#as losing him in the air when they were flying together would have been

[lexirosewrites]

Kinda sorta sleeping beauty AU EPILOGUE

Later, Steve would push the doors of the keep open as if they'd never been locked. Then he began to explain to the gathering townsfolk the whole of the story. He explained tht his father had met a woman who lived within the lake, they fell in love & they both wished for her to join him on the land as his wife. Together they made a bargain with something ancient below the water, they were told tht while the wish for legs & land & air would b granted his father would have to lose something precious to the water every full moon.

For 3 years the lord would feed the lake jewels, books, rare wines, anything he could reasonably deem precious. Till his mother became pregnant w him, and he was born upon a full moon in midsummer. Then his mother faded away till she died peacefully by the following full moon.

She left behind her husband, her infant son, and a shining silver dagger she'd brought w her from the lake as a dowry. Her funeral involved her being set off floating across the water in the boat he'd use when she was still living in the water.

Steve went on to explain he'd begun hearing the lake call to him in his sleep upon his 10th year & the next full moon as his father walked on his way to feed the lake a bolt of silk he'd found Steve walking in a trance nearly out the doors of the keep. From tht night onwards he'd spend every full moon guarded within his room. He was never locked in, but the guards were instructed to keep him from wandering out of the keep. Robin had been his handmaid, & when the month tht his father was ill resulted in no one guarding his door she’d followed him all the way to the lake.

Robin then interjected tht when they'd got to the lake she'd tried to stop him from getting in the water by running ahead into it herself. Only to b grabbed & nearly pulled under till Steve sang for her deep within his trance. He sang for her to fly away from the water & follow her heart wherever it may lead.

"You were always my platonic soulmate, of course I stayed." Robin wiped away her own tears before the two hugged where they sat beside the large fireplace of the keeps main hall roaring with warmth.

Steve continued the story, he only ever saw Robin as a bird unless it was the days leading to a full moon. Then they'd meet as secretly as they could & plan for Steve to run away from the lake. But then his 19th birthday was on a full moon & the party went late into the night. So late in fact tht by the time everyone had gone abed no one had noticed the young omega walk through town to the water.

His father barely managed to reach the dock in time to watch Steve float away on the row boat tht had taken his mother's body away. As his father cried & begged the lake to spare his only son, the product of his parents impossible love, the lake answered.

His son would sleep in a peaceful dream, protection would grow around him as he slept, & tht one day a knight not trained in fighting would overcome trials set by the lake. So his father left tht night, wrote a message upon the parchment, & tacked it to the door w the silver dagger his wife left behind telling him before her death tht it'd b instrumental in bringing their son home.

So Steve dreamed, the island grew up from the lake overnight, & for over 100 years Steve dreamed abt an alpha w dark curls & a King's Favor & a scent like the spice of burning cedar logs. He dreamed till suddenly he awoke from the scent being stronger than ever before, & he awoke warm within Eddie's arms.

Much later, two years in fact, Eddie had used his wish to make Nancy Wheeler the new lord of Loch Nora & he'd then traveled wherever he could w his beautiful mate. Showing Steve the world after 100 years had been joyous.

Now though, their wandering of the world was coming to an end. Steve had enjoyed singing w his mate in front of many audiences, but they were now settling in a sizable home in the village of Forest Hills where Wayne was their nearest neighbor, far far away from the lake.

Eddie would write a song tht would survive the test of centuries, a lullaby tht he sang every night to every one of their children ever since his Steve, his dream, told him for the first time they were to have a pup.

[That's all folks! I didn't feel like making an entire post abt this whole thing because my Bewitched By Yuletide Part 2 drabble will b posted today]

all wrapped up tidy with a bow on top 🎀

***links to come later because tumblr is acting up and won’t let me add hyperlinks right now***

(link to part one, part two, part three)

[catsaysmlem]

[willowsnook]

Done Waiting

Lando Norris x bsf!reader

She isn’t you

Hi, could I request a salami sandwich with tomato on wheat bread, please, and thank you. Request from @itsnotsophiasworld

—-------------------------------

MF: SOS, can anyone fly to Spain to check on Lando? From what I’ve gathered, he is staying in an Airbnb by himself and very much in his head. I’m caught up in some work stuff, or else I’d make the trip myself. 

Your heart sank reading Max's text to your friend group. Lando had been having a rough season and was constantly getting ripped apart in the media, no matter what he did. All you could do was make sure that he knew you were there for him and try to be around as much as possible, which was easy as you also lived in Monaco. But after the last race before summer break, none of you had heard from him. 

Looking at flights, you quickly replied to the group saying that you could go. One of the many perks of working remotely was that you could pick up your computer and go anywhere, so leaving to help Lando was a no-brainer. There was a flight leaving tonight, so you purchased that and started to pack. 

You wished the world could see him the way that you did. He was a caring, down-to-earth friend who would do anything for the people he loved. It was hard for anyone who knew him not to like him, and it was hard for you not to be in love with him. 

It hadn’t taken you long after meeting him to fall for his charm, but he had been dating someone else then, so you settled for friendship. That was three years ago, and you’d dated guys since, but the feelings still lingered. He could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, so it was easy to get sucked in. 

Ultimately, you valued your friendship too much to ever act on it, even when you were both single. You’d been through too much together to risk losing him. You had a hunch that he felt the same way about you because of how overly affectionate he was with you compared to everyone else and that you were usually his first call. Still, his life was busy, and you understood that a girlfriend didn’t fit in that picture right now. 

Landing in Spain around 10, you grabbed your luggage before jumping in a cab to the address Max had sent you. The Airbnb was a cute little beach cottage right on the ocean, and you inhaled a deep breath of salty air and instantly felt better. 

The door to the house swung open, and you were greeted by what seemed to be a very irritated Lando. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Making sure you don’t do something crazy,” you replied, mirroring him with his arms. 

“I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care.” 

You stared at each other for a while, neither one giving in before he finally sighed and moved past you to grab your suitcase, grumbling to himself. The cottage had windows on the backside, allowing a constant view of the ocean, which you could appreciate. Lando put my luggage in the guest room before joining me as you looked at the water. 

“You didn’t have to come; I’m fine,” he muttered. You looked over at him with a sad smile, reaching your hand down to grab his. 

“I wanted to come.” He gave you a small smile, and you took in his exhausted state, noting just how bad it really was. 

“Why don’t we get some rest? Then you’ll be ready for a full day tomorrow,” you suggested, and he looked over at you. 

“I’m here to relax, y/n,” he said, and you smiled mischievously. 

“It will be relaxing, I promise.”

It was not relaxing. 

You dragged Lando out of bed at 7 a.m. to go on a run, and he was not happy with you, but you were just happy he came along. Jogging through the little town, you could tell that his mood was improving as he kept pace with you. 

Out of breath, you were hunched over as you two had climbed to the top of a dune. 

“Are you not relaxed?” Lando teased, and you gave him the finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Yeah, I need to log on when we get back to the place,” you wheezed, and he handed you his water bottle. “What are your plans for while I work?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, scroll through social media hate, maybe watch all my old races and critique everything I did; the possibilities are endless.” 

Shooting him a look, you sighed, “That would be funny if I didn’t know you’d already been doing that.” 

He looked down at his feet, and you moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. His head found your shoulder, he breathed deeply, and you held on tighter. 

“You’re going to be okay Lan,” you said, looking up at him. 

“I know,” he said sadly. 

Lando spent the rest of the day in the water while you worked, slipping away to get groceries for the night. He hadn’t had time to hide all the takeout bags and boxes he had been surviving on, so you figured a homecooked meal would do him well. 

Having dealt with him being a picky eater for a while, you were finishing up your favorite spaghetti and meatballs recipe when he came back into the house. 

“Smells great,” he commented and you smiled. “Can we eat outside?”

“You read my mind,” you replied, plating the food. 

Eating on the back deck, you felt a sense of serenity as the sound of waves crashing filled your ears. 

“This place is amazing; how did you find it?” You asked, turning to Lando. 

“Honestly, I just opened the app and picked the first place I saw that looked secluded,” he admitted. “I just wanted to be away from everyone.” 

“We are here for you to lean on Lan,” you said softly. “I’m never going to leave you.” 

“I know that, but I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he confessed, and your heart sank. 

“Lando Norris,” you said, forcing him to look at you. “There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint me. I am so insanely proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Please come back to Monaco with me tomorrow.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered, holding out his arms. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair. 

“You buy me so much shit so I have to be nice to you,” you joked and he giggled. He pulled his head back to look at you, and your breath hitched because of the lack of distance between the two of you. Shifting, you tried to move back but his grip on you tightened so you leaned down to bring your lips to his. As you were a millimeter away his phone started to ring and you rested your head briefly against his, groaning internally. 

Sliding off of him you handed him his phone as it was Max calling. Hearing him tell Max he was coming home the next day made you smile, and you gathered all the dishes to clean up. He joined you a little later, and neither of you brought up the almost kiss; you wrote it off as something that happened in the heat of the moment. 

—------------------------------

Zandvoort was a dream, and you were so glad you made the trip with your friends. The next race you were going to was Singapore and Lando had invited you, Max, and some others to hang out the week before in Portugal. 

Your friend group had rented a big house, and you were ready to soak in the sun and relax after taking the week off work. Pietra and you had flown in together and met up with everyone that night at dinner. 

“Hi, I’m Mary,” a girl you didn’t recognize said to you, holding out her hand. You smiled back warmly, introducing yourself. 

“Mary and I met at a shoot early this year,” Pietra explained, and you nodded. You chatted with her for a while over dinner, glad to have another girl on the trip. 

You were less happy the next day when you watched this girl throw herself at Lando every chance she got. Right now, you were watching as she asked Lando how to show her how to hit the ball off the tee at the golf course where you guys were. 

“Ya know I went golfing with her two weeks ago, and she had a perfect swing,” Pietra muttered and you grimaced, watching Lando wrap his arms around the girl to guide her swing. It seemed like she would find a way to touch him no matter where you went. Up against him at dinner, clinging to him in the pool, leaning on him while you were watching a movie. 

At this point your jealousy was flaring up and you were trying to keep your composure, especially because this girl had been nothing but nice to you. What made it worse was that Lando entertained it, accepting her advances right in front of you. Your mind replayed that almost kiss back in Spain and the way the two of you had gotten closer since that trip. It had seemed to you that something was changing in your relationship, but clearly not. The whole trip you felt like your heart was being ripped apart and you were starting to wonder if you needed to take a break from being around him until you could get over your crush. 

Two nights before you were supposed to leave the group ended up at a club downtown as a pre-celebration for what you predicted would be a Lando win in Singapore. Rounds and rounds of shots were taken and you were dancing with Pietra on the dance floor trying to have a good time. 

You briefly glanced back at the VIP section, and your stomach dropped. Mary was sitting on Lando’s lap, and you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Water instantly filled your eyes, and Pietra looked concerned before following your gaze. She looked at you with such sadness that you decided then and there that you were done. 

Leaving the club you walked back to the Airbnb alone. You weren’t sure if it was your drunkenness or just the emotional exhaustion of the situation but you started to get angry. Time after time, you were there for him and this is what you got back. It would be different if he had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested but he didn’t do that. He slept in your bed back in Monaco on nights like these, he spoiled you constantly with gifts, and you knew that he had told other drivers on the grid to back off from you, laying a claim. 

God, you were so fucking over it. 

You gathered all your stuff and threw it in your suitcase, calling for a cab to take you to the airport. You made it down the stairs just as Max was coming in. His face fell as he saw your bag. 

"No y/n don’t go,” he pleaded, and you shook your head, already feeling tears start to fill your eyes. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore Max,” you said, voice cracking. “I have to protect my heart.” 

“You know he loves you,” he said moving towards you to hold you. “Everyone knows that.” 

“If that’s true, why have I watched him with her this whole weekend? Why did I just watch him sit there when she stuck her tongue down his throat right in front of me,” you yelled and Max stayed silent. “Exactly. I need some space to figure out how things can move forward between us.” 

Max helped you carry your bag outside and the two of you stood silently waiting for the car. Just as it pulled up, Lando walked up to the house, alone. 

“Y/N!” He called out, not seeing your suitcase yet. “Where’d you run off too? I was looking for you.” 

You turned around and his eyes widened seeing your tear stained face, his gaze flickering down to your bag. 

“What’s going on?” He asked hoarsely and you just shook your head turning back to get into the car before you started to sob. 

“Let her go mate,” you heard Max tell him and you looked out the window to see him holding Lando back. The sight made you cry harder as the car finally drove off. 

Lando’s POV

Watching the car disappear down the street, Lando turned to Max, panic and confusion colliding in his mind.

“Why is she leaving, Max? What the hell happened?”

Max let out a sigh, his eyes searching Lando’s face with a mix of frustration and pity. “Mate, she’s in love with you. And honestly, you’re in love with her too, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

Lando froze, the weight of Max’s words hitting him harder than he expected. He thought of all the moments he spent with you—the late-night talks, the shared laughter, the comforting silence. He thought about how he’d let Mary get close, but each time she reached for him, a nagging feeling crept up inside him.

She isn’t you.

The thought was so painfully clear now. It didn’t matter how kind or fun Mary was—she wasn’t you. And suddenly, he realized why none of it felt right.

“I need to go,” Lando said suddenly. “I need to go to the airport.” 

He took off down to the main street hailing a cab but when he finally got there, you were gone. 

—--------------------------------------------

You skipped the Singapore GP. You didn’t even watch it on tv so you didn’t know why everyone was wondering why despite winning, Lando looked miserable standing on the podium. 

He had texted you a million times begging you to call him but you declined the call everytime. You were trying to move on. You’d started running again in the mornings, working out of coffee shops,  and hanging out with your girlfriends. Basically you were doing everything in your power to not think of him; and it worked until 10pm each night. Then you were miserable. 

It was two weeks after Singapore when you heard knocking at your door one evening. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were especially surprised to see Oscar standing on the other side of your door. Considering he didn’t live in Monaco, you didn’t really know what to say, just stared at him silently. 

“May I come in?” He asked politely and you nodded, stepping aside to let him through. “Nice apartment.”

“Thanks,” you replied following him into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

He settled down on your couch, motioning for you to join him and you sunk down on the other side. 

“I need you to tell me what happened when you and Lando were in Portugal,” he said slowly and you immediately looked away. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, playing with your hands. 

“It does matter,” Oscar insisted. “It’s okay if you finally rejected him but I need to know how to fix him.”

Your head snapped up, “I didn’t reject him Oscar. He basically rejected me.” 

“There’s no way,” Oscar said, shocked and you told him everything that had happened from you flying to Spain for him to him making out with that girl at the club. 

“Trust me when I say that I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, but I feel like this is a big misunderstanding,” Oscar said and you rolled your eyes. “He is so in love with you y/n. All he does is talk about you.”

“Then why did he never tell me!” You said, voice rising. “I’ve been there the whole time Oscar, and he has never said anything. I want to be with someone who isn’t afraid to love me.” 

Oscar’s heart broke at your words, knowing you were feeling this way. 

“I came here y/n, because he is a mess without you,” he said. “I’ve never seen him like this and it’s starting to affect his racing so I’m begging you to at least think about talking to him.” 

—-------------------------------------

You would have thought that Lando would stop texting after a while but he didn’t. Every morning he texted you “good morning” and gave you updates on his day even though you weren’t responding. His plan seemed to be to slowly chip away at you until you were ready to come back and unfortunately it was working. 

Brazil was the next race that your friend group was attending and you went back and forth on what you should do before finally deciding to book a flight. Max must have told Lando because you immediately were notified that your flight had been upgraded and your hotel had been booked. 

Because of a work event, you weren’t going to be able to get there until Saturday night and probably wouldn’t see Lando until qualifying or after the race. You joined Max and Pietra on the track, bright and early on Sunday morning and you were wondering how Lando would survive with it being this early in the morning. 

Oscar gave you a big hug when he saw you and you could tell he was incredibly relieved that you were there. Qualifying was 20 minutes away and you heading towards the Paddock club when you turned a corner and were immediately wrapped up in two arms. Inhaling his familiar scent, you relaxed into his touch. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he said into your ear and you hummed in reply. You were still unsure about pretending like nothing ever happened. He pulled back to look at you and his excitement was contagious, pulling a small smile out of you. 

“We’ll talk later okay?” He asked and you nodded. “I have a lot of things I need to say to you.”

He kissed your forehead before running off and you tried to keep your cool. Qualifying was good for him and you were feeling good about the race but a little nervous about the weather conditions. 

Sitting with Max and Pietra in the paddock club the mood was very much anxious. Lando had been doing great until a red flag reset everything. He had fallen down because of pitting and you watched as he went off the track on that first turn, your heart sinking. The rest of the race was a blur and he finished in P6 which you knew would not go over well with him. 

