against the wall, letting the water hit your back and relieving some of the tension you could feel there.

Now that you were actually in the shower, you didn't feel like leaving at all. Though, the idea of Rex being outside the door when you finished was enough for you to quickly wash yourself and your hair and hop out again. You brushed your teeth twice and moisturised your clean skin. Looking in the mirror, you looked a lot better than you did before you went in the shower, and you were eternally thankful for that. If you were going to see the person you had been in love with for years, you only wanted to look your best.

You stepped out of the refresher and headed for your bedroom with your dirty clothes in hand.

“Hey, are you-”

You jumped out of your skin when you saw Rex stood in the living area with a bag in hand, and he did too when he saw you with only a towel wrapped around you. Your eyes went wide, and you wrapped the towel tighter around your body on instinct, only fueling the less-than-pure thoughts that were spilling into Rex's brain. You looked so incredible, your hair dripping water over your body, which was seemingly glistening with its new cleanliness, and your towel left little to the imagination.

“Um yeah, you're out, cool, uh- I'll let you get dressed” He turned around and cursed silently to himself for being so awkward.

You just chuckled nervously, feeling utterly mortified, and made your way to your room as intended. You found a fresh oversized t-shirt and pair of soft shorts and slipped into them quickly, rejoining Rex in the other room.

He had taken off the top half of his armour, leaving just his blacks, the Republic insignia adorned proudly on his chest. The tightness of the top showed off his toned physique as if he wasn't even wearing anything, and you had to tear your eyes away from it.

“What did you get?” You asked quietly, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Noodles, is that okay?” He asked, looking to you a little nervously.

You chucked at his demeanour, which was decidedly un-captain-like as he looked to you for approval, “It's perfect, thank you”

You both picked up the boxes that held your food and dug in, and your bodies turned to face each other as you rested against oppsite ends of the couch. It was good to have a proper meal, with actually nutritious foods. When you had eaten as of late, it had mostly been ration bars or random snacks you could find in your apartment. You hummed contentedly, and Rex smiled at you.

“Good?”

“Mhm” You smiled, swallowing a bite, “Thank you Rex”

“It’s alright” He said nonchalantly.

“I mean it, thank you for… taking care of me” You said, then looked down, “I'm finding that difficult at the moment, so it means a lot”

“Cyare” Rex moved towards you and placed a hand on your knee, “It's really no trouble, I just want to see you feeling better”

You looked up at him and gave a tight lipped smile, “Well, thank you anyway”

“No problem. You look a little more alive now, by the way” He teased.

“Hey! You're the one that said I looked good before, you cant take it back now” You challenged, and he smirked.

“I'm not taking it back. You just look even better now” He said, but his smirk dropped when you froze up at his comment.

“You dont have to say that just to make me feel better, you know” You said, looking down and taking your final mouthful of noodles.

“I'm not just saying it” He said quietly, and you looked up to see his light frown. You put down your food box as he continued to stare at you seriously.

“What is it?” You ask.

“It's nothing, don't worry about it” He said quickly and put his own food box down as he finished.

“Rex” You scooted closer to him so that your knees were almost touching, “What's the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter” He avoided your eyes as he spoke, and you used the technique that he employed earlier on, gently taking his chin between your thumb and finger and guiding his gaze towards you.

“What is it?” You asked again, and his eyebrows pinched together as his eyes flicked between the two of yours.

“You're so beautiful Cyare” He said, tentatively placing his hand on your lower thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the gentle touch, and you searched his eyes for any dishonesty but only found them to be as earnest as usual.

“I- I should've been telling you every day since I met you” He said, his voice breaking just a little as he spoke so softly, “I should’ve been telling you how much you mean to me, how much I care for you, how important you are” He stroked his thumb back and forth on your thigh, sending tingles up your spine.

“Rex” You breathed out in a whisper, your hand sliding around to cup his sharp jaw. He leaned into your touch, and you felt as if you could melt at the sight.

“Say something” He urged, his eyes pleading for a conformation that you felt the same way.

“I-” You didn't know what to say. You felt the same, but the words got caught in your throat. It felt wrong to truly admit to your affection for him after bottling it up for so long.

“Rex, I've always cared for you, far more than a medic should care for their patient” You admitted, and his eyes lit up.

“You have?” He asked, and you nodded in reply.

“And for the record, I think you're beautiful too” You let a small grin creep its way onto your face.

“That’s good to know” Rex smirked, bringing his other hand to your cheek.

He looked deeply into your eyes, the eyes that he always found so fascinating, and he leaned his forehead against yours before tilting his head towards your lips. You shivered with anticipation.

“Is this okay? I don't want to take advantage of you if you-”

“Just kiss me Rex” You whispered against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut. He didn't delay after that. With your permission, he couldn't say no.

His lips met yours tentatively, as if testing the waters, but as soon as he felt you kiss him back, he pulled you in more urgently. His lips moved against yours, melding together as if it was how they were made to be. You felt your need for closeness growing, and you pulled him towards you as you deepened the kiss. Rex slid his hand up your thigh, resting it on your hip and tracing small circles with his thumb as his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he devoured your lips.

Rex pulled back, his teeth lingering on your bottom lip for a moment, and you both caught your breath.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that” You said, your breath still short.

Rex grinned widely, “Yeah? I can guarantee it's probably not as long as I have”

“Probably not” You chuckled, “Unless you somehow wanted to before you even looked at me for the first time”

Rex raised his eyebrows, “You've wanted to kiss me the whole time we've known each other?” He asked, and you nodded your head shyly. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I dont know, I guess I just figured you wouldn't feel the same” You shrug.

Rex just shook his head with a smile and pulled you onto his lap “Oh, how wrong you were”

“Is that right?” You smirked, “I'd love to hear all about just how wrong I was”

Rex smirked back at you, and placed a kiss to your cheek, “I've wanted to kiss those pretty lips of yours ever since I laid eyes on you” He confessed, and your breath hitched as he continued to place featherlight kisses along your jaw. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen” He kissed down your neck slowly, gently nipping at you with his teeth at the point where your neck meets your shoulder, which earned a small whine from you, and you could feel him smirk.

“I've never felt the way I feel about you, about anyone else” He murmured against your skin, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling your scent.

His words were driving you crazy. They were all you had ever wanted to hear from him, and here he was, speaking them aloud as he kissed your skin so gently, as if you would break if he pressed any harder.

“Rex” You whispered, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to continue.

“What is it, Mesh'la?” He whispered back, his lips ghosting yours. You shuddered in his arms, your eyes fluttering closed, and he watched your every move with anticipation.

“Rex, I-” You leaned your forehead against his, needing an anchor before you spoke your next words, “I need you”

Rex's heart skipped a beat. Possibly a few beats. “What do you mean, Cyare?”

“Please, take me to the bedroom” You asked, begged, and Rex took action immediately.

He held you to him as he stood up, and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. He made his way to your bed quickly and gently laid you onto your back, crawling over you so he was holding himself above your body.

“You're sure about this, Cyare? If it's just a lapse in judgement because you're not in your right mind, I understand, no hard feelings” Rex stroked your cheek with his knuckles, looking into your eyes intently.

“Rex, please. My judgement is just fine. I want you. I've always wanted you” You said, the neediness so obvious in your tone. Rex's expression then settled somewhere between amusement and adoration.

“You want me?” He smirked, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Yes” You spoke breathlessly.

“Say it again” He commanded in a whisper, his amber eyes burning into your very soul.

“I want you, Rex”

He breathed out a shaky breath and brought his lips to yours, speaking between chaste kisses, “You have me, all of me. You always have. I've always been yours”

It was almost too much to hear. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you thought you'd made it all up.

“I've always been yours Rex” You whispered against his lips, and his breath stuttered.

“You're mine?” He asked in a murmur. The flame of desire burning in his eyes was clear.

“Only yours”

He pressed his lips to yours with a newfound desperation, his hand trailing down your body and holding your hips in place as he slipped his leg between yours. You grasped at his body, your hands finding themselves underneath the top of his blacks, and he stopped kissing you to pull it off. You absolutely marvelled at the sight.

In all your time knowing Rex, mending up his various wounds, you had never had the honour of glimpsing at his form without a shirt on. You traced along a scar at the centre of his chest, “How did you get this?”

“I was shot” He shrugged with a grin.

“No big deal for a big important Captain like you, I suppose” You teased and matched his grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up” He mumbled against your skin as he buried his head in your neck, leaving soft kisses and less soft bites. You struggled to keep small moans from escaping your lips at his touch, and Rex noticed you holding back. He wound his way up to your lips, pressing a short kiss to them before he spoke.

“Don't hold out on me cyar'ika, I want to hear you”

You bit your lip and nodded at him, then kissed a trail across his strong jaw, earning a soft groan. As your kisses made their way down his neck, and you brought your hands to trail down his body, he groaned more deeply. The sound was driving you insane. Before you could breach the top of his blacks, Rex gathered your wrists in his hand and held them above your head, your eyes blown wide with desire and longing, your breath ragged.

Rex just looked at you for a moment, committing the intoxicating sight to his memory. His other hand found your face as he shifted the leg that was between yours, earning a whimper, “Don't worry about that, just let me take care of you”

You shuddered at his words, your body tense with anticipation for what was to come.

He looked so perfect, angelic even.

Watching Rex sleep was never a luxury you imagined yourself getting the opportunity to indulge in, but with it right in front of you, you weren't going to let it pass you by.

You had slept for a little while, wrapped up in Rex's limbs, and held closely to his body. You had been completely at peace, every struggle and awful thought that usually plagued you was pushed to the back of your mind and there was only him, his presence enveloping you; his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin against yours, his breath against your cheek and his chest rising and falling gently. Now, as you moved away from him and watched the cold light of morning creep across his features, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

You slipped out of his arms, a soft sigh escaping him in the process. Your heart clenched at the sound, only feeling your adoration for him growing once again.

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from him and went over to your desk, opening the left draw as quietly as you could. You took out your flimsi sketchbook and a pencil and made your way over to the chair that was against the large window overlooking the city. However, that wasn't the focus of your sketching today, not when there was a sight far more beautiful laying in your bed.

You opened up your small sketchbook and looked at the last thing you had drawn. It was a scene from the park. A couple sat on a bench at the edge of the man-made pond and smiling adoringly at each other. You smiled and pushed down the guilt at the realisation that you had drawn this over four months ago.

When you looked up to Rex again, your heart skipped a beat. The sun had risen a little higher in the sky and cast a golden light across the lower half of his face and chest. You took up your pencil and began sketching the view before anything could disturb it.

The sheets were pooled at his waist, showing off his toned physique in all its glory, especially as he slept with one hand tucked under his head. His features were relaxed, more relaxed than you had ever seen. His face often had a sternness about it that was undeniably militaristic, but that was nowhere to be found as he slept peacefully.

You had the outline and were now just adding the details. The small marks on his skin, some that you had fixed up yourself, and the large blaster burn in the centre of his chest. As you were adding some of the shadows to his face, you heard a small grumble, and your head shot up to see Rex opening his eyes, stretching his arms out.

“Don’t move” You spoke gently, and he looked to you, noticing your sketchbook in your hand as you sat curled up in your chair.

He smiled, a warmth spreading across his chest as he settled back into his previous position, “Like this?”

“Mhm” You hummed in reply, taking in the way the shadows on his face changed now that he was awake. “Relax” You laughed as you saw a small crease emerge in his brow.

He chuckled a little and relaxed with a contented sigh.

“Almost done” You said quietly, as if to not disturb your own work.

You quickly added the remaining shading, adding some small details of the bed and the room, wanting to capture the moment perfectly, so that should your mind ever forget it, which you doubted, it would be forever recorded. That was what you loved about using flimi over a datapad. The physicality felt more personal and permanent.

“All finished” You smiled as you closed your sketchbook and went to place it back in your desk.

“Hey! Aren't you going to show me?” Rex asked, and you looked back to him to see the crease in brow had returned.

“It's not very good, it's just a sketch”

“Cyare, I love your sketches. Please, show me” He spoke gently, an edge of seriousness to deny your self-deprecating words.

“Okay” You conceded, opening the sketchbook back up and sitting down on the bed to show him. Rex then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, making you fall back into his chest as he laid down again. A delighted laugh escaped your lips at the sudden contact, and you looked up to Rex's face to see an equally elated expression.

He took the sketchbook from your hand and looked over the drawing of himself, his smile widening with each second.

“It's amazing” He said softly, meeting your eyes again.

“That's because it's of you” You smiled and brushed your nose against his, earning a small chuckle.

“No, it's… You make me look so…” He looked over the drawing and tried to find the right word to describe what he meant, “I'm not sure. It looks exactly like me, but… There's something else to it”

“Well, all the best things are made with love” You said before you could even really process what you were saying.

Rex’s eyes went wide as they snapped back to yours, “Love?” He questioned.

You shrank backwards, wanting the bed to collapse in on itself and swallow you whole, but Rex’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against him. You let the word hang in the air for a moment before clearing your throat and swallowing hard.

“Uh… yeah” You said awkwardly, looking away.

Rex said your name in a soft tone, pulling your focus back to him. He rested his forehead against yours, his amber eyes burning into yours, “You love me?”

“I do” You whispered, gnawing your bottom lip at the vulnerability of the admission.

Rex met your lips in a sweet kiss, slow and deliberate, and pulled away a few seconds later. He caressed your cheek with his knuckles before he settled his palm on the back of your neck. “I love you too” He confessed, and your heart leapt to your throat.

“You do?” You whispered.

“I do. I always have. It's like I said, I've always been yours” He confirmed, repeating the words he had said last night. You brought your forehead to his again and closed your eyes, taking in the sweetness of the moment.

“And I yours”

Nothing was fixed. You weren't back to being happy and full of life like you once were, but Rex had reminded you why life was worth living. You were reminded of all the things that made it worthwhile, all of the things you loved to do, the things that brought joy and colour into your life. If you could just take it one step at a time, one day after the other, you would get through this feeling, and best of all, Rex would be there to support you when you needed him.

#trex writings #star wars #the clone wars #501st battalion #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x female reader #clone troopers #divider by cafekitsune

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 10 months ago

Text

Whumpuary Day 15-16 & 25-26

Prompt: “You look awful.” | “I’m fine.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Depictions of illness; vomiting; allusions to symptoms of stomach virus

A/N: Daryl’s human so humans with stomach bugs experience icky symptoms. There are allusions to those but nothing gross.

You were bouncing on the balls of your feet, your lip securely tucked between your teeth in anticipation. Carol chuckled behind you and patted a hand between your shoulder blades.

“I think you’re actually vibrating, Y/N.” She laughed a little louder when you beamed at her before it softened into something a bit gentler. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone other than Judith so excited to see Daryl come back. Well, and me but that’s a given.”

“It’s been two weeks. I’ve been going out of my mind!” You made a crazy gesture with your hands and then clasped them together again and continued bouncing.

“How does he do around all this…energy?” You went still and blinked at her, a great many questions swirling in your gaze. “No, no. It’s not a bad thing! You’re good for him. Great for him. I just wanted to make sure he’s not being a total grump and raining on your parade.”

Pursing your lips, you tilted your head. “No, not really. I mean, at first it was like he didn’t know what to do when I would do a cartwheel through the living room. He just stared a lot. But he smiled!” Daryl always smiled for you. In the beginning, it was only in private. All of it was. He was wary of you.

You had lived in Alexandria since the beginning. Knowing now what you didn’t know then, he was justified in holding back, keeping secrets. When you had proven to be just the average person trying to survive, it was like a switch had flipped. He’d show up at your house unexpectedly. Sometimes you’d find him just sitting on the porch steps, having a cigarette. Other times, he’d actually knock and ask you to go for a walk. He even taught you how to defend yourself with and without weapons. He wouldn’t teach you to hunt though. Always said you’d scare off the game.

Things evolved from there. It started small. Daryl wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed public displays of affection. Well, he wasn’t before you came along. He would still blush and duck his head if you kissed him in public. You were always the one to grab his hand but he never pulled away. Hugs were okay but he’d yelp (in a very manly way of course) when you’d grab or swat at his ass.

It had been nearly two years and you couldn’t imagine life without the grumpy, quiet bowman.

“I’m glad he found you.” Carol wrapped her arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head when you laid it against her. You were about to say something else when the shout came to open the gates.

You jumped up and down, jostling the woman beside you but even as she laughed, you paid her no mind. Your eyes followed the man on the motorcycle. He rode through faster than he should have, something you always scolded him for but he’d only scoff at you.

“You’re back!” You leapt on him, wrapping your legs around his waist, just as his boot touched the ground after dismounting the bike. “I missed you!”

“Ain’t been tha’ long.” He spoke into your shoulder. His arms held you steady but if he had let go, he would have found you securely latched to his front.

“It’s been two weeks! That’s the equivalent of forever!” You pulled back and pouted at him, your lip jutting out further when he lowered you. “You hurt? Bring back all your parts?”

“Nah, M’good.” He answered tiredly. Your eyes narrowed when you realized how exhausted he actually looked; something off by the way he was even just standing still.

“I think we should get you to bed and not for the fun stuff. Not yet anyway.” You stepped around him and retrieved his bag and crossbow, smacking his hand when he reached to take them from you. “I got it. Come on.” He was grumbling something about stubborn woman as he walked just beside you.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, making certain to be discrete. Daryl would never openly show vulnerability, especially outside your home. He rarely let it be seen inside your home. At the very moment though, you weren’t sure if he realized he was doing it. His hand was clutching his stomach over his vest, fingers digging into the leather until his knuckles were white. His face was neutral but the pallor to his skin wasn’t something he could hide.

You balanced his bag on your shoulder and opened the door for him, smiling cheerfully when he scowled at your special treatment. “Go on upstairs. You want a shower?”

“S’tha’ yer way’a tellin’ me I stink?”

“Yes, sir.” You noticed his hand had left his abdomen, but was flexing at his side. “You want something to eat? There’s some leftover venison stew that I could—”

The archer blanched, any color that was left present drained from his face while his throat visibly worked to swallow convulsively. Oh shit. Before you could even put down your burden, he dashed from your sight and into the downstairs bathroom, the sounds of his retching painful to hear.

You placed his bag on the floor and the crossbow against the wall, walking quietly to the bathroom door. When you peeked around the doorframe, Daryl was on his knees, arms draped around the toilet seat with his forehead resting on his hands. He was no longer heaving but still spitting into the water below.

You knew what his reaction would probably be but you couldn’t act like you didn’t care. “You okay?” The archer didn’t look up. He stretched out a leg and kicked the door shut. You had the good sense to not be in the way of the wooden barrier.

You were expecting wounds and bruises, not stomach ailments. The medical supplies you had set up in the en-suite bathroom would remain there. You hadn’t seen much of him before he was sick and he could still have injuries that needed care. Now, you needed to add some fresh towels, clothes, and a basin of water with a cloth to put by the bed. You had some Tylenol from the infirmary, just in case he needed it for pain, not anticipating he’d probably need it for fever.

There were a few cans of chicken noodle soup that you could drain the broth from later, but for now, until the nausea passed, you went downstairs for a few bottles of water. You doubted there was any ginger ale in the pantry but if you were able to see Carol or she came for a visit, you could ask. There was no way you were leaving him for it.

Everything was set up, including the shower. You were hoping you could coax him in just to get him clean and comfortable. With a gentle knock on the door, you placed your forehead against it, wincing at the sounds coming from inside. Seemed like the toilet and sink were receiving his attention.

Definitely a stomach virus, but you’d have to ask about what he’d eaten the past few days to rule out food poisoning and other gastric ailments.

“Daryl? Are you okay?”

“Go ‘way.” The reply was gravelly and weak.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” You replied softly, promptly walking away from the door. He was going to be ultra embarrassed after that, so you had to handle things carefully. The last thing you or he needed was for him to try and run because he was ashamed of things he had no control over.

You set about cleaning up the kitchen, though it barely needed it. You kept everything spotless most of the time. Daryl was always out doing physical jobs while you helped with inventory or delivered meals to the elderly residents. He didn’t need to worry about the state of your home when he was able to be there.

It was about half an hour before you heard the toilet flush and the tap turn on. It ran for longer than usual. You assumed he was washing his hands and rinsing his mouth. His toothbrush was upstairs but you made a mental note to ask for two more to keep downstairs.

You were leaning on the kitchen island when he finally emerged. He was drenched with sweat, his face flushed from embarrassment or fever. Maybe both. His belt was still undone but his pants were zipped and buttoned. Poor guy looked like a wreck.

“Hey.” You called softly, earning his attention. “You look awful. Are you okay?”

He nodded, the movement jerky. “Thank christ fer indoor plumbin’.” He rasped, joining you on the other side of the island. He leaned forward and placed his forehead on the cool surface of the countertop with a sigh.

“Did you eat anything weird while you were out?” You circled the structure to stand by him and rub his back in slow, soothing circles.

The bowman rolled his head back and forth against the countertop. “Nah. Jus’ the regular expired canned shit we could find.” It made you sad to think that this was the norm now. Relying on food that was far past the date of recommended consumption.

“When did you eat last?” You rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles stiff and knotted.

“Yesterday afternoon. Wanted ta get back. Didn’ go lookin’ fer anythin’ today.”

Still could be food poisoning. You’d have to ask if anyone else was sick. “Let’s get you upstairs. Think you can shower?” Daryl straightened with a grimace before nodding. You met his gaze with a gentle smile, bringing up a hand to sweep the damp hair away from his eyes. “Come on then.” A hand on the small of his back gently urged him forward, his shuffling steps and unsteady gait giving him the appearance of a living walker.

You trailed behind him up the stairs, braced and ready in case he lost his balance, but the ascent was successful without any tumbling. The archer was shedding clothing before even reaching the bathroom, down to his jeans and socks by the time he was standing in front of the shower.

“Do you need me to stay?” It was a reluctant question. Daryl hated it when you hovered but he was sick and exhausted so it was an offer you had to give him.

“Nah. M’fine.” He was unzipping his jeans when you pulled the bathroom door closed behind you.

The shower began running moments later, so you busied yourself with grabbing your own pajamas, turning down the bed, and pulling a chair over to his side. As an afterthought, you placed the room’s small wastebasket there as well. The shower was still running when you heard the unmistakable sounds of another round of vomiting, your heart clenching at the painful noises.

“Daryl?” You called loudly enough for him to hear through the door and over the spray of water.

“M’…m’okay.” A low, strained answer from the other side.

With nothing else to do, you sat down on the end of the mattress to wait for him. The toilet flushed but the shower continued for several more minutes. There was a brief silence followed by a shuffle of clothing, and the sounds of him brushing his teeth.

When the door finally opened, he looked clean in his sweats and t-shirt but no less miserable. His hair was still damp, beads of water dripping from the ends. Even as undesirable as the situation was, it was hard not to take note of how normal he looked dressed like that. It was as if you were a couple before the end of the world, spending an evening at home in comfort and without fear. But the reality was that fear was always lingering. Always.

“Bedtime for you, mister.”

He couldn’t even manage to scowl at you properly, ending up with a tired frown dripping with resignation. He was slow to lower onto the bed and said nothing when you pulled the blankets over him.

“Anything need stitched or bandaged?” You asked, brushing his hair away from his face. There was always a warmth that crept into your chest when he didn’t flinch away from your loving touches.

“Jus’ a few bruises. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.” When you fixed him with a skeptical stare, he sighed. “Promise.” Daryl didn’t take that word lightly and never used it carelessly.

“Okay, try to sleep.” You perched yourself on the chair, noticing he couldn’t be bothered to care. He turned onto his side, facing you with his legs drawn up slightly. His stomach was surely angry and cramping, muscles tired from heaving on top of feeling nauseous. There was no hesitation in your hand resting just below his knee, rubbing the area in what you hoped was a comforting gesture.

He was asleep within moments.

Watching him grimace and tense without waking, you let your mind build scenarios and how you would handle them. If Rick came knocking with requests of the archer, you’d kindly tell him to get bent. If Carol came over, you could get her to fetch some things for you that would help keep him comfortable while he recovered. If he continued vomiting and couldn’t keep down the water at the very least, you’d need to leave long enough to grab Denise.

Daryl woke suddenly, lurching over the side of the bed to retch into the wastebasket you had been smart enough to grab earlier. There was nothing left but acidic bile to bring up but it sounded no less brutal. You could do nothing but keep his hair out of the way and rub his back. There was a moment of consideration. Maybe if you could alert Denise, she would have something for the nausea.

That train of thought was interrupted by the hunter shakily pushing himself back up only to sag back against his pillow.

“Sucks.” He mumbled, eyes closed. “Ain’t been sick since…S’been a long time.”

You were gently rubbing his stomach which he either didn’t notice or it felt nice so he allowed it to continue.

“It won’t last forever.” You whispered, watching as he dozed off again.

He was still resting comfortably when the knock came on the front door downstairs. Reluctantly, you rose from the chair, taking just another second to brush Daryl’s hair away from his eyes. He mumbled something, turning his head away, but remained asleep. You wanted to be quick.You just weren’t willing to leave him alone for long.

“Hey!” Carol greeted with that gentle smile of hers. After all she’d been through, even with her apprehension about settling there in Alexandria, she was able to keep that kindness. Especially when it came to Daryl.

“Hey.” You said, turning to look anxiously at the stairs.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Daryl?” When you turned back to her, the smile was gone, replaced with growing concern.

“He’s asleep. I need a favor. He’s sick. Could you grab a few things for him? Anything he might be able to keep down.” The other woman was already nodding. “Maybe put a bug in Denise’s ear in case she has anything for nausea.”

“Is he alright? Really?” Carol was leaning closer toward the doorway. It was obvious she wanted to go to him.

“Yeah, he’s okay for now. He hasn’t thrown up in an hour or so but when he first got back…” You trailed off, looking back at the stairs again. “Could you please do all that for me? Then maybe come upstairs and see him? I know he won’t want anyone else seeing him like this. But you and me? We don’t count.” You smiled, knowing it was true. Carol and yourself were the only people Daryl was fully comfortable relaxing around.

“You got it. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.” You watched her swiftly descend the porch steps before closing the door and nearly sprinting up the stairs. The bowman was still sound asleep when you returned to the bedroom. He still looked pale but there was no fever, no signs of dehydration just yet.

You made yourself comfortable in the chair, drawing up one knee to rest your chin on it. You’d be his silent sentinel until he was better.

Whether he liked it or not.

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

Text

Monsters

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us (show/game) 4.8K Words (3rd POV) Summary: Two broken people clash. “Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness.” Warning: Depictions of graphic violence Part I | Part II

Ellie had told him that the woman had been trying to be a singer before the world went to hell. He hadn’t asked, because he never asked, but had learned it the way most information came from the young girl. Rushed and mostly to fill the silence between them when she wasn’t being entertained. He didn’t care about before because that world was over so why did it matter- who they were before- but he could see it in his mind sometimes.

She would have been young, a lot younger than him by a decade at least, and soft skinned with bright eyes and an eagerness to share something beautiful. An artist type with her voice as the brush. He knew that type well. When he was younger, he’d wanted to be a musician too. Had learned to play the guitar, played a few gigs to keep himself occupied while Tommy went off to the army trying to be a hero. Met a girl that way though it all came screeching to a halt when she got knocked up and then quickly dipped when Sarah was young. There was no time for guitar and dreams while raising an infant as a single father. He had just been an average joe then. Not too smart, not too many goals, but good with his hands and at building things. The only job he was qualified for. He hadn’t had time for beauty or art when he’d been too busy trying to pay the bills, keep his brother out of trouble fresh from discharge, and his daughter fed and taken care of. Now neither of them had time for that. It was only about survival and this teenage girl tethering them together. The mission. The woman, who Ellie had taken to calling Red for some reason he wasn’t paying attention to, wasn’t soft skinned anymore and probably hadn’t been for a long time. She was all bared teeth, sharp edges, and brutality. A bobcat whose first instinct was to tear and shred rather than be gentle. That’s how he first saw Red.

They’d been clearing an old building for the night to possibly stay in and had stumbled upon a group who’d camped the area, knowing what a prime location it was. Scavengers, vultures picking off whoever came through and taking what they could. There’d been a good number of them and Joel was only one man with a highly valuable ward so he did the rational thing and ran. Ellie had stumbled badly, falling behind in the blink of an eye. He’d cursed at himself later and reamed himself a new one at the fact he didn’t keep her in front of him. It was an amateur mistake and he wasn’t an amateur. The scavenger that had been persistently tailing them had been there fast, machete raised, still pissed at the blow the girl had landed on him earlier. Quicker than he could raise his own arm and shoot the guy Red had come barreling from a side room, swinging a metal bat so hard into the guy's head it dented. All teeth, growling like a goddamn animal, bashing the bat over and over into his head until it was nothing but pulp. Breathing hard, her eyes met his and it was like looking into a mirror. Hollow and broken and rage. Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness. She’d helped Ellie and gotten them out, her choice made after seeing the asshole go after the girl. It took all night to get out of the city limits and far enough it was safe enough to rest. Then the damn kid got attached. She refused to go on without the woman after only one night, no matter how much Joel growled at her absolutely not. Red didn’t have anyone, was just surviving from one night to the next. The heavy implication that there had been a group, had been other people, once hung in the silence. And against his best wishes, Joel agreed if only to get the kid moving though he kept an eye on the woman diligently for at least a couple weeks.