After the race, you felt hesitant heading back to the McLaren hospitality area. You weren’t sure if he’d want to see you, especially in his disappointment. But as you lingered by the entrance, you caught sight of him. Lando was drenched, exhausted, and his usual radiant energy seemed dimmed. Still, he locked eyes with you, a faint smile managing to pull at the corner of his lips.

He walked over slowly, stopping right in front of you. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did, Lando,” you replied softly, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in. “I always do.”

He nodded, then glanced around at the crowded area. “Can we go somewhere… quieter?”

You followed him through the paddock until you found yourselves outside in a secluded spot overlooking the track. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Lando took a deep breath.

“I was an idiot,” he began, voice raw with honesty. “You don’t know how many times I replayed that trip to Portugal, thinking about what I could’ve done differently. I didn’t understand how much it would hurt you… I was blind to everything but my own mess.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, unable to hold back.

“You’ve been the best part of my life for years, and it took almost losing you to realize how much I’d taken you for granted. I’m sorry, y/n. I thought I was protecting you by not… admitting how I feel. I thought if I never said it out loud, maybe it’d hurt less. But I can’t pretend anymore. I love you.”

Hearing those words, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack, the anger and disappointment from before softening as you looked into his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered and he gave you a soft smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.” 

When he kissed you, it was tender and full of all the unspoken words and missed opportunities between you. As you pulled away, you both smiled, feeling the weight of the past couple of weeks finally lift.

[hxnbi]

⸻ ꗃ a whole new side

₊˚Ꮺ synopsis: you, for the first time, see a whole new side of him he never wanted to you see… ₊˚Ꮺ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo x gn. reader (separate)

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

SAKURA had been through a lot in his life. Anyone with eyes could tell from the moment when one truly got to know him. But for better or for worse, he kept his ugly truth under wraps. All Sakura knew was to use the same, bruised, calloused, bloody, ugly fists he was born with. Any problem that he came across would be met with brute force. So to have someone like you in his life who was so far removed from that was a bewildering contrast. 

He did what he could. Sakura kept what he did—what he was—far, far away from you, to the point where you had no inkling of what his true nature was. The thought of losing you, of having you torn away by the cruel hands of fate that he had no control over, was something he couldn't bear. And that terrified him. Thus, he kept his lips sealed and told you nothing.

Sakura would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant never showing you the truth of who he really was. He was willing to risk everything, even if that cost him his happiness. But all that would eventually play out, just as he feared.

Perhaps it was fate playing games on him to reveal his true nature at the worst possible moment when you least expected it. But until then, Sakura would remain ignorant. 

And that ignorance would come back to haunt him.

That day, you were in the café with Kotoha, waiting for Sakura to arrive so that you two could go on a date together. But the minutes would tick by, and you checked your phone for the time to see how much time had passed. It certainly did feel longer in your head. Sakura was never late to a meeting like this. It was uncharacteristic of him. 

Kotoha, who was cleaning a glass, glanced at you and then at the clock. "He's late. Should you call him?"

You shook your head. "No, it's fine. I'll go find him. I’m sure he’s probably on his way here anyway."

Kotoha's face would turn into a grimace as you left. You really still had no idea, didn't you…

Leaving the warmth of the cafe, you walked all the way down the street, letting the evening air cool against your skin and the back of your neck. But as you approached the corner, a shortcut that you and Sakura would typically take, you heard raised voices, one of them unmistakably being Sakura's.

"That's him," you muttered, following the sound and quickening your pace.

Turning into the alleyway, the scene before you made your heart stop.

Right in the thick of it was Sakura, in the middle of a fight, fists flying while being surrounded by a group of unfamiliar men you had never seen. They were all wearing a particular type of uniform, perhaps a gang or some sort. And nearby, a kid with orange hair and the same school uniform as Sakura watched in horror.

'What even was this? Did Sakura do this? Your sweet boyfriend?'

"W-What… I- Haru?" Your voice quivered as you stepped closer when your instincts told you to step back. But you didn’t listen, and nor did Sakura.

He didn't seem to hear you at all, lost in his rage.

"Stop it, Haru!" you yelled, running towards them.

Again, came no answer. All the heterochromic male saw was red, and not just from the blood staining his hands. Sakura landed another punch, and then another, sending one of the gang members sprawling to the ground, groaning in pain. Just as you reached him, one of the beaten-up guys coughed, a harsh, grating sound that cut through the air in an instant. You froze.

"You didn't tell them, did you?" the man scoffed, wiping blood from his mouth. "Didn't tell them you're affiliated with a gang. And Furin, of all gangs. Hah..."

Sakura froze, his fist still clenched and poised to strike.

Your eyes went wide. Was it true? Was that half-beaten piece of garbage right? 

Tense and wary, Sakura turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours. Everything that Sakura had persisted in upholding, even if that meant hiding it away from the one person he truly loved, was heavy, physically pressing down on you.

You stared at him, shock and betrayal written across your face. "Is it true, Haru?" Your voice trembled. "Are you really part of a gang?"

Some of the men, taking advantage of this chance, scattered, groaning and clutching their wounds as they stumbled away. Sakura stood there, panting, his knuckles bloodied. He instantaneously dropped his hand, stepping back as if your words had physically wounded him. "I... I wanted to tell you," he stammered, eyes pleading for you to look into them and understand. "But I didn't know how. I was trying to protect you."

You held your tongue, unable to find even words to properly rebuke him, or even comfort yourself, for that matter. But before you could even say a word, the one Sakura had just been punching, on the ground, laughed bitterly, spitting blood. "Protect? From what? The truth?"

Sakura's eyes flickered with anger, but he didn't respond, nor did he appear to deny what the beat-up guy was saying. Though you all but understood the implications of what he meant. 

With his heart on his sleeve and his face covered in scratches, bruises, and cuts, Sakura took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, but you immediately backed away, the gap between you widening with each step.

"...How could you keep this from me?" you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "How could you lie?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered from under his heavy breath, his voice cracking, clenching his teeth, having to relive those memories. "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought if you didn't know, you'd be safe." 

"Safe from what?" you demand, wiping away the tears angrily. "From you?"

He flinched as if struck, his face contorting with pain. You knew you shouldn't have said that, but your mind was so muddled, even beyond that. You were so desperate for the answers that you didn't even know yourself if you wanted to hear. It hurt…

"No, never from me. From them. From this life."

The beaten man laughed again, a cruel sound. "Looks like you did a great job there."

You glare at the man before turning back to Sakura. Your shoulders fell, tears stinging your eyes. "Sakura… you don't have to fight on my behalf. Not… not like this."

He finally looked at you, the fight leaving his body. Sakura's expression softened as he heard your words. You were right. You hated blood. And it was all his fault.

"But that's why I didn't—"

"Want to tell me?" you finished for him, your voice breaking, swallowing the lump in your throat. "There has to be another way… a way that doesn't involve more pain and violence."

Sakura's eyes softened, rage melting away into guilt. For once, he didn't even know what to say. Not even the lump in his throat could be swallowed. His face softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you fell in love with, not the fighter standing before you. But still… you knew from then on that things had changed.

The tense silence was cut short as another pair of footsteps echoed. Kotoha stepped out, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. "Oh, Sakura…" she murmured, disappointment and concern etched into her features.

This was precisely what she was afraid of happening.

She sighed heavily before turning to you. "Come on," she said gently, taking your hand. Her grip was firm but kind, guiding you away. "Let's get out of here."

You followed her in a daze, your mind still reeling back. The weight of just about everything made each step feel heavier than the last.

"Nirei," Kotoha called over her shoulder, "can you look after Sakura?"

The said boy nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation without needing further explanation.

And just like that, you both part ways. Regret stung in your heart. A thought had whispered to you and Sakura that day. That love alone might not be enough to save you two.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

UMEMIYA was a natural-born leader. That was absolute. He treated everyone like family, and you were no exception. In fact, it was the complete opposite. You were the only person for whom he would ever break those morals. But even as he would mutter the sweet promises of affection and commitment to you, he never once mentioned to you that he, your sweet, nonthreatening boyfriend, was the leader of Furin. A gang.

He wanted to keep you far from that. A selfish request on his part. He tried to protect you from his dangerous world. But that didn't mean he could always shield you from it. What tormented him the most was the thought of his family ever getting hurt under his watch, and when it came to you—his sweet, gentle, innocent, significant other—he was horrified by that fear ever coming to fruition.

Time and time again, Umemiya would all but monopolize your time to go on dates with you when he had free time away from the fistfights he and Furin would find themselves in. It was sweet, really. The way Umemiya would treat you like his most prized possession—his most cherished person in the world. But at times, you would see your boyfriend mingling around seemingly unsavoury individuals, but you merely brushed it off your shoulder and went along the rest of your day. After all, you knew Umemiya and trusted him to make his own decisions. What would a relationship be like if there wasn't trust? 

"Huh, Ume? I thought you had a shopping bag with you earlier?"

The white-haired man, who was once standing by your side, froze in his steps. He blinked before breaking into a cartoonish expression of disbelief. "Oh right! I'll get that real quick! Wait for me right here, alright?! Don't move until I get back!"

You smiled. "Alright. I'll be waiting right here."

"Okay!"

As he dashed off to quickly grab something, you were left to browse the colourful stalls, looking forward to a quiet evening all with your boyfriend. Lately, you've noticed Umemiya appeared to be more distant than usual, so today was supposed to “reconnect” you two by having some time together. But as you passed through an alley, a group of men loitering nearby caught your eye. One of them, a tall guy with a smug grin, stepped forward. Your face stilled. He didn't exactly look friendly, his eyes gleaming with a predatory intent.

"Hey there," he called out, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Why don't you come over here and keep us company?"

You tried to ignore him and kept walking, but he shifted to block your path, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Don't be like that," he said, his grin widening. "I can show you a good time."

"Please just let me through," you said firmly, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Oh, feisty. I like that," he sneered, all of a sudden reaching out to grab your arm.

Just then, you heard footsteps approaching rapidly from behind, and standing before you was Umemiya, putting some distance between you and the guy. Umemiya’s presence radiated a sense of authority, but not in the ways that would bring out the best in people, nor was it even similar to past looks that would never make you comfortable. It was much different from how he usually acted in front of you. 

The gang leader scoffed, looking Umemiya up and down with contempt in his eyes. Something told you that this was not going to end well. 

"And who the hell are you?"

"Someone you don't want to mess with," Umemiya replied coldly. "Not after what you just did." 

"Oh yeah?" he scoffed. "Well then, do you think you can take this—!?"

Umemiya caught the man's fists, and while holding it with the strength of a vice, he glanced back at you, his eyes softening for a moment. "Close your eyes," he commanded with a calm yet firm tone. 

Confused but obedient, you complied, and closed both your eyes tightly. You kept both your lips and eyes sealed for what felt like minutes. Though curiosity got the better of you, and you peeked through your lashes. What you saw stole your breath away, and not for the better. It made you utterly sick. 

Your boyfriend stood amidst a scene of utter chaos, surrounded by unconscious, bloodied bodies whom you had previously just seen with cocky grins. But not like this… 

The ground was slick with crimson and broken glass, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood that made you want to throw up. Bodies and limbs lay at unnatural angles, and faces were bruised and swollen beyond recognition. It was grotesque, and it made your stomach churn. 

The groceries slipped from your hands, falling to the ground with a dull thud, splitting open and their contents spilling across the bloodstained ground. That noise notified Umemiya, who immediately turned to face your bewildered self.

You took an involuntary step back to the wall, your mind and your shaking body struggling to process the brutality of what exactly you just saw. You felt sick. And Umemiya, your boyfriend, stood in the middle of it all, his fists still clenched and smeared with blood. His chest heaved up and down, his eyes wild with a fire you had never seen from him before. It was as if he were a different person, a stranger inhabiting the body of the man you loved.

Your mind was all but overwhelmed that you hardly even noticed the other figures standing comfortably next to Umemiya over the beaten-up guys who were previously harassing you. Since when did others come? Were they also involved with Umeymia in some way? Was this some sort of gang…? 

Everything must've attracted some attention, you wanted to think. It was a small town, after all. 

On the other side, Hiragi appeared at Umemiya's side, whispering something urgently into his ear. The white-haired man's eyes widened in response, and he quickly barked orders at Kaji and two others, who immediately began to clean up the horrific mess like a well-oiled machine.

Then, Umemiya turned towards you, finding you still rooted to the spot, his expression shifting from rage to concern. He took a step forward, but you instinctively recoiled, unable to reconcile the image of the caring boyfriend you knew with the blood-soaked fighter before you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but strained.

You nodded slowly, still in shock. How could you be so stupid… how could you have not caught on… The thoughts raced through your mind, guilt and confusion warring within you. 

You knew he did this, all of this, to protect you, but a selfish, biting thought crept in. You had no idea he was this strong, this capable of such violence. It left you feeling a mix of awe but also just as much betrayal that made your stomach turn, your world shifting on its axis.

His gaze softened, regret flickering in his eyes. "I did this to protect you. You know that I would do anything to keep you safe."

You swallowed hard, the acrid taste of fear and betrayal mingling on your tongue. You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you knew that… in there, as far as it was, was still the man you fell in love with. No, the man you were still in love with.

"I know," you whispered, your voice trembling. "But seeing you like this... it's like I don't even know you."

His entire being collapsed, his teeth clenching into one of pure distaste. But it wasn't directed at you, but himself. You didn't mean that, right…?

Umemiya wanted to try again. Though he knew that the distance between you two wasn't going to disappear with a simple touch. But even so, he reached out, gently cupping your face. Your expression, however, twitched into one he had never seen before.

Hah… that was it. He knew. You were scared of him.

"...Can I, have some space?"

He froze, but his eyes remained soft. "O-Of course." He wasn't about to risk it for a second time… breaking your remaining trust for him—as little as it was.

He took a step back, something he dreaded to do. One step away from you would mean another step back in your relationship, and you leave him, and he was horrified by that.

"I may not have told you everything… but I still love you. So much," he choked.

…..

"I know, Haji."

Umemiya had to watch you go, his heart clenching and drowning in regret. All he had hoped for was to protect you, but in doing so, he had inadvertently pushed you away. As you disappeared from view, Umemiya stood there, alone amidst the unconscious bodies, surrounded by the silent yet shocked expressions of Hiragi and the others from Furin who had witnessed the entire scene.

This wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding, but a devastating revelation.

What remedy could ever mend this fractured relationship?

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

SUO hid a lot of things. That, you know. And not just from you, but practically everybody he knew. There would be times when Suo would change the subject you were just talking about, purposely evade your questions, and shift his gaze away, leaving you with more questions than answers. Suo was a mischievous guy who liked to get on people's nerves, but not without a reason. What reason is still a mystery to you. But what you do know is that Suo was and is a wonderful boyfriend, always attentive, caring, and vehemently protective.

Yet, time and time again, Suo would make excuses, disappear without explanation, or offer vague answers that left you unsatisfied. You first ignored it. After all, everyone deserves privacy. But soon, the inconsistencies in his stories and the shadows that sometimes clouded a single visible eye were hard to ignore. You may have been naive, but you certainly weren't stupid. 

But all that would go to hell that late evening on a date with Suo. Everything that Suo kept away from you would all be revealed in a timeless, gut-wrenching event.

Even down to the evenings when you and Suo would be walking through the park, enjoying the twilight's calm, there would be times when his entire demeanour would shift, and a sense of unease settled between you. But this time, it wouldn't be just between you two.

"You and your dumbass eyepatch, thinking that you're looking down on me…"

Your eyes widened as you began to grasp, at least on a basic level, basic understanding of this tense situation.

A man with a black undercut tied in a ponytail, flanked by a few goons behind him, had suddenly fixated on you and Suo during your date. It was clear that they all seemed to harbour a grudge against your boyfriend.

"Oh?" Suo retorted with his typical demeanour. His lips stretched into a sardonic grin, but his eyes remained cold, devoid of the genuine warmth or mirth you would see from him. It was a smile that didn't reach his eye—a facade of amusement masking a deeper disdain. "I didn't know the cutie still thought of me to this day!"

Presumably the leader, stepped forward, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You little… this time, I'm going to end you."

"S-Suo, do you know them?" You turned to face his eyes, but silently, he gave you that trademark smirk of his. It made you even more anxious.

But before you knew it, Suo's grip on your hand tightened, just as he whispered in your ear, "We gotta run."

"H-Huh?" you stammered, confusion flooding your mind. Without another word, Suo took your hand and bolted, dragging you along. You ran together through the labyrinth of trees and paths, hearts pounding, breaths ragged. Finally, you collapsed against a bench, entirely out of breath, your chest heaving with exhaustion.

But even as you frantically tried to catch your breath, your mind raced with questions. "Suo, what was that? Who were those guys? What do they want with you?" you demanded in a frantic panic, looking at Suo for answers, desperate for some kind of clarity here.

Until you saw the expression on his face. 

Ah, right…

Those were answers you knew you were never going to get. Not when you saw that look in his eye. Suo's expression, usually so warm and kind, was now dark and distant. It was a look you had seen before, one that made you shrink back in fear.  

You swiped your hand away from his, the distance between you growing. But Suo didn't seem to notice. Or rather, he didn't seem to care.

"I'll be back," he said quietly. "Please stay here. There are people around. You'll be safe."

Again. It was always the same. Always avoiding the truth that you needed to hear.

"Suo, w-wait—!" you pleaded, but he was already turning away, his shoulders squared. He wasn't going to listen.

He took a step back, his eyes softening for a moment as he looked at you. "I promise," he said, a hint of the Suo you knew returning to his voice. "I'll explain everything later. Just stay here."

You nodded reluctantly, watching him disappear into the shadows. As you sat there on the curb with your hands huddled around your legs, surrounded by strangers, the weight of everything that had happened finally settled on your shoulders.

Minutes felt like hours, and when Suo finally returned, questions swirled in your mind—who were those people, and what did they want from Suo? These unanswered questions left but an empty, gnawing void within you.

You were so tired—tired of the secrets, tired of feeling useless, tired of feeling like Suo couldn't trust you with what was really behind that faint smile of his. 

Suo approached, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, reaching out to touch and lock your hand with his own like he always did.

"...H-Huh?"

That was the first time you caught that look in Suo's eyes—a flicker of genuine fear, a vulnerability he rarely revealed—something he never thought he had, and definitely a fear he couldn't conceal behind his usual facade of confidence.

It was a gaze that betrayed an unmistakable dread of losing you.

…Perhaps it was the first time for a lot of things that day.

Out of reflex, you lightly swatted his hand away and took a step back, the frustration of just wanting answers boiling over. 

"I'm sorry, Suo… can I just have some space?"

He stood there, his hand still outstretched, his eyes with a mixture of hurt and confusion. But he didn't pursuit it any further, in fear of making things worse. "Ahem… right. I'll see you then."

You knew it was wrong to leave it at that, but you needed a moment to gather your thoughts more than ever. But, like the man you always knew him to be, Suo respected your wishes. He agreed, and no longer did follow you, leaving you alone in your peace and tears.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

this took so much longer than i thought, but i think it was all worth it in the end :) funny enough, it was actually the first thing I wanted to write for wind breaker until i realized how long i ended up writing this to be, and that's only for three characters out of MANY i wanted to do. i do have ideas for a fluffy pt2, and im more than happy to write it if it gets asked enough :)

[faeriekit]

Feet on the Ground

loose phic phight fill for @oldfashionedbattlehymn

warnings for: murder attempt, discussion of child death

********

Danny wakes up in a garbage bag.

It isn’t as gross as it sounds. Danny’s the only thing in there, and it’s not like the lack of air is going to kill him; he could rip his way out, but honestly, going intangible is just as effective and twice as easy.

And, of course, once he’s phased his way out of the dumpster behind the gas station, Danny is very, very grateful that he didn’t even try. Everything else in there is….eeugh. He shivers.

Well. It’s got to be early morning now—it’s dark. There’s no other cars on the highway. Even the gas station itself is closed, and the stars have already lost their spark.

Time to head home.

*

Danny wakes up behind the gas station. Again.

…Okay?

The first time, Danny had just assumed he’d fallen asleep somewhere weird while flying around the neighborhood, but a second time is a pattern. It’s definitely not his fault this time either, because there’s no way he would have duct taped his arms and legs together or slapped a gag on his mouth.

That’s kind of. Ominous.

Danny frees himself of the garbage bag first— and thank goodness he doesn’t have to breathe— he floats himself out of the bag and the dumpster, which had…thankfully been given a good scrubbing since last time? There’s some other trash, apparently, but nothing sharp enough to cut through his durable, tape-based bonds. It takes some finagling and some eye lasers for Danny to finally get his arms free.

And. Hoo Boy. There’s no more liberating a feeling than peeling tape off your mouth, even if your mouth skin kind of comes off with it and you bleed a little. But it’s fine! It’s green, which means it’ll heal.

Fabulous. Danny zooms off invisibly into the night, more than willing to put the night behind him.

*

…Okay, the third time is what makes it more than a coincidence.

Danny shucks out of the bruise-tight ropes around his wrists, torso, knees, and legs, spits out his gag, and flies home. He finally has to give into the inevitable, and attempts the last resort:

“Jazz?” he whispers, slowly rocking his sister in her bed. Jazz mumbles in her sleep.

“Jaaaaazzy…” Danny tries again, trying not to look either too spooky or too imposing. Jazz’s reflexes are such that—

The laser she keeps under her pillow goes off. Danny loses a few millimeters of hair, which means that her aim is getting better.

 He doesn’t have any trouble seeing in the dark (or, uh, not anymore, anyway), but it’s easy to see Jazz’s sleepy squint as she pulls herself somewhat upright. More like a shrimp with scoliosis, but, well. You know.

“Whuh,” Jazz asks. “...Danny?”

“Hey,” Danny whispers, a ghost at her bedside. Jazz grunts. “Uh. What does it mean when you keep waking up in a trash bag behind the gas station?”

Jazz blinks. Jazz rubs her eyes. Jazz blinks again, looking more sleepy than coherent but at least somewhat aware of her surroundings.

“Garbage bag?” Jazz asks blearily. “You were in a garbage bag?”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers back. “My legs were tied down?”

“...Danny, were you murdered?”

Danny stops.

“Huh?” says Danny.

*

“So, if you look here,” Tucker points out, finger not quite touching the glass of his CRT monitor, “That’s when Danny gets murdered.”

There is a collective eeew from the assembled viewers— Jazz, Sam, and Danny, all crowded in Tucker’s room.

“Yeah, Tucker agrees. The light from the black-and-white footage flashes in the reflection of his glasses. “Here’s where he’s tossed in…there. And this is when they tossed him in the dumpster.”

There’s no sound on the gas station surveillance footage, but Danny imagines that his body clanged on the way in. What the hell. Danny got murdered behind a gas station, and he didn’t even notice?!

They watch the archived footage of a Ford F-150 driving off the property, and then Danny’s dead body being unceremoniously tossed in a dumpster. It’s kind of surreal. No one had noticed. There was no one to report the crime committed.

“I can’t believe that guy just clocked you over the head, like that,” Sam points out. “It’s just a regular car jack. It shouldn’t have gotten you in the first place.”

The observation isn’t appreciated.

“Be nice! My brother was just murdered,” Jazz scolds. Danny doesn’t think she sounds as offended as she should be. “Either way, it’s certainly an attempted murder, if not a successful one. We have to do something.”

“…Can’t we just call the cops?” Tucker asks, turning away from the computer. “I mean. Look. That’s proof. We have proof right here.”

Sure enough, there is footage. Right there. There’s Danny’s murder, in 240p black and white.

“Where’s the body?” Sam asks dryly, and. Uh. That’s a problem they’ll have to solve.

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one has a good solution.

“…Do we have to do this?” Tucker realizes at the same second as the rest of them.

Jazz looks at Danny. Danny looks at Sam. Sam looks at Tucker.

Tucker stares back at them, entirely unenthused with the conclusion they’ve come to.

“…Okay then,” Jazz exhales. “How do you want to do this?”

*

Sam ends up on top of the gas station, a cell phone in her hand.

Tucker, PDA in hand, sits in Jazz’s passenger seat. The camera feed is ongoing and recording for posterity.

Jazz taps her fingers on the wheel of her car. There isn’t anywhere better to hide than down the road and around the corner, so she does, hoping that they’re on the other end of the road from whoever’s killing her brother every night.

Danny is, of course, wandering through the neighborhood.

Losing her baby brother—on purpose—is the worst thing Jazz can imagine. She feels sick. She wants to throw him into the car and speed away, and break every speed limit law in the county on her way out. She wants to pack him in bubble wrap and ship him expedited to France.

But she does leave her brother alone. She lets Tucker look over the footage as Danny roams around town, just as unaware and unsuspecting as his last few outings.

Tucker sees the man first.

He bolts upright, eyes on his PDA. “Jazz.”

Her head whips around. They watch, silently, as someone approaches Danny’s lone figure on the doorstep outside the gas station.

They can’t hear anything. That’s the scariest part.

“Call,” Jazz demands. Tucker does.

Doubtlessly, on the roof of the gas station, Sam is dialing too.

*

So. Danny knows this guy.

And. Uh. It’s kind of embarrassing; he’d asked if Danny was okay walking home alone at night a few hours before his dumpster wake-up call, and Danny had said it was fine.

Apparently, no, it wasn’t fine. That being said, Danny hadn’t been expecting a guy in a button-up and khakis to be the guy murdering him on the down low. He kind of looks like the dude who sells you televisions and burner phones at a Wal-Mart.

The guy comes all the way over to where Danny is sitting on the thin concrete step of the gas station. His breath fogs up from the weather and his eyes rake over Danny, up and down; down and up.

“Hey,” he says, looking all the world like any other concerned citizen. Danny’s heart throbs. “It’s cold outside. You need a ride back to town?”

“…No,” says Danny, who doesn’t.

“Your mom okay with you comin’ home late by yourself?” the man asks nervously, hands going to his hair.

Danny thinks about how many times he’s woken up in the dumpster. He thinks about seeing his own body on the camera tape. Prone. Dead.

“You still keep a car jack in your passenger seat?” Danny asks instead.

The man freezes. An attempted murderer he might be, but he’s not exactly an Oscar-winning actor. “What?”

“The car jack,” Danny repeats. He doesn’t know if he’s mad the man keeps targeting him, or whether he’s grateful Danny’s the only one who’s died so far. “It’s got a lot of sharp corners. They hurt, you know.”

The man…carefully laughs the statement off, but he looks. Nervous.

Danny doesn’t really need to confront him; he only has to stall long enough that Tucker or Sam can call the cops, so that they can see this man’s face and get him on the record. But.

There’s a part of Danny…

The man looks so human. Flush with blood. Solid enough to break. Fragile enough to be made broken.

Danny still resents being made dead. This man didn’t kill Danny—not in any way that mattered, but he’s an easy target.

He doesn’t breathe. The man watches a boy sit in the shadows of a building where he’s been dumping bodies, and Danny can taste his fear.

“It hurt a lot,” Danny says, and he isn’t referring to waking up in the bags every couple of mornings in the last few weeks. “It hurt so much. I was screaming.”

The man is silent.

“Do you like to hear the screaming?” Danny asks, suddenly curious. Did he care, if Danny had screamed, or if he had been too unaware to notice he was dying? Would he have cared, if there were others more breakable than Danny that he had hurt?

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t like it,” Danny confesses. In a horrible way, it’s easy to tell his would-be murderer about his death—unlike Tucker or Sam, who witnessed it, or Jazz, who loves him, this man can’t be affected by Danny’s take on his own death. In fact, if he is hurt by the thought of Danny’s death…good. It’s better if he is. If there is remorse in him. “I don’t like to hear screaming. I screamed for so long, and so loud. It felt like forever.”

The man’s hands curl. He steps back.

Danny can’t help but to frown. If he leaves, the whole point of calling the cops will be for nothing, and he’ll be warier of coming back to where Danny’s body was dropped. “Where are you going?”

The man takes another step back. Danny rockets upright. He’s on his feet in seconds. “Weren’t you here for me?” Danny asks, genuinely confused, arms outstretched. “We’re here. You dumped me here over and over again.”

“Shut up,” the man snaps, startling the both of them with his volume. “He—you’re not real. You’re… Be quiet. I have real things to get done tonight!”

Danny’s dead heart throbs. Is there another dead kid? Did Danny let another kid get killed in Danny’s place? “Do you?”

The man loses his voice.

“We’re already here,” Danny points out. He steps closer—closer to the truck that drove his dead body around town, further from the dumpster where his body had been dropped. The disposal hadn’t been a funeral, but it’s closer than anything Danny’s ever had. “You’re here. I’m here. Aren’t you here for me?”

A choked breath. Danny gets closer. The ectoplasm in his skin is too warm and too cold—but he has no idea what he looks like from the outside. Is he glowing? Is he see-through? Does he just look like any other dead kid: a little too cold, a little too pale?

They’re eye to increasingly shorter eye. Up close, the man just looks like any other guy. Shaved in the face. Wrinkles around his eyes. A nose. A mouth.

Danny’s not afraid of him. His head tilts. “You’ve already killed me three times. What are you going to do now? I’ll just come back again. I won’t even notice. I died. I know what you look like—I know how to find you. It’ll be easy.”

The man’s pupils dilate—

And then there’re hands on Danny’s neck. And. It’s kind of painful, but Danny doesn’t have to breathe. So. He just kind of…pretends to be hurt?

He’s meant to be stalling for time. The cops are coming. All he needs is time.  

So Danny makes some somewhat dramatic sounds and kicks out with his feet, because a fight lasts longer than a passive victim. He lands a hit to the man’s stomach, and another to his chest—he doesn’t drop Danny the way Danny might have expected, but Danny isn’t going to run out of air, so this can last forever until the man lets go. Or does something.

“Stop— coming— back,” the man snarls, and suddenly sounds nothing like the dudes who man the tech counter at the Walmart. “I got you— you should be gone!” 

Danny is gone. But he’s also here. And he’s also been gone for a very long time, and he’s also getting choked out by a guy in a gas station parking lot. It’s been a rough few hours of waiting for this dude. He might as well make it worth it. 

So maybe his body turns a little translucent. Just a little. Just enough to see the streetlight through his skin, probably, and the hazy road behind them. 

Getting thrown to the concrete hurts, but, you know, not as badly as getting tossed into a wall by Skulker on a rampage. Danny’s barely going to be bruised after this. 

The guy runs to his car, and Danny frowns, scrambling back up, and, wait. Wouldn’t having bruises be better? As evidence? They better not heal too quickly, or else that’ll be it of his physical proof. 

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, more perplexed and angry than anything. Isn’t he supposed to try to kill the witness??

But the guy hauls butt into the cab of his truck— and then the lights go on and the tires start spinning, the engine roaring to life. 

If Danny wasn’t actively on camera at the moment, it would be easy to fly after the car. As it is, he’s pretty fast, but he’s not quite quick enough on his feet to chase after a pickup truck careening down the highway in the dark. 

The man’s gone in a few seconds. Honestly, Danny’s kind of annoyed about the whole thing. It would have been nice for it to work. 

Sam climbs down from the roof of the gas station, phone in her hand. “No, I just— he choked out my friend and drove off! Send someone over here already!! You— do you need the license plate again?!” 

Danny just looks at her. Sam covers her phone’s mic with a hand: “They’re saying five minutes,” she mouths. 

Great. 

Danny hunkers down, throat bruising, and Sam sits down beside him. They wait.  

By the time the cops pull into the gas station, the guy’s more than out of sight. Sam’s the one who takes the lead on dictating their story. Danny sort of doesn’t realize how out of it he is until someone tries to throw a shock blanket on him. He almost hits the guy square in the face— and Sam’s the one who has to catch his arm. 

Uh. Oops. 

Jazz and Tucker roll in, hardly pretending to have not been nearby; Jazz wraps her arms around him, and Danny lets her. 

Sue him. It’s late. He’s tired. 

“...And I can’t believe you weren’t able to get down the road in time to catch a man who choked out my best friend,” Sam snaps, which, aw! Danny’s a best friend. The cop she’s attempting to strip down for parts looks less sympathetic than Danny feels. “You’re barely a ten minute drive up the highway! What were you doing, meandering?” 

“No,” the cop grits out, eying Sam like a bug on his shoe. “We were telling the officer down the road what to look out for.” 

Apparently, jamming the gas down hard enough to bust your speedometer gets you pulled over at the speed check. 

The night is over before Danny knows it. Someone gets him to the station, someone takes photos of his bruises and takes his statement. Someone calls Mom and Dad and then Danny’s in the GAV, half asleep and exhausted beyond belief. 

He falls asleep on the couch, Mom’s fingers in his hair. 

*

It’s not like the Amity Park police tell them anything, but Jazz is the one who finds the report on the news. 

She records it on the TiVo for him. 

“Eustace Miller, from Tennessee,” Sam reads aloud, knee to knee on his couch. Tucker adjusts his glasses. “Looks like he was already on the run.” 

“Or as good as,” Tucker agrees quietly. “Looks like they’re pinning a couple of cold cases to him.” 

They watch; there’s pictures of him from his hometown, and from the towns he would visit on his joyride across the country. There were pictures of his family. There were pictures of kids Danny would never meet: kids who were already dead, and who had been for months. Years, even. 

They’d looked so happy in the photos from when they were alive. 

…Danny could relate. 