They both didn’t like each other at first, but she looked after the girl and it helped having someone look over his shoulder after Tess… But she wasn't the smuggler who had been all broken edges and selfishness. Red didn’t give a shit about herself to a fault, so selfless at times it felt like it was a punishment or a goddamn death wish. Like she hated herself. She used her body like a weapon and made Ellie her sole priority as if she had nothing left tethering her to life until she saved the girl. He reasoned that it made his job easier, but if anything it made him more on edge watching her throw herself into every fight like a rabid animal with no care for her own safety. Joel reasoned that it was because seeing another person die would make Ellie harder to manage, but he wasn’t so sure. He wondered who she had lost to act that way and then he shoved that thought into the back of his mind because he didn’t care about her enough to wonder that. As the days went on, he could see the leftover marks from the world before and the person she used to be, small whispers of that bright eyed girl. A small tattooed “Love ya” in someone’s handwriting on her inner arm. Dainty flowers on her ankle. Stars on little strings under her collar bone. What you would expect a young woman to get if there weren’t an apocalypse. When she pissed him off, he called her Starshine mockingly, unable to see something so small and lighthearted without turning it bitter. She called him Tex after Ellie had spilled that’s where he was from. He hadn’t been able to hide the wince at the name so she kept at it like a bird pecking at an open wound. The memory of Tess's voice calling him that late at night had long since merged with her wide scared eyes as he left her to die. It flashed in his mind every time. It made him hate her more, but the anger kept him focused. Starshine. Tex. The pain was a revolving door. Red protected her bag religiously. It held everything that she owned, the only remnants of that life before. A small mixtape cassette of music, a couple of pictures, a pair of keys that were rusted and useless, a journal. He’d seen her damn near behead a guy who had attempted to rip it off her and she hadn’t stopped hacking away until she was soaked in blood and panting. It was the one time Ellie had been scared of her. Joel had been impressed. All teeth. She didn’t speak for days after that. That softness wasn’t completely gone though, just buried underneath thick callus-like skin. Sometimes he could catch it peeking through. When they’d happened upon a stream, she’d forced Ellie to wash her hair and he’d watched as Red helped her lean her hair back into the water and had even laughed when the girl swung it to splash her. She’d sat behind Ellie later on and combed through the long mess, complaining the kid was letting it get matted. Then she’d rolled her eyes when Ellie had complained in turn about Red’s aggressive brushing. She could handle people trying to kill her constantly but not getting her tangles brushed out. Joel had watched them out of the corner of his eye, warm coffee in his hands, and simply shook his head. The kid liked her and it kept Ellie from pestering him constantly, though he was finding he didn’t mind it as much. She would take turns asking them questions whether they be about the world or how things worked or their lives before. Sometimes she simply liked to read things out loud from her dumb joke book to whatever books she’d grab. It was the few times he saw Red crack a smile, her hand on Ellie’s bag to keep the girl moving forward and making sure she didn’t trip on anything while distracted. He was minding them both less and less. When they’d gone through a store, Red’s fingers had trailed over the tops of old records lovingly, wistfully. Joel had watched her linger for a second and the way her eyes had lightened, her lips pressed together as if she were remembering. When she caught him staring, her hand had snatched away and the light had sputtered out before she kept going. He’d resisted going over and seeing what records she had touched, finding the spots in the dust hers had made. One time after having found two whole bottles of booze and a safe enough spot to breathe, they’d both gotten drunk after Ellie had passed out. It’d been a hard day of travel and they had needed it. Joel hadn’t had alcohol in months and his tolerance had diminished, the liquor hitting him harder than it had in a while. She’d mentioned a younger sister and a guy named Harry and he didn’t have to wonder who she had lost anymore. The name burned in his belly along with the taste of the alcohol and he imagined someone handsome and young, maybe the owner of the “love ya” handwriting. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry to see how long that wound had been there. His own was twenty years old and still festering. Hell, there was a new one just a few months old. They’d switched to other topics. Music mostly, Texas, the Fireflies. Nothing too personal, but holding tiny glimpses of themselves. She’d fallen asleep first and his eyes had traced the tiny stars too many times to count, hand gripping the bottle of liquor to keep from reaching out. They both learned each other’s patterns. Months of traveling together, working together to keep Ellie safe, had given her the ability to read what he wanted without him even saying it. Survival did that. Flank left, check around the corner right, keep back with Ellie while he cleared the rooms. He trusted her to take care of the girl, but that selfless tendency sometimes reared its ugly head…except Joel didn’t know when things changed. When it stopped being a pain in the ass for him and instead drove high keeling panic through his body. The sun was getting low and they’d unintentionally come too close to what seemed like a fortified cabin. The owners had been out and stumbled upon them, a case of the wrong people at the wrong time, and Joel knew instantly what type of people these were. Not just preppers like Bill, but kill-first-zero-hesitation survivalists. Apparently simply knowing of the safe house’s location was a death sentence and they’d attacked before he could process. Joel had a guy in a chokehold, squeezing so tight he could hear the distinct crack of bones splintering. There’d been four, the first easy enough to take care of but while Red was finishing him, another was headed towards Ellie and had managed to hit her. The woman had thrown herself at him, literally, clinging onto his back and driving her knife over and over into his chest. But he wasn’t going down so easily and had grabbed onto her arm in turn, trapping her there. She didn’t see the fourth guy walking up with his gun trained. Didn’t see that she was seconds from being another name on the list of people who had died in Joel’s life. But he had. White hot panic shot through his chest and he hadn’t thought, hadn’t even grabbed the pistol that had fallen to the ground. Joel lunged, gunshot ringing through his ear, and tackled the man. Blood warmed his skin as he punched over and over and over again. He hadn’t needed a bat to do the same damage she had done that first time, he was a weapon himself and even as bone fragments embedded in his hands, skin caved, and brain matter splattered all over the ground he destroyed whatever was left of the man underneath him. “Joel!” her fervent whisper shot through him and the sound of his name, not just Tex, finally got him to stop, breathing hard. In the dying sun, he could see her perfectly standing next to him. Like starshine. Still alive, the barest graze of a bullet on her shoulder. But she was okay and Ellie was okay and the man was dead. And she wasn't afraid of him, sitting atop the mutilated corpse that he had done with his own hands. “You okay?” she asked and he wanted to laugh because she was asking him? But he nodded gruffly and attempted to stand, only pausing when she offered him a hand equally covered in blood. She used to be a singer. He’d be a musician. Now they were matching monsters. For some reason, seeing her blood soaked hand in his irked him. She hadn’t been paying attention to herself and was only focused on getting the guy away from Ellie. It was careless and remembering seeing the gun raised at her irritated him even more. “You damn near almost got killed, Starshine,” Joel growled, his anger finding its usual target, “You’re lucky I managed to get to him in time and all you got was a graze instead of your brains splattered all over the damn floor.” “I was protecting Ellie,” Red bit out, hackles raised, “I’m sorry, I thought that was the point? Would you rather I make sure her ass stays alive or mine?” He grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, the pain shooting up from the torn skin helping keep him grounded. The answer should have been easy. Ellie, always. She was the cargo, the whole reason behind this journey. But the fact he couldn’t make himself reply, wasn’t satisfied with either option, made him turn his back and walk towards the house in silence. He didn’t like what that meant. They could see why the group had wanted to protect the small cabin. It was a goldmine and if they didn’t have a goal, a mission, Joel would have loved to keep fixing the place up and stay there for the rest of his life. They had their own generators, a high concrete fence, a water well, and even a small farm behind the house. They even had electricity and running hot water. It was a goddamn oasis in the middle of the forest, a more rustic smaller version of what Bill and Frank had. After clearing the whole place, it was decided they all would stay at least a day or two. It was safe enough and that would give them all time to rest, restock, and breathe before continuing on to Wyoming. It was a luxury and there was no sense not taking advantage of that.

Ellie had happily raced through the whole house, digging through the previous occupants' belongings as if she hadn’t just witnessed all four of them get massacred. She flipped through their books, went through the pantries, and even shouted happily to Red at the discovery of a radio and collection of tapes. She’d paused only to scrunch up her nose, looking at the two adults, “Actually, you both should take showers first. You both need it so I’ll go last.” Joel had looked down, blood and mud covering his arms and pants while Red’s torso and hands were crimson as well. Now that the adrenaline was seeping from his body, the sting of his knuckles were making themselves known. He nodded his head at the woman, brow furrowed, “You can take a shower in the Master. I’m gonna take stock of all their shit and use the hallway one.” For once, Red didn’t argue, only pressed her lips tightly together and nodded before heading down to where they’d discovered the large master bedroom. She was usually quick to argue about being told what to do, but Joel tried not to think too much about it and chalked it up to exhaustion. The hot water was a godsend for his bunch up muscles though it stung like hell on his wounds. Hands pressed against the shower wall, he let the water run over his skin and wash away all the blood away. The murky rust colored water swirled and disappeared down the drain and though his brain told him to be efficient, clean and get in and out, he allowed him a small bit of time to stand there and zone out. There’d been a fixed up jeep in a makeshift garage out back. They could tear every salvageable supply from the cabin, fill it up, and finally make it to Wyoming in record time instead of the weeks, months, it’d been taking walking there. A couple days to rest and they’d be on their way. But with a plan set, his mind inevitably went to the woman he’d just butchered a man to protect. It hadn’t been like that moment with Ellie, standing in front of the FEDRA soldier. That night his mind had disappeared, seeing the light of the gun and knowing there was a young girl behind him that was the same age Sarah had been made him flashback to that moment. He’d been there again, but different. More brutal, more capable. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. No, this was different. Pure instinct had taken over his body and he hadn’t thought at all. Ellie hadn’t been the one in danger, Red had, but the reaction had been visceral. He hadn’t wanted her name to end up on that list of people Joel couldn’t save. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name. No one to mourn her but him and the kid. Running a hand over his face, he finished washing up and turned the water off, not wanting to take all the heat before Ellie could get cleaned up. His muscles had loosened but that only let every ache and soreness seep in, his knuckles a mess of skin and small fragments of bone stabbed in. They were going to smart for a while and he needed to get the splinters out. Joel threw on a loose shirt and clean pair of jeans, water dripping from his damp hair even as he tried to comb it back. He’d seen a small suture kit in the master bedroom with some tweezers. Cursing himself for not grabbing it, he left the bathroom and barely missed being bulldozed over as Ellie ran in, “my turn!” He frowned as the door slammed shut loudly in her eagerness, shaking his head at the teenager and sighing. Red had to still be in the shower so that would give him enough time to grab the kit from the bedroom and try to clean up his hand. Most of the fragments were in his right hand, his dominant one, and it was gonna be a bitch to get out. The master bedroom was more like a stockpile than what it previously was. All the outer windows had been boarded up, the only entrance to the house being the front door. Racks of fabric, supplies, all sorts lined the walls. Nothing decorative, purely functional. Turning to the bathroom door to make sure it was still shut, Joel went over and found the shelf of First Aid supplies and rifled through until he came across the small kit. No alcohol, but there was some ointment and bandages so better than nothing. “Shoulda just used the gun,” Red’s voice was soft despite the words and he turned, finding her leaning against the open door frame in nothing but a towel. Steam poured from the entryway, light reflecting off the mist and surrounding her almost in a glow. She looked cleaner than he’d ever seen, skin shiny and hair sticking to her neck. The little tattooed stars winked at him even from across the room. He forgot how quiet she could be sometimes. “You rather I take three seconds to find my gun in the dark and let you get shot or deal with a busted hand?” Joel bit out gruffly, hand clenching reflexively though he wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or because he wanted to trace the long line of her bare neck. She didn’t reply, arms crossed over her torso before padding over and grabbing the kit from his hands. Her face was never relaxed, lips always pressed together in a slight purse and brows lowered. A line between her eyes was beginning to develop, the apocalypse wearing and tearing her down like the rest of them. He wondered if she had been a smiler when she was younger and shared her music but then clamped down on that thought. “Sit,” Red bit out though she accompanied it by shoving a hand against his chest, forcing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. His own brows furrowed into a hard line, back stiff, at the none too gentle movement though his mouth went dry for an entirely different reason as she kneeled in front of him. He could see the little stars up close, peering down at her as she shoved her way between his knees on the floor. She smelled of soap and something floral which had his brain confused because it didn’t fit her. Maybe the her before, but not the one soaked in blood that usually was at his side. She grabbed his hand in her’s without even asking him and pulled it forward to rest on his thigh, laying out the contents of the kit next to them before pulling the tweezers out. Joel could only watch and control his breathing, trying not to shudder at the feel of her warm skin against his jeans or the brush of her hair over his arms. It’d been a while…since Tess and he wasn’t going to deny that Red was attractive. Hell, any man probably would have a hard time keeping his thoughts pure with a pretty woman between his thighs. But her on her knees, fingers skimming over his knuckles, made him clench his teeth in an attempt to remain neutral.

“You don’t have to-” “Shut up, Miller,” Red muttered, holding the tweezers and working to dig out one of the larger splinters, “I’ve seen you use your left and you’re shit with it.” Joel huffed and tried to focus on the pain, his breathing, anything but her touch. He should have yanked his hand away and shrugged her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she was this close and he could watch her, memorize the freckles along her shoulders and the trail of water sliding down. She pulled out a few large fragments of bone and he watched in morbid curiosity at the small pile. They’d once belonged to the skull of another person. Joel had managed to smash his head in so hard they’d dug underneath his skin, silent retribution in the last moments of that man’s life. Now he was in his house, using his water and his things, taking his bed. “Luckily it doesn’t seem like you fractured your hand,” Red muttered, adding another small bone to the pile. One of her hands was holding the tweezers while the other wrapped around his fingers, his own hand almost gently wrapped around hers. He tried to shrug it off as her holding it to maneuver it around.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Joel grumbled and cleared his throat as her thumb trailed over the cuts on his knuckles. The small movement was surprisingly gentle, something he didn’t expect from her. “You saved me,” the words were whispered softly as if she didn’t want to speak them out loud into existence. But he’d heard them, had been acutely aware of the sound of her breathing and the way her lips formed the words even as she concentrated on pulling the splinters out. And her saying them, confirming what he had done, shot a different kind of pain through him. Because he had saved her and for all the excuses he tried to come up with, they were just that. Excuses. The real reason why wasn’t something he was willing to admit to. But it stirred that anger he relied on when confronted by something he didn’t like. Vulnerability. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d been watching yourself,” he growled low and tried to jerk his hand out of her grasp, but she held on strong, “Should have stayed back and behind me like I told you to.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his hazel ones under her brow and those long lashes, the look hard and sharp. “Right. It’s always listen to you or do what you say as if you’re the expert on surviving,” her voice was low and rough like a crackling flame, “Anyone ever told you that you have control issues, Tex?” The sight of her angry, on her knees in just a towel and wet hair clinging to her skin, framing those little tattooed stars had something stirring deep inside. His free hand dug into his thigh and he tried to ignore how soft her hands were even as they gripped his injured one, “My control issues have kept me alive this long. You knew what you were signing up for when you tagged along. I didn’t need a second little girl to watch over if that’s how you want to act, Starshine.” She chuckled humorlessly and leaned in towards him between his thighs, “No, you see at first I thought that was your type. That you liked being obeyed and I was almost sure that’s how you liked getting your rocks off. Some sweet damsel in distress who needs you and gets on their knees to please you however you want like good girls.” As if emphasizing her point, she sat up straight all prim and proper and he tried to ignore the trickle of water that slid down her cleavage and into the towel. Red wasn’t wrong entirely. The sight had his mouth watering and as her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there, arousal flooded him. Then the hand still holding his injured one squeezed and he hissed, a strange combination of pleasure and pain hitting him, “But the more I see you, I don’t think you want some submissive sweet thing at all. I think you like someone arguing with you more, right Tex?” Joel glared at her, blood pounding through his veins. He was loath to admit to her being right, at confirming that she had read that part of him, especially as she sat there half naked and looking so smug. Maybe she was right. Hell, that had been what had drawn him to Tess. He didn’t like gentle, didn’t trust it anymore. Gentle got you killed and even if he did want her to listen and do what she was told, it’d been born out of wanting to keep a distance. But she wasn’t gentle and she didn’t listen. She was a wild animal, all teeth, and hell if that hadn’t made her attractive even while driving him wild. “Guess you got me all figured out, don’t ya Starshine?” he hissed, leaning towards her. Her fingers clenched onto him tighter and he got the urge to lick the star pattern along her collarbone, just to see what she’d do. But he didn’t, eyes narrowing and drilling into her own, “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” Her pupils were wide and blown up, skin flushed and scars in even more stark relief. Each deep breath made her chest rise and fall and he knew even if she was trying to hide it, his words had affected her the same. Joel only leaned back and ripped his hand from hers, moving to stand up, “Now get dressed and go to sleep if you’re done bothering me.” He’d snatched the suture kit and tweezers from the bed, stepping around the woman and leaving her still on her knees as he went for the door. He felt the urge to look back at her, to see her reaction, but he only pressed forward and left, shutting the door behind him. If he didn’t look back, she would stay the same monster as him in his head, not the girl who smelled of flowers and gently pressed against his thighs. And he needed that reassurance even as the memory of her skin on his made his fists clench.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #raicodoll writes #i've been in a writers block lately and been busy so this helped me a bit #also I'm texan so I feel like I have a slight advantage writing Joel lol #I tried doing 2nd POV and it came out awful so sorry #have another oc lol #fic: monsters #oc: Red #feral reader #series: feral

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shirefantasies · 6 months ago

Text

Roots Running Deep- Balin x F!Witch!Reader

This is a request by @that-teen2003! I didn’t post it with the ask just to save some spoilers for y’all 😉 I realized a little late that I flip flopped one detail a bit but I hope you still like it 🙋🏻‍♀️ thank you so much for this request, it ended up being one of my favorite things I’ve made here ever 🥺

Warnings: suggestive jokes, canon typical violence, some angst

“Why do you keep venturing out into the woods, eh, brother? If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was some sort of tryst,” Dwalin caught his brother on his way out, punctuating his teasing with a wink.

“What exactly are you insinuating, then?” Balin crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, you can’t be collecting herbs every other day, for stars’ sake! But if you’re meeting out in the woods, she must be quite ugly! What is it, no teeth? Beard a different color than the rest of her hair? Or is it that she isn’t dwarrow at all?”

Involuntary Balin winced, bringing first the widening of eyes and then the quirking of triumphant lip to his younger sibling’s face. “By my beard, you must be joking! How tall is she? Must like the way she picks you up and-”

“For goodness’s sakes, would you stop that?” It was rare for the elder son of Fundin to snap, but when his love was threatened in any way it was as easy an expenditure as taking a breath. “We’ve done nothing of the sort. I’ll not have you taking shots at the honor of one so fair. This is no Blue Mountain barmaid we’re talking about.”

Chuckling deeply, Dwalin shook his mohawked head. "Well, how did you meet, anyway? Someone from Dale, no doubt?"

"If she was from Dale, I would meet her more often in Dale," Balin reasoned, lifting his favorite mahogany-toned coat from their shared home's hook and pulling it on by the sleeve, "if you must know, she has a cottage in the woods. I met her through Oin. She helped him secure a fine stock of herbs, and I accompanied him on his return there."

Uncharacteristically softening, Dwalin's voice came so quiet Balin practically had to cross the room again just to hear him. "Is she your One?"

If he could see himself, Balin was sure he'd have looked a fool the way the twinkle leapt into his eye and the smile arched across his face. But he cared little. "Aye," was all he had to say before disappearing out the door.

You awaited him at the brookside just as you promised, dressed in a gorgeous gown of green, the perfect shade to bring out what of your skin could be seem, and with flowers crowning your head. Long sleeves flowing, you waved a hand at the dark-haired dwarf with a grin bright as the sun. How could it be that a gift of the earth like this, all but a daughter of Yavanna, be his? Poetry, truly, as Balin remembered the depictions of the tall, dark woman in green standing aside his people’s fiery-haired creator as his wife. Would you, then, stand beside him someday? Could you?

Flowers sprung at your bare feet as you crossed into the grass, extending your arms to him. You breathed his name like a promise, a hand raising to caress his cheek in greeting. Leaning into the warmth of your touch, Balin lets your name fall from his lips, his hands falling to your waist to pull you against him.

"Doing some gardening, my love?" You smile down at him.

"Not today," he shakes his head, "just wanted to see you."

"Oh? I better find something more entertaining than my trees," you joked.

"What are you doing with your trees?"

"A bit of grafting. Trying to see how many fruits I can get on one tree."

"How many are you up to now?"

You grin. "Care for a climb?"

Balin's hair is soft beneath your fingers as they card through the sunkissed dark brown. He rests lightly against your right shoulder carefully as he can while maintaining balance on the branch you pulled yourselves onto. His eyelids flutter shut in contentment, but your heightened senses feel some unrest in him.

“You feel tense. What is wrong?”

At your words, you really feel the muscles of his back twinge against your chest. He inhales, exhales palpably.

“The king,” he replies quietly, “Thror’s love of gold, we fear, has corrupted his mind. His son and grandson have taken up many kingdom affairs already. It weighs heavy upon us all. I admire you. So unlike us in that regard. No need for the material possessions that drive us dwarves crazy. Just living here amongst your plants.”

“They are all I need,” you reply, giving pause as your hand traces down his cheek, “well, almost…”

With that, you gently rotate him, turning to connect your lips with his and feel him smile against you.

“You’ve been at that for hours, brother.”

"Because," Balin replies, tone patient and slow as he places another of the series of miniscule gems he cut, "it must be perfect. Wouldn't you want yours to be?"

"'Course. Just can hardly believe all this before you introduce her. She coming to live under the mountain?"

"That I do not know. It might not be good for her.” Balin sighs ruefully, voice going quiet. “Might not be good for anybody.”

Smoke. Fire. The sounds of screams as people pour from the mountain and the city at its foot alike. The dwarves have feared for the king, unaware of greater looming threats upon their horizon for who knows how long. And now the world has made good upon its punishment, raining shadow, flame, theft upon Erebor and undoing centuries of culture and livelihood. There is no use fighting, not with a fire drake, a beast with scales as shields and boundless conflagration at a single breath.

They need to run. Leave all that is held and loved behind if they wish to live, have any hope of preserving what once was. Memory, art, family, the beloved strength and endurance known to all dwarves. Reduced now to running or dying.

The prince himself had grabbed Balin, taken him by the arm and pulled him away from the flame just in time, yet they could still feel the searing heat in the air; still they perspire beneath it as they barrel into the king's hall. Thror hardly will part with a single piece of his massive fortune, so he must be dragged to safety beneath the arms of his kin as the great calamity Smaug makes straight for the royal hall.

Heart hammering, Balin drowns out all thought as his legs pump again and again, focus only on cover, safety. As the woods come into view, or as he should say what is left of them, the adrenaline haze begins its fade and the mental clouds part to reveal you. Were you safe? Were your trees, your wards, your... Shakily Balin reaches a hand into his pocket, entire body deflating with the exhale of relief he gives. The bead is there, safe and sound. But would you understand?

Mahal has surely blessed him, for as he wanders the woods, knowing the others will be after them soon, he finds a scrap of parchment, a pen with enough for the briefest message to leave at the foot of your tree, your glorious creation of many fruits.

The others all but yank him out of the woods and call him mad. The parchment, tear-stained and opened with your name, reads in Balin’s ever-steady hand:

We are so different, you and I, but fate is fate. Be it Mahal’s will or perhaps even Yavanna’s, I will be back for you. My heart breaks that I can’t braid it in myself, but if you’ll still wed me please wear this gift I made for you. I can only imagine how beautiful it shall look in your hair or wherever you choose to keep it.

I love you. I will never stop.

Balin

And with that he is forced to run into the chaos again, to witness his kinsman and the men he called neighbors flung like petty dolls by a great thrashing beast, bodies rent in two as though they are mere straw. Straw, however, does not bleed.

Mahal help them all.

The cracking of branches alerts you to the potential intruders, diverting your attention from the little patch of fire lilies you’ve been watering.

Fire lilies. Like little sunbursts they are, and yet still after all these years, several decades in fact, something about their intensity brought a recess of your mind back to the day of the drake’s attack. Smaug took everything from the people of Erebor, but from you as well.

Loneliness, after all, is the greatest curse of your long years, your many lives of men and women passing as seasons, all you know withering away like flowers in winter.

The love you had cultivated all those years ago, nourishing with every book Balin read you and every stroke of the bushy hair he somehow kept impossibly soft, every word of botany the dwarf learned for you and every healing herb you demonstrated and gifted to his people, is still in full bloom, though the sight of the lilies thorns your chest with questions that never quiet. Is Balin still alive? Had he even survived the attack, your head will evilly inquire, given his frequent proximity to the throne room, the great hall of kings that you know the dragon has taken to?

Guilt also. As the massacre took place, you had gone to the far edge of your woods, focusing every drop of magic in you upon sealing them, protecting them. Making them a safe place first anyone seeking refuge there. And yet you had seen no one, not a single survivor braving your grounds. So the loneliness drags on. What a waste of your power, you let yourself think sometimes, save for the wards that still remain to this day.

Train of your dress dragging at your feet, you keep walking past the lilies, sigh as you reenter the domain of your great steadfast trees.

You must confess that the tree you carved your sign, even if it was your child of seven fruits, in was of less significance to you before the day of blood and fire. Flame and screams and steel and all the things you understood least. That night is when you found it, after all: laying at its roots had been a hastily torn scrap scrawled with words that rent your heart and poured hours of tears from your eyes. And the bead, oh, the bead, possibly the last work of Balin’s hand. You could not bear anyone but your beloved braiding it onto you, thus it hangs from the thin chain about your neck, swinging above your heart. Yes, your tree of seven fruits had simply been an experiment then, and now and forever it is a memory.

Shaking the ache from your chest, you steady your feet and raise your hands, approaching the area from which the alerting sound had come. A young dwarf in brown bursts from the brush, screaming about a witch and aiming a slingshot at you. Shaking, he does not fire, his light brown eyes meeting the sadness in yours, the weight of memories and his words alike.

Your head snaps up as more heads pop forth, first a doting older one you can tell is the boy’s brother, then a more handsome golden-haired figure and one that has your mouth agape.

“Balin?”

You rush to him, feel his hands grope for yours and kneel down, crumpling into his chest. It is him, for no illusion can be so strong and cruel a ruse as to bear his scent, to hold you and run his thumb over the back of your hand in the same manner. His hair is white now, pure as snow, but the earnest, hopeful wisdom in his dark eyes has not aged a single year. The way he whispers your name like it answers his every prayer, even when his voice quavers, remains and it shatters your chest and builds it right back up.

“It must break your heart to see me like this.”

A single warm tear escapes your right eye as you shake your head, words failing you in favor of a smile half crumpled by your tears. In response you take his hands again, this time holding them for just a moment before you raise them to his bead upon your chain.

Finally your voice returns, shaky as it may be. “I never took it off. Not a single day. Your letter…”

This time it is Balin’s turn to part his lips in surprise. “You cannot mean that.”

“I can and I do. Balin, my life is nothing if it is spent alone. My heart was fractured that day, tucked unknowingly in your coat, but I knew not if I had buried it. Never again am I taking that chance. Let me have the honor of being bound to you. Please.”

Balin’s eyes dart thoughtfully between your joined hands, his stroking over yours once more, your eyes, the gaze that pours so much love into him it’s enough to make a grown dwarf cry, and finally your bead, the tiny emerald chips he’d set by hand so many years ago still glistening with all the love and care he’d placed into them. You hadn’t simply worn it, you’d cared for it.

Again he speaks your name, the finest music you’ve ever heard, and you cannot wait to hear him say it again and again. “You know that what I said is true. Still is. If you will have this old fool of course he’ll have you. May I?”

Nodding, you turn around, letting his aged but still quite nimble fingers undo your chain as you settle yourself onto the grass. The other dwarves swarm you, the younger and more indignant-looking ones quite literally buzzing around you. A taller one with tattoos across his shaven head holds them back with a stern look and the raise of a knuckle-dustered hand.

“Have you never listened to a word he said? A tale he told? My brother has been waiting far too long for this moment. Let him have it.”

At that, you broke completely, bursting into a near-delirious smile and interrupting your beloved’s work upon your hair with your lips upon his, half surprised by his passion and half blind to all but the taste of love upon your lips once more, white roses blooming in a circle around your seated forms.

Signs of love most pure.

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#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit headcanons #thorin’s company x reader #balin #balin x reader #balin x female reader #female reader #witch reader #one shot #that-teen2003 #requested

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mingsolo · 7 months ago

Text

take me home

For Seonghwa, another night, another opportunity to take off some of the stress of being famous— for you, a chance to turn a horrible night around.

seonghwa x reader (f) / angst, smut, idol au / warnings: one night stand, cursing, depictions of toxic friendships, alcohol mentions, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving) / wc: 8k — r: 21+

A/N: this is a work of fiction and do not depicts the real seonghwa or any public person mentioned on it. If it is familiar, it´s because this is a repost from my now deleted blog, with some small changes, enjoy!

Seonghwa lets out a loud and prolonged sigh. He ran his slender fingers softly through his perfectly styled hair and leaned his head against the backrest of the wide leather couch he’s sitting in. His eyes fluttered around the place, neon lights being the only source of light against the dim atmosphere. He bit his cheek, knowing it was a pity that he had to be in his private booth, this far from everybody.

He is bored, anxious.. “You are getting too picky” he muttered to himself, annoyed, because he knew that was bad for one of his biggest issues: timing.

His escapades to these lowkey night clubs were Seonghwa’s biggest source of freedom these days. He had it clear that if he got caught by some fan or reporter, his manager would take this from him, and the sole thought of being completely deprived of his freedom was depressing enough for him to give up entirely. A thing that he didn’t want to give in either. The comfort and status he had in the entire country and even in most parts of the world was a luxury he wasn’t ready to give up anytime soon.

Seonghwa knew he stopped being just a singer long ago — he was now marketable, a product. And as such, it was incredibly stressful having no time for himself, slave of the schedule imposed by the people who fill their pockets at the expense of his image, propense to be scolded like a child if he got caught having fun with someone else, probably his career ending in the process. These nights were the only thing that eased the weight around his shoulders.

So he tried to make them special every time, he wasn’t getting picky, he always was.

He crossed his legs, adjusting on his seat again, right hand holding his drink, the sounds of the ice cubes softly tapping against the glass relaxing him a little. From the level on the second floor, he watched the various silhouettes of people dancing, most of them intertwining bodies against each other, cheering and chanting loudly to the music. Taking another sip of his drink, he drifts his eyes to a group of people in the middle of the main dance floor. They were being loud, even surpassing the sounds over the music. Seonghwa scanned them quickly, sucking his teeth with impatience. He turned to the other side for a moment, when the sound of bottles crashing against the floor made him look back to the same group from before, clearly the signs of a fight about to happen. Seonghwa chuckled, at least someone was having some action tonight.

He kept looking at the scene amused for a few moments, watching how a man pushed another with such force, making him fly over a table to the right side of the bunch of people now onlooking the show. The guy knocked the table, spilling whatever drink was on top of it all over the person occupying the seat. The person jumped, a girl, bringing her hands to her mouth, scolding a scream.

You.

Seonghwa watched you attentively. The corners of his mouth slowly formed into a smile, eyes sparkling at the sight of you trying to push the man who was trying to hold onto you to get up. Like a lost lamb in the middle of the mountains, Seonghwa thought, your head looking in all directions looking for someone. You were obviously new to the place, and whoever you were so anxiously looking for nowhere to be seen. He watched you hurriedly and clumsily walk away, probably trying to find the way to the restroom. Quickly he finished what was left of his glass, but before he could stand up, the shadow of a person getting closer made him stop.

“Hey,” A guy approached him, inviting himself to sit on his side, hovering over him. His breath was so strong that Seonghwa could feel himself getting dizzy just by having the guy breathing beside him. He politely offered him a nod, moving slightly to the opposite side. “Are you alone?” the guy said, brushing his sticky fingers over the collar of his jacket, brushing his skin.

Seonghwa groaned softly, irritated and uncomfortable at the intrusion. The man was obviously stupid drunk, smirking and looking at him with sleepish eyes. He noticed a group of people eavesdropping a couple of booths away from him, and he got even more tense and irritated.

“I’m not interested.” He said calmly but firmly. The thought of someone noticing him and somehow making a rumor out of it always in the back of his mind. The man leaned closer, the stains of spilled drink on his half unbuttoned shirt invading his personal space.

“Come on, I don't bite,” he murmured. Seonghwa’s handsome features grin in disgust. With the corner of his eyes he looked down where the commotion was a few moments ago, hoping you had returned to your spot after cleaning yourself up. “I’m right here, pretty one” the man touched his jaw, making him look back at him.

“Fuck off,” Seonghwa groaned sitting straight, practically shoving the man off his face. The man scoffed, finishing his drink and leaving his empty glass on the table before standing up.

“Think you’re hot shit.” He cursed at him before leaving.

Seonghwa breathed out, rolling his eyes and standing up, walking far from the group of people the guy was returning to.

Quickly, his eyes were back at the area where he saw you before. A restrained smile drew on his lips, seeing you were back at your seat. Your hands playing with the strands of your purse, feet trampled over your heels. He could tell you were anxious and uncomfortable. No signs of the guys that knocked the table and made a mess out of your dress just you sitting there looking awkwardly over your shoulder to the people grinding against each other. You looked so out of place. To Seonghwa that was perfect, almost endearing.

On your seat, you start to feel dizzy. The first two tequila shots your friend Chae practically poured on you as soon as you got here were feeling heavy on your stomach. The scent of alcohol, sweat and who knows what else around you made you feel nauseous. You needed to go outside soon or you would end up making even more of a mess of yourself right there in front of everyone.

With impatient eyes you tried to find Chae over the crowd around you. Sadly, she had come to the club with intention, and that was to get back with her ex. Even when she found out he had come with another girl, still spent most of the night around him, completely forgetting about you. To your bad luck, you couldn’t leave on your own, since you had just moved to the city and had nowhere to go besides her apartment, bound to wait until she had finished her business.

Anxiety mixed with the acids on your stomach and the heat of the bodies and energy of the people around you were becoming too much, so you decided to go outside on your own for a moment. Completely lost looking for the main entrance, you found Chae, grinding against her ex boyfriend’s pelvis. You tried to call for her but your voice was muffled by the loud chatting and music, and she seemed to pay no attention to anything else but letting her ex touch her everywhere.

You felt hurt and disappointed. Still, you tried to get her attention, mostly wanting to prevent her from making the mistake of hooking up with him, knowing how badly he had treated her. As you tried to push people away and get closer, you suddenly lost sight of them, now trapped in the middle of a bunch of guys chanting and trying to get you to dance with them. Freaking out, you sprint in the opposite direction, barely getting away from the men now whistling and yelling obscenities.

Resigned to look for Chae after you had taken some fresh air, you continued looking for the main entrance. Soon you found a way down the stairs on the second floor. Walking down the steps you got to a metal door, a red exit sign above it. But as soon as you pushed it open you instantly knew it wasn’t a good idea.

Outside this side of the club was a dangerously looking alley, pitch dark, with a few cars around that looked almost abandoned. The only source of light was the neon sign of the club, Fireworks, just a few letters still working, too dim to light anything properly. You close the door, walking back upstairs. You didn’t know the area, so it was better not to venture alone, even to get a minute of fresh air.

The air on the stairs was cool enough, the ventilation coming from the ceiling and the absence of people helped to ease the insufferable heat from inside, so you decided to rest a little there, before heading back.

You sat on one of the steps almost at the top of the stairs, and stood still for a few minutes, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. It was still wet, the smell of vodka strong enough to make you feel nauseous again. Blowing the strands of hair from your forehead you looked up at the ceiling, almost blinding yourself because of the intense light of the led lamp that flickered above you.

Your first night out since coming to the city, and it couldn't be worse. You regret coming along with Chae, now confused as to why she even invited you if she pretended to spend the whole night embarrassing herself trying to get her ex back. What if she ended up forgetting about you and going home with him alone?. Your chest tightened. You shook your head, unable to let that thought go any further.

Swallowing a lump you hugged yourself trying to find some comfort in your own warmth, gathering strength to get back inside and look for Chae and beg her to take you back, or miraculously convince her to give you her exact address and keys for you to call a taxi. You called, texted but the messages were not read. Defeated you finally you stood up and decided to go back inside before she decided to leave you there for real.

Without lifting your eyes from your phone waiting for Chae’s response you walked back from where you came from, when you bumped into someone walking in front of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you apologized, looking up, finding a young man in front of you. To say he was handsome was an understatement. His features were soft yet manly, plump lips with a soft smile on them as he bowed slightly accepting your apology. His hair was slicked to the back, showing a stylish undercut.

“It’s fine, I was distracted and didn’t notice you either.” He smiled again. With a little nod from his head you noticed a dangling earring strung from his left ear, the cross shape wagging softly.

He moved slightly aside to let you pass but you didn’t move. As if you were suddenly starstruck, you couldn’t move and your heart started thumping against your chest so loud you swear he could hear it. When you didn’t speak or move, he continued.

“I’m looking for the exit, is this the right way?” He asked, pointing out the way down the stairs from where you came from. The tone of his voice was low, but also calm and soft, you could swear you have heard it somewhere.

“Uh… yes. I mean no! it leads to the backstreet alleys I think.”

You felt embarrassed finding yourself stuttering in front of him. Still, there was some familiarity on his voice and face but you just couldn’t make it up where from. He nodded and with his hand motioned to let you go first.

As you walk past him, your hands squeeze your bag to ease the nerves, the shadow of his silhouette ghosting behind you. After a few steps you realized you were not going anywhere really, so you stopped, smiling nervously. “Uhm, actually I was also looking for the exit, so…”

“Oh, perhaps we could look for it together?, If you are okay with that of course.” His honey-like voice is soft but clear, even slightly muffled by the boisterous music. You could see his feline eyes glowing under the dim lights. A sparkle on them even.

“Yeah! It's fine.” You tried to sound relaxed, like it was no big deal, but you were sure your tone came up excited, jolted. Get off your cloud, he’s just being polite, you thought trying not to think he was somehow trying to initiate conversation with you.

Just like that he started walking comfortably beside you, his eyes looking up front. He was dressed casually in black pants and a light dark jacket half way opened, giving a good view of his chest. As casual as the outfit was you could tell the clothing was pricey. A couple of necklaces hung from his neck matching the expensive looking watch on his wrist. He was surely wealthy, it was obvious not only on his clothing but in the way he carried himself and the aura around him.

“I’m Seonghwa by the way,” he said suddenly as you went down to the first floor. Seonghwa, you definitely have heard that name before. “Can I know yours?.” He asked, brushing off your thoughts.

“Huh, Y/n.” your response came out so quick that made your voice sound wavered, and you could feel the blood rush running to your head. You told yourself to calm down.

“Cute name.” He smiled again and you swore you were staring too much.

Just before you were about to make an embarrassing comment in response, you heard a familiar voice coming from one booth right at the foot of the stairs, where you and Seonghwa were heading. Squinting you could distinguish Chae, mouth shoved against his ex's. Both entangled in a heated, and sloppy make out session.

“Oh no!,” you ran towards her, trying to get her attention. “Chae!, Chae please…” you called, still trying to keep your cool in front of Seonghwa, who looked at the scene with a calm expression.

“What, Y/n?” Chae whined, leaving his ex’s lips for a moment, while his hands went under the hem of her dress shamelessly. “Thought you had gone already.”

“Chae, don’t do that here!” your voice supplicant and ashamed at the same time. You felt guilty for worrying about what Seonghwa would think of you almost as much as trying to stop Chae from messing up with her ex, but to be fair, it was already too late to prevent the latter.

“I told you I was going to be busy,” Chae pushed his ex off, taking his hand instead and leading him upstairs. “Just leave already k’? Oh, and book a hotel room or something, I won’t be coming home tonight!” She said giggling, as the man pecking on her neck began kissing and touching her everywhere again as they went up.

You sighed out loud, watching your friend disappear on the second level. Ashamed, you offered Seonghwa a weak smile, as he approached you slowly.

“Are you okay?”. Your eyes met him again. Your silence answering his question. “That kind of night, huh?” He smiled at you sweetly.

“Well, yeah.” you accepted, depleting yourself on the nearest seat. “That was my poor attempt to prevent my friend from screwing up with her ex, but alas.”

“Hmm, yeah I would say there’s no stopping that,” Seonghwa sat down beside you, his thigh nearly brushing yours. You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to stay calm. “But hey it isn’t your fault

“So, that was your friend?.”

You blink at him, nodding your head in reply. Having him so close after being embarrassed like that was limiting your way with words. You clenched your fist and forced your eyes close trying to suppress a tear fighting to come out. You weren't sure if it was because of Chae’s attitude, or you wanted to appear vulnerable to the stranger beside you, probably both.

Seonghwa smiled again, innocent and sweet, and he looked so beautiful. He had to be aware of how attractive he was, and that he was making you nervous, there was no way he shouldn’t. And you wondered, after the shameful scene from moments ago, you were sure anyone else would have just left without even saying goodbye. But now he smiled at you, sitting beside you.

“Don’t be sad about that, drunk people say dumb shit.” He comforted you. His eyes were locked on yours as you lifted your eyes to meet his, and you saw that sparkle shining even more than before. “You’re too pretty, I would hate to see you crying.”

You let out a nervous giggle. “I’m sorry, but me?”

“Of course you, I don’t see why you would think otherwise.”

You wouldn’t consider yourself unattractive, but unable to fully believe him, you shook your head assuming he was just being sweet to make you feel better, but he looked at you with a serious expression, eyes not moving from your face. “Sorry, I’m not used to people saying that about me.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Seonghwa arched his eyebrows, lips slightly pouting.

“Seriously, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” you tried to ease your nerves joking about how stupidly gorgeous he was, but he seemed to pay no mind. “How pretty can I be compared to you?”

“A thousand times more.” He answered simply.

An unusual warmth rolled down your chest, your jaw tightened and you could feel the heat of the place and your own body temperature going up. You looked down, focusing your eyes on the floor trying to avoid eye contact with him. The words he just said spinning around your head.

“Thanks, you are really sweet, though I really need to get out to get some fresh air,” the temperature seems to go up with each second.

“We still haven’t found the exit,” he replied with a playful smirk. “Want to join me still?.”

You nodded, and Seonghwa helped you stand up, taking your hand guiding you through the back of the club, avoiding all the people. You were still flustered about his words, but noticed he knew exactly how to get to the exit, and not even the main door, but one hidden from everyone’s reach, between the VIP lounges.

He’s familiar with this place, you thought, of course he were.

A few moments later you were outside, the cool breeze night crushed against your bare arms and legs, making its way under the skirt of your dress, and you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs until you were satisfied.

Seonghwa repressed a smile behind you, watching you close your eyes and extend your arms in the breeze against your skin.

So innocent, so untainted.

Seonghwa could tell this night would be so much fun. If you allowed him, and of course you would, he would treat you so well. Make you forget about the bad taste you just had, remember anything but his name. As you turned to face him after having cooled yourself off, he imagined how you would look under him, crying out his name, begging him for more.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes! Very much.” you smiled at him, and immediately looked away. “Huh, well, you surely have somewhere to go, and I need to look for a place to st-…”

“You could stay with me a little longer,” He suggested. “If you’d like, of course.”

You smiled nervously. You weren’t actually that naive, if he was asking you to spend more time with him, at this time of the night, you being alone and not knowing you didn’t have a place to spend the night, you knew what he meant.

So you looked at your options: on one hand you had nowhere to go, and didn’t want to wander around at this hour alone. On the other— even if he was unbelievably attractive, you just had met him.

“Let’s do this. I’ll give you a ride around until we find a place you choose to stay. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let you walk alone this late, please?.” Seonghwa pouted so sweetly, and you felt that familiarity about him again, but couldn’t quite know why.

After a moment you gave in, following him to the club’s parking lot to his car. Truth was you were drawn to him, no other guy you’ve met before looked remotely like him, and honestly you didn’t hate the idea of spending more time with him. Now in the passenger seat of a ridiculously expensive car, the situation is even more unbelievable to you. Handsome, sweet, considerate and rich? It was too good to be true.

Along the way he suggested a couple of places, but they looked too expensive and you refused his offer of paying for your night, not having enough money to pay for them yourself. Some time into the ride, you could see the sky getting cloudy, the air getting colder. Little drops of rain started to crash against the car’s front window, and soon rain was loudly pouring over.

Just like that, with the excuse of the rain, Seonghwa and you drove aimlessly for about an hour, he listened attentively to your tragic story since you came to live in the city alongside your not so good friend Chaehyeon, and he was joking trying to make you feel better. His charm was so natural and he seemed to be enjoying his time with you as much as you did. Even his small talk made you feel comfortable, soon easing your anxious mood, making you feel relieved to have accepted his company.

Being inside his car so close to him, you could smell his scent, and you had never taken in something more delicious. It was quick that you felt unable to resist getting closer. Maybe it was the aroma of his perfume, the atmosphere thanks to the rain falling down, tapping the top of the car, making the night feel even more surreal, but you started to wish for him to ask you to really spend the night over.

Was this moment real? The night had been the worst so far until Seonghwa showed up, making you feel relaxed, beautiful, and wanted. Him, being as attractive, charismatic, decided to stay by your side. It wasn’t that you were dumb enough you will be seeing him again after this night, but the feeling in your gut was stronger than your sense of realism. You wished for one time in your life, to do what you wanted to do without expecting some sort of consequence after. It was about time for you to have an exciting experience.

“Y/n?,” His voice broke again your train of thoughts. He had just leaned to the side of the street. “Tell me what you are thinking about?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, mustering all the confidence you could gather up. What came from your lips next was surprisingly clear, even to you. So much that you didn’t even recognize your own voice. “Can you take me to your place tonight?.”

Seonghwa’s face focused on you, eyes hovering over your lips. The sparkle from back at the club back into his eyes, like in slow motion, you could notice his chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting.

He was looking at you with an enamored expression, and even if you knew it was just the rush of knowing he would be taking you home tonight, it felt lovingly, everlasting. Hearing you say those words just like that was music to his ears. Your chest feels smaller all of the sudden. You were about to apologize to him, as he didn’t say anything. Then the world stopped, as he leaned closer to you, brushing his lips over yours.

“Yes, thought you’d never ask.”

The red light turned green, brushing his lips on you a little longer before turning the engine back on. The expensive car was running smoothly as if it was floating, so fast that the city lights around you became blurry, seemingly following behind you.

The ride to Seonghwa’s place was not long, he was driving fast, not too fast to make you worried about your safety, but fast enough to get there as soon as possible. He didn’t say another word, his eyes locked on the road, grip firmly holding the seething wheel.

Soon he was entering the valet area of a huge department complex. The building was so tall that it rose higher than your eyes could see more so thanks to the cloudy sky. Seonghwa took a u-turn as if to leave the place, but instead entered a basement parking area you didn’t see when you arrived.

Seonghwa twisted the car keys, turning it off when he had found the parking spot of his choice. You noticed this area was almost empty with just a couple of fancy looking cars a few spots to your right. You were looking at them when you could feel Seonghwa’s hand brushing your knee, making its way up, softly playing with the hem of your dress. The sudden touch makes you shiver.

“You know what happens, right? The moment you enter with me?,” His tone was barely a whisper, but deep enough to make you listen clearly. “You know what I will do to you?.”

For a couple of seconds you froze in place, looking at him straight in the eyes, watching them shine bright as the silver hanging from his neck. “I know.” you smiled softly.

Once outside the car, as he led you to the elevator, his fingers intertwined with yours, your heart was beating so fast that you swore it would come out of your chest at any moment. He let you enter the elevator first, walking behind you, same as when he opened his apartment door, closing it behind him the moment both were inside.

Just a couple of steps into the room and you were unexpectedly grabbed by the waist, Seonghwa’s hands roaming over the fabric of your dress, feeling the shape of your hips, he brushed his fingertips softly, then he grabbed your ass, squeezing it tightly in contrast. He buried his face on your neck, pecking over it softly. You could feel every inhale of his breath, hot and steady.

He kept walking without letting go of you, throwing his keys and doing the same with your purse as he pushed you with his hips into the room. With a quick movement he turned you to face him pushing you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your neck with both his hands holding it as he leaned down to kiss you. The soft brush from before was just a taste, now he was kissing you intensely, hungrily. Slowly lurching and sucking, one long kiss after another, only breaking apart to get some air.

You could feel your lips burning, the same sensation slowly gathering between your legs, making you feel a warmth that seemed so unfamiliar to you. He was only kissing you and you could feel your walls clenching, your underwear already wet. You tried to contain yourself but when he took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting it playfully, you could feel your legs giving up, making you stumble on your feet.

Seonghwa grabs you by the waist, trying not to make you fall. Your little display of weakness makes him smile brightly over your lips. He then leans, trying to take your lips in again but you stop him. With a palm over his chest, you take in a clear view of his features, feline eyes fixated on you, his pupils dilating, waiting.

Time seemed to be running slowly as you two stood up watching each other attentively. You closed your eyes, one hand taking the back of Seonghwa’s neck, slightly pushing him to kiss you again, he watched you as you did, until his lips touched yours again and he closed his eyes with you. Your hand seamlessly travels down from his neck to his back and then up front to his chest, feeling his firm form over the soft fabric of his vest.

You could feel your lips swollen already, his kisses feeling so deep and last longing. When he breaks the kiss to take some breath again, you take the chance to see his plump lips also puffy and slick, coated with your lipstick.

Seonghwa admits you awoke something in him. He sensed the awareness yet innocence, knowing he would fuck you tonight and probably be gone by the morning, yet you wanted that, you needed that. And that was exactly what he had in mind.

In fact, he craved that innocence and he wanted to indulge in you. He rarely felt anything but lust about the people he usually brought to this place. Most of them were incredibly boring, never shutting up about how they loved him , how they could make him feel so good , only managing to annoy him by how hard they tried. They were people he often used for release, to make himself feel greater about what he meant to them, and not otherwise.

You, on the contrary, seemed to not know who he was, and unbeknownst to himself, made the challenge of making you fall for him special.

Seonghwa took your hand and guided you to a room to the left, once inside he grabbed you by the waist, kissing you sloppily and hurriedly, before pushing you over the bed. He flashed a smirk reacting to you gasping for the sudden push and watched you grip the bed sheets, trying to get something to hold onto.

He started by unbuttoning his jacket quickly, confirming your suspicions that he wasn’t wearing a shirt under it at all. After that he crept forward to you, taking your shoes off and doing the same with his. When that was out the way he wasted no time, pushing your legs apart with his knee, now his full body on top of yours. Your lips pressed together, eyes shut tight. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes to see him hovering over you, his fingers caressing the skin between your neck and chest. With his fingers he pushed your dress down, exposing more of your cleavage and he brushed the soft skin of what was out of your breast, your bra pushing them up was extremely sensual to him.

“I want you to see what I do to you, don’t hide away from me,” Seonghwa huffed, leaving a soft peck on the exposed skin of your chest. “You can touch me as well, don’t hold on, it’s okay.” The thin straps of your dress fell down over your shoulders, and Seonghwa cursed under his breath. He needed to rip that off you soon, but he decided to wait.

Lying there, watching his naked torso glow against the faint lights provided only by the lamps hidden on the ceiling, you placed both your hands over his chest, tracing delicate touches all over. You wanted to feel each of his muscles, the pads of your fingers taking in the warmth of his slim but toned body. You could feel Seonghwa’s breath pulsing every time you stopped on his abs or chest, like studying his form meticulously. You were clueless to the effect this had on him, not knowing how much he enjoyed being worshiped, desired.

As you touched him, now kissing every part you found especially beautiful, you could feel your skin burning where Seonghwa was squeezing you over, your thighs were sure to be left all bruised. Unable to hold on more, his hands went back to your chest, now pulling down the straps of your dress, all the way down until it was out on the floor.

He moved from over you slightly to take a good look of your form, how your push up bra concealed your breasts, looking like that was painful to you, but he loved the view. You went to put a hand over them, the usual insecurity hitting in by being suddenly so exposed to someone, but he stopped your hand by taking your wrist gently. “No hiding. You are beautiful.”

He sounded so sincere and loving, that you decided to believe him. You knew you weren’t the first person he said those words to, you knew you wouldn’t be the last. Even so, in this moment they were meant for you and you only, and that was enough to believe him.

Next, his lips went over to your neck, his tongue pressed against your throat sending shivers to your whole body. He smoothly slipped his hands behind your back, masterfully unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side without looking. Now with your chest completely exposed, he massaged your breasts first with his thumbs, then his tongue. He took sweet time kissing them until they were fully coated with his saliva, seemingly unable to stop savoring them, and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t want to think what was going to be of you when this was over.

After he was done with your breast his mouth continued his way below your waistline, surely leaving bruises every time he bit your skin where his lips landed. You couldn’t keep quiet, moaning at every single one of his licks and kisses, making him smile as he pressed his lips onto your sensible spots. Seonghwa softly chuckled hearing your cries of pleasure and God it was driving you insane.

You couldn’t hold on anymore and one of your hands was to look for the waistband of his pants, trying to push them down. “Please…” you whined.

“Please what?,”

“I want you.” your voice sounded desperate, needy.

He ignored you and pressed his lips now on your thighs, kissing them both over and over, trading you with soft brushes of his fingers over your clothed clit, soaking wet already. He wanted to fuck you already but he needed to hear more begging first.

You couldn’t bear the burning sensation between your legs any longer, trying to rub them together desperate for some friction. Seonghwa forcefully spread them apart, and continued to suck on each side of them, your cunt tightening with each passing second.

“Seonghwa, please …”

The sound of your lips moaning his name makes him jolt with excitement. He went up and leaned over you to watch you once more. Your breast and lips swollen, flushed skin and drowsy eyes looking at him, pleading him to be inside you. You looked so intoxicating.

Seonghwa couldn’t help but groan. A few minutes of kisses and some touches and you were already so needy for him. He could feel yourself trembling underneath him, making him proud of his decision of choosing you for this night. Now he needed to make sure that you would never forget the things he’ll do to you.

“So pretty.” He purred into your ear, brushing his nose over your cheek. His tongue then licked your lips softly, making his way into your mouth again. Your eyes instinctively close, letting yourself be devoured. You felt his hand travel down, brushing against your stomach as he started to remove his belt, the sound of the metal teasingly making you more desperate. “Close your eyes.” He ordered.

You whined at the feeling of him getting off of you, but it was instantly rewarded by the burning of his bare skin touching yours as he leaned over you again, now evidently completely naked. He warned you about opening your eyes until he said so, so you shut them down, your other senses widening.

You could feel hot breath over your knees and you knew he was about to make his way between your thighs again. It was still shocking when he spread your legs open, and you felt his breath against your cunt, so close you could feel the warmth of his mouth on you. You knew that after tonight it will be hard not to compare him to anyone else and that made you feel uneasy. The thought of never having anyone who could make you forget about what he was doing to you. His scent, his voice, everything about him was unbelievable and even right now, with him practically ripping your underwear apart, you still thought you were dreaming.

Once he got rid of the lacy cloth between his tongue and your core, he coaxed your entrance with soft pecks and you mumbled out his name again, breathing heavily each time you did so. “Open your eyes.” his deep tone resonated over your whimpers, and you did as told. You watched him just stare down, sharp eyes admiring your most intimate spot. You didn’t want to hide anymore, instead becoming proud of the lust that shone on his eyes.

“You’re soaked.” he said calmly, and a second after he made you yelp by the sudden touch of his tongue running along the surface of your clit. While he flicked his tongue inside you, he mumbled some words you couldn’t make up, the vibrations feeling heavenly over your drenched cunt.

Your legs were shaking from the pleasure. His large hands gripped your ass as he ate you out with urgency, making unholy sounds that you were sure would pop into your brain at the most unexpected moments. If he continued like this you could come at any moment, only holding back by the desire of having him inside you.

“Please… I want you,”

Seonghwa looked up at the sound of your crying. He was also ready, but he needed to taste you a little more before giving you what you wanted. He slowly rose on top of you again, giving you an open mouth kiss letting you know how you tasted. Your whining and pleading was music to his ears and the way you said his name fueled him with power. He was so hard you could feel his length pressing against your stomach, hot and thick, waiting for you to touch it.

Without thinking about it your hand moved down and your fingers wrapped around him. Seonghwa clenched his teeth, trying to repress a moan but he just barely managed to contain it. He kissed you again as you pumped his length steadily. Now it was his turn to be surprised, as you adjusted your position so his cock could greet your entrance, brushing his tip over your silky clit and pushing it inside firmly.

“Fuck….” He cursed, letting himself enter your walls in a single motion, covering his cock in your wetness. You bite your lip so hard that you feel a soft burn over them, probably hurting yourself, but that just added to the sensation of intense pleasure that you were experiencing. “So fucking tight,” He moaned, licking his bottom lip and locking his eyes on yours.

The bed rocked loudly with each time he pushed inside you. You tried to adjust yourself to the position, but a loud cry came out when Seonghwa gripped your thighs, spreading them even more and burying himself deeper.

“So perfect,” He mumbled to himself, head spinning at the intensity of what he was feeling. “Is as if you were made for me to be inside you.” He dragged his words, eyes dropping as he fucked you hard and fast. He never stopped looking at you, how you were unable to keep your eyes open, how you gripped the pillows around you looking for some kind of support.

Laying underneath him, feeling his skin crash against yours, his previously styled hair now falling over his forehead, sweat beads rolling down his neck, it was all too surreal. And the fact that he looked at you like he adored you. That made your blood rush violently to your head, making you dizzy.

Seonghwa admired his shadow casting over your body, making the rest of your skin glow. It looked like a painting. You trembled listening to his controlled moans, and he jolted everytime you whimpered out his name.

As he rocked his hips, at times pulling out entirely only to smash into you again, he could feel your walls clenching around him, trying hard not to come undone and wait until both of you were close. Your kindness towards his own pleasure made him feel even more attracted to you, his desire to pleasure you beyond expectation grew even harder. He also loved the noises you made, even if you tried to restrain yourself, you sounded so pure and innocent. He wondered when it was the last time someone had you like this, hoping you were really never being fucked like this before.

Seonghwa wasn’t trying to make himself feel better about using you to satisfy his own needs, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make you feel beautiful and desired too, you were too precious not to.

“Fuck, Seonghwa…” you moaned. He smiled against your lips, brushing his tongue over them. His hand then went down to your clit, motioning circles with his thumb, making you arch your back and firmly grab his arms, probably scratching them. He groaned at the pain, and told you to dig your nails even harder. You stopped thinking, digging them harder over his back, your head buried against his neck. He groaned loudly and your breath became heavier with him buried inside you mixed with the rubbing of your clit, impossible to contain your pleasure.

“Just like that,” he growled, “Let me hear you say my name over and over.”