Jazz turns the report off that night, thumb on the power button. And that’s all it takes for Danny to stop waking up in a trash bag. 

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[cosmic-slumber-party]

Falling for Sanemi as his tsuguko

Tsuguko x Hashira Pt.2 to Training with Sanemi Shinazugawa

CW: Injury, kissing, swearing

🐉 You know that this man cares for you, at least a little bit. He has been putting in the time to train you. He wouldn't be pushing you as far if he didn't care about you or think you couldn't handle it. It doesn't stop the fact that training is hellish.

🐉 The both of you go into town for an assignment. It doesn't take long for you both to get some attention, however. Or at least you thought you were both getting attention, because of your attire. It turns out you were the one attracting attention. You notice Sanemi tense up and clench his teeth.

🐉 Mitsuri tells you all the time that you are nice to look at. You never think too much into her words though, especially since she is the love hashira.

🐉 You ignore the attention and continue on. You have a job to do. Sanemi shoots everyone a glare and they all back off.

🐉 After slaying the demon in the area, you both head back home. You have some bad cuts, but nothing you haven't received before. You decide to stop by the butterfly mansion for a quick patchup. The three little girls all fawn over you. You pick them all up and throw them in the air and hear their squeals of delight as they fly.

🐉 Sanemi watches from a distance with a light smile playing on his lips. You are strong, yet gentle. Something he admires greatly in you. When Shinobu comes up behind him, his smile vanishes.

🐉 "What do you want?"

"L/N is something special, huh?" Kochō smirks.

Sanemi raises a brow in annoyance. "I guess. I mean, they lasted long enough so far as my tsuguko."

"Well, I was thinking. If it is too much for you, or you just don't want to have a tsuguko, I would take them." Kochō smiles sweetly, looking over to where you and the small girls were playing.

Sanemi chuckles without humor. "You already have one. And what makes you think you could help L/N with their shadow breathing? I can handle them just fine."

He looks over to you. "Hey, L/N! We're heading back! Let's go!"

🐉 You and Sanemi leave as you wave goodbye to everyone. You look over to Sanemi, admiring how the setting sun plays with his hair. He notices you staring.

"What is it brat?"

"Nothing," You say back. "Your hair just makes you look like an old man." You continue looking forward with a smirk.

"What did you say you little shit?!" Sanemi says grabbing the front of your uniform in his fist.

You put your hands up in surrender and laugh. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" You pause for a second, his hand still grasping your uniform. "I think the sun makes your hair look really pretty."

His grip loosens on you. His face quickly loses his regular scowl, replacing it with a surprised expression. You notice a faint blush start to creep onto his face, complimenting his many scars. You look at them, having already memorized them. You find yourself wanting to kiss them.

"Oh." Is all he says. You both continue to walk home in silence.

🐉 When you get back, you both sit outside and watch the remainder of the sunset. You like listening to him. You are the only one he really opens up to. Sure he is strict with training, but at the end of the day, you both confide in one another. You both live together and go on deadly missions together. With all the time you spend together, it's almost like you're more than just teacher and student.

🐉 He turns to you. "Do you really think my hair is pretty?"

"Are you seriously still thinking about that?" You laugh at the sudden question. "Yes. It is nice. It looks soft." You add the second part, wanting to touch it. You raise your hand up halfway.

"Nuh uh. Not happening."

"Dammit." You say disappointed.

He sighs and lowers his head. "One time." You quickly take the chance before he can change his mind. You were right, it was soft. As you're touching his hair, you look back at his scars. Your fingers gently touch one on his face. He flinches for a second. He looks up at you and relaxes. He looks from your hand and back to your face.

🐉 It is now that he finally admits it to himself. He tried not to fall for a fellow demon slayer. It was best for both him and his comrades. He did not need distractions, not when his goal was wiping out the thing that had hurt him the most. You have ruined that though. He has fallen anyway.

🐉 "Fuck, Y/N." He grumbles. "Just kiss me."

You look into his eyes, surprised. As you blush, you start to lean in. He grabs your face with his callused hands, and brings you to him. Your lips meet, aggressive at first, the kiss soon turns tender and loving. The wind hashira has fallen for his tsuguko. There was no turning back.

[liyaauhr]

Aiden & Taylor HC’s because no-one talks about them enough! 🎢

— disaster child + disaster child = recipe for chaos

— After her father’s death, Taylor never really got to have a normal childhood like most people her age. She didn’t want to rely on her twin brother constantly for help and had an emotionally unavailable mother so she spent her time trying to help out around the house as much as possible. Her first time goofing off was actually with Aiden who convinced her to skip class to go to the skate park and taught her how to skateboard.

— Gossip about their classmates ALL THE TIME. Literally Taylor will call up Aiden at the ass crack of dawn being like “OH MY GOD you will NOT believe whats been going on with blah blah blah” and Aiden would immediately be like “OMG wtf??? Oh I knew they were a bitch 🙄”

— They team up to cheat in uno. Both of them sneak in +4 cards to their deck and trade cards underneath their legs like dealers to get the people they’ve targeted out in the round. This person is usually Tyler because he has a whole FLIP OUT and when it’s not him it’s Ashlyn because you cannot tell me she wouldn’t get competitive and be a sore loser.

No. this is totally not based off of personal experience. (My friends suck 🤧)

— Once during Christmas, after watching so many movies (and paying attention to none) Aiden had the bright idea of recreating the traps in Home Alone. His parents were away and Taylor tried to talk him out of it…but then he offered a monthly supply of chocolate bunnies and a declaration of a prank war on Tyler so naturally, she concedes. The whole thing was surprisingly easy considering Aiden just has a bunch of questionable random junk lying around that is that is scary dangerous when utilised so with Taylor’s craftiness and Aiden’s creativity the two of them end up making some unstoppable traps. Unfortunately, instead of taking them down once they were finished, both of them got sidetracked by making cookies for the rest of the group to eat. As of on queue, a poor unknowing Ben had walked into the front door after guitar lessons with Tyler and well…you can imagine the disaster! Literally hundreds of booby traps flying at him from every damn corner, every wrong step taken resulted in another attack and eventually a net came out of nowhere and trapped him mid-air!

(Tyler was behind him and could not stop laughing for a good hour as Aiden and Taylor watched in horror, he now has infinite blackmail material in his gallery.)

— I hc that while Tyler is a great cook, Taylor is an excellent baker! When she’s concentrated she can make some really good cookies and cakes that she had learned from her mum.

Key word: WHEN SHE’S CONCENTRATED

Long story short, they’ve blown up a whole kitchen before (at least it was Aiden’s).

— These two 100% do dumb tiktok challenges together and you cannot convince me otherwise.

— Before the Savannah trip, I like to think that Taylor was intrigued by Aiden’s energy when he first arrived especially considering she’s the type to notice people who aren’t necessarily well known (as seen with Ashlyn). Whenever she saw him he was always smiling and goofing off with the tall guy that followed him around and she sorta missed that feeling after losing it so long ago when her father died. Her brother and mother had never been the same since and Tyler became more serious, not to mention her other friends weren’t exactly the silly type.

And the two seemed to stick to the ginger haired girl like glue (to her dismay). She found it funny watching them annoy her to no end and Ashlyn had always been someone she had secretly wanted to get to know.

I feel like a part of her really wanted to make friends with them from the beginning because while the people Tyler and Taylor hung out with were nice enough, they always felt so disconnected and out of touch from them.

— They share a PE class together and literally both choose not to try in class and instead choose to goof off and gossip instead.

— Once Aiden’s roots were growing out and Taylor noticed and offered to re-dye it for him. Turns out she has 0 hair skills (all the genes went to Tyler lol) and Tyler walked in on the both of them in the bathroom. Aiden with patchy bleached hair that looks like its frying itself raw and Taylor with random bleached streaks and botched bangs. Safe to say, neither of them are allowed to use hair products and tools anymore.

— They match together for Halloween because everyone else is a loser who can’t accept their amazing ideas (e.g chicken onesies, angry birds etc.)

[jetii]

The Bet

Pairing: Kix x fem!Reader / Kix x Nurse!Reader

Words: 8,981

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! coworkers to friends to lovers, some blood/wound care but it's very minor, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), a hint of a praise kink

Summary: You and Kix have been dancing around each other for months. When losing a bet finds you alone in your apartment together for the first time, sparks fly.

A/N: I honestly was not a Kix girlie before writing this, so hopefully he's not too ooc!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Kix watches you move about your small kitchen from his seat at the counter. The beer he nurses in his hand is still cool, the condensation softening the label enough for his thumb to peel, a nervous habit you notice but are too polite to mention.

You pause your stirring momentarily to throw him an exasperated look over your shoulder. 

“I know.”

“I’m just saying you don’t need to do all this for me,” he says, gesturing towards the stove where a large pot bubbles, a delicious scent wafting through the air. “Pizza would’ve been fine.”

“And miss the opportunity to show off my excellent cooking?” you ask with a scoff, though it lacks any real conviction. 

You turn to face him. He looks so out of place in your tiny apartment, perched on the stool that is dwarfed by his size. His shoulders hunch as if he's trying to make himself seem smaller, a feat in itself for someone so large. 

You try to give him a smile that's more encouraging than teasing. “Not a chance.”

He shakes his head, returning the grin with one of his own as he looks down at his hands. The smile falls away when he sees the state of the label he had been absently peeling. He grimaces and balls up the ruined paper before throwing it at the trash can, a small ping echoing through the apartment as it lands in the center of the bin.

The corner of your mouth twitches into a smirk, and you roll your eyes playfully. Kix chuckles softly, and some of the tension dissipates from the room.

It's nice to hear him laugh after the week you've both had. You'd been near dead on your feet by the time the Resolute docked on Coruscant, but you'd promised Kix a proper home-cooked meal, and you weren't about to renege on your deal. A bet was a bet, after all.

Bets between the two of you were far from an unusual occurrence. Normally, it was simple things: what they were serving in the mess for breakfast, how many hangover remedies you'd have to administer after shore leave, or even just something as silly as who could finish their work faster. It had become so common to the point that the 501st was more than used to seeing you and Kix going back and forth, betting on just about everything.

This time was no different. You'd been arguing over a patient's chart one morning, and it had escalated until the two of you had settled on a bet. Whoever could get the most patients through their physical would win.

The only thing was that, by the time the two of you finally had the opportunity to settle the score, Kix had gotten the entire company in on it, and had somehow managed to get Rex to take his side. You had been absolutely furious at the time, but you got over it quickly when he made his request.

He could have chosen anything. He could have made you stay late or fill out paperwork for a week. He could have had you do something embarrassing.

Instead, he asked you to cook him dinner.

You don't have a lot of time outside of work, so when you do, you cook. It's your favorite hobby and one you're actually pretty good at. You take great pride in it. Cooking for Kix though? That's different.

It's not that you don't want to do it. On the contrary, you're thrilled by the opportunity. It's just that you want it to be perfect.

The apartment is quiet save for the sound of your work. You have the radio playing, the volume turned low so the music is more background noise than anything. You don't mind. You've always liked the sound of rain, and it gives you the opportunity to listen for Kix.

You'd noticed over the course of your friendship that Kix is usually quiet when he's comfortable. It had taken a while, but you learned his different silences. It was the same way he analyzed you: by the cadence of your footsteps and the tone of your voice. You'd learned to read him through those subtle indicators, and he had done the same.

Right now, he's content. There's no tension in his shoulders, and his breathing is even. You know he's watching you, his eyes tracking your movements. He looks a lot more relaxed here than he does at work, which isn't surprising. You've seen each other nearly every day since the start of the war, but you've never been able to spend time together like this. You're friends, sure, but you're also attracted to him, and you'd like to think he feels the same.

You've been dancing around each other for months, but neither one is brave enough to say something about it.

You make small talk, talking about nothing and everything while you cook. It's pleasant and comfortable and nice. You can feel his eyes on you as you work. The kitchen is small enough that he can watch you easily without having to leave his seat. You know he's enjoying the show.

“So, what are we having?” he asks.

You can hear the curiosity in his voice and grin.

When he'd made the request, he'd said he was up for anything, but you wanted it to be special. You have a plan, one that you hope he'll like.

You turn around, propping your elbows on the counter and leaning forward. He mirrors your position, and you're so close your noses almost touch.

His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't pull back. You tilt your head. “It’s a surprise.”

And a good one, you hoped. You weren’t sure the last time you put this much effort into a single meal, but if you were going to impress him, you wanted to do it right.

You'd started the process early this morning and had been checking and rechecking your progress throughout the day. You're making a traditional Alderaanian dish, one of your favorites, and one you're pretty confident you can pull off. You're not a chef by any stretch of the imagination, but you know your way around a kitchen and have been told by those who love you that your cooking is exceptional.

You can only hope he'll agree.

Of course, this was a man who preferred to subsist entirely on ration bars and caf, who forgot to eat unless you forced him out of the medbay, but you still found yourself hoping to wow him with your family’s recipes.

When Kix showed up at your door, you could tell that he was nervous. You were too, but you tried not to let it show. You were doing this because you liked him, not to get a reaction out of him, but the anticipation of his response was enough to make your heart flutter in your chest.

He looked more than a little disarmed at the sight of you in your civilian clothes, and the feeling was mutual. You didn't think you'd ever seen him out of armor. When you invited him inside, he pulled out a bouquet of daylilies from behind his back, sheepishly explaining that Jesse insisted he shouldn’t show up empty-handed.

The bouquet he’d given you was beautiful. You didn’t have a vase to put them in, so they were soaking in water in the largest coffee mug you could find with ‘Galaxy’s Best Nurse’ in gaudy red letters on the side. You hoped they wouldn’t wilt before you could find something better to put them in. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bought you flowers.

Kix was sweet, sweeter than you ever anticipated from your first meeting. On your first day aboard the Resolute, when Captain Rex first introduced you as the resident nurse aboard the ship, Kix took one long look at you and promptly rolled his eyes.

“She's not gonna last a week.”

Rex had looked ready to throttle him, but you merely gave him a wry grin and told him you were more than capable of doing your job.

He was quick to apologize, though you could tell he was more than a little skeptical, and the two of you had spent the better part of that first month trying to get on the other's good side. The first time he laughed at one of your jokes, it was like the floodgates opened. After that, it was easy, and the two of you quickly fell into an easy friendship.

You came to realize being blunt was just his way, though Kix was never as short with you as he was with his brothers. Jesse said it was because he had a soft spot for you, but you were more inclined to believe he just didn’t want to create a hostile work environment.

That was months ago, and a lot has changed since.

You enjoyed Kix. His dry humor always caught you off guard, even if you were getting used to it. He seemed to enjoy making you laugh. And at the end of a long day, he was always the first to ask if you needed help cleaning up the medbay, always the first to offer to walk you back to your quarters.

You shared plenty of late nights together, sometimes going over patient files or stocking supplies. Other times you simply sat together in the quiet, enjoying each other’s company.

You grew close. It was only natural.

Still, it didn't feel natural to invite him over for a home-cooked meal. You'd never been anything but professional with each other, even in private. You'd never seen him in civvies before and had certainly never imagined that his hair, longer now than you’ve ever seen it, might curl a little in the humidity.

It wasn't fair, really, how much you enjoyed the sight of him.

You had spent the day wondering if this was the right decision. You worried you were reading too much into his request, that you were imagining the interest you thought you saw. But if nothing else, you hoped tonight would provide some insight.

You wanted this to go well.

You didn’t know how much of that was for your sake or his.

You push back from the counter, and Kix makes no move to follow. You turn back to the stove and continue working, a grin pulling at your lips. You don’t think he realizes that you can feel his gaze on you. He doesn't make any attempt to hide his staring.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but there is an undercurrent of something else, a tension you're not sure what to do with. You know that you aren't the only one feeling this way. He'd been nervous when he first arrived, and though he was more at ease now, the tension hadn't dissipated.

It's not an unwelcome feeling. If anything, it's the opposite. You enjoy knowing he's watching you, that you’re having some kind of effect on him. You enjoy having him here, alone. It's a different sort of intimacy, a different kind of closeness. You wonder if it's a step in the right direction.

You're not sure what to expect from him, but whatever it is, you're ready for it.

“How long until dinner is ready, doc? I'm starving over here." You don't have to turn to see him smile. You can hear it in his voice.

"Don't rush me," you scold, and he chuckles. "Dinner isn't ready until it's ready."

"I can't believe you're making me wait. It smells delicious."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," you say, and you glance over your shoulder at him. "I was worried you wouldn't."

Kix raises his eyebrows. "Worried? About what?"

You turn away. "I don't know. I thought maybe you'd be disappointed."

"Why would I be disappointed?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"I don't know." You shrug. "Maybe because we haven't really hung out before, and maybe you didn't want to, and—“

"No," he says, cutting you off. "I like spending time with you. I wanted to come."

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "Oh."

"Besides, I've been meaning to ask for a while."

"Ask me what?" you ask, looking over at him.

He gives a half-shrug, the corner of his mouth twitching. "To have dinner with you."

Your face grows warm, and your stomach does a flip. You try to focus on the food, but it's difficult when all you can think about is the man behind you.

You hadn't realized just how much you wanted him to say that until he did.

"If it helps, I can promise that you won't regret it," you say, throwing a grin over your shoulder.

He leans his chin on his palm, grinning back. "I'm sure I won't."

You set a pot of water on the stove and turn on the burner.

"What're you doing?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"Boiling water."

"For what?"

"Kebroots."

He looks confused. "Aren't we having that stuff you're making now?"

"This is the sauce for the main dish," you say, gesturing with your spoon. It's easy to forget that he's never had a proper home-cooked meal in his life, and the thought of him getting to taste this one is more than a little thrilling. "The kebroots are going in the water."

"Why?"

"Because they need to boil."

He gives you a flat look, and you roll your eyes. "Do you want to know the answer to everything, or do you want to enjoy the surprise?"

"Fine," he says, sitting back. "But don't think you can keep me from learning your secrets."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Is that so?"

He nods, grinning.

"Well, then," you say, smiling down at the pot. "I'll have to make sure you don't."

You're not usually one to play your cards so close to the vest. It's not like you to keep secrets, but there's something fun about the intrigue, something thrilling about keeping him in the dark.

"Can I at least have a hint?" he asks, resting his elbows on the counter.

You turn and prop yourself against the stove. "No. I already told you. It's a surprise."

"Come on, doc. You can't give me something?" he wheedles, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth. "Just a little something to tide me over."

"No."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"You're no fun."

"And yet, here you are,” you say with a teasing tilt of your head.

Kix grins, then sighs.

"Fine," he says and pushes back from the counter. "If that's the case, then I'm going to need more beer."

He disappears into the fridge. You don't turn, focusing instead on the task at hand. The sauce is nearly finished, but there are still a few steps left to complete.

You hear him move to your bookshelf, fingers lightly tapping along the spines of your books. You'd been surprised when he mentioned enjoying reading, since most clones you'd met didn't bother with it, preferring instead to watch holodramas or listen to the radio. But Kix liked books, which you were sure he kept to himself for fear of teasing from his brothers. You had a sneaking suspicion he was a romantic.

He stops to pull one out, running his fingers down the spine. "The Time Machine," he reads.

"It was one of my favorites as a kid," you explain. "I'm surprised it survived the trip here."

Kix puts it back in its place. "Have you ever read any of the Corellian Civil War holonovels?"

"No.” You shake your head. “I've never been a fan of war stories."

Kix snorts. "Me neither. There's only so many ways they can tell the same story."

"There's nothing like real-life experience," you say, and you immediately regret it.

"True," Kix agrees and doesn't press the matter. You’re thankful, your heart in your throat, that you hadn’t ruined the moment entirely, but you can’t help but feel a little on edge.

The two had been working together for several months, and though it wasn't uncommon for clone troopers and nat-born people to befriend one another, there was still an underlying tension between you, one that neither of you had the guts to address.

He'd asked you for dinner because he liked you. You accepted because you liked him.

Neither was quite sure what to do next.

The tension between you had grown more pronounced, and though neither of you made any effort to stop it, the unresolved feelings were starting to affect your work. You were both professionals and did your best not to let it interfere, but it was still there, a constant reminder of what was unsaid, a potential opportunity squandered.

Still, if you were going to pursue a relationship with anyone, you were glad it was him.

You had a fondness for him, and it had grown into something deeper. It wasn't just his looks. Though he was definitely the most handsome trooper in the GAR, that was never a primary consideration for you. You’ve spent nearly every waking moment around men who looked almost exactly like him, after all. But it was the differences, the small nuances that made him stand out, that drew your eye.

With the water finally boiling, you turn back to chopping the kebroot. The vegetable is a bit tricky to handle, its tough outer skin resisting the knife's edge. You steady your hand, apply more pressure, and try again.

You’re grateful Kix seems to be distracted by your books, allowing you to focus. If he saw you struggling, he’d probably try to offer help, and you want to do this on your own.

He was right earlier, when he said you didn't need to do all this for him.

You don't.

But you want to.

He's a good man, a hard worker, and you want to show him your appreciation. He deserves someone to take care of him for once.

When you think about it, the whole thing seems silly. You're grown adults, not hormonal teenagers. You can't believe you're making such a big deal out of something so simple.

But it is a big deal, and not just because he's the first man you've found attractive in a long time. It's the fact that you've been dancing around this for months, if not longer, and now you finally have an opportunity to explore the potential between you.

You’ve been trying your best not to picture him here, but with him in the apartment, it was difficult not to imagine. You worked together. You were friends. It was easy for you to forget that, and even easier to let your imagination run wild.

You can see him in the kitchen, helping you chop vegetables, or washing dishes at the sink. You can see him on the couch, his arm draped over the back, his legs spread wide, his head tilted back in a laugh. You can see him in bed, and that's where your mind wanders to the most.

You imagine how it might feel to kiss him, to touch him, to have him touch you. You wonder if he'll be gentle or if he'll be rough. You don't have a preference. You don't care as long as it's him. You want him to hold you. You want to feel him pressed against you, his chest against yours, his mouth against your neck, his hands running up your sides, slipping underneath your shirt—

You hiss out a curse as the knife slips, nicking the fleshy part of your finger. Blood wells up, a stark contrast against the green of the ruica.

"You okay?" Kix asks.

"I'm fine," you answer quickly.

You reach blindly for the towel, wrapping the cloth around the cut, trying to apply pressure. The cut isn’t deep, but it stings like hell.

"What happened?" he asks, appearing at your side.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Let me see," he says, and grabs the wrist of the hand holding the towel.

"It's not bad," you say and are about to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. He guides you to the sink and holds your hand under the tepid water. His eyes flicker from the wound to your face and back again, brows furrowed in a way you know means he’s gone into medic mode.

“Kix, I’m fine,” you huff. You try to withdraw your wrist, but he holds fast.

"Stop moving. You're bleeding all over the counter."

“Sorry,” you say. You can feel your cheeks burning. You should have been more careful.

His hands are warm. The pressure feels good. You can't remember the last time someone touched you like this. You want to pull away, to spare yourself the embarrassment of being this close to him, but he doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he seems determined.

“Where’s your med kit?” he asks, eyes still fixed on your hand.

You tell him where to find it, and he firmly instructs you to keep your hand under the water before he breaks into a jog toward the bathroom.

“Sit,” Kix commands when he returns, his tone no-nonsense.

You can't help but laugh.

He shoots you a glare as he opens the kit and begins removing the supplies. "I'm serious, doc. Sit."

He's so cute when he's bossy.

"Alright," you relent, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He grabs the chair across from you and drags it closer, positioning himself directly across from you.

"Gimme your hand," he orders, and you do as you're told, holding it out for him. He gently peels the towel back and sets it aside. You don't dare look. You're too embarrassed.

“Seriously, you don’t have to,” you assure him, but he just shakes his head and dabs the blood away with a clean corner of the towel.

“Should’ve known you’d be a Code 5,” he says your code word for a difficult patient with a roll of his eyes. He's only half joking.

“It’s a cut, not a stab wound,” you reply indignantly.

Kix shakes his head and reaches for the alcohol wipe. He opens it with his teeth and begins cleaning the area around the wound.

"I know that," he says, his voice softer. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

He looks away to discard the wipe, and when he meets your gaze again, his eyes are filled with warmth and something else.

You don’t know how to respond.

It's a look that speaks volumes.

His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against your palm. It's not necessary, but he does it anyway.

“Just let me take care of you,” Kix says quietly, his gaze locked on yours. “Please. For my sake.”

“Alright.” You nod, biting your lip once he turns away to grab a bandage. The intensity in his gaze surprises you. It’s different than the look he wears when you’re in the midst of surgery, different from the easy smile he wears when you’re with the men. This is something new, something unexpected.

It feels personal.

He tears the backing off the bandage and presses it gently over the cut. You try to focus on his hands instead of his face. His fingers are rough and calloused, and you how they'd feel against your bare skin.

The thought makes your stomach flutter.

It's not a foreign feeling. You've thought about this before, more times than you care to admit, but this is the first time you've been so close. This is the first time you let him.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your bandaged finger. The action is quick, almost thoughtless, and it catches you off guard. Kix freezes. His lips linger for a moment too long, and his cheeks flush pink.

He pulls back. "Sorry," he mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

"It's okay," you say, smiling shyly.

You're touched by the gesture. It's sweet and considerate, and exactly the sort of thing he'd do. His cheeks are flushed. You can't tell if he's embarrassed or if it's the proximity.

Your hand folds back into your lap. You can still feel the warmth of his lips on your skin. You don't know why the kiss affects you so much. It's not the first time you've been kissed, and it certainly won't be the last, but something about his touch makes your pulse quicken.

"You're sweet," you say, trying to lighten the mood.

He grins, shaking his head. "Don't let that get around."

"My lips are sealed."

He glances down at your mouth, his grin fading. You feel a thrill rush through you, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Your heart starts to beat faster.

"Good," he whispers, his voice low and husky.

You don't move.

You don't want to break the spell.

Kix's eyes search yours, looking for some sign of reciprocation. He's giving you a chance to tell him no, to push him away.

Instead, your hand comes up to cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes across his bottom lip. You feel the breath leave his lungs, feel him lean into your touch. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide.

"Kix?"

"Yeah?" he whispers.

"You should kiss me," you breathe.

Kix rises to his feet, leaning down so that his face is only inches from yours. You take in his features, his warm eyes, the way they're trained on your lips, the way he's watching your every move as if waiting for you to change your mind.

His thumb caresses your cheek, and he waits a breath more before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You sigh into his touch, bringing your other hand up to grab the back of his head. The kiss is soft, unhurried, a slow slide of lips.

Your tongue slides across his bottom lip, and he groans, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roam over your shoulders, down your back, over your hips, his fingertips brushing the exposed skin above your waistband.

You part, and you let your forehead rest against his, both of you catching your breath. Eventually, you pull back, swallowing nervously.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I don't know why I did that."

"I do," he replies.

You look up in surprise and find him watching you. His eyes are bright, and he's smiling, a real smile, not the forced one he sometimes uses around others.

"I've wanted to do that since the day we met," he admits, his cheeks reddening slightly. "And I'm not sorry it happened."

"Really?" you ask, trying not to sound too eager.

He nods, the hand on your cheek moving to play with the ends of your hair. "You're beautiful. And smart. And you take no shit, especially from me. What’s not to like?"

You laugh and lean in to kiss him again. He returns the kiss eagerly, his hand resting on your lower back to pull you closer.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he continues between kisses. "I didn't think you would want this."

"Well, I do." You grin. "Very much."

He groans and leans in to capture your lips again, but you stop him with a finger to his lips. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

"The food's burning."

Kix's eyes go wide, and he rounds the counter in a flash, quickly grabbing the pot off the burner and setting it aside.

"Shit," he curses, and you can't help but laugh at the panicked expression on his face.

"Relax. I'm kidding," you say, and you follow him to wrap your arms around waist. He relaxes into your touch, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

“Can it be reheated?” he asks, his expression hopeful.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

His hands slide up to cup either side of your face and pull you into another kiss, one you can feel all the way down to your toes. He presses you up against the counter, his body flush against yours.

You whine into his mouth at the feeling of his tongue against yours, your fingers gripping his hair to ground yourself. He tastes like beer and something else, something dark and earthy.

It's delicious, and you can't get enough.

His lips leave yours to trail across your cheek to your neck, peppering kisses along your jaw, his teeth scraping along your pulse.

"We should probably wait until after dinner to do this," you breathe, tilting your head to give him better access.

"I can't," he replies, his voice rough, his hands roaming across your body.

"Me either," you agree, and let him lift you onto the counter. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively, your hands cupping his face as you bring him in for another kiss.

His hands are everywhere, his touch electric, and you want him to touch you everywhere, his hands and his lips, his mouth and his tongue.

Your hands slide underneath his shirt, pushing the material up until he has to withdraw to pull it off over his head. You take in the expanse of his bare torso, the way the muscles ripple under your touch, and your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest.

"You're gorgeous," you say, your hands coming to rest on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"You are," he says. "And I've wanted this for so long."

He reaches behind you to remove your shirt, leaving you in your bra and pants. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and you want him to touch you, to make you feel good, to ease the ache that's been building inside you since the first time he smiled at you.

He dips his head to kiss you again, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair. Your mouth opens to his, and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue against yours. He nips at your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth, and you moan, pulling him closer.

His lips travel across your jaw, down your neck, along your collarbone. His hands find the clasp of your bra and make quick work of the latch, leaving you bare. You shiver, the cool air hitting your skin, goosebumps breaking out over your skin.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers, and he leans down to take one nipple into his mouth.

"Oh," you gasp, arching your back into him.

He sucks the sensitive bud between his lips, swirling his tongue around the peak, teasing you. He takes the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and twisting, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Your head falls back, and you moan his name, your fingers holding tight to his neck, your thighs squeezing his hips.

You can feel the heat of him against you, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your center, and you grind down against him, desperate for friction.

His mouth leaves your breast, and he kisses you, his tongue tangling with yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You drag him closer, your hands running over his back, exploring every inch of his warm, firm skin.

His lips trail across your cheek, and you gasp as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He pauses to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder, his hands massaging your waist.

"What do you want, mesh’la?" he murmurs, his mouth trailing along your collarbone.

"You," you reply, your voice breaking into a moan when he bites down gently on your shoulder, and you can't help but buck your hips.

You can feel him grin against your skin. "You have me."

"Bed," you manage, your hands gripping at his shoulders. "Now."

Kix chuckles, his hands sliding down to cup your ass. He pulls you flush against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you off the counter. Your legs tighten around his waist and you bury your face in his neck to muffle your gasp as he walks you down the short hallway toward your bedroom.

Kix kisses you deeply as he lays you on the bed, hovering above you for a moment before he ducks down to press a kiss to your stomach.

His lips trail lower, dipping just above the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his mouth on you, the scratch of his stubble against the sensitive skin there. The idea of what he’ll feel like between your thighs has you nodding before he’s even asked the question, his hands hovering on your waist.

Kix’s fingers hook into the waistband, slowly sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. You help him, lifting your hips so he can pull them off. Your panties stick to the slick dampening your center, and Kix lets out a barely concealed moan at the darkened patch there before tearing them away. 

You expect him to discard them over your shoulder with your pants, but he shocks you by giving you a bashful smile and tucking them into his back pocket.

"Really?" you ask, trying to stifle your amusement.

"What?" He gives you a look that's almost innocent, if not for the fact that he's hovering above you, half-naked and fully aroused.

“Nothing. I just didn't expect you to want to keep them."

"Do you mind?" he asks, his expression turning serious.

"Not at all," you say, and watch with rapt attention as his expression turns devious.

"Good. I plan to treasure these," he teases, and he presses a kiss to your bare knee. You shudder at the touch, at the implication behind his words.

"Now where were we?" he murmurs, his voice husky, his eyes dark as he lowers himself to his knees on the floor in front of you.

He grabs the back of your ankles and tugs, and you let out a squeak as you're pulled until your ass is nearly hanging off the edge. It’s a precarious position that’s immediately rectified by Kix arranging your legs so they’re thrown over each of his shoulders, his face level with your exposed center.

The feeling of his breath against your cunt is almost too much to bear, your legs wanting to close instinctually, but he quickly stops you with a firm hand on either thigh.

“Hold still, beautiful,” he commands softly, his eyes fixed on your wet, swollen folds.

“Kix—“

Whatever you meant to say evaporates as soon he darts forward, tongue flattening to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You nearly forget your own name when he parts your lips with one hand to give him better access, zeroing in on your clit without any direction from you. 

His licks start out soft, then steadily increase in pressure until you're nearly grinding on his tongue. The scratch of his stubble against you feels as good as you imagined. He eats you out like he’s starving, with a passion you knew he possessed but never dared to dream he’d apply to you in this way.

He withdraws for a moment to take a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to yours, pupils blown wide. “More?”

You nod frantically, though you aren’t sure what you're agreeing to. Anything to keep his hands and mouth on you. “Please.”

Kix dives back in, lapping up the juices leaking from you before returning back to your clit. Zaps of pleasure jolt up your spine and turn into a burning heat when you feel something nudge your entrance. His finger slips inside with ease, stroking your walls and the fire building inside of you, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

He finds the spongey part deep inside you within seconds, hooking his finger upward to press firmly and drawing a gasp from you. With his target found, he adds another finger and begins to slowly curl them, pushing his hand in and out in a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

His lips close around your clit, suddenly sucking hard, and you gasp.