You cursed out loud, muttering his name again and he reacted so loudly every time you did. Your sweat mixed with his felt incredibly intimate and you couldn’t dare to break apart from him. The familiar knot twisting and twirling on your low abdomen growing intensely. His name was the only thing you could say, forcing yourself to wait until he came with you, wanting to feel him spill inside you, as lustful as it sounded, you wanted to feel that, to feel him.

Everything became too much when Seonghwa took your legs, lifting them and throwing them over his shoulders, adjusting himself even deeper. You cursed at him, mostly because he was pushing you over the edge and you needed to let go sooner. He then grabbed your hair with his fist from the back, it hurted but you loved every second of it. For the brief seconds you could keep your eyes open, you see his face glowing, a devilish smile on his face enjoying the pain and pleasure he was giving you.

“Now you are getting close, fucking scream my name and I let go,” His voice was dark and eager, wanting you to come just when he told you to.

White dots flashing as you closed your eyes and rolled your hips to help you ride your release, too focused on the pleasure of the moment to notice Seonghwa had also come with you, filling you up to the brim, thick cum spilling out of you even if he wasn’t stopping.

As he slowly came down from his own high, Seonghwa carefully pulled out of you, letting you lean against the bed sheets, covered in sweat. You could see his skin shining, sweat covering him up entirely. He watched as you tried to incorporate and sit on the bed, feeling uneasy trying to somehow cover up the mess.

“Leave that, we’re not done” The words barely rolled out his mouth due to the tiredness. He pushed his drenched hair to the back, his chest swelling with each inhale.

“Seonghwa,” you mumbled, and he pushed the stay hairs off your face, leaning to kiss you again.

Next, you were on top of him, kissing him deeply, tongue buried inside his mouth exploring every inch, knowing after tonight you wouldn’t have the chance to do it again. In just a few minutes he was hard enough again to lead you on top of him, and just as fast your hips rocked back and forth with him buried deep inside you, the headboard of the bed hitting the walls loudly. Seonghwa looked at you as you rode him with half opened eyes, unable to believe this was the same girl that hours ago had her clothes completely ruined, looking totally out of place in the middle of the night club.

Seonghwa’s fingers were pressed against your hips, keeping you in place, guiding your pacing with his hands, helping you both reach your second release. “Come for me again, and say my name as you do.”

His words were not a request but an order, and you obeyed gracefully.

He pushed his cock even more and you cried his name loudly. As you ride your orgasm, your ears meet a heavy whimper and Seonghwa leans forward to you, his forehead pressing yours, he clenches his teeth, feeling your sweet release flowing down on him, the same time as his pulsing cock covers your walls entirely once more. He breaks the closeness to look down where your bodies are intertwined, pulling out and seeing his cum drip out of you again, and he wished he could have that sight every day from now on.

He’s trying hard to let go of the reality that will hit you both the next day.

“So fucking gorgeous,” He managed to say between heavy breathing. Your arms around his shoulders preventing you from falling to the side, his hands grabbing your waist, fingernails still pressing your skin, the touch burning.

He offers you a hand to help you sit up. You smiled shyly, taking it while having trouble standing up by yourself, and Seonghwa giggled.

“Come to shower with me?”

“Oh, Yeah, sure” you smile back, leaning to kiss him again.

“You are too adorable,” He smiled against your lips, guiding you to the bathroom, hugging you from behind.

Once inside the shower booth, twice as big as your whole bathroom back home, Seonghwa told you he will take care of you, not letting you even wash your own hair, instead scrubbing every part delicately. He washed your legs first, going up from there and taking time to rub the soap between your legs, making your knees weak all over. He shampooed your hair and massaged it, and you did the same with his. After you were clean, it was his turn, rubbing body wash into your palms you cleaned him entirely. Seonghwa’s eyes were closed while you did so, enjoying the softness of the sponge and your hands against his skin.

As you cleaned him up, your mind raced a thousand miles per hour. The image of Seonghwa sweaty on top of you, fucking you— was something you would never forget, you were sure of it. Now, after it has already happened, the uncertainty of what was next crept inside you, nerves and anxiety hitting you again.

“Seonghwa…” you said awkwardly as you two stepped out of the shower.

“Yes, angel?” Seonghwa reached for a towel for you, and took another for himself, drying his hair and body with quick pacing. You didn’t speak and he tossed his towel aside, getting closer to you. “You're thinking too much, you're still here with me, aren’t you?” He smirked, taking your towel and beginning to dry you up.

“Yeah, I am.” you closed your eyes, hugging him and kissing him deeply one more time, and many times through the night.

Hours later, minutes before sunrise, Seonghwa got up, dressed and called to order some clothes so you could change when you woke up. He made a special request for a similar dress as the one you had before, the staff were pretty familiar with his demands, so they proceeded to make the arrangements quickly.

He looked at his phone annoyed at the several missed calls from his manager, already exhausted about his packed schedule for the next hours. Just before leaving for his actual apartment, he looked at you for the last time, watching you sleep peacefully. The white bed sheets covered just half of your body, and he hesitated— wanting to leave a note, his number, something. Longing already to see you again knowing it was better not to.

“Don’t be stupid” he muttered to himself.

He stood up, standing, hesitating for a moment, before walking to the door without looking back.

When you open your eyes, you get blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the white curtains hanging up from the ceiling to the floor. You incorporate slightly, your whole body aching, and you smile, hopeful. Slowly you turn around to the other side of the bed, you shut your eyes tight, hoping to open them and find him lying still asleep next to you.

You smile, now dryly, to the empty side of the bed. You knew, yet still hurt.

Painfully, you stood up from the bed, going to the bathroom first, performing the usual morning rituals. After that you look up for your clothes on the floor, finding nothing. With the linen bed sheet wrapped around your body, you walk into the living room finding a rack of clean clothes in the living area.

You looked for a note but there was none. The clothes were casual and simple, but expensive. Some underwear, a couple of pants, some shirts and a dress, very similar to the one you were wearing before. You changed into a t-shirt and pants, and took the dress, folding it and keeping it in your bag, it was similar to the one you were wearing, a gift.

Just before you left the upscale room, you turned to look at it for the last time, feeling dumb and over-dramatic doing so. You pictured him there with you as it just happened not long ago and you felt your chest tighten.

��you're still here with me, aren’t you?”

“He did say it, didn’t he?”, you muttered to yourself, just as you walked out, closing the door behind you.

©mingsolo / please do not repost or translate to any other sites.

#seonghwa smut #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #wkcnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa angst #ateez fanfic #fic tag #my fic #seonghwa #smut #angst #oneshot #repost #atz seonghwa

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mischievouslittlecreature · 2 months ago

Text

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Mistakes are made, and the consequences have begun to come home to roost.

Word Count: 4,415

Notes: Don't ask me why I continue to chose to write things that require a good deal of action when it's one of my weakest points as an author. But I did try to do a few things stylistically to make it hopefully a little less painful to read. Warnings for depictions of violence, blood, decapitation, and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 17: Heads Will Roll

Luca was still inside the truck when, to his horror, the roar of machine gunfire began to assault them from above. One of his boys who had already stepped out into the square went down, blood spraying from the holes that the weapon ripped through his torso.

He had just enough time to burst from the doors of the van and dart behind it, using the body of the truck for cover from the barrage of bullets raining down on them. He only had the briefest of moments to catch sight of Shelby up on the terrace above them, hunched behind a massive machine gun aimed down at where they were all gathered in the square.

For a moment, his head spun, heart hammering in his ears, trying to process just what the actual fuck had happened.

One second, they were following Shelby’s car into a secluded little square surrounded by apartment buildings, the next, they were being assaulted with seemingly unending gunfire.

His teeth gritted. It had been Polly Gray. That bitch had baited him. Shelby had probably been in on the whole fucking thing from the beginning.

There were no easy exits, and very limited cover, especially with Shelby already up above them with a bird’s eye view of the square. They were like rats in a fucking barrel.

His finger flexed preparedly against the trigger of his gun, waiting for the cease in the gunfire. Shelby would have to reload sooner or later. And Luca was fairly certain that it was just him. The little red-haired whore hadn’t been with him when he left the hospital, and if he had any other men with him–especially that mad dog of a brother–they would already know.

There was a brief break in the gunfire, and Luca took his chance, whipping around from his cover behind the truck, firing wildly in the air towards the terrace. Shelby ducked down behind the rail and out of sight, but Luca didn’t stop firing. Behind him, his men joined him in unleashing a storm of bullets in Shelby’s direction. Luca just barely could make out his figure dart from the crate he was huddled behind and into the open door of the flat nearby.

A seize of rage squeezed at Luca’s throat. The fucking bastard was getting away. He roared orders to his men, sending them in different directions to come at the apartment from the multitude of entrances available to them. Matteo and a few others remained behind him as he ducked into a doorway that led to a staircase.

His focus was so intensely turned above, fingers flexing against the trigger of his gun while he climbed the steps, ready to fire in case Shelby suddenly appeared above them, that neither he, nor any of the others, noticed that while they had entered the building with five of them, only four had made it to ascending the stairs.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy slowly lowered the heavy body of the Italian to the floor, her left hand clamped tightly over his mouth and nose, the other supporting his shoulder so she didn’t drop him.

They had not even noticed, as she jumped stealthily out of the shadows she’d been crouched in, snatching the Italian lingering at the back of the group after the others began to climb the stairs. She’d cut his throat at the same second she covered his mouth, keeping his sounds contained in the leather of her gloves as he died. It did not take long; her hunting knife cut into him like butter, purposefully angling his body back slightly so that the blood poured out onto his chest, rather than splattering all over the ground.

She kept her movements smooth and silent, slinking up the stairs like a cat. Luca and two of his soldiers were climbing the stairs quickly, their focus up above, where Tommy had been, and not down below. The fourth member of their party had fallen behind a little, taking too long to try to peer out a dirty window. Quick as a viper, Lucy darted forward, and repeated the movements she had just inflicted upon the first Italian, hand clamping over his mouth and carving into his throat with her knife.

It was risky, taking him like that out in the open on the stairwell. But they were still in the shadows, Luca and his men so far up ahead and focused on getting Tommy that they weren’t even considering what might be creeping up on them from behind. Still, after setting the body of her second victim down on the stone steps, Lucy pressed her back against the most shaded wall, waiting until she heard the men step out onto the terrace of the level that Tommy had been shooting at them from. Not that Tommy would be there anymore.

She knew where he was headed next, just like she knew a shortcut through this very stairwell that would lead her right to him.

Halfway up the stairs, she heard an exchange of gunfire from somewhere nearby, her shoulders instinctually drawing in until she realized that it wasn’t for her. It lasted only for a few moments, and then there was silence once more. She continued to race up the stairs, swallowing the bead of fear in her throat.

Please be okay.

She had to figure that he was, otherwise she’d have been hearing the shouts and jeers of victory from the Italians right about now. Angling her head up, she adjusted her grip on the knife, and continued her ascent.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy shouldered his way past the sheets hanging from the clotheslines. They fluttered and twitched in the breeze, surprisingly heavy as he pushed through them.

He flinched at the blast of gunfire that sharply followed him, pushing his legs to run faster, barely keeping ahead of the stream of bullets that clinked audibly where they smashed into the railing that lined the roof. The Italian man who had shot at him in the stairwell was still following him.

Tommy raced to the door that led off the roof, then hesitated. The Italian had stopped firing, fidgeting to reload his gun. Fast and silent, Tommy ducked and weaved through the white and blue sheets, taking care to avoid stirring them and giving away his approach.

He came to a stop when he could see the silhouette of the man through the large, white swath of cloth hanging between them. He fired at it, teeth gritting savagely, bullet casings falling to the ground with a tinkle of metal. The white sheet stained red.

There was a shout to his right, and he mentally cursed at the realization that the Italian had brought a friend with him, the man’s rifle already half raised to point at Tommy’s chest.

His movements were impeded by a sudden, violent jerk, eyes going wide as saucers, a hand flying to his throat as a knife embedded itself in the space just below his ear. He went down like a bag of rocks.

“You alright?” Lucy asked, jogging out from behind the fluttering sheets, going to the Italian where he had crumpled and unceremoniously yanking her knife from his neck.

“Yeah. Are you?” he reached out a hand to her, helping her to straighten, looking her over for injuries.

“Yeah.”

“Right. Come on,” he beckoned. She followed right behind him as he pushed his way back through the swaths of drying sheets, leading the way inside. They burst through doors, into apartments containing huddled family members, staring back at them with terrified eyes. Tommy shouted orders for everyone to stay down and inside. Not just in the hopes that they would listen to him and remain out of the crossfire, but also to draw Luca in and after him with the sound of his bellowing voice.

“Do they know you’re with me yet?” he asked Lucy as they rushed down a hallway.

“I don’t think so. I’ve gotten three so far,” she stopped as they came to a staircase. “You go ahead. I’ll stay here and hunt them through the halls. I think that I might be able to get one or two more.”

Tommy hesitated, the thought of just leaving there making his stomach churn. “I don’t…”

“They’re so focused on you, it’ll be a wonder if they see me at all.” She was reaching up to tuck her hair more securely under her cap to hide the distinctive shock of red. “Most likely they’ll just think I’m a tenant of the building. A tiny little woman in an apartment building full of women and children? They won’t give me a second glance.”

“Unless they recognize you.”

She gave him a look, touching his cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

He glanced nervously at the hallway behind her. There was no time to argue. And he trusted that she knew what she was doing. He stooped low to kiss her.

“Be safe.”

“You too.” She took a step back from him, twirling her hunting knife. “Go.”

He cast her one last look, and took off climbing the stairs.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Luca,” Matteo hissed from over his shoulder. “Luca,” he repeated, when he didn’t answer right away.

“What?” Luca growled back, head snapping around the glare at him like an angered dog.

“Where are Vincenzo and Sal?”

Luca looked back down the hall where his men were lined up behind him. Vincenzo, Sal, and Frankie had met up with them inside the apartment, having already swept the lower levels. Good thing, too, considering that Marco and Dante weren’t with them. Strange; he’d thought that they had followed him inside, but they must have stayed out on the square.

But now all he could see were Frankie and Rocco behind him and Matteo.

“Did you tell them to break off?” Luca asked, annoyance sharpening his tone to that of a needle, eyes narrowing in slits at Matteo.

“No! I didn’t say a thing to them.”

His face twitched in frustration, fighting back the urge to shout. “Useless motherfuckers…” they would be in for a sharp reprimand when this was all over. Breaking plans and formation without orders…

“Do you think Shelby might’ve gotten them?”

Luca gave him an unimpressed look. “How?” Unless Shelby had suddenly changed his tactics from shooting to a silent method of killing, or, even more unlikely, managed to somehow sneak around and behind them, there was no way he could have picked off Marco, Dante, Vincenzo, or Sal.

No, it was just his men thinking that they knew better than him. Fucking Matteo, encouraging everyone to read that book about taking initiative a few months ago. What was so wrong with just being a good fucking soldier and listening to your superior officer?

He couldn’t focus on that now. All that mattered was getting Shelby. He was so close. So close to getting the vengeance and justice he had dreamed of for over a year. He would bring Shelby’s head to his mother, he decided. As a gift. She could mount it on her wall. Or place it on a stake outside her house for the crows to feed upon.

He shook his head sharply, and, like a panther stalking its prey through the jungle, began to lead the way down the hall.

∗ ∗ ∗

Frankie peered into the apartments, eyes sweeping over the mother laying facedown on the floor, both arms around her two children, holding them tight against her. She peaked up at him through a curtain of dark hair, gaze massive and terrified.

The creaking of floorboards behind him made him jump, spinning around, gun raised and at the ready. There was no one there, but he swore that he saw a flash of movement through the crack of the door behind him. Rifle still raised, he inched towards it, chancing one quick glance back at where Luca, Matteo, and Rocco were advancing in front of him, heading towards a staircase at the end of the hall, checking inside each apartment as they went.

He pushed the door to the flat open with his fingertips, immediately replacing the hand on his rifle, steadying his aim, preparing to fire upon Shelby the first moment he saw him.

Instead, he was met with a tiny woman crouched down on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, head bent to bury her face in them. She had on a large dark coat, and he wondered if she had just gotten in when the shooting began.

A tad disappointed, but also distinctly relieved, at the lack of the man they were seeking, Frankie huffed, lowering his weapon and turning away. Luca had said that they were not to harm any civilians.

He failed to see the blood from Vincenzo and Sal that was staining the woman’s hands, her face so properly hidden from him that he could not make out the splatter of red across one of her pale cheeks, the dark folds of her coat covering the crimson-slathered blade of a hunting knife laying by her feet.

Nor did he have time to process the greatness of the mistake he had made, as the second that he turned his back on the woman, she sprang up with near-paranormal, inhuman speed and silence, seized him from behind, and began to saw into his throat with her knife.

∗ ∗ ∗

Her hands were wet and sticky, the mixture of the Italian’s blood coating them almost entirely. It was mostly from the last two. The last one in particular, had made a considerable mess.

Though to be fair, there was a good reason for that.

She could feel blood sticking to her face and wetting her waistcoat and shirt.

At least no one would ever be able to say that she was afraid to get her hands dirty. The coppery smell seemed to envelope her, familiar and metallic.

She flexed her fingers around the prize she had collected from the last one she’d killed. A little gift for Luca, should they manage to cross paths during this whole bloody affair.

He hadn’t seemed all that concerned that so many of his men had vanished. Too hyper-fixated on Tommy to think of anything else, she assumed. He would be regretting that soon enough.

She heard a few horrified gasps from some of the tenants who saw what she had clenched in her hand as she passed by their doors, but for the most part, everyone remained silent, waiting with baited breath for the gangsters to leave.

Lucy paid them no mind as she moved to the stairs, taking them down towards the exit that led out onto the street. If Tommy had gone upstairs and then went out and down the fire escape, they should meet in approximately the same place.

The sudden cacophony of shooting suddenly thundered from outside, the sound making her wince, fingers tightening around her knife, footsteps hastening down the stairs.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Come on, me and you, Tommy,” Luca jeered, standing out in the middle of the street with his arms spread wide. “Come on.” His machine gun was empty, tossed haphazardly to the ground. He’d ordered Matteo to stand down. He waited with baited breath, watching hungrily as Shelby slowly emerged from his cover, stepping out, gun clutched in his right hand, footsteps loud as thunder as they slowly drew nearer. Luca felt the semblance of a smile emblazon itself upon his face as he stared down his enemy. This was it.

This was what he had been waiting all this time for.

He began to recite the prayer in his head, the one that he had always known would be the one he’d say just before putting a bullet in the face of the man who had stolen his father and brother from him. From his coat, he drew his gun. Shelby’s blue eyes stared at him intensely. He looked like a big cat or a wolf, prepared to pounce at any moment.

But Luca had shot wolves before. On a hunting trip with his father in the mountains in Italy.

He cocked the gun, eyes narrowing slightly, ready to move…

“Hey, Luca!” A voice suddenly shouted from his right. A voice that he recognized. And suddenly he could hear his mother whispering in his ear.

“Wherever Thomas Shelby goes, the Red Demon is never far behind.”

She was walking towards him with purposeful, measured steps, black coat swirling around her legs, red curls dancing around her chin with every movement. She wore the cap of the Peaky Blinders atop her head, and when she turned her head just the right way, he could see the faint glint of the razors sewn into the brim. Blood was splattered across one of her cheeks, and there was something vicious and mad blazing in her green gaze. When she saw him looking at her, her face stretched into a wide grin. She held something dripping and grotesque up in her hand.

“Is this yours?” she shouted, and threw it at him.

He stared, in open-mouthed horror, as Frankie’s head bounced and rolled across the pavement, settling at his feet face-up. Frankie’s eyes were open wide, staring up at him with his mouth slackened into a horrified O. As if begging for Luca to save him.

He looked up, and the demon was standing there, grin widening, mad eyes electric with mirth.

A realization, violent and terrible, came crashing down upon him.

She had been there the whole time, and they had not seen her.

Where were the rest of his men? Probably splayed out in that apartment building, having suffered the same fate as poor Frankie.

As poor Alessio, too.

He had thought that it was those savages Shelby had hired from the mountains who had killed his cousin, but this suggested something else.

It had been her. Lucy Winters. The Red Demon. Thomas Shelby’s bitch, who had cleaved his cousin’s head from his shoulders.

His mother had been right. He had not listened to her warnings, but she had been right.

Everything, from Winters’s announcement of her presence to Luca’s earth shattering realization, happened within the span of about ten seconds. Behind him, Shelby had his arm raised, gun cocked and ready to fire at the back of his head.

And then the police arrived.

They began firing upon them almost immediately, rushing from their vans to swarm them Luca ducked. Shelby tried to fire at him a few times, but missed, and Luca cringed away against the onslaught of gunfire from the gangster and the police, turning heel and racing down the street with Matteo in tow.

The police gave chase, but were easy to lose in the winding alleyways. The moment they were sure they’d lost them, he and Matteo leaned against the cool brick walls, panting. Luca bent over to clutch at his knees, staring at nothing as Matteo began to ramble off frantic questions that he did not really hear into his ear.

Before arriving in Birmingham, Luca had made a list of potential problems and caveats that would need to be dealt with so that they could not impede his mission in enacting his vengeance on Tommy Shelby and his entire family.

The Jewish gang in London had been on the list. As had the Romani people with such close ties to Shelby that they were practically blood. And the people of Small Heath, who for some inconceivable reason, seemed to have developed some sort of fondness for Shelby and his gang.

And now, Lucy Winters was at the top of that fucking list.

∗ ∗ ∗

It took both her and Moss to pry away the three officers who had swarmed onto Tommy. Moss was furious, shouting at both Tommy and his men in equal measure.

“There are three bodies that need cleaning up,” Tommy told him, still a little out of breath, reaching into his pocket and holding out a wad of bills.

“Nine,” Lucy corrected. They both looked at her with wide eyes. She shrugged. “I got six.”

Moss shook his head, cursing under his breath.

“Come on,” Tommy mumbled, indicating for her to follow him as Moss turned to bark more orders to the officers under his command. Why the fuck did they have to show up then? They’d had Luca.

Neither of them said anything for most of the walk back to the Shelby’s house, Lucy digging around in her pocket for a handkerchief that she wiped her face and hands on. Tommy was sullen the whole walk, head down and lips set in a deep frown.

“It’s not all bad,” Lucy tried to raise his spirits. “We didn’t get Luca, but we got a whole lot of his men. Enough to make a dent in his forces.”

He just grunted. She sighed, patting his arm.

Polly was waiting for them inside, a clove cigarette clutched between her fingers, lines of worry etched onto her face. There were several other finished black cigarettes already stubbed out in the ashtray. Clearly she had been smoking and pacing anxiously for a while.

“You alright?” she asked them, taking a cautious step forward once they were inside. Tommy nodded, silently going to put his rifle away. Polly watched him go, then turned back to Lucy, eyes bugging a little out of her head at the sight of her bloodied shirt and waistcoat. “My God–”

“It’s not mine,” Lucy assured, waving her away. Tommy came back, collapsing in a chair, pulling a cigarette from his case. Lucy moved around to stand behind him, smoothing her fingers along his hair. “I need to go change. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded. Polly frowned. Lucy pecked the top of his head, squeezing his shoulder and darting upstairs to their room, stripping out of her bloodied clothes and into some fresh, clean ones, taking a detour to the washroom to make sure she’d gotten all of the blood off of her face and hands.

By the time she came downstairs, she could hear the rumble of engines as the rest of the family pulled up outside. Charlie was playing in the sitting room, while they all gathered in the kitchen.

She sat down in the chair in front of where Tommy stood, twitching with her rings and smoking, not saying much at all as he debriefed with the other family members. The adrenaline was finally starting to leave her system, leaving her to feel jittery.

“Look, I didn’t get Luca, but I got three. All right? Lucy got six. That’s it. That’s what happened,” Tommy explained.

Johnny Dogs whistled. “Six, eh, Winters? You’re giving all of us a run for our money.”

She smiled slightly, still fiddling with her hands, shrugging bashfully. “I got lucky.”

There were footsteps behind them, as Charlie bounded into the doorway. Tommy scooped him up, hoisting him to rest on his hip. Soon, everyone was rising from their seats, Arthur insisting that she and Tommy come with them for a drink. She raised from her chair, shaking out her hands, giving little Charlie a soft smile and a gentle ruffle to his blonde hair.

“You owe me lunch,” she mumbled into Tommy’s ear as they made for the door. He looked at her with a raised brow, head cocking while his lips quirked as he remembered their agreement from before the ambush.

“Mm. I suppose I do, don’t I?”

She giggled, and placed a kiss to his cheek.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy watched Lucy shield a yawn with her hand, squinting at the print on the paper she was reading. Dark circles had appeared under her eyes since they’d returned to the office, and he could recognize the telltale unsteadiness that so often settled in after a situation like the one they’d found themselves in earlier that day.

Shifting in his chair, he glanced over at the pictures on his desk, eyes settling on the ones of Grace. One was just of her by herself, a professional photo taken during her days working as an operative, and the other from not long before her death, baby Charlie settled in her lap.

Tommy looked away, gaze focused up on the ceiling miserably. God; what she would have thought of them…

He stood suddenly, well aware that if he continued to just sit there and stew in his own thoughts, he would drown in them.

“Why don’t you go ahead and head home?” he suggested, hand landing on Lucy’s shoulder. She looked up at him quizzically.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I won’t be long. I promise.”

She considered, then nodded. “Okay.” She must have been even more tired than he thought. He took the papers from her, tossing them over onto the desk while she went and got her coat. He followed her to the door, Lucy turning and giving him a quick kiss.

“I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded. “Less than an hour.” Really, all he needed to do was put everything away and lock up for the evening. She gave his arms a strong squeeze, and ducked out the door, mumbling a soft goodbye to Lizzie who was still at her desk.

Tommy busied himself tucking things away and tidying his desk, before going to the shelf of liquor that he kept, pulling out a cigarette and fumbling with a glass. He’d have one last drink, lock everything up, and go home to Lucy and Charlie. It would feel good to just lay in bed with Lucy on his chest, listening to her breathing while she slept, his fingers carding delicately through her soft red hair.

The door opened, and Lizzie stepped in. He glanced back at her, then again to the decanters of alcohol.

“Want a drink, Lizzie? I’ve had a hard day.”

He heard the door click shut behind her when she leaned her back against it. While he had been keeping his distance since the whole incident between her and May, he still tried to be kind and respectful towards her. She was part of the family, after all.

“I don’t drink whiskey or gin anymore, Tom,” Lizzie said after a long pause.

“Why not?” he asked, pouring a glass for himself.

And then she dropped seven little words that carried with them the promise of yanking his entire world completely off its axis:

“Because they say it harms the baby.”

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#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #my fanfiction #lily writes #love me where i'm most ruined

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xxnghtclls · 1 year ago

Text

Permission

Chapter 19

(Chapter 18; Chapter 20)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Play Of Adrenaline

His smirk drops, a confused look crawls onto his face. Sukuna blinks, before he shifts in the water, your hands leaving his face. You watch the water dripping down his torso, as he raises himself. Turning around and without a word, he walks back to the rim of the hot spring. His wet skin glistening in the moonlight, as he moves.

You don’t understand his reaction. Why did he look like you knew something he didn’t? He is a curse, the curse. They attach themselves to you. They stay with you. Thats what curses do, right?

Sukuna climbs out of the water, slips into the robe of his kimono and vanishes into the darkness. You shake your head in confusion, as you watch him go, but decide to follow him. Stepping out into the cold, you forgot, that you absolutely have nothing to dry off with. You put on your kimono, the fabric immediately becoming dripping wet. With sagging teeth, you take the burning wood and make your way back to the fireplace.

Somehow, you feel better. For now. Seeing him as the curse he is, it helps you not to wrack your brain anymore, asking yourself why he’s holding you in the position you’re in. You can’t fight or break a curse anyway, especially not as one as powerful as him. You’re tired from being sad and angry. You start to accept.

Maybe cursing me… only means he cares?

Like you did. Hating him only being the natural reaction for being hurt, showing that you care. These thoughts somehow ease your mind, as you walk through the freezing snow. You know, he won’t let you go and deep down, you don’t want to go either. Despite everything that happened, you can’t deny your feelings for him. You won’t forget the pain he put you in, it still hurts, but you won’t forget he made you feel at all. That’s why you sought him out in the first place. You wanted to feel again, after being alone for such a long time. Good and bad. And you did feel.

So much.

Leaving him would just make you feel empty again, probably even worse, because you would miss him.

So much.

Your whole body starts to shiver and you start to run and soon you can spot the fireplace. Seeing Sukuna sitting on the log, watching the flames, he doesn’t seem to be cold at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” you breathe with every step, as you run the last few meters back to him.

Feeling his eyes follow you, as you repeat your mantra while hopping past his figure. You slump down on your usual spot and continue shivering, crawling as close to the fire as you can in the process. Never have you ever regretted wetting your hair in a bath, not until today.

“Don’t you ever feel cold?” you breathe through your teeth, while almost putting your hands directly into the flames.

“No.” he grumbles.

“Huh!” you huff, as if you just learned something new and astounding. You kind of knew that already.

The adrenaline of the cold air pushes up your mood. Maybe talking might help to distract you from freezing to death.

“So. The curse thing. It makes you look how you look, right? But, since you have two of everything, why do you only have one pair of legs?” you try to sound as nice as possible, this question being the first thing you can think of.

“Do you want me to look like a spider?” he responds, cocking his eyebrow. You pause, thinking about it.

“No.” you conclude.

“There’s your answer.” he says, as he keeps staring into the flames.

You nod, thinking about what you could ask him next. There’s still one body part of him, that you haven’t seen yet.