Your hips jolt off the bed, thighs closing involuntarily around his head, and he groans loudly. Your eyes open abruptly, worrying you've hurt him somehow. 

Instead, you find his eyes closed, brow furrowed in pleasure, and the hand he’d been using to hold you open has retreated. From your vantage point, you can only see his arm moving, and you realize with a moan that he’s languidly palming his cock in time with the thrusting of his fingers.

As if he can sense you watching, Kix opens his eyes. Though his mouth doesn’t let up in its assault on your clit, you can see the smile in his eyes as he stares back. His fingers speed up as he pulls back to speak, punching the air from your lungs and sending you falling back against the bed.

“Can you take three?”

“Ye-es.” You hiccup at the feeling of a third thick finger slowly breaching you, stuffing you fuller than you've ever been able to manage on your own. The coil in your stomach tightens with each push and pull into your wet heat. Every thrust of his fingers sends you higher and higher, your entire body writhing with the force of it.

“Look at you," he groans. "So tight and wet. Taking my fingers so well, like you were made for me."

Your hands come up to fist the sheets at your sides, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with each word, the way he moans between your legs, the way his eyes flutter closed in bliss as he fucks you with his hand. You can feel yourself approaching your peak, your walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers.

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Yes." You gasp, your thighs starting to shake with the strain.

"Come on," he encourages, taking your clit between his lips and sucking, his tongue flicking rapidly against you. "Let go, beautiful."

Your eyes slam shut, and your orgasm slams into you with a force unlike anything you've felt before. It rips through your body, the heat coiled inside your exploding, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you writhe. You feel yourself nearly come out of your body, tingling pleasure coursing through you in waves. 

Just as you're beginning to wonder if it’ll ever stop, it begins to fade, leaving you panting and sweating as your body collapses against the bed.

“Holy shit,” you say breathlessly. Kix chuckles from the floor, and you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him after you regain control of your limbs. He’s staring back at you, a dreamy smile on his face, the entire lower half dampened with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks.

“I think you know,” you laugh, breathless. “I thought I was about to suffocate you there for a second.”

“Worth it, trust me.” He sighs wistfully, his eyes a little unfocused. “I don't think I've ever seen anything so hot in my life."

"You're such a charmer," you tease, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair.

"Just telling the truth," he smiles, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

Kix helps you lower your trembling legs from his shoulders before glancing down at the hand that was just inside you. He lifts it up to his mouth, sucking his fingers and tasting your release with a thoughtful hum before he moves to stand.

“Just as I thought.”

“What?”

“I knew you’d taste incredible.”

He kisses you, tongue pushing its way inside your mouth to tangle with your own. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue, chasing after him when he pulls away to push his pants off completely. 

You want to keep kissing him, keep feeling his mouth against yours, but you're distracted by the sight of his cock springing free from his small black briefs as he slides them down his strong thighs.

Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

“You’re kidding.”

Kix’s fingers, slick with his spit and the remnants of your release, circle the head of his cock. It’s half-hard from his concentrated efforts on your cunt, but it quickly springs to life under his attention. Even not fully erect, it’s by far the most impressive cock you've ever seen. Thick, a sizable length, and now curving up toward his stomach, you can’t look away.

Saliva begins to pool on your tongue at the thought of having him in your mouth, but before you can lean forward to act on your desires, he’s pushing you back on the bed.

“If I knew all you clones were packing —“

He cuts you off with a bruising kiss.

“Careful, mesh’la.” The Mando’a comes out in a growl as he crowds you against the bed, slotting himself between your legs. His hand slides up your thigh to your breast, pinching a nipple. “I’m not big on sharing.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his mouth descends to follow the path his hand has taken, sucking your other nipple into his mouth. The feeling of his mouth and teeth on your chest makes you moan, your hips bucking against his.

"Kix, please."

He kisses back up your chest and throat to press his forehead against yours. You can feel the way his fingers tremble against you as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance, and your hand comes up to cup his cheek.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes," he admits, eyes closing as he takes a deep breath.

"We don't have to do this," you assure him.

His eyes shoot open. "I want this more than anything."

"Okay," you smile.

He lets out a sigh, his body relaxing above you. "Sorry, it's just... I've wanted this for a long time, and I just don't want to mess it up."

"You won't." Your arms come around to wrap around his neck. "But I'll tell you if I'm not liking something."

He nods, ducking down to kiss you deeply. Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, and he groans into your mouth as the head of his cock rubs against your clit.

"Please," you whine as he begins to rock his hips. His cock glides easily through your slick folds, and his lips drop back to your neck. "Inside me, Kix."

"Maker, you're wet." His cock slips back down to your entrance, and you bite your lip as the head begins to breach you.

"That's what happens when you make a girl cum," you quips, moaning as he slowly inches inside of you. You feel every inch of him, the stretch more than you're used to but still deliciously perfect. "Oh, fuck!"

He stops, pulling back to look at you with concern. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"No! No, it's just... " you laugh breathlessly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. "You're huge. Fuck, Kix."

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you as he continues to push inside of you. The stretch is unlike anything you've ever felt, and it's making your head spin. He feels amazing, thick and hot and throbbing inside of you.

"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts. "I wish you could see how good you look taking my cock."

Your cunt clenches around him at his words, and he groans. He buries his face in your neck, pressing kisses along your jaw, his breath coming out in hot puffs against your skin.

When he bottoms out, you both let out a shaky breath.

"Stars," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Kix, you feel amazing."

"So do you," he grits out. "You take my cock so well, mesh'la. Like you were made for me."

You moan at his words, his hips pulling back to thrust shallowly into you. You can't help the whine that escapes you, your legs tightening around his waist to pull him closer. The slow drag of his cock against your walls is almost too much, pleasure bordering on the line between pain.

"Faster," you pants, your nails scratching down his back. "Harder, Kix. I need it."

"Anything you want," he replies, his hips picking up speed.

He kisses you, tongue plunging into your mouth as he begins to snap his hips against yours. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him filling you, the slick sounds of your cunt and his thrusts echoing throughout the room.

Kix fucks you like it's his last chance, hard and fast and rough, like he's afraid you’ll disappear at any moment, and you can barely do anything but hold on.

He changes the angle of his hips slightly, and your mouth drops open as a strangled cry is torn from your lips. His cock rubs against your sweet spot with each stroke, and his head drops to your chest as his hips slam against yours.

"Stars, mesh’la, you feel incredible," he grunts, pressing his face into your neck. His teeth sink into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, and you let out a strangled gasp.

"Oh, fuck. Don't stop, Kix," you pants, your voice breaking into a sob, your hand tangling in his hair to tug on it. His hips stutter for a moment before he picks up the pace, your entire body jolting with the force of each thrust. He's fucking you so hard, his cock driving into you with enough force that your entire body rocks with the force of it. "Kix, oh kriff."

He withdraws from your neck, his mouth returning to yours. He swallows your moans, hips pumping into your faster as you squeeze around him. The feeling of him stretching you is intoxicating, and you never want it to end. You wonder if it would be too much to ask him to stay inside your forever, his thick cock plugging you up so nothing could slip out. You feel him everywhere, all around you and inside you. It's overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Kix," you whimper, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his neck. Your teeth scrape along his skin, and you revel in the groan that escapes him. His hands tighten on your hips, thumbs pressing against the bones there.

"Mesh’la," he gasps. "Kriff, I'm getting close."

"Me, too."

You can feel the fire burning low in your stomach, your walls fluttering around him. You dig your heels into his ass, encouraging him to go even deeper, and you see stars when he hits the spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"Right there, Kix!"

He changes angles so he's hitting your g-spot on every thrust, his mouth dropping back to your neck. You can feel the sweat beading on his skin, the way his muscles flex under your hands with every movement. You scratch down his back, hips jerking to meet his, and you know he must be close. His thrusts are becoming more erratic, his breathing heavier.

"Kix, I'm gonna--" you gasp, your hand cupping the back of his neck.

He buries his face in your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin in his reach. The hand on your hip slides between you, and you nearly scream when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb.

"Cum for me, beautiful," he mutters, biting your earlobe.

Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, your body seizing up as you cums. White-hot pleasure courses through you, your thighs shaking around him. You can vaguely hear him whispering praise in your ear, but you can't focus on anything except the feeling of his cock still pounding into your as you ride out your high.

"So good, mesh'la. I love the way your pussy squeezes my cock. You look so pretty when you cum, you know that?” he babbles with a low groan, hips beginning to stutter. “Fuck, I'm not gonna last."

You manage to regain your bearings after a moment, your body feeling like jelly. Your limbs feel like they weigh a ton, but you're determined. You need to see him lose control, need to see him fall apart because of you. You know he's close, can feel his thrusts becoming more and more uneven.

"Cum for me, Kix," you order. You can't help the smug smirk that overtakes your features as he groans loudly. "I want to see you."

"Mesh'la," he chokes out, hips losing their rhythm as he fucks you.

"Let go, baby." You lean up to nip his jaw, the hand on the back of his neck tangling in his hair. He looks so beautiful above you, eyes screwed shut, a flush coloring his cheeks. His skin is shining with sweat, muscles flexing as he pushes himself further.

"Look at me."

His eyes flutter open, and you nearly cum again. The sight of him, eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open, is almost enough to tip you over the edge.

"Fuck," he gasps, hips pistoning into your erratically.

"Cum for me," you repeat.

The grip on your hips is almost bruising as he buries himself inside you. His hips jerk once, twice, and then he's gone, moaning loudly as he cums. You can feel the pulsing of his cock inside you, the warm wetness flooding your cunt, and you can't help the whine that escapes you.

"Kriff," he grunts, head dropping down to rest against yours. You stay like that for a moment, both panting, the only sounds in the room the faint hum of the rain outside and your heavy breathing.

You feel boneless, completely and utterly spent. If you were to die right now, you'd die happy. Kix props himself up on his forearms, brushing your sweaty hair from your face with a grin. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you smile tiredly.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey," he replies. He ducks down to kiss you again, his smile widening. Has he always had dimples? How did you not notice those before? "How are you feeling?"

"Messy,” you laugh. You glance down at the place where your bodies are joined, feeling him twitch inside you.

"Let me take care of that," he says, gently sliding out of you. The sound he makes when he leaves your body is positively sinful, and your thighs clench at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you.

Kix brushes another kiss against your temple before standing from the bed. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he disappears into the refresher, returning a moment later with a damp washcloth. He cleans you up gently, tossing the cloth in the direction of the refresher once he's finished.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching out for him.

He climbs into bed beside you, and you roll onto your side to press yourself against his chest, throwing your leg over his. His arms come around you immediately, holding you close as he peppers kisses on your hair. You snuggle closer, sighing happily as the warmth radiating from him cocoons around you. His hands run over every inch of available skin as if he's committing it to memory.

"I can't believe we waited so long to do that," you mumbled against his chest.

Kix laughs, the vibrations running through his chest and into yours. You're suddenly aware of how bare you both are, how you're pressed together from shoulder to toe. It should be unnerving, but it isn't. You feel safe.

"Me either. We should've been doing that this whole time."

You giggle, your hand running across his side to rest on his ribs. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "Maybe next time you can fuck me on a med table."

He groans, the hand on your waist moving down to squeeze your ass. "That violates about ten different health codes."

"Fine. The supply closet, then."

"Mesh’la —" The words are a choked moan, and you can’t help but laugh.

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"You're a menace."

You lean up to press a kiss to his jaw, smirking. "But you like it.”

"You're right," he chuckles, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. "I do."

You hum happily, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips move slowly against yours before a rumbling sensation under your hand makes them shoot open.

"Was that your stomach?"

Kix blushes and looks away. "Maybe."

You roll your eyes fondly, pushing away from his chest. He whines, trying to pull your back against him.

“You’re hungry,” you laugh.

"I am not," he protests weakly.

You stand from the bed, grinning when his eyes immediately drop to your body. His gaze is so heated that you can't help but flush, and it only burns brighter when you bend over to pick up your pants, and he lets out a low groan.

"Mesh'la, if you keep doing that, I'll never let you leave this bed," he growls.

You bite your lip, your eyes flickering down to the sheet barely covering his growing erection. The sight is mouthwatering, and your mind fills with a thousand different ideas about what you'd like to do with him. But your stomach growls again, and you sigh, walking toward the refresher.

"Where are you going?" he pouts, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You're not the only one who's hungry." You stop at the door, giving him a mischievous smile. "And if you're a good boy, I'll make it worth the wait."

Kix is quiet for a moment before he speaks. "I can wait."

"Good boy."

His responding groan has you grinning from ear to ear as you disappear behind the door, your laughter echoing off the walls.

[yurinaa-world]

hiii!! if it's not too much to ask, can i get the twst dormleaders with a crush/s/o with an emotion ahoge?

the ahoge droops down when they're sad, stands straight when they're surprised, forms a heart when they're flustered...etc.

Characters: Housewardens x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: with reader that has a emotion ahoge

Warnings: fluff, spelling mistakes

𝑅𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈

He’s flustered whenever you're flustered: it wouldn’t have been obvious if it weren't for the strand of hair that forms into a heart and you just looking away from him. He’s curious about your hair and it’s moving, reflecting the way your emotions and you look very cute with your moving strand of hair (he wants to send him a photo of your ahoge).

𝐿𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒶 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇

His cute little herbivore has something special about themselves, isn’t that cute? He makes empty threats like “What pretty little piece of hair makes me want to rip from your head” why is he messing with you? Because he feels like it and your pretty eyes widening and ahoge standing up in the air. He’ll keeping saying empty threats just to mess with you

𝒜𝓏𝓊𝓁 𝒜𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜

It’s when Floyd pulls your ahoge saying it’s his way of playing with you, Azul has to step in since Floyd was having too much “fun” with you instead of working at the lounge. They think that it’s good to understand what someone is thinking just by looking at their face but your obvious, way too obvious one look tells what you're feeling. Now he doesn’t bother guessing if you like since your ahoge shows it all off.

𝒦𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓂 𝒜𝓁-𝒜𝓈𝒾𝓂

WOW! Does it move on its own? It does! SO COOL! Now that just gave him more of a reason to hang out with you than how much he already does— he wants to touch your ahoge whenever you're feeling other emotions a lot if you want him to, if you don’t then it’s fine! 

𝒱𝒾𝓁 𝒮𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓃𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓉

When you first saw Vil the strands of your hair turned into a heart, it always happened even while your together, his ego was getting better with the way he affected you to the point your own hair would jump up for him since he’s that beautiful! (He once tried to clip down your ahoge and the clip went flying across the room.

𝐼𝒹𝒾𝒶 𝒮𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹

He wants to grab it, like really wants to grab it, whenever you come to visit, he just stares at it while it moves around in such an animated way, ‘pull it’ is what he’s thinking to himself, well he loses to his thoughts and just randomly grab onto your ahoge and gently tugs it while you whine at his action. So cute, your look so cute looking at him like that, your hand on top of your ahoge to keep from pulling it again. (Ortho lectures him) He's sorry HE REALLY IS but you look so..so cute he couldn’t help it! Forgive him, please!

𝑀𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓊𝓈 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒶

How cute you were, your ahoge jumping up and down happily while walking over to see him, you really are one of a kind child of man, aren’t you? He tries his best to comfort you when you're feeling bad, grabbing your ahoge that was drooping down and making it stand up since you look better when you're happy.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 39: Returning

Your family comes back to Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-38 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Aftermath of canon-typical violence, including graphic depiction of injury. Mention of past sexual assault, not described. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 10k

A/N: We are through the spoiler-y portion now and you're all OK to read from here if you just want to see how the fic starts to come to a close. There is no more overlap with TLOU 2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next chapter

May, 2017 

“Mama!” 

Savvy’s voice was shrill, panicked. That scared you more than getting thrown off a horse had and your head shot up to make sure nothing had happened to her in the few seconds you’d been flying through the air and getting your bearings after hitting the ground with a thud. 

But your daughter was fine, just watching you from her place on the other side of the fence posts as you worked to break the feral horse you’d taken just a few weeks earlier. She was at the hardest stage now, the part where you had to be on her back but she didn’t want you there. She was used to a saddle, used to pressure guiding her. She was even used to you. She just wasn’t used to giving up the last wild parts of her, even though you were offering her a life that was better for her, one with care and shelter and protection from what would kill her in the wild. 

“Are you OK?” Savvy asked, her eyes wide. You should have anticipated this. She’d never seen you get thrown off a horse before, of course it would scare her. She looked like she was about to climb the fence to come check on you, her little hands bracing on the wood post. 

“I’m alright, baby girl,” you said quickly, holding your palm out to stop her. “You stay right there, OK?” 

She nodded but frowned, her little eyebrows drawing together as she watched you get back to your feet, the book you’d told her to read so you could keep an eye on her while you worked discarded in the dirt. 