He’s gonna be pissed.

“When you have two of everything… does it mean, that you have two assho-“

“Don’t!” he glares at you.

Too far. Heh!

You rock your body back and forth, fighting the cold around you, teeth still sagging. As you open your mouth to ask him the next question, something heavy lands on the ground right next to you.

Fur. From the stag.

“Take it. Your mouth is hard to endure like this.” Sukuna grumbles. His comment tickles your nerve, but you decide to just take it and not question him any further.

You wrap the fur around you. It takes a while until you feel getting warmer underneath, but it does its job. Turning yourself 180 degrees, facing your back to the fire, you hope it does dry your hair, too.

Still rocking back and forth, left and right, you peek to Sukuna. He’s resting his head on his hand, like usual, watching you with a frown, like you are some exotic bird doing a mating dance.

“Judging me won’t make me stop moving. I’m still freezing.” you say, as you continue fighting the cold in your bones.

“Who says I want you to stop?” he can’t suppress his smirk. You huff at his answer.

Minutes pass and slowly you start to feel warm again. At least you don’t fear to become an icicle over night anymore right now. Feeling yourself becoming tired, you peek over to your right, back to Sukuna. He looks as awake as ever. Slowly, you turn back around to the fireplace. Carefully you lay down on your right side, your feet being near where Sukuna is sitting. Your eyelids fight staying open. Hearing Sukuna move, you turn your head, to watch him sliding off the log, sitting down on the ground, leaning his back against the hard wood.

“Your poor back.” you softly mumble with a smile. He huffs, locking his eyes with yours.

Both of you stay a while like that, only staring into each others eyes. Fire flickering on both of your features. Light dancing in both of your beautiful orbs.

How many times have you acted like this?

How many times was nothing present in the world around you, except the both of you?

How many times did your eyes act like… lovers?

Lovers, you think to yourself, as your eyelids slowly give in and you doze off.

The feeling of a tiny wet drop hitting your nose wakes you up. It’s morning.

It‘s snowing!

Not heavy. Pretty. Weightless little white dots flying through the air. The sight is beautiful for you.

Turning your gaze to Sukuna, he still sits on his spot, lost in thought, watching the fire, his bottom right hand resting really close to your cold little feet.

“You don’t sleep, do you?” you ask him in a warm, but tired voice.

“Don’t need to.” he grumbles.

“I remember you napping when I cut your hair.” you say in a cheekish voice. He blinks at you, cocking his eyebrow.

“You started purring when I scratched your head.” you add, being lost in memories, “like a cat.”

Before Sukuna can react to what you just said, you get up on your feet. Without looking at him, you hop into the snow. You look up into the sky and open your mouth, trying to catch the weightless flakes. Stepping forth and back, left to right, you enjoy your little dance. Moving your body feels good and it frees your mind a bit more. Taking a step to your left, your foot slides a little, making you lose balance for a moment, almost falling down. Luckily, you’re able to catch yourself and as a reward, you hear Sukuna huff loudly behind your back.

“Mortals.” he grumbles.

You sigh in annoyance, as you turn to him. He eyes you up and down with his bottom left eye, suppressing a smirk, acting like he’s still watching the flames.

You turn back around, crouch down and shovel some snow together with your hands.

I have to be fast and precise. One chance only.

First, you stand up again and start to walk ahead. Then, with all the strength you have in you, you turn around and throw it at him.

Whoosh!

The snowball hits the side of his face with a wet impact. Never have you ever thought, you were able to do that, but here you are. So proud!

The snow splatters in his hair, on his cheek and neck. A deep growl rumbles through his chest, before he shoots up and walks up to you, looking as intimidating as ever.

“Oh you wanna play?” he glares at you, flashing his teeth.

Yeah!

You walk backwards, as you let out a shy chuckle, still impressed by your shot. Sukuna undresses the upper part of his kimono while he walks up to you, flexing his muscles and you know, he’s serious. With inner panic, you manage to shovel some snow in your hands again while stumbling backwards. This time, you aim for his chest, but it evaporates on his skin like cold water on a hot surface. His huge figure is coming closer, as he lets out a sadistic chuckle.

Well fuck.

In the blink of an eye, you start to run into his direction. He bends down, tries to grab your kimono with his bottom right hand, but you manage to dodge it. With a panic laughter escaping your lungs and all the speed you can gather in your feet, you run to the trees. He’s faster. You’re hearing his heavy footsteps run up behind you. Before you can reach the thicket, he grabs you by your scarf and yanks you into the snow behind him. Despite falling on your back, the impact doesn’t hurt as much. You open your eyes, panting, seeing Sukuna walking circles around you, looking down to you.

“What now?” he hisses, as he bends down, standing at your head. Seeing his face upside down, you twitch your lip in excitement, hands grabbing as much snow as they can.

“Tch tch tch” he clicks his tongue with a smirk, as the eyes of his mask catch you preparing the snow. You huff, throw it at his face anyway. This time he dodges them easily, raising his stance. Taking the chance, you turn on your stomach, push yourself up and run with all your might into him, attempting to tackle him. To no surprise, the slippery snow underneath your feet lowers your speed tremendously and the impact on his torso is almost as insignificant for him as if you would have run into a tree. Before you can do anything else, he’s fast to yank you back into the snow with a loud laugh.

“Gotta try harder than that” he chuckles.

Not being sure, what kind of game you two are playing, you decide to play dead this time. Trying to relax as much as possible, you shut your eyelids and wait.

A pause.

“Oy!” he shouts. You don’t react. Hearing him huff, you feel him gently kick your feet with his. Nothing.

“Oyy!” he repeats, as you hear him walk back up to your head. His feet come to a halt next to your ears.

“Oy!” he whispers “y/n!”

What?

Your eyes shoot open, his smirk shining upside down into your shocked face.

He remembers!

Your breath hitches, but you take the adrenaline he just gave you to push yourself up in order to run again. He stays behind, while you run a few meters to create some space between you. You come to a halt, panting, turning back to him. With soft eyes and a shit eating grin, Sukuna nudges his chin at you, raising his upper pair of arms, motioning you to come at him with both of his hands.

His attitude and the way his muscles flex when he moves, turns you on.

This play of adrenaline, turns you on.

The way he said your name, turns you on.

You press your thighs together, not very subtle, making him notice. His bottom pair of eyes shoot down to your cunt, making his grin only widen.

“Throw some snow, curse grandpa!” you shout with a smirk on your face and you can literally see a synapse die inside his brain as soon as he hears how you called him. A vein protrudes on his temple, his eyes grow empty, but he doesn’t let his smirk drop. The look on his face makes you laugh out loud. Not paying attention to him while laughing, you don’t notice that he starts walking into your direction. He picks up some snow while walking, forming one ball in every pair of hands. The snowballs becoming bigger than the ones you could form with your small hands. As you finally notice him, he‘s already aiming the first snowball at you. With a shrill laugh you start running again, seeing him picking up his pace in the corner of your eyes too.

FuckFuckFuck

The first snowball hits you at your right shoulder. The impact hard. Kinda hurts, almost makes you trip. You squeal at the impact but you don’t stop running. Soon you hear his footsteps behind you once again. Fast. Heavy.

“HOLY FUCK!” you screetch, as you feel him catching up to you, shoving the other snowball into your scarf. The freezing cold hitting your neck, crawling down your back. The force he was approaching you with, making you both start to slip on the snow. Losing balance, both of you yank each other to the ground. Sukuna grunts as he hits the snow for the first time today, cursing under his breath. You fall on your stomach right next to him. The snow still sitting on your neck giving you enough adrenaline, to quickly push yourself up and crawl onto his torso, straddling him. Picking up as much snow as you can in both of your hands, you smear it into his neck and face, as you feel him grab your hips with his bottom pair of hands and reaching for your wrists with his upper pair. You’re quick to dodge his upper left hand, since he had to close his left pair of eyes due to the snow, giving you the opportunity to push a second load straight into his neck.

“Fucking bitch” he grunts, as he finally gets a hold of your right wrist. His grumpy reaction making you giggle, wiggling your arms up in the air in his hold. The grumpy look on his face changes back into a smirk. Suddenly he rolls you over, pinning you down under him. You wriggle under him, before his grip on your hips tightens.

“Agh” you moan, both out of pleasure and discomfort.

He starts to lower himself on you, putting his weight on you, bodies as close as never before. It excites you, your breath increasing. Unconsciously you spread your legs for him, make room for him. Your legs shoving the snow into little piles next to them, as you do so. His gaze on you aroused, as his smirking lip twitch at your actions. He shifts, his thighs starts to spread yours even further apart, almost pushing them on your stomach, almost folding you in half, opening you even more for him. His huge figure now caging you perfectly under him. Sukuna presses his bulge at your cunt, making you squeak. You feel so hot in this moment, as you have never been in this position with him. So close, so connected. The thought of him potentially fucking you like this sends a deep red colour to your cheeks and so much wetness between your thighs.

“Y/n…” he purrs at you, piercing right through your heart. “Enough playing.” he growls, as his right hand leaves your wrist and finds your cheeks, squeezing them, so that your lips pop forward.

Sukuna’s gaze falls onto your plush lips, before he leans in and opens his mouth. He flashes his teeth, as he imitates to slowly bite your lips right in front of them. A soft clack of his teeth crawls into your ear, as he closes his bite without your lips between them. With blown pupils, you watch his actions, unconsciously pushing your pelvis into him once again. Sukuna chuckles in amusement, before he lets go and takes a hand full of snow, to rub it into your face.

“Ok…” you spit some snow out of your mouth “you won.”

“Of course I won.” he smirks, raising his upper body.

The rumbling of your tummy disrupts the conversation. Sukuna frowns at the sound, eyeing you up and down.

“What? I’m hungry.” you complain, still laying under him, spread out like a starfish.

He snorts at the sight of you, before he stands up and walks back to the fireplace. With a throbbing cunt, you slowly stand up again. You already feel sore from all the running and falling and you know it’s only going to become worse. However, you can‘t deny that this little game you played, also made you feel alive.

#permission #permission chapters #true form sukuna #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #true form sukuna x reader #true form sukuna x you #slowburn #fanfiction #fanfic #sukuna fanfic

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uvobreakmylegs · 2 years ago

Text

Outbreak

didn’t mean to post a fic this big but i didn’t want to cut another fic in half again so here’s a massive Phinks fic

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, gore, blood, suicide, torture, threats of violence, reader goes through traumatizing shit, Phinks is callous at points but never goes yandere

Word count: 14.8k

If you'd been outside at the start, when everything went to shit and chaos erupted in the city, you probably wouldn't have made it for as long as you did. Actually, you'd have probably been one of the first ones to go. You didn't always have the greatest reaction times, and the shock of it all probably would've caused you to stand around like an idiot and make you an easy target.

It just so happened that you'd been inside when the sirens started blaring and the screaming in the streets echoed against the buildings and made their way to the windows of your apartment.

You'd been confused as you watched people running in the streets below, watching as they pulled loved ones behind them as they ran, as more people who had been sitting in their cars in the completely stopped traffic opted to exit and take their chances out in the open, and as many others were willing to push those who were weaker than them to the side, even throwing them to the ground in some cases in some attempt to make sure what was coming would get those who had fallen first.

Beyond your front door and inside the halls of your apartment building, you could hear people panicking as they noticed the growing chaos outside and came together to try and figure out what was happening.

Although you could hear your neighbors, you stayed by the window, unable to do anything but watch as you heard the screams from below becoming more distressed.

And then you witnessed what everyone was running from.

There was a man within the crowd who seemed normal at first glance, but when you looked closer, you found that he seemed calm compared to the panicking people around him. And though it was hard to tell with the distance from the upper floor where you were standing, it looked as though there were many black veins running along his body that were visible through his skin.

The last thing you were able to note was a black substance that was dripping from his mouth.

A woman stumbled in front of him, and that was when the man surged forward and sank his teeth into her neck, holding her so she couldn't get away while she screamed, beating her hands against him and when that didn't work, weakly begging for help from those around them.

Those cries soon ended, and when the man pulled away from her, you saw that her veins were becoming blackened as well, slowly darkening as whatever the substance was spread throughout her body. And when the man walked off to grab someone else who was trying to run, that black substance began to drip from her mouth as well.

Then she attacked someone, biting into some poor person's arm and only letting go when the process had been repeated with them.

When you saw a few other people who had been bitten begin to enter your apartment building was when you broke out of your stupor and you attempted to put up a barricade in front of your door. While part of you felt that you should open your door to at least call out a warning of what was happening, the screaming that started up when you grasped the doorknob had you change your mind, and all of your energy went into placing furniture in your entryway and hope it would hold if anyone tried to get inside.

All you really remembered from that moment in time were the sounds that you could hear beyond your front door. As you stood there, watching the door at the far end of the room, you heard a lot that you wished you hadn't: the running of feet on the carpeted surface while voices exclaimed, some people running back to their apartments while others made a break for the floors above you. Doors were being slammed shut while others weren't able to, and the noises that followed were of panicked people that became overwhelmed by those things, screaming as their flesh was bitten into before that black substance entered their system and their screams stopped. And onto the next victim those things would go.

With both hands over your mouth, you managed to keep yourself quiet, and it seemed that was what had saved you. A few times there were moments when one of them grasped your doorknob and tried to turn it to get in, but the locks on your door prevented that. When you heard them stop and stay quiet, as though they were trying to listen for anything, you staying still and silent seemed to confirm to them that there wasn't anyone inside, and they moved along. Aside from those instances, there were no attempts made by those things to get into your unit.

It scared you that they were smart enough to know how the doorknobs worked.

Huddling next to your bed, you went to social media to see if anyone knew what was happening; with the absolute chaos going on both inside and out, someone needed to have posted something as to what was happening.

You got the answers you were seeking at that moment as you saw three keywords being plastered across social media:

Outbreak.

Infection.

Zombies.

The chaos carried on into the night, screams and sirens sounding out while you refused to move from the area next to your bed, as if the second you did move, those things would become aware of your presence and break down the door to get to you. That would be the absolute worst-case scenario for you, as there was no chance that you'd be able to fight them off.

Things were still chaotic even when the next morning came, and you hadn't been aware that you'd been sleeping until you were awoken suddenly by the vibrations in the walls that came when something crashed into the apartment building.

Keeping low as you made your way to the window, you looked down to see that it was a car that was now sitting halfway inside the building, a dark plume of smoke rising from the ruined engine compartment. The person who had been inside had gotten out but had been swarmed immediately by so many infected that you couldn't hope to count them all. With all of them grabbing and pulling, the person from the car screamed as they were slowly being torn apart, their skin and muscles separating as the zombies all grabbed at them, all wanting a piece of their poor victim.

The instant that person died, the zombies seemed to lose interest, dropping the collection of body parts and wandering off in search of new prey.

You kept low again as you made your way back to the side of your bed. That moment was when the unit that was directly next to you was broken into, and you were forced to listen as the family next to you were overrun. They screamed for help as they tried to fight off those things. There was even a pounding at the wall that separated your unit from theirs, as if there was anything you would've been able to do for them.

Putting your hands over your ears, you silently begged for everything to stop. For all of this to just be a horrible nightmare that you would soon awake from.

The screaming did eventually stop, but you weren't able to escape this situation as you had so desperately wished for.

It didn't feel like a scenario that could actually happen. An outbreak of some kind that turned people into machines that were only programmed to attack others. Sure, the idea was one that was pretty common in works of fiction as there were countless games, shows and movies that explored the concept of zombies, but it had always stayed firmly within that realm of fiction.

But now that idea was real and you were living it, and you needed to try and survive it.

Unfortunately you realized too late that you had wasted the first two days, as by day three the electricity went down, which meant you would need to eat what was left in the fridge before it went bad. In your efforts to keep quiet so as not to be discovered, you were only able to make a brief call to your family late on the night before. They lived in a completely different area that was far away from Ranier, and from what you had gathered in that brief time of talking to them, there wasn't anything like an outbreak happening where they were. It seemed it was this city alone.

They had wanted answers from you as to what was going on, but you weren't able to get much out before the connection suddenly died. After that, your phone couldn't make or receive any calls, and the internet was down, too.

Now you were completely cut off from the outside.

By day five all of the perishable foods had gone bad, and you left them to rot in the refrigerator as you rationed out the food in the pantry. Your meals for the days after that consisted of a lot of crackers and cold soup.

When a week had passed since the madness had started, there was still no sign of things ending. No military forces had entered yet as you would have expected, and the only ones who roamed the ruined streets were those things and the survivors that stealthily make their way from one point to the next. Every time you spotted one of them when you dared to peek out of the windows, you would internally cheer for them, and when they left the area you could see from the window, you allowed yourself to think that they had made it. That they had gotten to safety and told everyone what was happening and soon there would be rescue for you and anyone else that had managed to survive.

And in those few instances where you saw a survivor be attacked, you turned away and covered your ears, finding it easier to make up a scenario in your head that despite all of the odds, they had gotten away as well.

As much as you hated yourself for not trying to do anything for them, there was no way you would've been able to help. By the time you got down there, they'd likely already be dead. You'd be dead too if you went down there, you told yourself. If not by getting jumped by whatever was down there, then by leading those things back up to your unit. There were still attempts to get the front door of your apartment open, the doorknob wiggling as the lock held strong against the infected, but those attempts never lasted too long.

You didn't want to survive for this long just to die here, so you stayed quiet as you continued to wait for rescue.

By day ten the pantry was still mostly full, largely because you didn't have much in terms of an appetite and could barely make yourself eat at least once a day. Still, you tried to feel happy about it, that you didn't need to venture out to try and scavenge for scraps of food. Others probably weren't as lucky.

But as more days went by and there was still no sign of anyone coming for you, you wondered how much longer you would have before you would need to leave.

The thirteenth day was when you made your decision.

It had been an optimistic hope that rescue would be coming for you, and that the best thing to do would be to stay put until that happened. Clearly, it had been a bit too optimistic of a hope. It'd been, what, almost two weeks now? How could rescue be taking so long when you were in a city as major as this one? Sure, it wasn't Yorknew, but there was a large enough population here that the outbreak would've been noticed immediately.

Maybe it wasn't just this city that was affected, and that the infection was in the rest of the surrounding area, making it difficult for rescuers to get to the denser areas of the city.

But regardless of that, you knew you needed to leave. There was still enough food for now, but how long would that last? It would be a bad idea to wait until everything had gone completely before you went out searching for more. You also worried how much longer the building would hold up. Just yesterday, when you'd tried to get some water from the kitchen tap, the water was discolored with a bad odor and you weren't willing to drink it. If you stayed in here and ran out of food, you wouldn't even be able to survive on just the water. Who knew what sort of things were in it by now?

You put the things you were taking with you into a backpack, most of it being food, as well as a package of bandages that had been in your bathroom and a map of the city that you'd never needed to use until now. All of that, along with a few sentimental items that weren't essential but that you couldn't bring yourself to leave behind, were packed up and ready to go by noon. All you needed to do from here was pop open a window, let down the fire escape ladder your father had given you when you had first moved here and be fast.

Thinking about escape in your head was a lot easier than actually acting all of that out.

The outside was filled with uncertainties: though you could safely assume that the rest of the city was in just as bad condition as everything you could see from your apartment window, there was no way of knowing just how bad all of it really was. For all you knew, the entire world had ended up just like Ranier by now and there wasn't any escape to be had and you would end up just like everyone else. Which meant that the only two options you had were to go down and become infected sooner or later, or stay up here and eventually starve to death.

Despite your fear, you chose the first option.

It was hard to keep quiet as you ran, the sounds of your shoes on concrete echoing in the cramped alleyway while you breathed through your mouth as you pushed yourself to keep going. Keeping quiet was impossible in that moment, but if you wanted to escape those things that were shrieking as they chased after you, you'd need to give them the slip eventually and find someplace to keep quiet and lay low until they passed you by.

Getting out of your apartment hadn't gone all that smoothly. Since it seemed that the infected weren't as active in the later hours, you had waited until nightfall before you began to push open the window wearing your backpack and ladder at the ready so you could leave down the side of the building. Pushing it open to where it could fit you through it required using a bit of force, but you'd managed.

But it came at a cost as the window screeched horribly when you forced it open, and as soon as you tossed the ladder over the side, you heard a banging at your front door. The noise you'd made in forcing open the window got the attention of those things that were still in the apartment building. They knew you were in there.

With no other choice now, you descended.

You barely had time to take a look at your surroundings when you reached the sidewalk below – you saw the inside of the ground floor of the building and all of the infected that had seen you and were now rushing towards the doors and windows to get at you.

Precious seconds were eaten up as your foot was briefly tangled up by the ladder, but soon you were running along the sidewalk, your eyes darting about as you tried to find somewhere to try and lose the hoard that was now chasing you.

An alleyway entrance that seemed clear caught your eye and you ran in.

But they had seen where you went and were following after you.

Now you were running out of the alley and you barely managed not to trip over some upturned trash cans as you were forced to make a quick decision: right or left. To your dismay, more of those things were in the street, and they turned when they heard you and the commotion the ones that were chasing you were making.

Left it was, then.

More shrieking, more of those things chasing after you with the intent of turning you into one of them, and you forced yourself to keep running.

Not even a minute out of your safe haven and it already seemed like it was the end for you.

With the amount of noise both you and the infected were making, you must've been bringing even more attention to yourself. Brief flashbacks of the person who'd been swarmed outside ran through your mind: while scary, maybe it would be better for you to get torn apart. At least your body wouldn't be roaming the streets doing the same things to others.

Being torn apart sounded like a horrible way to go, though.

Just keep running, you told yourself. If you keep running maybe you can find something.

When you ran out of a different alley and onto a street that was littered with more abandoned cars, something happened.

You ran into someone.

Quite literally as you slammed into them after running out at full speed.

The first thought was that you had run into one of those things and now it was all over.

But when steady hands grabbed you and pulled you to the side, you managed to actually take in the appearance of the person who had caught you. You couldn't see a face, as it was covered by a helmet, but the insignia on the shoulder of the man's uniform meant only one thing:

Military.

Those things that had been chasing after you had now turned the corner of the alley you had initially run into, and you heard several shouts coming from other soldiers who were with the one who had caught you. They opened fire on them while the one who caught you pushed you to the side to join in. Stumbling back with your hands over your ears, your back hit an abandoned van parked on the street. You wondered briefly if you should keep running, in case the men couldn't handle those things, but when you looked back up you saw bodies falling, the bullets shredding through them as the soldiers slowly advanced.

They were doing it. They were really doing it. The military was stepping in to rescue survivors.

You sank to the ground in relief.

You'd be safe. Two weeks of this nightmare and it would soon be over for you. They'd extract you and you could go back to your family.

That thought had you doubling over as you tried not to cry, knowing that you needed to keep it together until you were somewhere safe. And as the gunfire ceased and you heard light banter coming from the men who had saved you, you hoped that would be soon.

You weren't paying much attention to them as you did your best to keep yourself composed, only hearing a small portion of the conversation that didn't mean much to you at first.

“We're heading through, but take care of things back here.”

“.... Really?”

“It's orders. Do it.”

Then there were footsteps heading towards you, and if you'd been listening close enough, you would've been able to hear the small sigh that the soldier had let out.

When those footsteps stopped in front of you, you looked up-

Right into the barrel of his gun.

The soldier, the one who had grabbed you earlier, was aiming his gun at you. You tried to understand the situation as you stared at him in shock. You had just escaped certain death; why was he doing this?

If your throat hadn't been so dry and you'd had the ability to form words, that would've been the only thing you'd asked.

Why?

His shoulders sagged slightly as he let out another small sigh.

“Sorry,” was the only response he gave.

And then he readjusted his grip on the gun, his fingers flexing slightly before he made a move to pull the trigger-

A shout came from the alleyway the rest of them had gone down, accompanied by someone being thrown into one of the building walls.

The gunfire that erupted after that caught the man before you off-guard, and he turned around as he tried to assess the situation.

At the sight of that, you snapped out of your stupefied haze as you recognized your chance to escape. But the firearm he carried and the fact that it sounded like there was more noise coming from down the alley made you reconsider trying to run for it. Instead, you dove beneath the van that you'd been sitting against, the underside of it high enough off the ground that you were able to squeeze in underneath.

Maybe he wouldn't know where you went. Maybe he'd figure it out fast and you'd still be dead.

But at least you wouldn't have just sat there and let it happen.

You kept your hands over your mouth as more shouting and gunfire sounded within the relatively enclosed space, and you watched the feet of the man who had been about to kill you go running off in the direction of the chaos.

It didn't sound like there were as many guns firing. But you also couldn't hear anything that sounded like those monsters. What was it that was taking out these men with seemingly little effort?

Eventually the noise died down, and all you could hear were gurgling noises that you assumed were coming from the soldiers before they finally succumbed to whatever wounds had been inflicted on them. No sounds of them stumbling off to join their attackers, so whatever had killed them must've been something else.

Then you heard the sound of footsteps, of someone walking closer towards your hiding spot.

You weren't breathing at that point. Your hands were clamped over your mouth as you willed yourself to stay completely still and not make a sound.

The footsteps stopped, and for a long while, everything was quiet.

“Hey.”

A chill ran down your spine. There was no one else on the street, you were certain. So whoever this was had to be speaking to you.

“Whoever's under there, get out here now.”

The man you heard sounded irritated. As much as you wanted to keep your hiding spot, he obviously knew you were there. Better to not make him angrier by pretending that you weren't.

“Please don't hurt me,” you said.

After spending almost two weeks not uttering a single word, it felt weird to be speaking again.

“Just get out of there already.”

Feeling like you had no choice other than to obey, you crawled out from beneath the van, trembling as you looked up to this new person.

A blonde man in a green tracksuit was looking down at you, and when you looked him over, you were surprised that he seemed to be unarmed. Hadn't he been the one to take out those military guys? Glancing at the bodies in the alley behind him confirmed that.

He had managed to do that unarmed?

He also looked surprised when he finally saw you.

“What, you're just a civilian?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” you answered.

“Huh. Didn't think anyone like you would be left still,” he said.

“Anyone like me?” you repeated.

“A civilian who was in the city when all this mess went down,” he clarified, “you're the first person I've seen in a while who hasn't been taken over and isn't some jackass soldier.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You looked back to the bodies behind him, and you couldn't help but gulp at the sight of the men who'd been smashed into the pavement or had their heads turned completely around. How had he done all of that?

The man before you wasn't concerned with the carnage behind him, and he continued with his questions.

“Did you live here before this started?”

You nodded, explaining “I've been hiding in my apartment for a while. They didn't notice me because I kept quiet.”

“Hm. So it wasn't skill that had you survive this long then, just luck,” he said.

“I... I guess,” you said before you continued with “did you live here before, too?”

“No, I was just here for some business,” the man answered, “but obviously that fell through, and now I'm trying to get out of here.”

“Have you been out here all this time?” you asked.

“Yeah. I was hoping I'd be out of here by now, but between the infected people, those soldiers and the fact that I can't find a fucking map, it's going a lot slower than I'd like.”

He made it sound like it was just a minor annoyance, that he'd been surviving all this time since the outbreak started. Meanwhile you hadn't even lasted five minutes before running into a situation that could've easily ended your life had it not been for his intervention.

“What made you leave your apartment?” he then asked.

“Things only seem to be getting worse and it didn't seem like help was coming, so I thought it was a better idea to make a break for it,” you explained.

“You're gonna have a harder time doing that then you'd think,” he said, “government sent in the military, and those guys are combing through every street and shooting anything that moves.”

“But why? I haven't been bitten.”

“They don't care,” he answered, “in their minds, everyone in the city is a danger to the world at large, so it's easier to get rid of everyone instead of taking the time to go through and find the ones who might not be infected.”

“They.... They aren't going to rescue us?” you asked.

“No.”

“That's horrible,” you said.

He shrugged.

“That's the way people in those types of positions are,” he said, “they aren't bothering to figure out what's causing this, so they're playing it safe and getting rid of everybody.”

The man looked to the side, a frown forming on his face. You weren't sure what he was looking at, as when you followed his gaze, you couldn't see anything aside from the wrecked street and the small plumes of smoke that came from the buildings beyond.

He turned around, going back into the alleyway you'd come out of.

Was he leaving?

“Where are you going?” you asked, unable to keep the panic out of your voice.

“As much fun as I'm having chatting with you, I think it's best if I head off,” he said, “because of all the noise those assholes made with their gunfire, more of those things are headed this way, and even I'm getting pretty tired of dealing with them.”

He went to the end of the alley and stopped when he came to one of the bins that stood next to the wall. As he knelt down next to it, you watched him pull out what looked to be a messenger bag out from where it had been placed between the bin and the wall. He was mumbling something as he undid the zipper and looked at the bag's contents, seemingly making sure that whatever was in there was alright.

By this point you'd gotten to your feet and were hovering by the entrance of the alley, keeping your gaze on him and trying not to look at the body of the soldier that was laying next to your feet. You didn't want him to leave without you. Wherever he was going, you needed him to take you with him.

He returned to the alley's entrance, pulling the bag strap over his head as he turned his attention back to you.

“Go hide yourself before they come by,” he continued, “if they see you, they won't stop pursuing until they get you.”

Then he turned as if he was going to leave.

“Can I come with you?” you asked.

He didn't seem too surprised at your request as he let out a hum.

“I guess,” he said.

The noncommittal nature of that answer didn't make you feel very secure, but at least he was giving you the option of staying with him. An option that you quickly took once he turned away again and began walking. You chased after him, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

He looked back at you when you caught up to him.

“Don't be so loud,” he chided, “those things have better hearing than they have any right to.”

You nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

You followed after him, trying to make as little noise as possible but doing your best to keep up with him. It felt like if he got too far ahead of you, he'd leave you behind.

Something that you noticed was that he was handling the messenger bag carefully. Like whatever was inside was fragile and he was worried about breaking it.

What had he mentioned? That he'd been here for business?

The two of you walked for a majority of the night, keeping to the dimly-lit areas where the zombies couldn't see you as easily as you made your way through the cluttered streets. It happened twice where some of those things spotted one of you and came running at you.

Your new acquaintance was ready for them, dispatching them as easily as he had with the soldiers, going through one by one and twisting their heads around completely. The only time he lost his composure was when one of them grabbed at the messenger bag, and he reacted by punching them so hard that they went airborne.

Whatever was in there must've been really important for him to be risking his life for it.

You didn't say that, however. You went back to being quiet, and followed behind him while doing your best to make as little noise as possible.

It was almost dawn when he made a turn and entered into what used to be an office building. You again followed along wordlessly. And you continued staying quiet when he found an empty room with a door that was still in good shape and closed it behind you. If you were to guess, you would say that you were right in thinking that it was safer to move around during the night. That was something, at least.

He sank to the floor after, sitting against the wall next to the door while leaning his head back against the wall. He seemed tired.

You followed suit, sitting across from him.

A few minutes passed before he spoke to you again, looking at your backpack as he asked “you got any food?”

You nodded, and after showing him your selection, he reached over and took a can of fruit.

“Sorry, I didn't think to grab anything to eat it with,” you told him.

“Hands work fine. It's not like dining etiquette is important right now.”

You nodded along as he pried open the can.

“I can only assume any grocery or convenience stores have been picked clean,” you said.

“Probably. Although there were a ton of those assholes both in and around places like that, so I don't know for sure,” he said, “I've been getting by on the stuff I've found in break rooms and people's apartments.”

“Wait, they know to hang around food stores?” you asked.

“I don't think it's that; they're just drawn to human activity. If there's a bunch of people making too much noise, they come running.”

“Like with the soldiers that were shooting at you?”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes later he'd finished up the can, placing it to the side before he crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“I'm gonna sleep,” he told you, “stay awake and listen for anything weird. If something happens and I don't wake up, then you wake me up to let me know.”

“Okay.”

He didn't respond after you said that. You didn't bother saying anything else; he said he was going to sleep, and it'd be a really stupid decision to bother a guy who had proved to you multiple times in the last few hours since meeting him that he had no issue killing people.

With you having forgotten to bring some kind of clock along with you and your phone having been long since dead, you weren't sure how much time passed. You were at least able to tell when the sun had risen as you could see daylight shining beneath the crack at the bottom of the door. That gave you an approximate time, at least.

Every so often you'd see movement, however. Shadows that would temporarily block out the light as they passed by, some taking longer to leave than others. It wasn't hard to imagine those things out there, skulking about the ruined building as they searched for signs of human life.

You again kept quiet, and as your companion wasn't making any noise in his sleep, they would leave soon after.

Good thing it seemed they relied entirely on sight and sound to find their victims.

How had he been aware of them, though?

You looked back to him as you thought back to when he'd told you that there were zombies headed your way. You hadn't seen anything, but he was certain they were coming.

It was weird that he was somehow able to sense them.

He woke up not long after, stretching out his arms and cracking his neck.

“You didn't sleep for very long,” you said.

“Not a good idea to get into too deep a sleep,” he answered, “just needed a nap to recover a little strength.”

“You can sleep now, if you want. I'm not planning on moving again until it's closer to sunset,” he added.

“I'm not sure that I can sleep,” you said.

He shrugged as he said “suit yourself.”

A few moments of silence passed before you asked “what's your name?”

“Phinks.”

He didn't really say anything when you introduced yourself, and you got the feeling he already knew what you were going to ask of him.

Still, you needed to come out and say it.

“Can I keep traveling with you? At least until we get out of the city?” you asked.

He sighed a little bit.

“I'm not looking to take others with me,” he began, “the more people in a group, the more likely the chance of drawing attention to ourselves. And that's one of the last things I need right now.”

“Please. I don't think I can get through this on my own. If I stepped out there right now I'd be dead in five minutes,” you said.

He hummed in a way that made it sound like he agreed with you.

You breathed out a little as you tried to keep calm – getting desperate and loud wouldn't help you in this situation. You needed to convince him that you were worth going through the effort of protecting.

“You said you aren't from the city, right? And you're having a hard time getting out because you don't know what streets go where.”

“What about it?” he asked, “you trying to say you can lead me out of here because you know the layout?”

“No, I'm trying to say that I have a map, and I could give it to you.”

That seemed to get his attention.

“In exchange, I'd like you to take me with you when you leave the city. Obviously a lot of the roads are messed up, but most of the signs seem readable enough. We can figure out where we are and figure out where we go from here,” you continued.

“So you give me your map and I lead you out of here?” Phinks asked.

“Yeah.”

“Seems like a deal that does more for you than it does for me,” he said, “you got an idea of how to even that out, or was that the only thing you were thinking?”

“No.”

Actually yeah, it kinda was

“Then what else?”

In the few seconds you had to formulate a response, you spotted the messenger bag sat beside him and, remembering how carefully he'd been handling it, pointed to it.

“I'm guessing whatever's in there is important?” you asked.

He didn't answer, but his expression told you that you were right.

“Since that does seem like it's pretty important, how about instead of you worrying about it possibly getting destroyed when you're fighting the infected or the military, I hold onto it for you.”

“So you'll be keeping it safe while I keep you safe?” he asked, adding “it's not like you'll be able to do much against anything. I'll still need to protect both you and it.”

“Yeah, but unlike whatever's in your bag, I can run.”

He hummed, and then said nothing more.

Moments passed where he didn't say anything, and he looked to the messenger bag before looking back to you, going over your proposition in his head. You were praying to whatever deity might listen that he'd take you up on your offer. It was still uneven, as he'd be doing a lot more for you than you could do for him, but it needed to sound a little bit worth it, right?

It occurred to you then that he could always kill you and ransack your backpack for your food and map.

….. Please don't let him think of that.

Then he spoke.

“Well, you aren't too annoying, and I guess one extra person wouldn't be too much of a hassle. So fine, I'll take you with me.”

Relief washed over you as he pulled the bag onto his lap. Unzipping it, he pulled out from the bag a small, rectangular box that had the same dimensions as a book. He held it up so you could get a look at it.

“This is the reason I was here in the first place,” he explained, “we're selling a bunch of stuff from our last job, and I was meeting up with the buyer for this one here. Obviously, shit happened and the buyer got taken over, so I've got an expensive book that needs to get back to my group.”

“Keep this safe, and I'll get you out of here,” he finished.

You looked at the box, and then back to him.

“That's something that's important?” you asked.

“Extremely.”

“What is it?”

“The only known copy of some ancient book,” he said, “the only reason my boss was willing to let this one go was because the buyer was gonna give us a shit-ton of jenny for it.”

“And you really won't leave me behind if I have that?”

“If I tell my boss that I left this behind for a fucking map he'll be pissed,” he said, “this thing has to get out of here unscathed.”

He placed the box back into the bag and looked back to you.

“You do actually have a map, right? You weren't lying to me?” he asked.

“I'm not gonna lie to the guy who can kill me with his bare hands,” you answered, going through your backpack before you found the map in question.

“Here,” you said, holding it out to him.

He grabbed it, and in that same moment, handed off the messenger bag to you.

He unfolded the map, looking it over a second before he looked back to you.

“You can tell me where we are on this thing, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Do you care if I keep the book in my backpack so I don't need to carry around two bags?” you asked.

“That's fine. Nothing else in there.”

He looked at the map a moment longer while you transferred the priceless book to a safe pocket in your bag.

“Alright, we'll stay here until it's clear enough to go out again,” he told you, “and when we get out there, you do as I say without question. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“And if you start to become more trouble than you're worth, you're on your own.”

“Got it,” you repeated.

It was harsh, but considering that your only other options were death or turning into a living nightmare, you could deal with it.

Just so you could get out of here alive.

You did your best to keep track of the days. How many days it had been since all of this started, and how many days since you had joined up with Phinks. If your math was right, it'd been eighteen days since the outbreak began, and only five since meeting Phinks.

Despite the shorter time frame, a routine had set in for you two: you would follow a few steps behind him as he led you through the city, looking at the map for guidance. Occasionally you needed to reroute, either to a different street or through a building when he determined that the enemies within a certain area were too much for him take care of while also protecting you.

You were lucky that even with the current state of the city, a majority of the electricity was still working, streetlights and the lights from businesses still on their automatic timers and lighting up when night fell. Although there were occasions where the lights had been ruined to the point that they didn't work and you needed to grab on to Phinks' arm as he led you through an area.

Setbacks happened in the form of groups of zombies spotting one or both of you, and minutes would be wasted as Phinks went through and snapped their necks one by one while you hung back and watched.

You still had a hard time understanding how a person could be capable of the things he was, but you didn't question it, being far more grateful that he was on your side and making sure you didn't die.

It was worse whenever you ran into soldiers, however. For one thing, distance didn't help in protecting you from them as they were able to shoot at you, and you would need to find a hiding spot quick while also being aware of what else might've been around you. And for another, if even one of them managed to shoot their guns, the sound of the gunshot would echo through the streets and bring forth the hoards that were eager to have you join them.

In one instance after such a thing had happened, you and Phinks had needed to hide in a public bathroom and wait for most of the zombies outside to leave before you could continue on. The bathroom was in a similar state to everything else, and in the very last stall, you found the body of a woman. There was a gun in her hand and the wall behind her had been spattered with blood and brain matter that had come from a wound at the back of her head. She had chosen to take her life in her own hands and not leave her fate to the things outside.

It was a grim discovery, and you were quick to close the door and return to Phinks' side.

The rest of the night and most of the day after was spent in there before he decided it was safe enough to head out again.

There were a lot of wrecked cars in the streets. Lots of cars that had gotten into collisions and set on fire based on how they'd been reduced to blackened, burned out husks of metal. Lots of instances where you saw vehicles stuck inside of buildings or wrapped around poles. But what scared you most about those scenes when you walked by them was when you saw hand prints on the outside door handles, those same doors being left wide open and the seat belts looking torn and laying on the ground below. Clear signs that whoever had been inside those vehicles had been grabbed and forced out.

It reminded you of the way those things had periodically tried opening your apartment door.

“Why are they smart?” you asked.

You were following behind Phinks, sidestepping the debris on the ground as you copied the steps he was taking while doing your best to walk where he walked.

“You think they're smart?” he asked back.

“Smart enough to know how doors work,” you said.

“Hm.”

“They kept trying to get into my unit at the apartment, and they always tried by turning the knob,” you explained, “I think the only reason they never tried harder was because I never gave any indication that I was there. If I had, I think they would've broken in and gotten me like the others.”

“Probably,” he agreed, then he asked “is that what happened to your neighbors?”

“I think everyone on my floor but me got bitten, yeah,” you said, “I guess too many of them were gawking outside their units when the zombies came in.”

Phinks abruptly stopped, and when you looked back over to him, he was frowning at you.

“..... What?” you asked.

“.... Nothing. Forget it.”

Just like that, he turned away and started walking again.

…. That was weird.

Regardless, you followed along as he spoke again.

“As for why they're smart, I'd say it was because they were made to be,” he said.

“Made to be? So someone turned people like that on purpose?”

“I doubt it was meant to get this bad, but yeah, I think that's what happened.”

“That's awful,” you said, “what kind of agenda could someone have to cause something like this?”

“Like I said, I don't think it was supposed to be this bad.”

“How do you know?”

“Intuition.”

“That's a pretty vague answer,” you said.

To that, Phinks shrugged and didn't say anything more. End of discussion, it seemed.

A few blocks later you two took a break at a bus stop that was mostly covered. Phinks asked you to give him one of the water bottles you were carrying, and as he took a sip, you looked over the inventory in your backpack. Including the bottle he held, you had about three and a half bottles of water, along with a few different canned goods and non perishable foods from your apartment, as well as a few energy bars Phinks had picked up for himself before he'd run into you. Your food seemed pretty solid, but you worried about the water. Even with the two of you trying to drink conservatively, there was only so much you could do to preserve it.

“Worried?” he asked.

“About the water, yeah.”

He hummed as he screwed the cap back on and handed it to you as he said “as long as we don't to overboard with drinking too much and we don't face any more major setbacks, we'll probably make it outside before it all runs out. Besides, we can last a few days with little to no water.”

“It'd be pretty sad to survive through most of an outbreak like this and end up dying because of dehydration,” you said.

He actually laughed a little as he agreed with you.

Not long after that, the break was over as you began to walk again. It'd been relatively peaceful so far; you'd only caught sight of a single infected person so far, and you'd snuck around them easily. With the lack of danger at the moment, your curiosity about your companion got the better of you.

“Do you have some sort of survivalist training?” you asked.

“Why?”

“You've been pretty calm about this whole thing, and I guess that's kinda surprising to me.”

“Mm. Just been in enough shitty situations that I'm able to handle it better than most, I guess,” he said.

“.... Sorry.”

Phinks looked back to you, and this time he seemed surprised as he gave you a questioning look as he again asked “why?”

“It's horrible that you're used to things like this,” you said, “I'm sorry that's happened to you.”

He didn't seem to know how to respond to that.

“We should get a move on,” he eventually said, “keep quiet, okay?”

You nodded.

It was the middle of the night when the two of you heard gunshots and were immediately on edge. Any infected nearby would be drawn to this area and be swarming it within moments. You needed to find somewhere to hide. Fast.

Phinks was already heading off in the direction of a tall factory building. You followed, but as the two of you entered through shattered glass doors, you noted that it sounded like the gunshots were getting closer.

No point in mentioning that to Phinks; if you had noticed, he had noticed. Better not to waste your breath in telling him something he already knew.

You followed him, keeping a few paces behind him as he checked out different rooms, trying to determine which would be best to barricade yourselves in. The carnage in this building was a lot more than what you'd seen in other areas. Lots of blood on the walls, lots of overturned furniture and signs of violence. You felt bile rise to your throat when you stepped over what you realized too late were severed fingers on the floor, laying there like something had bitten them off and then spat them back out.

Luckily Phinks saved you from needing to focus on that for too long as he called out to you. He'd found a room he liked: a break room without any windows. It also contained a row of lockers and fair amount of tables and chairs that could be used to barricade the door. On the other side of the room was a heavy-looking fire escape door that seemed to be intact.

“If we need to leave by the fire escape – do we know it isn't blocked?” you asked him.

“If it is I'll take care of it,” he answered gruffly.

As much as you didn't like the idea of possibly locking yourself into a death trap, you chose to trust Phinks' judgment as you hurried through the door. He shut it just as the gunshots were able to be heard at the building's entrance where you'd been only moments earlier.

“Dumb bastards are bringing them right to us,” he hissed.

“Will we be okay?” you asked.

“As long as they don't get in here.”

He said that as he locked the door and then pushed a table up against it. It wasn't the best barricade, but evidently Phinks was more concerned about making too much noise as you heard more voices from the outside move into the hallway. It was a collection of voices that you heard, all yelling something along the lines of running to the upstairs. Shots would ring out periodically as the group traveled up a set of stairs Phinks had ignored on his way in.

They must've been a group of survivors, you realized. Not military as you had become so accustomed to; people like yourself, who'd become caught up in a nightmare that they didn't want any part of and were just trying to survive.

As you listened from behind the door, you heard the snarls and the stamping of unsteady feet that surged after the group. More zombies. A lot of them, from the sounds of it, and you thought again of the person you'd seen get torn to shreds.

And much like how it had been during the time at your apartment, there wasn't anything you could do for them.

Even without being able to see them you could tell that there were far too many zombies outside. And even if Phinks was something of a superhuman, he'd get overrun by the amount that was out there.

Those survivors were trapping themselves upstairs, and eventually whatever barricades they'd make would fall apart as the zombies came after them. And then the numbers of those monsters would grow once again.

You sank down to the floor while Phinks leaned against the other table in the room; he kept his eyes on the door that led out to the hall, only glancing over at you once to place a finger over his lips.

Be quiet

Nodding, you hugged your knees to your chest.

And then you heard screaming coming through the vent above you.

Where exactly in the building the screams were coming from, you weren't certain, but it continued to echo through the ventilation and find its way to where the two of you sat in the small locker room. Minutes passed and it didn't end, and outside of the room you heard more footsteps running up the stairs at the end of the hall. All of that noise was only drawing more of those things to those unfortunate survivors.

Placing your hands over your ears didn't do much to cancel out what you were hearing, and you were brought back to that very first day when all of this had started, when you had huddled up on the floor next to your bed while your neighbors were overtaken. One of them had been pounding against the wall that had separated you from them, like they'd wanted you to help in some way. And now you heard people calling out for help again, and once more, there was nothing you could do.

Maybe they could get lucky – you had no idea what things were like up there. Maybe there was a way they could ward those things off and survive. Maybe there was some way up there that they could get to a different building and escape.

Those scenarios seemed less and less likely the longer the screaming went on.

You could hear something banging now, like bodies slamming themselves against a surface. Meanwhile the voices you heard now were people shouting for objects to be used to barricade a door.

In your head, you knew what the outcome would be: the zombies wouldn't give up, still able to remember that there were people on the other side even if they couldn't see them, and they would throw themselves at the door until they were able to get in. Then those people's screams would start up again before ending a final time.

You weren't paying attention to Phinks in that moment. Your focus was on keeping your hands over your ears and biting down on your lip so you made absolutely no noise. But if you'd looked over to him, you would've seen that he'd been staring at you.

You noticed when he suddenly walked in front of you, making his way over to the small lockers at the other side of the room. He was looking through the metal grating at the front, scanning over the various items that had been left inside.

Apparently he found what he was looking for in one, as he snapped off the lock on one and opened it.

He pulled out a pair of rather bulky headphones, and after turning and walking over to you, he held them out for you to take. To try and blot out the noise, you realized.

You took them just as the banging and the screams reached a fever pitch, putting them on and shutting your eyes.

Phinks' arm brushed against your own as he sat down next to you, leaning his head back against the wall. He looked tired. Even more than he had that first night you'd met him.

What exactly came over you in that moment, you weren't completely sure. Maybe you just wanted to feel some kind of human connection; after weeks of survival as you tried to escape the city, and the only other people around being the zombies that wanted to turn you into one of them and the soldiers that wanted to fill your skull with bullets, it'd be nice to feel something other than utter terror.

So you dared to lean yourself against him, hoping that the action was inoffensive enough to not annoy him.

After a few moments, he moved his arm so that it wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in so you could rest your head against him. The headphones made it awkward, but the action was appreciated.

Being spared from needing to hear the last moments of those above you, you reached your hand up to the one that held your shoulder, your fingers brushing over his skin.

The way Phinks squeezed your shoulder was comforting.

The process of finding a way out usually went only one way:

You would stay behind in a safe place while Phinks went on ahead to check a road that the map said led out of the city. As you sat in your hiding spot, the longer time went on the more the fear grew in you that he wasn't going to come back for you, no matter what he had said about getting that book out.

Then there would always be a great relief when you saw that he returned, but it was always followed by disappointment as he'd determined that there were simply too many people stationed at that point and there was no way both of you could get out through there.

Three times now the same thing had happened, and Phinks was getting frustrated while you grew more worried that the two of you might not find a way out.

“What happens if we can't find any point that we can get out from?” you asked him after the third attempt, when the two of you had stopped to rest in the storage space of a ruined fishing shop.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” was his reply.

You didn't push him any further on that subject, deciding that you didn't want to hear it.

Using the map to figure out where the two of you would go from there, you slept in shifts to rest up for the coming evening, where you would try to get out once again.

There was a surprising lack of zombies on your way to the next point after you'd left the fish shop. An odd change, but one that was very welcome, even if the lack of anyone else around brought about an eerie silence as the two of you walked through the wrecked streets.

But it was because of that silence in the early morning hours that you heard something that was unexpected.

Like metal scraping against pavement.

And it seemed Phinks had noticed it as well when you saw him looking in the direction you had heard it. Turning sharply, he motioned for you to follow, his eyebrows furrowed as he now seemed concentrated on whatever that noise had been.

You followed behind him quietly.

You two reached the next block when Phinks stopped you. Using his arm to push you back, the two of you pressed yourselves against the wall of a building.

The metal scraping sounded again, and you stuck your head out enough to get a look at what had caused the noise:

Two men putting a manhole cover back in place on the street.

The small amount of light in the sky was enough that you could see both were armed and wearing gas masks with dark hazmat suits. One had a rectangular case strapped to his back, and both were looking over the area, weapons at the ready so they could shoot at anything that came at them.

They left the area, going in the direction that was opposite where you and Phinks stood while they kept low.

“What do you make of that?” Phinks asked you in a low voice.

“I don't know,” you began, “were they hiding down there?”

“I don't think so.”

Phinks pulled away from the wall and you, and turned to say “we're following them.”

“Okay.”

The two of you began to walk again, keeping a distance between you and the men but never letting them get out of sight.

“Why are we following them?” you dared to ask.

“Because I wanna know what they're doing.”

He then looked back to you as he said “stay quiet. These guys are also prepared to shoot.”

You nodded.

A short while later, the men stopped outside an entrance to the subway station, forcing you and Phinks to duck down next to an overturned car. Glancing the shattered windows, it looked like the men were arguing, but you had no clue what either of them were saying. The argument ended when they both ran down the steps, the one who had the pack in the process of removing it.

Phinks stood up.

“Stay here,” he said.

He noticed your look of panic because he added “it doesn't seem like there are a lot of those things in the area, so just keep quiet. If those guys don't come back up, I'll come back for you.”

“And if they do come back?” you asked.

“Then wait to come out until I've killed one or both of them.”

Then he left.

The men did end up emerging again, and this time, the pack was missing.

And when they began to walk off in a different direction was when Phinks struck.

He moved so fast that you were barely able to follow, only catching sight of a green blur that ran up behind one of the men before that man was on the ground, his head twisted around. The other man only managed to turn slightly before he was hit repeatedly, his gun torn away from him as he was forced to his knees. Phinks ripped the mask off and held him by the throat.

You waited a moment before getting out from behind your hiding spot, keeping an eye on your surroundings as you hurried to rejoin Phinks. He'd already started to interrogate the man by the time you reached him.

“What did you leave down there?” Phinks asked.

“N-nothing.”

“You think I'm stupid? I saw you with a backpack earlier and now it's gone. So you left it down there. What was in it?”

The man pressed his lips shut, looking between you two. With the lack of an answer, Phinks grew irritated again.

“Answer me. What the hell were you guys doing?”

The man he held grimaced, but when Phinks began to apply pressure around his neck, he relented.

“W-we, we needed to place something,” the man began, “to fix the problem here.”

“What'd you place?” Phinks pressed.

The man struggled to find his voice for a moment before he was finally able to answer.

“The Poor Man's Rose.”

In your head, there was a record scratch when you heard that. You blood went cold while time seemed to stop.

Poor Man's Rose.

You'd learned about those bombs extensively in your high school history class, reading over countless pages and watching a censored documentary going into the bomb's creation and the sort of destruction it caused. The same afternoon you'd watched the documentary, you'd gone online to look up the true extent of the damage it caused to humans and had almost immediately regretted that decision, the images you'd seen graphic enough to make you lose your appetite for the day.

A bomb of such destructive power that it blew away everything within the immediate area, and as the toxic smoke reached out beyond the detonation site, anyone or anything that was still alive would become poisoned and slowly die, passing on that same poison to anyone and everyone who was unfortunate enough to be within the vicinity of the infected subject.

It was a bomb that had been designed to take as many lives as possible, a device that had been created and used only by truly evil people.

And one had been planted beneath your feet.

After taking in that answer, you looked to Phinks.

For the first time since meeting him, he had a look of shock on his face. He knew just as well as you did how bad that answer was for you two, and how important it was to get out of the city as soon as possible.

“.... How long before it goes off?” Phinks asked, having regained his composure.

“You're not going to get out,” the man said, “the military is keeping a close eye on all the exits in case any stragglers try to follow them out. They aren't going to let anyone still in here escape.”

Phinks let go of the man's throat in favor of grabbing his hand. Taking the man's pinky finger, he snapped it so it was bent completely backwards.

The man cried out, and you worried about the amount of noise being made in that moment. But you said nothing and waited as Phinks continued.

“I've got a friend who's real good at torture, and while I don't think I'm as effective as he is, I'd say I've picked up a thing or two watching him,” Phinks whispered.

“I asked you when it goes off,” he continued, grabbing the man's ring finger, “and if you still aren't convinced to give me an answer, I'll get to work on the rest of them. And if even that isn't enough for you to say something, then you can bet I'll be doing my best to make sure whatever hours or minutes we all have left in this life will be spent with you in complete agony.”

He motioned to a diner down the street as he said “that place probably has a grill. If we're lucky, it'll still be working, and then we can see how well you do when I cook your face on it. Your call.”

Although the man was still reluctant to answer the question, evidently he was more afraid of the pain as he relented soon after.

“..... Twelve hours. Maybe a little less. We were supposed to head in further to put it at the center of the city but I just wanted to get rid of it.”

“Best make peace with whatever god you pray to,” the man added, “at least if you stay at ground zero, it'll be fast for you.”

“How were you two getting out?”

“You two won't be able to leave through our escape route,” the man said.

He cried out again as Phinks bent his ring finger back.

“How were you two getting out?” Phinks hissed.

“H-helicopter. A helicopter was going to pick us up from the front of the hospital. But you two can't get out that way. They'll know immediately that you aren't us and they'll shoot you,” said the man, “there isn't any way out for you two. There's a barricade that surrounds the whole city. Even if you wait until the military is gone, you won't be able to escape in time.”

…. Shit. Was brute force the only way you two could get out? You looked back to Phinks, but you couldn't tell what was going through his head.

You looked back to the man in the hazmat suit, who, despite having two broken fingers, had the barest hint of smugness about him. Like he was happy the two of you were going down with him.

Going down......

When you first saw them, they were coming up through a manhole.

“Phinks, they came in through the sewers, right? Can't we go back the way they came?” you asked.

Before Phinks could answer, the man scoffed at you.

“You really think we wouldn't have thought of that? That entrance has been sealed up. No one's getting in or out that way,” he said.

“Sealed with what?” Phinks asked.

“Solid steel, that's what,” the man said, getting bolder as he found satisfaction in the fact that you two were stuck here, “there's nothing you can do to get through that.”

As soon as the man said that, Phinks smirked.

“I don't know about that,” he said smugly.

“.... You people are dead, just accept that,” the man said, “you and your stupid little sidekick.”

Phinks' response to that was to take his arm and snap it, causing the man to scream as his arm was bent unnaturally.

“Phinks, he's making so much noise-” you began.

“That's the point.”

Phinks knelt down and began to go through the man's pockets, humming to himself when he found a folded piece of paper that he handed over to you. Another map, you found, although this one was a map of the city's sewer system with a path that had been highlighted.

Your way out.

Two kicks were all Phinks needed to shatter the man's shins, and as the man once again cried out in pain, Phinks tossed him down the subway stairs and looked on with a little bit of glee as he watched the man fall.

The man's mouth was bleeding when he looked back up, dripping out of a busted lip as he asked “w-what are you doing?”

“Making sure that you can't get out,” Phinks answered, then he smirked as he said “at least if you stay at ground zero, it'll be fast for you.”

“No! No please don't leave me! I can get you on the chopper, I swear-!”

Phinks bent down and grabbed a flashlight that the other man had been carrying, then pulled you away by the arm. The two of you left him there. You could still hear him screaming even when you reached the car you'd been hiding behind earlier.

“He'll probably get killed by those things before the bomb,” you said.

“Yeah,” Phinks replied, “but right now let's focus on getting out.”

“Through the sewer?”

“What, don't like the sound of that?” he asked.

“It's fine. As long as I can live after this, I'll do just about anything,” you said.

He patted you on the shoulder as he said “good answer.”

It took two hours to make it through the sewer system following the map you'd gotten, trudging through sewage and slush and other things that you didn't want to think about amid the murky water that sometimes made it up to your knees. The smell was terrible, and Phinks had grumbled at one point that he should've grabbed the masks that those men had been wearing.

He held your hand as he lead you through it, not allowing you to get too far behind.

At the end of it you found that the man from earlier hadn't been lying: the entry point that led out into the river had been sealed.

Phinks hadn't been phased in the slightest, only telling you to step back as he began to rotate his arm in circles. He repeated the action twelve times.

When he punched the barrier, it shattered completely, the noise causing a ringing in your ears because of the small space of the sewer.

You stood staring dumbfounded at the scene, much to his annoyance.

“C'mon, there's no one around,” he said to you, “let's get going.”

“Right......”

You knew that he wasn't a normal person. You'd seen a lot at this point to attest to that fact. But even after everything, that was a little hard to wrap your head around.

Think about it later, you told yourself as you followed after Phinks.

With how bright it was out now, you still worried about potential soldiers that were leaving the city, but as the two of you walked further and further away from the city limits, you allowed yourself to feel a little bit of relief. It felt tangible now. That you were going to get out of this. Even with Phinks, the thought of making it out alive seemed like it could only be a fantasy at times, but now that you'd gotten out of the city itself, it felt like you really would survive this.

Your legs were hurting by the time you came across a gas station. There was an assortment of cars left in the lot and by the gas pumps, with some doors being left wide open.