You groaned a little as you shook the tension from your limbs, cracking your neck as you did before going for the horse again. 

“Mama!” Savvy yelled again, stopping you in your tracks. You looked back at her, frowning. “Mama, no! You’re going to get hurt, you can’t go on her again, she’s scary and…” 

“Oh, baby,” you said, going and kneeling in front of her, brushing her curls back from her small face. “I have to.” 

She frowned. 

“Why?” 

You smiled at her, at the concern in her warm, brown eyes.

“Because, when you get thrown - when something gets hard - you don’t give up,” you said. “When you give up, you lose so much that you’ve already worked so hard for. It can be hard and it can be scary, but if I gave up on her now, I’m letting her down, too. When you get thrown, you have to get back up. Even when it’s hard, even when it’s scary, you get back on the horse. If you get back on the horse, it’ll be OK. Understand?” 

She watched you for a moment before giving you a firm nod. You smiled and kissed her forehead before steeling yourself and getting back on the horse.

May, 2028 

The way you rode with Joel wasn’t comfortable but you didn’t care. You needed to be close to him. 

You sat side saddle, more on his lap than anything else, precariously balanced and nestled in his arms but it was where you had to be. You pressed your face into his neck and breathed him in and even though he smelled mostly of sweat and horse it was a comfort. You closed your eyes and tried not to listen to anything, just the sound of his breathing. 

He didn’t say much, only occasionally pressing his face into your head and kissing you there and whispering you’re OK, I’ve got you every few minutes. You weren’t sure if it was for him or for you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been riding but it had been dark for what seemed like a long time when you stopped for the night. 

“C’mon Bambi,” Tommy said gently as he helped you down. His touch still made you flinch. “It’s OK. Just me, not going to hurt you.” 

He half caught you as you more fell off the horse than dismounted and you realized just how uncomfortable your position had been as your body realigned. It just didn’t hurt as much as so many parts of you so it didn’t bother you as you rode. Joel’s hands were on you again almost immediately, pulling you against him. 

“Careful,” Joel said, guiding you to a large tree to sit in the cradle of its roots. He lowered you gently to the ground before he knelt in front of you, carefully pulling your shirt back enough to see the knife wound from Mitchum’s guard on your arm. He spent a few minutes carefully patching you up, cleaning the cut and bandaging it. You kept your injured hand tight against yourself, like you could somehow hide from Joel just how broken you were. 

When he was done, he brushed your hair back before cupping your cheek, his gaze deep and almost sad.

“I’m gonna go help Tommy set the perimeter…” 

Your eyes went wide at that, the thought of him being where you couldn’t see or feel him sending a thrill of panic up your spine. 

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, voice soothing and gentle. “Girls will be with you the whole time. You’re OK, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

You nodded and he pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there before he pulled away from you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself back against the tree, needing to have something at your back so you knew nothing could come and take you when you couldn’t see them coming. 

“Mom?” Savvy said quietly. You opened your eyes and found her standing beside you in the dark. “Can I… is it OK if I sit with you?” 

“Of course,” you said, your voice sounding and feeling oddly foreign to you, and you watched as she slowly, cautiously lowered herself down beside you. You kept your left hand clutched to your chest but held your right arm out and she gingerly fit herself against you there, nuzzling into your shoulder. You kissed the crown of her head, her curls tickling your nose and you gave her a squeeze before trailing your fingers gently through her hair. 

“Are you OK?” You asked quietly. She nodded but took a deep, shuddering breath. You relished that for a moment, that you could feel that she was alive an that she wanted to be close to you. “You can talk to me, it’s OK.” 

“I was so afraid,” she said, her voice wet. “I thought I’d never see you again and I never had the chance… You never told me about them and what… what they did.” 

“I know,” you said, continuing to hold her. 

“Why?” She asked. “I was so mad at you but it wasn’t your fault and you could have just told me and I would have understood, I would have known and I wouldn’t have been so… so…” 

Her voice trailed off and you pressed your lips to the crown of her head again, breathing in the smell of her, trying to put words to it. 

“You’re my baby,” you said eventually. “I want to protect you from everything. That’s my job, it’s the most important job I’ve ever had. I didn’t protect you then…” 

“Mom,” she said, sitting up from you a little to look you in the eye in the moonlight, like she was getting ready to fight you on it. 

“I didn’t,” you said. “I wish I could have but I wasn’t able to for a very long time. Keeping you from knowing about that stuff… I could protect you that way. I didn’t want that in your head. I still don’t.” 

She watched you for a moment before she deflated before you.

“I know you tried,” she said weakly. “I remember, the night they came… I heard the gunshots, I know you tried. I was so afraid then, too. I thought they killed you, I thought…” 

“I know,” you said softly. “And I’m sorry.” 

“I’m really sorry,” she said, tucking herself against you again. You could feel her tears dampening the cotton of your shirt. “I shouldn’t have been so mad at you, I’m so mad at myself now because I… I was just so angry because I didn’t understand and…” 

“It’s OK,” you soothed her. “Don’t be mad at yourself baby girl, please don’t. You went through so much, you survived so much all on your own that you never should have gone through. Of course you were mad, it’s right to be angry when something hurts you like that…” 

“But you didn’t hurt me,” she said, holding you tighter. “You didn’t just leave me. And I should have known that you would never have done that. I should never have been angry with you.” 

“It’s OK,” you said again. “We’ve found each other now, that’s all that matters, right?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded into you. “I love you, Mom.” 

You held her a little closer. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “So, so much.” 

After a few minutes, Ellie joined you, too. She didn’t seem to want to talk, something you were thankful for because you weren’t sure how well you’d hold it together. The conversation with Savvy had taken so much out of you. You needed to take care of them both, look out for them, help them through their pain and their fear but you barely had it in you to do it. It was like everything inside yourself was dedicated to keeping yourself alive and in one piece - as much as you could since they’d already cut pieces of you away. You didn’t have anything left in you to do anything else. 

Instead of asking for your words, Ellie sat silently on your left side and you cautiously, hesitantly, put your arm around her, your injured hand coming to rest against her. She put her head on your shoulder and you kissed her there before resting your cheek against her and closing your eyes. You tried to focus on the two of them, that you could feel that they were alive and that they were safe, knowing it with real certainty for the first time since Kyle had shown up at your door what felt like an eternity ago. 

When the men got back, Tommy volunteered to keep watch all night and Joel tried to protest but Tommy silenced him quickly. 

“You ain’t slept in days,” he said sharply. “Stay with your wife. I’ve got it.” 

You frowned as Joel set out his sleeping bag and helped you into it before joining you there, set a little away from where Ellie and Savvy were so there was a semblance of privacy. 

“You’re alright,” Joel said, so softly you weren’t sure that he’d even intended the words for you. “I’ve got you.” 

“You haven’t slept?” You asked quietly. You kept your injured hand between your bodies, tight against your chest while Joel’s arms were around you, the one below you tucked under your head so you could use him as a pillow, the other cradling your body against his. 

“Couldn’t,” he said, his lips brushing your forehead. “Not without you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears pinching tight in your throat. You hated that this had hurt him, too. 

“No,” he whispered. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You saved them, I would have done the same thing.” 

He held you so close and you felt him breathe, felt the subtle rattle inside of him and you knew he was crying. You wished you had it in you to soothe him and take care of him the way he was taking care of you but you couldn’t take any other pain into yourself. Instead, you cried, too, until you fell asleep in your husband’s arms. 

The next morning, you jerked awake, heart racing but you couldn’t remember why. It took you a moment to realize where you were, that you were safe and that Savvy and Ellie were safe, too. Your whole body was tense, a bowstring drawn too tight and ready to snap. 

“You’re OK,” Joel’s hand was tracing a delicate path over your spine and your face was buried in his throat. His voice was so quiet, the coo of a morning dove trees away was louder. “Never let anyone hurt you again, you’re safe.” 

You took a deep, shaky breath and he kissed the crown of your head and just held you until you felt like you could move. 

When Tommy and the girls took the horses to a nearby stream to drink and to fill up canteens before leaving camp, it left you and Joel alone - truly alone - for the first time. You were nestled into his chest as he leaned back against a tree, both of his hands on you, always touching you. 

“You can talk to me,” he said. “Don’t want you feeling like you need to protect me from any of it. I’m here for you, sweetheart. Whatever you need, it’s yours.” You swallowed hard but nodded into him. “Can I ask you for something?” 

You frowned but you didn’t stop him. He took a deep breath. 

“Can I see your hand?” He asked. You froze against him, not even breathing. He gave you a little squeeze. “I just want to see if it’s healing, baby.” 

You held it a little tighter to yourself. 

“You know?” You asked quietly. There was something that felt so wrong about Joel knowing that another man had cut part of you away for himself.

He gave you another small squeeze. 

“Made Cody pay for it,” he said. “Made ‘em pay for fuckin’ all of it.” 

You took a deep breath and sat back from him, just enough to unwind the makeshift bandage from around your hand. When it was just loose fabric over your wound, you took a shaky breath and looked at Joel. He was watching you closely, one hand gently cupping your elbow, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles over you there. You could tell he was trying to keep from showing much emotion, his face flat, but the way he was looking at you still told you everything. He was hurting, so much pain behind his eyes that it was hard not to drown in it. You tried not to think about how afraid he must have been, coming back to Jackson and finding his entire family gone from the one place left on Earth that was supposed to be safe. He’d reached you but you had to carry this with you now, for the rest of your life. Evidence of just how cruel this world was right on your hand, a constant reminder of what was waiting just outside the walls. 

“It’s OK,” he said gently and you took a deep breath before pulling the fabric back from your hand. You watched Joel’s face as you did, watched him fight to not flinch at the mangled flesh that was your hand. He took your palm gingerly in his large hands and you finally looked down at your remaining fingers, watching as Joel carefully examined you. He brushed his thumb on your palm below where the pieces of you had been cut away. 

“They burned it,” you said after a moment. “Stopped the bleeding.” 

“It’ll be OK,” he nodded and you fought to swallow around the knot that had tightened in your throat. 

“He took my wedding ring,” you said softly, feeling the tear you’d been struggling to hold back slip down your cheek anyway. 

“No,” Joel shook his head, setting your hand gently on your leg, palm up before reaching into his pocket. He pulled your ring out, still dark sticky with blood but it was yours. “I took it back. Don’t need to decide what you want to do with it now but I have it, I’ll keep it safe for you. He didn’t get to take that.” 

You looked at it for a moment, nodding slowly. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Joel tied your bandage around your hand again, finishing just as the other three returned with the horses and the water. 

You rode with Joel again, not feeling entirely conscious or even inside your body as you did. You still kept your left hand held close to your chest. Sometimes, you were keenly aware of the movement of the horse below you. Sometimes, you heard birds singing and frogs croaking and Ellie whispering to Savvy. Sometimes, you didn’t feel or see or hear or smell anything at all, just floating in space and time where nothing could take anything more from you. 

It was during one of those times where you were existing with nothing at all that you made it back to Jackson, Joel gently pulling you back to the present by pressing a kiss to your temple and talking low and gentle in your ear. 

The walls of the town were on the horizon and you stiffened. Even with damn near half the town back at Mitchum’s camp after the fight, you knew there would be people, people who would see you like this and know what had been done to you. 

“Just gonna get you to the doctor,” he said, sensing your discomfort. “Then we’ll get you home. It’s OK.” 

“Can we just go home, Joel?” You asked, burying your face in his neck. You knew you should be stronger than this. You knew you didn’t have anywhere inside yourself to find that strength. “Please, just take me home, I want to go home.”  

He held you a little tighter, the gates casting a shadow as they opened. 

“OK sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll take you home.” 

Joel guided the horse to your house, Tommy following close behind. You could feel eyes on you but you didn’t look up from your place tucked against Joel’s skin. Your brother in law helped you off the horse and helped you stay upright until your husband could tuck you against his side and return you to the place you felt safe. 

One Week Later 

You rarely left your bedroom. 

After Carol came by the house and examined you and Joel gently bathed you, washing you clean of everything that had happened, you’d only really left your room to use the bathroom. The curtains were drawn, the air was stale, you were coated in a layer of old sweat and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

At first, Joel rarely left your side. It was two days before you were without him even for a minute. He even went with you to the bathroom, his hand on your back on the walk down the hall and hovering just outside the door before walking you back to bed again. You mostly just laid on his chest, feeling him breathe, waiting for something - anything - to pull you away. You felt it coming, some amorphous thing hanging on the edge of your consciousness. Nowhere was safe. Not even Jackson. This was proven now. Something would find you, something would take everything that mattered away. It was always coming, it had been for more than 20 years, grasping for you in the form of your infected boyfriend or the man who didn’t want to take a no or the unseen death of your daughter’s father or those who took and took and took until there was nothing left. How could you be expected to live like that? Fighting and scratching an existence for yourself only to have it ripped away again and again and again. 

Staying in bed was safer. There was less to lose then. 

The third day, Joel left for a little while. You weren’t entirely sure where, but you were only alone for a few minutes, Ellie and Savvy coming to sit with you. You just held onto them and hoped that, whatever eventually came for you would spare them instead of using them as they had been before. 

Nothing did. 

Other people came by after that, too. Just to the house, Joel stopped them in the living room, seeming to understand that you couldn’t bear being seen this way. You heard them, occasionally, from your place in the bed. Their voices would filter upstairs and so would Joel’s replies. Tommy and Maria wanted to see how everyone was doing. Olivia gave updates on the stables and asked after you. Warren came by to tell Joel the final tally of the fight with Mitchum and how so much of the trouble that had cropped up for patrols over the last few years could be blamed on his fight for power. Even Julie visited, carrying a basket of snacks with her. Joel tried to get you to eat some. You managed a few berries before curling up again. 

You knew this had to be wearing on Joel. He weathered you waking up in a panic and fighting him before you remembered where you were and who you were with. He didn’t pressure you to leave the bedroom, instead bringing food and water and tea to you. He tried to get you to read but you weren’t interested so he read to you, instead. You didn’t process much of what he said but the sound of his voice was comforting and you would curl up against him as he read, drifting in and out of consciousness as he stroked your hair or ran his hand from your shoulder to your elbow and back again. 

The only thing that told you it had been a week that you’d been back was Carol. She came in your room with a gentle smile and asked to take your bandages off to check how you were healing. You kept your good hand in Joel’s the entire time, squeezing him tight because anyone but him or the girls being that close to you made you want to crawl out of your skin. 

“This is coming along well,” she said as she looked at your hand. “Really. You’ve come a long way in just a week. You will move past this and you will be OK.” 

You weren’t sure you could say anything so you didn’t try and you heard her giving Joel some care instructions in the hall before she left. You stared at the wall. 

���Hey,” Joel said when he came back in and sat on the edge of the bed. You curled your legs into your chest and watched him. He reached out and ran one large palm over your head. “How about a shower? Doc said should be easier now…” 

You watched him for a moment, worry in his eyes. He’d been with you like this for a week now. That was a long time for someone like Joel who liked to be moving and feeling like he was accomplishing something. It was unnatural for him to be here, stagnant like this with you. You knew how this must be hurting him, how his life would be better without needing to deal with this. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you knew you needed to say. 

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for,” you looped your arms around your knees and pulling them tighter to yourself. “You don’t have to stay with me like this.” 

“Baby…” 

“I can move back to my old house,” you said, ignoring the tightness in your throat and chest as you said it, like the thought of being away from him was going to strangle you dead. “I think it’s still empty, you don’t need…” 

“No,” he cut you off, sharp and firm. 

“I know this isn’t what you want…” 

“The hell it’s not,” he snapped. He moved fully onto the bed, taking your face in his hands so firmly it almost hurt, his fingertips sinking into your skin. You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes but he didn’t seem to be having that, either. “No, you look at me, goddammit, not letting you hide from this, you hear me?” 

You forced your eyes open, trying not to grimace as you looked at your husband, the man you wanted to be next to forever but couldn’t bear to keep dragging down like this. 

“You think I want you to leave?” He asked, brows raised so high they almost disappeared into his hair. “That I want you anywhere but next to me?” 

“Joel…” 

“I promised to love you and protect you,” he said. “You think that stops just because shit gets hard? You think I’m just going to let you go because somethin’ awful happened to you? I don’t care if I need to stay with you through this for another week or a year or a fuckin’ lifetime, I’m staying right fucking here. I love you, more than I ever thought I could love someone else and that don’t stop just because you need time!” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore!” You almost yelled it. “Please, I don’t want to drag you down with me, I can’t let you get dragged down with me, the girls need you and…” 

“They need you, too,” he cut you off. “And you’re not draggin’ me anywhere. You go, I go. That’s how this works, you and me. You hear me? Now, if… if you need to be away from me because of shit I’ve done -“ 

“No,” you shook your head as best you could in his grip but he continued on like you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“-then we’ll figure that out but we’ll do that together, not with you leaving because you think it’s what’s best for me, you understand me? I love you. I’m sticking by you. That ain’t changing.” 