As you got closer to the station's entrance, you noted that there wasn't any blood or any sort of sign of a violent struggle. No sign of anyone at all.

A motorcycle stood abandoned by one of the gas pumps, and it seemed to have caught Phinks' attention, as you swore you could hear him let out a soft “nice” upon seeing it.

Inside the station was just as devoid of people as the outside had been, with no one in the aisles or any employees at the register. All you saw was a bucket and mop in one of the aisles, as if someone had been in the middle of cleaning the floors when they'd been suddenly pulled away.

“Those things didn't come here, did they?” you asked.

“Nah, there was a major effort to keep all that contained to the city,” Phinks said as he walked by you, “I'd say everyone who was in here at the time was evacuated.”

“At least they bothered to evacuate some people,” you muttered.

“It is what it is. At least you didn't die, right?”

Phinks was heading towards the register, hopping over the counter once he spotted what he'd been looking for: a phone. Picking up the receiver, he let out a small “yes!” when he put it to his ear and heard a dial tone.

He looked back to you as he pressed in some numbers.

“Grab me a beer, will you?”

Seeing the fridge with the cans of beer he was pointing to, you picked one up and threw it over to him. He caught it easily, snapping open the tab and drinking about half of the can's contents in one gulp while he had the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder.

You grabbed something for yourself, picking out a fruit-flavored drink from the fridge and had been in the middle of re-hydrating yourself when you heard him speak.

“Hey Shal.”

You glanced back to see him leaning against the edge of the counter, phone to up to his ear as the conversation continued.

“It took me almost a month to get out of what may as well have been a fucking war zone. How do you think I'm doing?”

He paused, and it was safe to assume that the person on the other end of the line was speaking.

“I couldn't. Phone signal was down. And anyways, mine was broken.”

Another pause.

“From a gas station. We made it to one just on the outskirts.”

Another pause, and he briefly glanced over to you.

“No, not them. Someone unrelated.”

Then he continued with “listen, I don't wanna sit around here for too long. This countries government is doing their best to kill off anyone who comes out of the city and keep everything contained, so we need to get out of here soon.”

The other person said something that made Phinks' gaze narrow into a glare.

“We can't just hide out here, Shalnark. They planted a Miniature Rose. They're blowing everything up and this area'll be affected when it goes off.”

You actually managed to hear the other person on the line when they spoke that time, as they exclaimed the word “really!?”

They sounded a little too excited upon hearing that.

“I need help getting out,” Phinks said, ignoring that little outburst, “the military has a blockade around the city, but they're leaving and I'm pretty sure that they've evacuated the surrounding areas where the rose will have an effect on anything still alive after the blast. Can you figure out if they've set up another blockade, and if there are any blind spots we can get through? They'll shoot at us immediately if they see us coming out at this point.”

Phinks stayed quiet for a bit, presumably because the other person – Shalnark – was speaking.

The bottle you held was now empty, and you found yourself playing with the plastic wrapper that was wrapped around it as you waited for a conclusion to his conversation.

“It wasn't zombies,” Phinks said suddenly.

Those words caught you off-guard and you looked back to him. He looked irritated again.

“I don't care what you heard, it wasn't zombies.”

Apparently the person on the other end was protesting that point, and Phinks lost his cool.

“It wasn't fucking zombies! It was nen!” he insisted, “you weren't the one who needed to get out of that shit, so don't go telling me what it was.”

Another pause, and Phinks sighed.

“My best guess is it was a manipulator ability, one where the user got more puppets if the first ones they infected went out and bit new victims. But I think whoever that manipulator was, they died. The only thing those puppets were doing was attacking people that hadn't been taken over by that nen, but nothing beyond that. There was never anything beyond getting people under control.”

After another brief pause, he continued with “yeah. Some idiot got a puppet and ordered them to turn whoever else was around into puppets as well. Then the asshole died, and postmortem nen kicked in and the only order those things still had were to make more of them. So that's what they did.”

Phinks sighed, adding “I hate people who make stupid abilities. The hell's the point in an ability like that?”

The person on the other line was saying something, and it set Phinks off again.

“Just because it sounds like it was zombies doesn't make it fucking zombies!” he yelled, “it was some stupid fucker who made a shit ability and then because they were so fucking stupid, they died and made their shit ability everyone elses problem!”

Though you couldn't hear them, you got the sense that the person on the other line was trying to get Phinks to settle down. That seemed to be most likely based on the way Phinks huffed and leaned back against the counter.

And then there was a sudden change in him.

His eyes widened slightly and he stood up straighter. The irritation that had built up during that conversation was inexplicably gone.

“Hey boss.”

Boss?

Evidently the person on the other end of the phone had changed places with the person who had sent Phinks into Ranier in the first place. The boss that he had mentioned when you first met him. From his demeanor alone, it was easy to see the amount of respect Phinks had for the person he was now speaking to.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” said Phinks, “sorry for taking so long to contact you.”

“The book made it out safely, too. Although you're gonna need to find a new buyer for it,” he added.

Whoever “boss” was, he was currently speaking to Phinks, and once again, you couldn't hear anything. Although based on what you were seeing, you wondered if maybe you should leave the room for the rest of the call as you weren't sure if his boss would appreciate you listening in on one half of the conversation.

He glanced over to you again when he saw you wander over to the bathroom before he again said something about the outbreak being “caused by nen.”

The bathroom didn't look too bad when you entered it, although given what you had seen in the last few days, it would be hard for anything to be quite as bad as what you had seen in Ranier. You walked over to the sink as you were overcome with the urge to clean yourself up a bit, and there was an odd amount of relief when you turned on the water and found that it was clear, like it was supposed to be.

When was the last time you'd had a shower?

Too long. Way too long.

Splashing the water onto your face, you made an attempt to clean off some of the grime that had collected. Although after trudging through the sewers, the only way you'd be able to feel truly clean again was if you could get a shower. A long one.

Maybe Phinks' boss could set you up with something.

Although there would probably more of an effort put towards getting you two somewhere safe.

Shutting off the water, you leaned against the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror that hung above it.

You looked like shit.

It really felt like it'd been years since you'd been living a normal life – that had been, what, a month ago? You weren't sure; you'd lost count of the days.

You couldn't return to that life, could you? As much as you wished you could go back home and pretend like nothing had happened, there wasn't going to be a future like that for you. One where you got to see your friends and family again.

You leaned against one of the bathroom stalls as your realizations settled in.

You couldn't go back home. Not after this.

And then a new thought hit you:

After this was over and you handed off the book to Phinks' boss, would Phinks still let you stick around? Or would he consider you to no longer be his problem after the deal had concluded?

The idea that Phinks might abandon you after all of this hurt. A lot.

The door to the bathroom swung open as Phinks entered as well. He sighed as he stood at the sink as well, turning on the water at full blast and scrubbing himself down just as you had.

He was more focused on cleaning himself off at that moment, and as such, wasn't looking at you. After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you spoke.

“Everything okay with you and your boss?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “more importantly, we've got a way out of here.”

“Your friend was able to help?”

“Both him and boss,” said Phinks, “they found an area that's lighter on security and they'll meet us there.”

“But what about the soldiers?”

“They'll take care of it. Once we meet up with them, we're gonna lay low for a bit.”

“Both of us?”

He gave you an odd look as he replied “yeah, both of us.”

“Where?”

“Rokario,” he answered, “normally we'd hide out in Meteor City, but seeing how hard they're making sure to get rid of anyone who came out of Ranier, they'll be on the lookout for any refugees headed that way. So it's best that we go somewhere they wouldn't expect.”

He glanced over to you, asking “there isn't anyone in Rokario who'd recognize you, right?”

“I don't think so.”

“Good. Then that's where we're going.”

You nodded along as you went over the information in your head. Rokario..... That was a spot that some would say was in a more dangerous part of the world, if just for how close it was in proximity to East Gorteau. Maybe that was the point in the two of you going there: there probably weren't many who would expect anyone to choose that part of the world for their hiding spot.

“The book is still okay, right?” he asked.

“Ah, yeah.”

Unzipping the backpack, you pulled out the book, still in its box and looking in pretty good condition.

“Good,” he said, “apparently that thing survived a few different library fires. Maybe we can add an extra million jenny to the price if we say that it survived a city that just got bombed.”

You nodded along with his words again as you put the book back in and closed up the backpack. Kinda weird how he was talking about money when you were still in an area that wouldn't exist within a matter of hours. But maybe not that weird if situations like this were normal for him.

“I'm gonna see if that motorcycle will start up,” said Phinks, “if there's anything you need to do here, do it now, because once we meet up with Chrollo and Shal we won't be taking any side trips.”

And with that, he left the room, the door swinging for a few moments before its momentum finally stopped.

That'd be it, then. Within a few hours, maybe less, you and Phinks would be out of here and somewhere safe. In hiding, probably for the rest of your life, but you'd be okay. You'd lived through this, and while you couldn't say whether or not you were stronger for it, at least you were alive.

…. Your friends and family back home wouldn't know that, though.

That thought hit you and instantly brought your mood back down. All of them were probably worried out of their minds, and if they hadn't been told that you were dead for certain, then they likely still had hope that you'd be able to make it out of Ranier and return to them.

That hope would be eliminated once Ranier was wiped off the planet, and then they'd go through the process of grieving you.

Meanwhile you'd be alive the entire time and wouldn't be able to tell them.

You heard the sputtering of a motorcycle engine once you left the bathroom, and looking through the windows of the station, it seemed as though Phinks had been able to get the bike started. He looked pleased with himself.

With one last look around the abandoned station, you grabbed a box of candy that stood near the register and stuffed it into your backpack before you joined him outside.

“There's only one helmet, so you'll have to go without,” Phinks explained when you approached him, “but we should be fine. If anything goes wrong, just hold onto me.”

“Okay.”

Your gaze was distant, and you didn't take your place behind him on the bike, which caused him to frown.

“What's wrong?”

“.... There isn't any chance that I can go back to my family, right?” you asked.

“No. You're probably already on a list of people that are meant to be dead in Ranier. If you show back up after the bomb goes off, not only will they kill you off, but everyone you come in contact with to eliminate the risk anything spreading. And with the possibility of you being infected from Miniature Rose, they'd try twice as hard to get rid of you,” he said.

Of course it was like that. If the military was shooting everyone in sight inside the city, they wouldn't just let you go. And since the fear was spreading the outbreak, Phinks' reasoning made sense.

Just like you'd thought: you had survived and you wouldn't even be able to tell them.

The only person you had now was Phinks.

“So then,” you continued, “is it okay if I stay with you?”

Phinks nodded as he said “yeah.”

“Even after you leave Rokario?”

“I figured that's what we'd be doing,” he said, “I don't mind having you around.”

“Even if I weigh you down?”

He gave you a weird look at that.

“You tryin' to get me to leave you or something?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Just want to be sure.”

“If I wasn't sure, then I wouldn't be telling you that you could come with me,” he said.

He pointed at the seat behind him with his thumb as he said “time isn't on our side right now. If you're coming with me, then get on.”

You nodded as you said “right. Sorry.”

You climbed up onto the seat behind him while he placed the helmet on his head and revved the engine again. It was louder than you were expecting, but you wrapped your arms around him, clasping your hands around his waist.

Despite his talks of leaving right then, he didn't drive off immediately. One of his hands left its place on the handlebars in favor of resting on top of yours. It stayed there for a moment, gently squeezing your hands.

Like a reassurance for you.

Phinks then pulled away, grabbing the handles before he began to ride off.

You were just along for the ride now, hoping that when you made it to Rokario, you'd be able to find some sense of peace in your new life.

That you'd be able to find a new version of “normal” with Phinks.

#reader insert #phinks x reader #phinks magcub #hxh phinks #hxh x reader #hxh

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mlmxreader · 6 months ago

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A Dragon in Wolf's Clothing | Bard the Bowman x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Bard

Patching Them Up After A Fight ❞

: ̗̀➛ A wolf is an incredibly loyal creature, but those from the dragon's kingdom are even more loyal - a dragon in wolf's clothing, however, is so loyal that they would die before letting a slight land on their family.

trigger warnings : ̗̀➛ blood, depictions of injuries & fights

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Of course Bard had heard all the nasty things under the sun said about both you and him; he would have had to have stuffed his ears with steel to not hear it. But he never let it get to him, never; it would have been too risky to do so, as he knew all too well the consequences of even the smallest of scrapes and scraps.

Bard knew what you did not. He wouldn't have thrown the first punch, but you?

You had something different. Gnashing canine teeth and long dexterous claws that could tear through even the most hardened of steel with such ease. Battle born and hardened.

The skies were a light grey when Bard heard scratching at his door, and he was careful not to wake the children when he went to answer it, already knowing what it was; he sighed heavily as he swiped a hand down his face, catching his short beard for a moment and wondering if the rude awakening made it feel more coarse than usual.

But he stopped thinking about all of that when he saw you on the other side of the door; bloodied and bruised, you leaned against the post until he ushered you in quickly. Swift to whisk you away to his kitchen table and force you to sit down.

"What bloody happened?!"

You coughed, a small splattering of blood landing on the dark oak. "A trader. He asked if I knew you, and when I said yes, he gave out some very... choice words."

Bard frowned, shaking his head. "So what did you do?"

You grinned, your teeth all slimy and orange from smeared blood. "I showed him what a wolf with a dragon's tongue can do."

He sighed heavily, not thinking any more of it as he gestured at you. "Strip. I'll look after you."

You did as he said, removing your shirt and letting it rest on the table; he grabbed a small bowl of water, something that smelled so harsh it made your nose sting, and dropped it in before fetching an old rag. You hummed softly as he knelt between your legs and used his rough hands to assess the damage.

"My days," he breathed out, almost in disbelief. "What did he cut you with?"

You let out a sharp wince as you clenched your jaw tightly. "Silver."

Bard furrowed his brows; trying to concentrate as he used the rag to mop up your blood despite your flinching and growling. The jerky movements of your arms and legs as you struggled to sit still; he had a great patience with you, though, merely uttering soft words of reassurance as he cleaned the wound as much as he could.

The water slowly becoming as orange as your teeth and starting to smell like metal. He could see how deep it went, the small bubbles amongst the flesh where the blade had struck the fat and muscle layers and ripped it open; it was going to take a lot more than a rag and some water to do the trick.

"I need to send word to the wizard," he mumbled.

You nodded in agreement, planting your arms on his table and breathing heavily. "I'll trust your judgement on this."

Bard nodded curtly before escaping outside for a moment to signal for the wizard in an attempt to summon him; he didn't know him well, admittedly, and wasn't sure if it would work.

But you had always said, if there was silver involved, then he would need to see you if it was deeper than the slice of a paper corner. Yet with shaking hands, Bard still came back to you, sitting down at the table next to you and laying his hand on your shoulder.

"You shouldn't defend my honour," he told you softly. "You're going to kill yourself."

You shook your head, licking the blood from your teeth as you shuddered and let out a very wet cough. "I'll be fine, bowman. Promise."

He smiled a little at that, but he wasn't fully reassured. "Wolves are some of the toughest animals. Dragons even more so. But you're neither, and you can't keep doing this for me. Let them speak, ignore them."

You shook your head again, a soft rumbling growl coming from the back of your throat. "You are my family. I won't let anyone say a word about you, ever."

Bard wanted to tell you not to bother, but he knew better than that. Those from the dragon's kingdom, who spoke its tongue, were loyal to a fault as it was - but a wolf?

A wolf was even more loyal. A creature of family, a wolf would do anything to protect its family - even if it was protection from words. Bard knew he would never talk sense into you, so he sighed as he pulled you against him, letting you rest your head against his shoulder as you coughed blood onto his shirt.

"I'm getting blood on you..."

"Sh, sh, it's alright," he murmured, gently patting your bicep. "Catch your breath, and I'll put something over the wound for now - patch it up so it's at least not going to get infected."

You nodded, giving it a few minutes before giving him the signal; the best Bard could do was wrap a few rags around the area with some ointment on them in hopes it would stop the bleeding.

"You're alright," he told you softly. "I got you, melys."

You smiled a little, daring to laugh weakly under your breath. "You picked up the dragon's tongue."

Bard smiled, a little breathless as he nodded and cleared his throat, leaning against the wall opposite you. "I suppose I have... let me help you get your shirt on - it's not exactly warm."

You nodded, muttering a quietly thanks as Bard gently tugged your shirt over you; he was so soft and sweet, murmuring assurances until you had it on properly.

Softly, he rewarded you with a sweet kiss. "You'll be alright, wolf."

"All thanks to you, bowman," you said hoarsely. "I love you, you know. I really do."

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare even just £1, please consider making even just one donation to Mahmoud & his family to help them escape Gaza.

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hailthegodsong · 2 months ago

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OUR LOVE IS BORN

Masterlist

Chapter 5 ~ Snow

Content Warnings: Sexual assault, sexual harassment, harassment, anxiety, fear, anger, depictions of alcohol addiction, arguments, yelling, bad relationship with parent, parental verbal abuse?, self-depreciating thoughts, low self-esteem, crying, soft josh, cuddling, comfort/reassurance, innocent touches, venting, mentions of menstruation, marijuana use, marijuana intoxication, marijuana use as a from of relief, greening out (not really but kinda).

I made my way over to the Kiszka's house on Sunday morning with a warm, fresh container of vegetable broth soup. It was particularly cold today and the trees bare arms creaked and croaked in the howling wind.

Too excited with my idea to make Josh soup, I'd skipped breakfast and instead spent my morning in the kitchen, cooking up the healing liquid. I bit back the chatter of my teeth throughout my short walk across the path that connected our front doors, festering in the warmth that the container in my hands gave me.

For some reason, I had an unstoppable smile on my face. Today felt like it would be a good day, spending it with Josh and teasing him of all the things he told me in his feverish haze.

Once I reached their front door I could hear the echo of yelling from inside, clearly from the siblings. I fumbled with the container in my hands for a moment, struggling to grasp it in one palm alone to reach up and knock on the door.

I huffed in frustration at the size of my small, useless hands, the heat from my breath puffing out like smoke in front of me, as I bent down to place the container down onto the floor beside me.

"Ugh," I groaned, noticing the black scuff marks on my red sneakers which definitely weren't there last time I saw them. I was still bent over, furiously rubbing over the spot with the heel of my thumb when a long, droning whistle from behind me gave me a fright.

"Lovely view," a voice hummed behind me, making me jump. I straightened up quickly and whipped around, gasping.

A hand flew to my chest to calm my hammering heart, "Sorry, I didn't hear you come up," I said to the boy who looked my age. He stood at the top of the porch steps, a backwards cap balanced on his head, even though today was as bleak and sunless as it gets. His hands were tucked into his light denim jean pockets and he leaned back, looking at me smugly.

"Oh, don't you worry darl', I could watch that view all day," he flirted, making me take a subtle step backwards. I noted the southern accent lacing his words and the toothpick he had lodged between his teeth. How much of a try-hard was this guy? He took a step towards me and I felt myself become very uncomfortable.

I said nothing, shifting my weight from one hip to the other.

"Who are you here to see?" He asked. His words sat in the silence between us as I weighed out my answers.

"Josh." I stated simply. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Really? I woulda thought you'd be in the younger ones year. What's his name again? Daniel?" He said.

He hadn't done anything to scare me, yet there was something that hung in the air between us. I could feel it in my bones, my belly, whatever, call it instinct, but I wasn't safe with this boy, and by the look on his face, he knew it too.

Be it the reality of his danger, or merely his knowledge of my unnecessary fear and the power he had over the situation, he was enjoying himself. And that scared me even more.

"That's their friend." I said. "The younger brother's name is Sam." My confidence was diminished as I watched his cocky grin morph into something of a snarl.

"I don't actually care," he scoffed, studying me for a minute and cocking his head to the left. Time was going by so slowly, yet so quickly. He made movement towards me, and it felt like the air around us was getting thin, despite the fact that we were outside, and a consistent breeze was caressing my face.

He stood right in front of me, almost toe to toe, and hung his head down close to mine. And as pathetic and weak I felt, I couldn't move.

Completely frozen.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. I didn't know what to think. My breathing turned shaky the moment he was close enough for me to see the stubble on his jaw.

I recoiled when he reached a hand out towards my face, throwing him the nastiest look I could, and it felt like my eyebrows were going to fall off my face with how harshly I had them drawn in fright.

Sadly, my flinch earned me an involuntary step back, my foot making contact with my container of soup, knocking it between my heel and the wooden pillars of the porch, which to my luck clipped the lid at the right angle and sent the contents of the container pouring out onto the wooden plates below us.

"No!" I breathed out. Thankfully I had a large batch at home I could go back to give to Josh, but still, he made me waste good vegetable broth.

Though, he didn't seem to care, as he ran a few fingers through the hair by the side of my face, unbeknownst to the wet puddle now at our feet. "What're you really here for, huh?" He whispered.

My breath shook as I pulled my head away from him, trying my best to avoid his proximity. I was cornered by the wall of their house and fence of their porch now.

"Please stop," I whispered meekly, and his lack of response made me wonder if he was ignoring me or too distracted to hear.

He tucked a strand of my hair, that he had been twiddling with his forefinger and thumb behind my ear and lowered his head so that his mouth ghosted my ear.

I began to tremble violently.

"A quick fuck?" He breathed, and I felt him grasp my behind with a strong and harsh hand, causing me to jump, a sharp gasp leaving my lips.

Coming to my senses, I shrugged him off and placed both hands against his chest, shoving him away from me. "Get off me!" I spat as he stumbled backwards, a look of offence on his face.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" The look on his face was mimicable. Maybe I should have defended myself more. Denied his words even? But I didn't. Instead, I hurried towards the door and began knocking on it furiously.

I paused, waiting for a response, but the sound of arguing from inside had stopped by now, and I feared they had all retreated to the garage, too far away to hear my knocks. My fingers anxiously tapped against my thigh and I could feel the presence of the boy behind me still, thankfully not making any more moves towards me.

"For fucks sake," I mumbled under my breath, pounding on the door again, frustration filling my veins. I fought against the painful lump in my throat and focused on keeping my breaths as even as I could muster.

Then, Jake's figure appeared at the now open door, smiling warmly when he saw me. But when his eyes caught those of the boy behind me, his lip curled up in disgust.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Jake spat, with such aggression, I even felt scared of him. He reached out for me, and before I knew it, I had been manoeuvred past him into the house.

I took a few steps inside to create some distance between myself and that boy and in the blink of an eye, Jake was glancing at me one last time as if to check I was still there, as he stepped out onto the porch, slamming the door behind him.

It was harder to hear what was going on outside than the other way round, so I stood in the eerie silence of the hallway. Stunned. Scared. Relieved. Confused?

"Layla!" A soft voice called from behind me, and I turned around, a bit embarrassed at being caught staring at a door. Ronnie bounded down the hallway to me, "Hey girl I haven't seen you in ages, how've you been?"

I let out a shaky breath, smiling back at her as she led me through the house into the living room, "Ah, yeah good, you?" We both took spots on opposite ends of the couch, my mind screaming at me to find Josh. To see if Jake was okay. To fucking do something.

She curled into the couch, wrapping a blanket around her legs as I sat, stiff backed with my hands in my lap.

"Yeah I've been good, excited for the weather to warm up again. I hate the cold," she said, shrugging her shoulders excitedly and I hummed.

I was quiet for a bit, and realised it was rude of me not to make conversation, "So, um... why don't you drive to school with your brothers?" I asked, trying my hardest to distract myself from focusing on the events unfolding outside. It felt like I was dreaming.

"My boyfriend drives me," she responded, blushing a little.

"Awh I didn't know you had a boyfriend." I responded, glancing out the windows in the room in case I could get a view of the porch.

"Yeah, his name's Wilson... hey are you alright? You look a little distracted..." She enquired. I quickly looked back at her, my eyes wide as I forced a smile to my face.

"Yep! Is umm... How's Josh?" I asked, remembering my cause of visit.

Both of our heads whipped to the front door as Jake burst through, anger radiating off him like hot coals as he stormed past the living room to the staircase. He charged up the stairs, disappearing from view.

"Who crawled up his ass?" Josh's husky voice spoke as he made his way into the living room, looking back at the stairs and halting when he saw me. "Layla, I didn't know you were here."

He had changed into some new clothes and his curly hair looked slightly damp, indicating he'd showered. He was looking much better, the colour returned to his face and the humorous sparkle was back in his eyes.

"Hello," I said meekly, "I came with soup but I... never mind it's fine, I'm gonna quickly head over to my house to get you some more." I said, hurrying past him. I wasn't sure why but I was feeling avoidant, wanting nothing more than to cry out the stress of what happened, alone, in my bed.

"Wait, Layla-" Josh said from behind me. Jake came booming down the stairs again, an essence of anger gone, but he was clearly still vibrating with energy.

"I swear to god, are you okay, Layla? He didn't do anything to you, did he?" He asked, coming up close to me, running his eyes up and down my body, inspecting for damage.

"Why, what happened?" Josh asked. Ronnie stood in the hallway with us too now, intrigued about the commotion. I felt too claustrophobic, it was all just too much.

"I don't really wanna talk about it, if that's okay," I said, moving past Jake and heading out the front door. I didn't bother closing it behind me as I bent down to pick up the empty, but still warm container off the floor.

My face felt like it was going to burst from the pressure of tears I was holding back from behind my eyes as I stumbled through my own front door. I speed-walked through the house in search of the bathroom, the world feeling hazy through my eyes and ears.

"Layla, is that you?" Mums voice bellowed from the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks, taking a deep breath and poking my head around the corner to where my Mum stood against the sink, hands wet and holding a sponge. She looked angry, and quite frankly, I think I'd had enough with angry people for one day.

"Yeah," I said cautiously.

"I need to speak to you, sit down" she said, nodding her head to one of the island chairs. I followed her instructions, scared I would make her more mad, and mentally ran through everything bad I had ever done.

She made her way around the counter and stood in front of me, hands on hips with a very stern look on her face. I fiddled with my hands in my lap, feeling like an idiot.

"Do you feel like telling me why you have been going through my things?" She asked, venom seeping from her tongue. Her poisonous tone and stare surprised me, considering I hadn't seen her in days

My head snapped up, "I haven't gone through any of your things," I stated plainly. What was she talking about?

"You stole alcohol from the house, Layla, don't play dumb in front of me."

Realisation struck me like a belt, "No, no I didn't steal that I promise it was just in the fridge in a water bottle I thought it was water and took it to school by accident," I rambled, praying she'd believe me so that I could sulk to my room and cry.

"I am not stupid girl, so don't insult my intelligence," she seethed at me, pointing a finger in my face. "What did you do with it? Drink it all? Like a fucking alcoholic?" She was shouting now, and I was afraid at the level of anger she had managed to reach in such a short span of time. My breathing picked up.

"I'm not lying I promise, Mum. I didn't know what it was until I was at school." Her temper was rising astronomically fast, and my body was aching, screaming at me to get away.

"Stop lying Layla, I birthed you, don't think you can lie to me so easily."

I let out a long and frustrated groan, "I'm not lying! It was just there. In the fridge. I took it but I didn't know!" I burst out, the feeling of a hot tear rolling down my face.

"Don't you raise your voice at me after stealing from me! What did you do with it? Tell me," she shouted and I hesitated, looking up at her furious face. "Tell me!" She shouted again and I choked out a sob, unable to process all that had happened in the last thirty minutes.

Her look sharpened and I knew there was no way around the truth. "I poured it out," I said weakly, unable to meet my eyes to hers, regretting my decision now more than ever.

She shut her eyes, taking in a deep breath, as she turned around and paced away from me, her hands running through her hair in frustration. I stood up, hoping I could find a time pocket to slip away to my room.

"Do you respect me at all?" She asked, eerily calm in contrast to her anger from a moment ago. She turned and looked at me, a stare of betrayal on her face.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking.

"Where were you this morning?" She asked. I was getting whiplash from what she was actually upset about.

I was quiet for a moment, "Next door."

"Have you even thought about me, Layla? I have barely seen you since we came to this country because you are always out, running around with your friends and spending absolutely no time with your family-"

"That's not fair," I defended.

"Don't. Interrupt me girl," she said through clenched teeth, her long finger pointing at my face again. "You only think of yourself."

Tears ran down my cheeks now at her words, anger boiling in my belly at her harsh accusations.

"You leave before I'm even awake and come back after I'm asleep! How is that my fault? I've done literally nothing wrong and you're calling me selfish!" I argued, my voice meeting her volume level as my hands waved beside me helplessly. Her face morphed into something of malice, and I took a step backward.

Then, her voice was calm, even, "I am this close to slapping that attitude out of you Layla. Go to your room," her eyes were narrowed on me and her nostrils were flared. My head hung low as I hastily left the room, making my way towards the staircase quickly.

"You seriously need to work on how selfish you are, Layla, it makes you so fucking ugly," she snapped from downstairs, before I was welcomed by the silence of my room.

Now, the silence only gave me room for my thoughts to run rampant. I stumbled over to my bed, not quite reaching it as I sank onto the floor, wrapping my knees around my chest.

What the fuck just happened?

Sobs escaped my mouth in desperate breaths, my chest constricting and my body shaking. My throat burned with I didn't know what. I couldn't see past the tears clouding in my eyes, but I was suddenly up, standing, and wandering over to the bathroom to wipe the suffocating feeling of mascara from my eyes.

I washed the black goo from my eyes, hyperventilating with sobs still, doing anything to distract myself from the words begging to be released in my mind. I sat on the toilet to relieve myself, and nearly screamed in frustration when I saw a red stain on my underwear.

So much for a good day.

After cleaning up and changing, I crawled into bed, sobs wracking my body. I thought about that person on the porch. How did Jake know him?

I thought about Jake's concern for me. Burden. I thought of Josh's eyes on my scar. Disgusting. I thought of Josh's hopeful eyes when he saw me, saddened when I pushed him away and fled from his home. Let down. I thought of my mums face and her words. Disappointment.

The words swarmed in my head like an angered bee hive, and I clenched my fists at the roots of my hair, struggling to breath through the cries that wracked my whole body.

It was too much. Too many thoughts. It was so unfair. But maybe that was just it. I was entitled. If you think you're being good and are told you're not and you still believe you are, then something has got to be up, right?

I probably was selfish. I definitely didn't deserve people like Josh who cared for me as much as he did, in my life. Not when I couldn't even make time for my family. Not when I was making everyone angry at me, or on my behalf.

My phone rang inside my handbag which was discarded on the floor across my room and I lazily lifted my head to its direction. Huffing, I forced myself onto my hands and knees and crawled over to it, grimacing when I saw that Josh was calling me.

I declined the call without hesitation and was met with multiple messages from him, asking me if I was okay and if he could come over.

Burden.

Josh: Are you okay?

He texted right after I ended the call.

Layla: Yea thanks for checking

Josh: I tried coming over earlier but I could hear you and your mom arguing through the front door I didn't wanna interrupt Can I come over now?

Layla: Now isn't really a good time, sorry

Josh: I'm coming over now Is it fine for me to come through the front door?

Layla: No Josh, don't come over my mum will get mad

If there was anything that would tip my mum over the edge, it would be me bringing a boy over... especially after that conversation.

Josh: I'll come through your window

Layla: I'm on the second floor Josh

Josh: You have a trellis outside your window to the floor I can climb it

Layla: That's stupid you're going to get yourself hurt And you're still sick you need to rest Josh??

I had stopped crying by now, only a few random sharp inhales as evidence of my sobs, and I was sure my face resembled something of a manatee that'd been stung by a bee. I messily wiped the tears from my eyes, trying my best to clean my face up as to not worry Josh.

I took a few deep breaths to collect myself and made sure my bedroom door was locked incase Mum decided our argument wasn't over yet.

It took Josh an impressively short time to scale my wall, as only a moment later I heard a light tap on the window and saw Josh at my windowsill, his legs squished up to his chest as he hung onto some bricks on the wall.

I rushed over to the window and pulled it open for him, a gust of cold wind entering with him. "Are you okay?" I asked, quick to shut the window, trapping the warmth back inside my room, before looking over Josh for any indication that he hurt himself on the way. He wore a brown t-shirt and grey sweatpants, and he slipped his sneakers off by the windowsill.

But when I looked up at his face, his concerned stare was too intense. Too intense for me to keep my composure. I was going to cry again. When he nodded slightly, I quickly looked away and busied myself with the books on my desk, organising things into meaningless piles and brushing dust off the top of my lamp.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Better," he answered simply.

"That's good, when do you think you'll be ready to sing again?" I asked. I needed a distraction.

"Layla." He said, and I couldn't tell if it was a question or statement.

"Yeah?" I asked, rummaging through my vinyl collection. His silence made me realise I might not want to hear what he had to say at all. I regretted opening the window for him. "What do you wanna listen to? I've got a new album from Australia that I haven't listened to yet. I think it's like an indie rock sorta feel. I can't really remember though."

I rummaged through my shelves for said vinyl, as Josh's stare burned into my back. "I haven't been vinyl shopping since I got here, you've gotta show me around to all the best shops," I offered, rambling to fill the silence of the room. The silence in my head. "Hmm I can't find it... Oh! Have you listened to the Wonderful Life of Sam Cooke before? That's a really good one," I offered, sliding it out of its spot and inspecting the case. Josh's figure stood still in my peripheral.

"Layla," he said again, softer this time.

I didn't look up from what I was doing, "Yeah Josh?" I slipped the record from its case and made my way to the record player.

"Layla, please look at me," he said so gently, it was almost a whisper. I took a deep breath and looked up at him. His face alone was enough to break me. But I couldn't. I had to keep it together. I placed the vinyl back into its sleeve and put it down onto my desk.

Stop being so selfish.

"Whats going on?" He asked, his eyes searching mine for an answer. An answer that I didn't want to give him. An answer that I didn't want to give myself.

I shook my head, "Nothing," I said, but my voice cracked as I spoke and I swallowed thickly, holding back a flood of tears.

"Please... Tell me whats wrong," he begged, one of his hands reaching up into the space between us, yet too far to reach completely.

I blinked, looking at his hand, and back up at his face which was more pained than I'd ever seen it. His eyebrows were drawn upward together in concern and with the intensity of emotion that poured form him, you'd think I had torn his heart out.

My bottom lip began to tremble, and I feebly brought my fingers up to my mouth to try to keep it still.

He let out an exasperated breath. "What's wrong, Layla. Talk to me," he spoke softly, taking a slow step towards me so that his outstretched hand landed on my elbow gently, care and grace in his touch.

And then I lost it.

The thin string of composure I was hanging from snapped. A stream of tears fell from my eyes, and I couldn't hold back the breathy sobs that burst from my chest.

Josh took me into his arms, and I barely registered his movement until I was pressed up against the space between his chest and neck, breathing in his homey scent, and wetting his t-shirt with my tears. I tightened my arms around his waist, suddenly desperate for him to be closer. I grasped at the thin fabric of his shirt into fists.

His hands slid over my shoulders, one wrapping around my back and holding me steadily in place, the other reaching to the back of my head.

"I- I'm sor- I'm sorry," I choked out through my sobs.

He dragged a warm palm up and down the flat of my back, pulling me in tighter, "Shhh," he whispered.

"It's okay. It's all gonna be okay," he said, his face pressed against my head. I sank into him, melting in his comfort as he continued to whisper sweet nothings into my ear. Nobody had ever hugged me this closely before in my life.

We stood like that, suspended in time, in a place of comfort, warmth and safety for a long time. Long enough that my breathing steadied slightly.

"C'mon, let's get you into bed," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss to the hair on the side of my head, and even my emotionally wrecked mind had enough strength to feel a little excited at his gesture.

"It's still morning th- though," I hiccuped, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He flattened the hair on my head, and his gentleness was a direct parallel to the way the boy on their porch had reached for me earlier. I felt safe.

"That's okay," he laced our hands together, and I let him lead me over to my bed. Once I'd climbed in and gotten comfortable, he made himself comfortable sitting on the edge of it, holding my hand tightly.

Still shaking, I pulled the covers up, inviting him into the space next to me in the bed and he smiled timidly at me, before wordlessly slipping in next to me.

Emotionally wrecked, I lost all regard for embarrassment or reserve, and as if it were natural, I shuffled up to him, moulding my body into his chest. His body turned into mine, perfectly intertwining our limbs so that my face was buried in his chest, both of us lying on our sides, with the gentle touch of his fingers caressing my scalp.

His fingers traced over my back throguh my thin shirt, and he began to fiddle with the hem of the top, his knuckles grazing against my bare skin.

“Can I?” He asked, touching my lower back with one finger and holding the bottom of the shirt with the rest of his hand. I nodded wordlessly.

He slipped his hand under the back of my baggy t-shirt and dragged his fingers up and down my back softly, caressing my skin and I nuzzled my head further into him.

"Wanna tell me what happened today?" He asked. I couldn't see his face from the burrow I made between his chest and my mattress, but I knew he was looking down at me. "It's okay if you don't want to... but I really want to hear about it."

There was a long pause where I battled with myself internally. Emotions dying to be set free and mind stressing that I needed to pull away. Needed to stop putting my burdens on others.

"I don't know what's going on in this head up here," he tapped my head with a gentle finger, "But don't let it stop you from opening up to me... please."

I drew in a long shaky breath, "Okay. But you gotta tell me if, umm, I'm boring you or- or you wanna do something else. I won't be offended, I just don't wanna waste your time," I mumbled back, my voice muffled in the pillows.

"Is that what you think? That you're wasting my time? Boring me?"

I shrugged, "I don't know."

He let out a deep sigh, "Layla, you're all I ever want to spend my time on. I'm only ever bored once you're gone." His words warmed something deep inside me, something lost, cold and dry.

"Okay, well, I don't know how to start."

"Just tell me what happened, from when you woke up," he responded, and I held back a groan at the feeling of his fingers on my back and scalp.

I giggled lightly at the memory of him getting a boner from me making similar sounds at the park, "Hey remember that time when we-"

"Layla," he said a bit sterner than before, but still laced with patience and kindness, stopping me from avoiding the conversation.

"Right sorry." I cleared my throat. "Well, I woke up and made some vegetable broth soup stuff to bring to you. I thought it would make you feel better, you know, and when I came over I had to put the soup down to knock on the door and then my shoe was dirty and then this guy was behind me and he gave me a fright and he said some bad stuff to me and got really close and I accidentally kicked the soup and it went everywhere and then I pushed him and Jake opened the door and it's like he knew him or something," I inhaled sharply, a sob escaping my lips mid-ramble.

"And then you were there and I was just really scared and I got home and Mum was just so angry at me and then I went to the bathroom and I'd started my period and I just thought today was gonna be a really good day but it literally couldn't have been any worse." I was fully crying again now, sobs leaving my mouth without room for me to breathe, and I noted how Josh pulled me closer to him and tucked his arms around me tighter.

"What did he do? What did he say to you, sweetheart?" He asked, his face now pressed against my head.

"It's so embarrassing,'' I mumbled. But, when he didn't respond, I spoke. "He whistled and said- said something about how he liked the view or something, I can't really remember," my voice caught on sobs.

"Why did he say that?" Josh asked.

"Cause that's when I was bent over trying to get the scuff off my shoes." His grip tightened around me. "And then he asked a few questions about you guys, and... I don't know, it was all just really weird it didn't feel right and then he got really close to me and..." I trailed off in a whisper, sniffling into his chest, too ashamed to say the rest.

He lightly tapped my back, "Keep going, you're doing so good," he breathed into my hair.

"He said, um- or he asked if I was there for... a quick, um fuck," I said, my voice getting quieter at the curse words, "and then he grabbed me.. on the bum," I said, feeling a bit silly at my choice of words, but Josh didn't seem to notice.

"Fuck, Layla. I should've been there, I'm so sorry."

I looked up at him, my head emerging from its dark space in the softness of the bed, "What? You didn't even know I was there, please don't blame yourself, this is my fault," I said, astonished that he'd blame himself for this.

He looked down at me sympathetically, the way you'd look at a shelter dog that hadn't been adopted yet, and I felt like crying all over again at the gentleness of his eyes.

"This was not your fault, Layla. Please, please, know that. He's a fucking prick."

"Okay." I murmured, unable to argue anymore.

"I mean," he continued, "How could it be your fault? You came by to bring me soup, which is adorable, so thank you by the way," I blushed at his words, "And you were harassed on our doorstep, I mean, what-" he cut himself off, taking a deep breath to calm himself, centering his emotions, and I felt a flat palm press against my back, "I'm glad you're safe, now."

I nodded, "Who is he?" I asked. Josh went quiet for a moment, his fingers halting their movement on the skin of my back.

"He's the guy that Jake got in a fight with, Oliver." His fingers resumed their caress on my back.

"Oh," was all I managed to get out. "Those guys at the concert on Friday were kinda the same, except more aggressive. It just feels like everyone's out to get me." I let out a dry, humourless laugh.

"You've had it tough these last few days, hm?" He asked. "That's okay though, more happiness to make up for." I nuzzled my head into his chest further.

So grateful.

"What happened with your mom?" He asked me.

I took a deep breath, "It's a long story."

"I've got all day," He replied.

So I told him, leaving out the details of my mum's questionable alcoholic tendencies, and getting straight to the point of her sudden outburst of anger. I told him about the words she said to me, and the bottle I had taken to school, and felt more tears slip from my eyes.

"And, I don't know, maybe she's right, I've only known you guys for a couple of weeks and you've already done so much for me, I just feel so bad," I continued. "I think that, maybe... maybe I am selfish and-"

"My god Layla, are you serious?" He asked, pulling me impossibly closer, shoving my head into his chest.

I could hear the beating of his heart. "Fucking hell," he whispered. "What can I do?" He asked.

"Hm?" I questioned, my voice muffled into his chest.

"What can I do to make you see yourself the way I do... You're so smart and intelligent and just, amazing. The kindest person I've ever met. It kills me to hear how you think about yourself," he admitted, and I right about melted then and there. I shrugged in his arms and he sighed.

"Well I am telling you now, no matter when or what is going on, I'm never bored of you, you never burden me, and you are not selfish. You have a beautiful heart, Layla." He brought his hand from my back to place against my chest, resting over my heart which beat for the words he spoke.

Wetness trickled out of my eyes at his words and I sniffled, smiling weakly at him.

"So next time this thing says otherwise," he tapped the crown of my head, "You tell it to shut up and remember what I just said."

"Okay," I said weakly.

"Okay," he repeated.

We lay there like that for a while, minutes, hours maybe, unmoving apart from his caress on my head and back, and breathing in each other's presence.

"Are you awake?" Josh's words broke the long silence. I was in a varying state of consciousness, falling into a light nap every few minutes or so, and waking up again at the heavenly feeling of back being tickled. I peeked my head out of its makeshift cocoon. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at me, one of his hands stroking my hair.

"Mhm."

"Do you need anything? You said you'd, uh, started your period," he asked shyly.

I shook my head, unable to speak from the exhaustion taking over me.

"Ronnie gets really bad cramps when she's on hers, and um, I don't know, do you need anything like heat or chocolates or something?" He asked and I smiled into his chest at his thoughtfulness.

"I'm only a little sore, but I don't need anything, thank you," I muttered. We were both quiet for a moment, until my stomach gurgled embarrassingly loud. We let out a collective chuckle.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asked me, and I realised that in the commotion of the day, I hadn't eaten anything.

"I don't know," I said, feeling embarrassed for not taking better care of myself.

"Did you have breakfast?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Have you eaten at all today?" I shook my head again and heard him sigh.

And it was that sigh that made me feel it again. The insecurity that he was coming to the conclusion that I was a bit more messed up than he thought. That I was a burden. That maybe I wasn't worth all the trouble after all.

But Josh was quick to silence my unspoken fears. "That's okay, you've had a shitty day. Do you wanna come out and get something, or do you want me to go get you something?"

"I don't want to move, but I don't want you to leave me either."

He was quiet, thinking before he spoke again. "Okay, I'll get Jake to throw something up," He said, pulling his phone from his back pocket and typing away at it behind my head.

I sat up, "Like throw it up to my window? I don't know Josh... if my mum sees..." I said nervously.

"It'll be fine. Trust me," he said, and in my emotional tiredness, the part of me that usually cared was absent.

"Okay."

Josh left me in the bed which now felt far too large for only one person and managed to catch packets of chips, chocolates and containers of unknown foods from the window, which he threw onto my bed.

After shutting the window and effectively keeping the cold outside, he came back to bed and plopped himself back into his spot with a bounce.

"Alrighty what do we have here," he said, rubbing his palms together, before unloading all the containers before us.

We spent the next couple of hours eating, talking and laughing. We listened to endless records and Josh even gave me a small performance for some of the songs. He never failed to make me laugh, and it wasn't long before I'd basically forgotten about the previous events of the day.

We lay on my bedroom floor, staring up at the ceiling when Josh started acting nervous.

"Are you alright?" I asked, tilting my head towards him as he shuffled uncomfortably. He peeked at me in the corner of his eye before looking back at the ceiling quickly.

"Yeah..." He answred, but it was obvious there was something he was holding back. I rolled onto my side, propping my arm beneath my head as a pillow.

"What is it?" I asked.

He sighed,. "It's okay if you say no... just don't feel pressured or anything, I just thought it might be nice," he rolled to his side too, and suddenly our faces were mere inches from each other.

"Okay..." I said nervously.

He fished in his pocket, slowly pulling out a rolled joint and holding it between us. "Only if you want to," he added shyly.

"I've never done that before," I whispered and he smiled a little.

"That's okay, we don't have to if you don't want to... but we can if you do." I furrowed my eyebrows, rolling over onto my back again and staring at the ceiling, contemplating. If Mum was going to come in she would have already, so there was little chance I'd get caught, so why the hell not?

"Okay." I said.

"Okay?" He repeated. I nodded at him and smiled.

"But you'll have to teach me how to do it, I've never smoked anything before," I said shyly.

"Not even a cigarette?" he asked, looking surprised.

"Especially not a cigarette. My friends have smoked... weed around me before but I don't know, I just never joined in I guess," I explained as he nodded, sitting up and searching through his other pockets for something.

"Fuck, I didn't bring my lighter," he mumbled, patting the pockets of his jacket.

"That's okay, I have some matches for my candles," I chirped, bounding up and grabbing the matchbox to bring over to him. He laughed softly and wandered over to the window, cracking it open and taking a seat at an armchair I had sat there.

I followed behind him, and crawled up onto the ledge of the windowsill, looking down at Josh as he lit one of the matches. Carrying the warm glow to the joint, I watched as it came alight, and he quickly brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply, his eyelids fluttered shut, before he removed it from his lips.

He sat with his eyes closed and lungs full for a moment and then blew, a line of smoke directly out of my window. He looked over at me, blinking with hooded eyes already and I laughed at his appearance.

"Wanna try?" He asked, offering the joint to me.

"Okay." I took it between my fingers and sat dumbly, uselessly staring at it as if it would light itself.

"Okay, once it's lit you're gonna have to take a hit pretty fast cause this stuff is pure, and marijuana doesn't burn very long so it'll go out quickly," he said, taking another match from the matchbox. "Do you know how to inhale?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Isn't it just like breathing?"

"Ehh I guess so. Just give it a go first and we can see," He rasped out, "Ready?" I nodded and he lit the match, transferring the flame to the blunt, the embers glowing through the grass inside.

I quickly brought the stick to my lips and sucked. It was a weird sensation, as if I was breathing in but no air was going into my lungs, then like the fire had shot through the joint into my mouth, my throat burned painfully. I took the joint away from my mouth and only lasted a few seconds before I was coughing up a lung.

Josh took the joint from my fingers, laughing lightly as I doubled over, smoke bursting from my lips.

"Ahhh," I groaned, rubbing a tight palm to my chest. Josh was already taking another hit when I looked back up at him, and he took it with ease.

We passed it back and forth a few more times, my tolerance for the smoke building and finally, I could take it without coughing.

After a while, the silliness kicked in, and Josh was sucking from the spliff with his hands in the air, eyes rolled backward, and his shoulders doing some kind of dance, and I was laughing at him.

He passed it back over to me, and I noted the heaviness in my arms, "Ughhh so heavy," I complained, lifting my hand up lazily to take it, but instead, Josh moved past my arm and lifted the joint to my lips, letting me suck while he held it in place at my lips. "Aha ha," I said after he pulled away and I blew the smoke out the window. Josh looked up at me, head leant back with bloodshot eyes and a lazy smile on his face.

For some reason, I lifted my foot up from the ground and hovered it close to his face, trying to get a rise out of him. I don't know why I did that.

To my surprise, he grabbed my foot harshly and brought it to his face, his mouth open like he was going to bite me and I squealed, ripping my foot from his grasp. We broke out into giggles, and I was soon laughing at the fact that he was laughing, and then I was laughing at absolutely nothing at all.

Laughter. That's all I could hear. That's all I could do. "Do you, do you ever think that any one of us could be Jesus and nobody knows it? Like Jesus reincarnated." Josh flopped his head towards me, eyes wide like he'd made a huge discovery. "Oh my god Layla, are you Jesus?" My abs burned at the laughter he was sustaining from me.

"Oh my god Josh look! It's snowing!" I exclaimed, and Josh sat up in his chair.

His arms shot up above his head, hands in fists as he saw the specks of falling snow outside my window, "Woo hoo! Let's go baby! Layla I haveee to take you sledding," he begged, spinning around my room aimlessly.

"Josh be quiet!" I shushed him, giggling at the laziness of my motor functions as a curvy finger came to my lips to shush him.

His hands flew to his mouth. "Oops sorry," A mix between genuine apology and humour gracing his features.

A knock at my bedroom door silenced us both. My head snapped towards him, whose eyes were wide as he looked at me, "Shit, shit, shit, Josh you've gotta hide," I whispered, running to him and grabbing his wrist. I looked around my room frantically, throwing open my wardrobe but realising he wouldn't fit between the shelves.

"Layla!" Dads voice came from behind the door.

"Ahhh oh my god," I whispered, trying to hold in my laugh at the sight of Josh, who stood high and clueless in the middle of my room, waiting for me to put him somewhere. He resembled something of a lost child.

I pushed him onto my bed and quickly threw the duvet over him, making sure the lump of his body blended in with the rest of the blankets, "Be so quiet," I whispered, before I sauntered over to my door, unlocking it to see my Dad standing in the doorway.

"Hey sweets," he smiled at me warmly, stepping into the room.

"Hi Dad, how was job hunting?" I asked, cringing as he wandered close to my bed.

"Yeah good, I think I made some real progress today. There's an event coordinator position open for a record label of all things in Saginaw and they want me in for an interview on Tuesday," he said, sighing as he took a seat on my bed.

I screamed internally, praying to Jesus that Josh would keep his mouth shut. I wasn't sure if he had sat on him, Josh might have been dying of suffocation for all I knew.

"Sounds promising!" I said, trying my hardest to make my high look not-so-high.

"Yeah. How was your day? Did you go see that Josh boy? Is he feeling better?" He asked, and as much as I loved him, I would have done anything for him to get out as I was this close to never being able to see 'that Josh boy' again.

"Yep, he's feeling much better today," I said shortly.

"That's good, he's a good boy." There was a pause between us, "Have you seen your mother today?"

I sucked in a breath, "Uhh, yeah I have. Is she not home anymore?" I asked, feeling a sudden urge to laugh. I didn't know why.

He frowned, "No, she wasn't here when I got in." For a moment, hurt flashed across his face, but was quickly masked with a gentle smile for me.

"Alright, well I'll leave you to it then," he said, patting the bed with his hand and standing up. As my Dad rose, I heard the deep inhale from Josh under the covers and I tensed. Dad looked back carelessly at the noise, likely thinking it was the sound of the bed, before planting a kiss on my cheek and leaving me alone. I ran to lock the door and Josh burst out from the covers as I did, his face red and eyes wide.

"Holy shit your Dad weighs a ton. He sat right on me Layla!" He exclaimed dramatically. I let out a burst of laughter at the idea of him trying his best to be quiet. "This is not funny Layla, I nearly died! He sat on my neck!" Snorting, he wandered over to my window and picked up the nearly finished joint. "Ready, watch this," he said as he lit it and inhaled. Then, like a pro, he puffed out rings of smoke into the air, which dissipated into my face.

I laughed, "That was so cool."

He offered the blunt to me, "Here, I'm higher than you so you can finish it off." We sat in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, as I relit the joint a few times for each puff.

Josh and I both noticed that there was actually a fair lot left in the joint, and it was safe to say I was pretty stoned by the time Josh disposed of it out the window.

I loved it. I was floating. So, so happy, and for once I didn't care if I was burdening anyone. "I feel so good," I spoke, lolling my head onto Josh. We had somehow gotten back to my bed, and we sprawled across the sheets in a drug induced haze.

"Aha ha, you look so funny right now," Josh said, taking his phone out and snapping a photo of me, but his weighted hands dropped the phone on my face, and we both burst out laughing, rolling around back and forth in the bed.

"My noseee," I groaned, flopping my head onto his chest.

"Sorry," he said earnestly.

"I can hear your heart beating," I admitted.

"What about now?" He asked, holding his breath, I giggled as his heart beat began to slow down.

His breathy chuckles vibrated through his chest and bounced to me. I breathed in the familiar scent of home, "You always smell so good," I admitted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You smell like my house in Australia. I noticed it when I first met you." My eyes began to feel heavy. He hummed in response, the weight of his arms pressing me further into the mattress.

"Laylaaaa," I was being tossed around, back and forth by a pair of strong hands. I groaned into the softness of my bed. "Get up c'mon," a voice whispered next to my ear.

I rolled over onto my back, and sucked in a breath when all I could see was Josh's face, no longer droopy from the weed, but right above my face.

"What do you want?" I complained, covering my eyes with my arm. I noticed that the room had gone dark, so we must've slept until night. Most of the time I napped for too long, Dad didn't wake me up for dinner, so I was completely oblivious to the time.

"Everyones going sledding, c'mon we've got to go, it'll be fun," he urged, tugging at my arm. I whined, but he dragged my arm from my face and somehow managed to pull my whole body up into a sitting position.

My body still felt significantly heavier than normal, and my brain was moving at such a slow pace that I couldn't register things until I had already responded to them, which didn't really make sense.

"Ugh okay fine," I rubbed my sleepy eyes and dragged my legs over the edge of the bed while Josh bounced back over to the window and yelled out of it.

"Okay, we'll be down in a sec!" He shouted, and I was too high to care if he was being too loud. I checked the time on my phone, which had been abandoned on my bedside table for the whole day, and saw it was 11pm.

"Mum usually gets home now, I don't wanna risk her catching us sneaking out," I told him, as he selected coats and jackets from my wardrobe for me to put on.

"Guess we'll have to go out the way I came in then, huh?" He giggled, as I raised my eyebrows. "Here, put this on, I don't want you to catch a cold," he said, placing a bundle of clothes on my lap, before he narrowed his eyes at me, examining my face.

He dropped down onto his knees in front of me and placed a flat hand on my knee, "My god, Layla, are you still high?" He asked, astonished, inspecting my face intensely. I shrugged in response. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you smoke so much... I forgot you don't have a tolerance for it," he looked down and pursed his lips.

"That's okay," I smiled lazily, "I'm having fun." He giggled at my words, or my face, I don't know but he was laughing, and then I was laughing too.

It wasn't long before I was shimmying down the plant scaffolding outside my house, with an audience might I add, and laughing my head off like an idiot.

"Focus Layla. Stop laughing for God's sake or you'll fall off," Josh whispered, and I threw my head back, holding on tightly to the wooden pillars.

Finally, my feet landed on the ground and I stumbled forward a bit at the change in altitude, looking up at Sam, Jake and Danny, who were wrapped up in snow gear, each holding a sled.

"Hey guys," I waved, a toothy smile on my face. They all mumbled their hi's back and I loitered over to them, swaying from my lack of balance and holding in another giggle.

"What's wrong with her?" One of them asked Josh as he landed on the snowy floor.

"Hey!" I called accusingly, but they all seemed to ignore me.

Josh walked over to the group, scratching the back of his head, "She's uh, a bit high." I didn't stop to see their reactions because I didn't care.

"Come onnn! Josh woke me up for this, lets go!" I bounded, waving my hands around the air in excitement. I bounced off, skipping through the snow and was halted as someone grabbed the scruff of my coat, turning me around to the complete opposite direction, and gave me a gentle push forward.

"This way, Layla," Josh said.

"Oh whoops," I replied, smiling widely as the others laughed. I resumed my walk through the snow.

"Where's Ronnie?" I asked, once we'd all started walking as a group. It was too dark for me to tell where we were, but I was having enough fun as it was to even care.

Sam scoffed, "Good luck getting her out of bed at this hour." Danny laughed and I turned around at the sound of his voice. I stumbled over to him, which was quite hard considering we were all walking at a steady pace, but I managed, and I threw my arm over his excessively large and tall shoulders.

"Hey Danny, we don't talk much," I stated matter-of-factly.

He laughed, "Yeah I guess we don't, how've you been?" He asked politely.

"Ahh you know," I threw an arm up into the empty air ahead of us, "Just standing naked in the wind and melting into the sun," I said, gesturing to the stars. It didn't really make any sense, so I started to laugh.

"How much did you give her, Josh?" Danny asked, wrapping an arm around me as I stumbled over a curb when we crossed a road. I zoned out after that, letting Danny be responsible for my balance as I daydreamed into the distance.

After what felt like the longest and shortest walk of my life, we were in a hilly area, which I assumed used to be grassy, but was now coated in blankets of untouched snow. Josh helped me climb up the hill, and situated me on a sled, and I sat patiently as they all got positioned on their own.

Jake counted down from three and we all thrust our sleds out onto the hill. Wind whipped at my face and pieces of falling snow whizzed past me as I flew down the hill.

Whoops and cheers bellowed from the boys, and I yelped as my board bumped into Sam's, both of us losing our balance and toppling out the sides.

Laughter shook my body as I lay, my back buried into the snow, and my arms splayed out besides me. I stared up at the snow which was falling down onto me.

The stars weren't visible from under the thick clouds, but the snow imitated them, the white specks floating through the atmosphere. Four heads popped into my vision, as the boys all stared down at me.

"You okay?" One of them asked, I didn't know which one, and I didn't care.

I pointed up at the sky, "Look, the snow looks like stars." They all pointed their heads up to the sky, muttering a few things under their breaths before walking away. Leaving me alone, like everyone always does.

"Hey," someone stroked my arm, and I turned my head to see Josh, who was on the floor next to me.

"Hey, when did you get there?" I asked, smiling widely at him.

He smiled at me back, before turning to look at the sky, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p'. "I don't know if I've ever felt this alright in my life."

Josh scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and kissed the side of my head.

"We should probably go back to the rest of the group," I spoke quietly, my eyes still trained upward, mesmerised by the sky.

"Let's just stay like this for a little bit longer."

Tag List ~ @wrldabomination @peaceoftheland @asacredthebread @jessiebronze2 @godly-sinsx

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