You closed your eyes and Joel’s hold on you loosened, his hands moving from your face to your shoulders, his thumbs moving in soothing circles over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, the forcefulness gone now, just the quiet care left in his voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better.” 

He guided you to the bathroom and undressed you delicately as the water warmed up. He took off his socks but left on his jeans and t-shirt as he got in the shower with you. 

“Joel,” you whispered, your arms crossed over your chest as best you could. 

“It’s you and me,” he said. “We’re figuring this out together.” 

His hands moved over you slowly, firmly, cleaning your skin and your hair and working knots out of aching muscle. His clothes were dripping. He didn’t seem to notice. 

Another week later 

Joel had started going back to work. 

You’d insisted on it. You couldn’t keep him cooped up with you like this forever, you couldn’t bear to watch him slowly lose himself no matter how much he pretended like it was OK. 

He’d been reluctant, of course, and he wasn’t going on patrol or anything that took him away from the house for more than a few hours but you could tell that he was feeling better, now that he was pitching in around town again. 

Joel told you about some of what he did when he got back. He fixed the roof on a family’s house one day and told you about how the four-year-old boy there had showed him all his Matchbox cars before he left. Another day, Joel worked with Tommy to start figuring out good ways to expand the school as it was getting cramped, planning to bring their ideas to the council to decide how to move forward. Another, he told you about going to help Olivia at the stables and how people said they missed you and sent their best. 

The next day was when he came back with the kitten. 

“Brought you somethin’,” he said as he e came into your bedroom with it wriggling in his hold - the creature so small and his hand so large that it just fit in his palm. He set it on the bed next to you and you just gaped at it. 

“What…” 

“Couldn’t just leave it,” he shrugged. “It’s too new to survive on its own but it was all by itself. Figured, anyone here knows animals, it’s you. Thought it could use a mother.”

He’d apparently left the city walls for a few hours that day to test someone new on shooting for patrol. That’s when they found the kitten, snarling and ferocious, all alone near the shooting range. It was a little thing, black and white and fluffy with a tail that stuck straight up. Joel had scooped it up and tucked it inside a saddle bag before bribing it with some milk and chicken back in town. That had mellowed it some, its affection apparently easily bought as it ambled around the bed, pouncing at unseen prey and climbing on your legs. You smiled a little, watching it. 

“What are we supposed to do with a cat?” You asked, only glancing at Joel as you watched the kitten romp around. 

“Weren’t you sayin’ you were worried about mice in the barn?” He said. “Figured he can pitch in around here as much as anyone else. Earn his keep.” 

You laughed once, lightly, at that. The cat, paying rent in town with his presumed hunting skills. 

“Think you can raise ‘em up alright?” Joel asked. 

You reached out and ran a finger down his little back. He arched into your touch and you couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“I think so,” you said, even though you weren’t really sure that was true. 

But he did make you leave your room the next day. 

The kitten - who you decided to name Orion in hopes he lived up to his namesake in hunting skills - wanted to explore and you wanted to let him. You got out of bed to let him out of your room but it felt wrong, letting him go out there without someone watching him. This place was big and new and dangerous for him. He needed help. You didn’t go far, only making to the living room, but it felt like a different world to you, too. You sat on the couch, tucked as far back into the corner as you could go so you could feel things around you. It was the only way to be secure, knowing what was there. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there when you watched Joel come up the front walk, jogging up the steps and unlocking the front door. He nearly jumped when he saw you there, sitting on the couch with your arms around your legs, the cat patting at the bottom of the curtain at the window. 

“Baby,” he said quickly, almost running for you before sitting next to you, tilting your face in his hand, examining you. “You alright? You hurt?” 

You frowned at him, his eyes still ranging over you. 

“I’m fine,” you said. “We just… wanted a change of scenery.” 

He nodded slowly, watching you cautiously. 

“And how we feelin’ about all that?” 

You considered that for a moment. 

“Alright, I think,” you said. “Better, with you here.” 

His lips tugged up ever so slightly at the edges. 

“Good,” he said. “That’s good.” 

He put a movie on for the two of you and, for a bit, you felt almost normal with him there beside you, tucked against his side as you watched things play out on screen. You felt secure enough that you started to doze off there, somehow exhausted even though all you’d done that day was come downstairs and sit on a couch. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze as credits played. “Let’s get you upstairs.” 

It was something like waking up then. There were things happening around you that you realized had been happening for a while, you just hadn’t fully noticed. Joel helped you get get settled but didn’t get undressed himself. Instead, he got his pajamas from where they were folded on a chair in the corner and went to the bathroom, changing there. You frowned as he got into bed next to you and you pressed yourself against him, breathing in the warm, comforting smell of him. 

“Have you been doing that?” You asked quietly as he trailed his fingers up and down your spine. 

“Doin’ what?” He asked. You could hear the frown on his voice. 

“Getting ready for bed in another room,” you said. “I can’t remember from the last few days and…” 

You trailed off and he was quiet for a moment before he answered. 

“Yeah. Seemed… seemed smart.” 

Your frown deepened. 

“Why?” 

He sighed heavily, holding you a little tighter. 

“I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you or scare you,” he said slowly. “I dunno what they did to you - and you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to - but… I know enough of what they did before and you wake up afraid a lot. Figure… well, last thing you might need is seeing an undressed man so I’ve just been making sure you don’t. S’OK. I don’t mind.” 

Your throat got tight and you nuzzled closer to him, suddenly missing his skin so much it hurt. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said quietly, your voice thick. 

“It’s OK if you are,” he replied. “Just don’t want to be something that hurts you.” 

“You’re not,” you said. “I… I feel safe with you.” 

He slowly, hesitantly pressed his lips to the top of your head. 

“Good.” 

You were silent for a minute and you could feel his body start to relax against you and you knew you should just let him rest but now that you realized it had been weeks since you’d last really felt his skin, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

“Joel?” You said eventually. 

“Hm.” 

“Can…” You took a deep breath. “Can you take your shirt off?” 

He pulled back from you, frowning slightly. 

“I just…” you watched him closely. “I miss being able to touch you.” 

“Sure, baby,” he said. “If that’s what you really want.” 

You just nodded and he sat up enough to tug his shirt over his head before settling beside you, letting you decide how close you wanted to be. You pressed yourself against him, burying your face in his chest and breathing deep, not realizing just how much you’d missed this until that moment. 

“I love you, Joel,” you said quietly, pressing a kiss to his skin. 

He took a shaky breath. 

“I love you too, Bambi.” 

You tried to leave your room every day after that, at least for a little while. You made yourself tea in the kitchen and gave Orion a treat or watched something on TV in the living room. Ellie and Savvy came by and played cards one afternoon, both of them completely charmed by the way the cat would rear back on his hind legs to try to catch a string. You made it as far as the front porch once but you only lasted a few minutes there, the space too open to feel safe. 

One day, you decided to go and spend time in the room you’d set up for Savvy, sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking around at how Joel had helped you put it together. You were just thinking about how to ask if she wanted to come spend the night at least when you heard the front door open. 

“Sorry,” Joel said. “She’s got good days and bad. This may be a bad day if she’s still in our room…” 

“Do you think she’d be up for talking about it?” Olivia’s voice was distinctive, even from the floor above. “Because it’s been weeks…” 

“Know how long it’s been,” Joel said, his voice sharp. “Not about to jeopardize her health because…” 

“The whole town relies on us and those horses,” Olivia cut him off, heated too. “I understand that she’s going through something and I don’t want to make it worse. She’s my friend and I care about her. But I need to know whether or not she’s coming back anytime soon because the horses she was working with before this happened? They’re backsliding. If I need to take over, fine, I’ll do my best but it won’t be what she can do and I don’t want to do it without talking with her and…” 

“Another day,” Joel said. “I know what’s at stake but I am not putting her at risk. It ain’t worth it.” 

They were quiet for a moment and then Olivia sighed. 

“Fine,” she said. “But it has to be soon. They can’t just stay wild like this here, it’s not good for them. There’s only so much longer they can go on like this.” 

You heard her leave and then Joel’s heavy sigh before walking - his limp apparent even from a floor away - to the kitchen. You took advantage of the sound of the running water to slip back into your bedroom, pressing yourself back against the headboard and closing your eyes for a moment. 

Olivia was right. You knew the horses you’d been just starting to break would be in rough shape now. The longer you let them go, the harder it would be to get them back and it was dangerous to let them go too long in captivity without training. They could hurt themselves in the stall, hurt another horse, hurt someone trying to care for them. You couldn���t afford to let them go, the town needed them. Something had to give. 

Joel didn’t mention Olivia when he came upstairs only a few minutes later. He brought you tea and toast with jam and you ate some of it, staring at your hand with the missing fingers as you used the ones that remained to hold the bread. Joel just sat next to you in bed, reading silently and absently stroking Orion and watching you out of the corner of his eye like he was afraid of what you might do if he wasn’t watching. Because, apparently, now you needed supervision to eat fucking toast.

He tried to coax you down to watch a movie that evening but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the bed, your mind lingering on his conversation with Olivia, on all the things you were failing by still being here, like this. It was like you were still trapped there, still chained to that fucking wall, still waiting for the thing that was going to rip you apart. 

Joel held you as you tried to fall asleep - even though you weren’t sure you deserved it - and you knew it was going to be a rough night before it even began. 

You were right. You dreamed about Cody taking your daughters from where they were supposed to be safe and searching for them in the woods, desperate to reach them, ready to give every piece of yourself away in exchange but still not finding them. You dreamed about Mitchum and how he liked to hurt you, how his body felt like the weight of the world was suffocating you when he was on top of you. You dreamed of being trapped and caged and finding the only person left on the other side of the bars was yourself, standing there, holding the keys and watching, waiting. For what, you didn’t know. 

“Sweetheart!” Joel’s voice snapped you out of your head and, suddenly, you were back in his arms. The room was quiet and still and smelled like him and he was there, his eyes searching yours as he clutched you close. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re OK, I’ve got you. It’s just me, you and me, you’re safe. We’re all OK.” 

He ran his large palm over your head over and over, his eyes locked on yours, saying the words over and over and they were nothing new. They were things Joel had said probably every day since you’d been back, things he told you when he could feel you tense or when you panicked in your sleep. It was a familiar mantra, something you clung to when so much of the rest of the world seemed to be swallowed by chaos and cruelty. 

But this time, the settled in you differently. We’re OK. It’s just me, you and me. 

This thing you’d survived hadn’t just happened to you, not really. Yes, you’d been the one to willingly hand yourself over to monsters and you’d been the one to suffer what they wrought but it was Joel who came back from patrol to find his entire family gone. It was Joel who had searched for you, frantic and terrified, for days. It was Joel who had shepherded your daughters through your disappearance as they tried to shove their guilt away with vengeance. It was Joel who took the closest thing you’d get to justice from your tormentors. And after it all, he’d stood there, in the middle of this tempest, holding you through it, keeping your head above water. When everything threatened to pull you under, he was there. You weren’t alone. Not in this, not in anything. Not anymore. 

“Joel,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and trailing your fingers through his graying curls, his hair brushing against the scar tissue where your wedding band had once rested. 

“Hey baby,” he whispered back, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, his gaze less panicked. “You feeling OK? Want me to bring you anything? I can make you tea…” 

“No,” you said softly, still trailing your fingers through his hair. There’s a tightness in your stomach, one that was so foreign now but still so familiar when you were next to Joel. “That’s not what I want.” 

He watched you, his eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly and you could see just how restrained he was. You’d known Joel a long time, you knew how the whole of his body moved when in pleasure or pain, in certainty or confusion, even the fine muscles of his face - especially those - and he was holding back. He was protecting you, always protecting you, even now, even from himself. 

You didn’t want him to. 

“What do you need?” He asked gently, his hand going from your hair to your face, his thumb pressed below your cheekbone. 

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you watched him closely in the dark, keenly aware of how his body was in alignment with yours, how his leg had hooked over yours to tame your thrashing, how he held you close even though you knew you’d shoved him away so many times in your sleep. You moved closer to him slowly, your eyes staying locked on his as you hesitantly, delicately, kissed your husband for the first time in weeks. 

*** 

Joel had to fight to not moan at the feel of your lips on his. But they were soft and plush, giving to the press of his mouth, your body more relaxed than he’d felt in so long. 

He stopped himself, though. 

He couldn’t do this, not now, not with you like this. 

It had been weeks that you’d been back but, in so many ways, it was like you were still gone. You were so far away from him, so often just staring into space and sitting in silence. You didn’t seem to have any interest in listening to music or reading. The only thing that seemed to pry you out of that dark space within yourself was the cat - which he’d brought you out of sheer desperation - and the girls, but he wasn’t sure how genuine that was, if you were doing it because you wanted to or because you felt like you had to to take care of them. 

When you started leaving the bedroom, he’d had hope. He’d thought that, maybe, things were getting better. That you were willing to see beyond the boundaries of those four walls and into a future that was better, one where you were yourself again. And then you stalled out there, only occasionally going on the front porch the two of you had spent so much time together on, back in the days you were afraid to be inside his home. Now, you were afraid to leave it. 

Part of him wondered if this was what it was like when you first came to Jackson. If you’d spent weeks alone, locked inside your house and plagued by nightmares and memories that may as well have been nightmares, too. His heart ached for you if it that was case but he almost hoped it was. If this was just part of what it was like for you to survive, that he could count on you to return to him again once you got through this, then he’d get you back. You’d get through this and you’d be OK again.  

But the longer you stayed there, trapped inside yourself, the more his hope dwindled.

It didn’t help that everything was tinged with the acute knowledge that he’d failed you. That you’d been hurt because he hadn’t reached you in time, that you’d been left to suffer alone. He’d hoped - perversely, perhaps - that he would at least be able to put you back together. He’d kept your fingers until you made it back to Jackson, hoping that the doctor would be able to reattach them. But she’d shaken her head, looking almost pityingly at him as she did. They’d been gone too long, he was too late. He’d wrapped the parts of you he couldn’t save in a scrap of one of his shirts that you liked so much and buried it beside the tree in his front yard. You’d loved sitting there, playing guitar, before. It seemed right that part of you should stay there. He cleaned your wedding band and added it to the chain you’d given him with the bullet on it, the reminders of you always close. 

You were close now. So so close, so close it almost scared him. 

You pulled back from him, your eyes wide and deep and bright in the moonlight. 

“Joel,” you said softly, traces of familiar want in your voice. He had to try, again, to not moan at that. 

“Don’t have to do this, baby,” he said, brushing the soft skin of your cheek with his callused thumb. “S’OK.” 

“I know,” you said, your hand leaving his hair and holding his face much the same way he was holding yours. “But I want to.” 

“Bambi…” 

“I want you,” you said, rolling your hips against him as you spoke, the heat of desire sparking deep inside himself. He couldn’t hold the groan back this time, dropping his forehead to yours. “Please.” 

“Not going to hurt you,” he said, his chest tight at that thought. “Should… should just…” 

“You won’t hurt me,” you kissed him again, so soft and so gentle and you tasted sweet like peach and ginger from the tea and fuck but he missed you. He’d missed you so badly it hurt and the thought of never getting you back scared him so much he felt hollow if he lingered on it too long, like specter of the loss of you - even if your body was still here - threatened to send him back to the darkest reaches of himself. You were so close now, he could feel you, taste you. But if you left him now, after almost coming back to him, if he were the cause, that would ruin him. He knew it, deep at the core of him, that there would be no coming back from that. 

But you were here. 

“Please, Joel.” 

So close. 

“Please.” 

Begging for him. 

“I need you.” 

His resolve crumbled then. He kissed you, firm and needy and the way he wanted to kiss you for the rest of his life and you moaned into his mouth, your hand slipping down his skin to the back of his head, fingers knotting desperately in his hair. He swallowed the sounds of your pleasure, running his hand over you to your leg, hitching your thigh over his side so the next delicious roll of your hips made your hot pussy press against his hardening cock. 

It only took seconds for every concern in his head to melt away. How could he be worried about anything when you were here, like this, wanting him, moaning against him, feeling him and he was able to give you everything you wanted. He would break himself down into whatever form you needed and surrender himself to you, all you had to do was ask, all you had to do was let him. How could he be worried when you were finally letting him? 

He pulled your shirt over your head, casting it aside and you pulled at his in return so he took that off, too and then you were against him and he moaned at the feeling of your bare skin on his because fuck, you were soft. The plush curve of your breasts - your nipples peaked - on his chest, the soft of your stomach on his own, the heat of your tongue as you dipped into his mouth. He was breathing the same air as you again, feeling your pulse again, so close to being inside your skin again. 

You damn near ripped his pants off, scrambling with a desperate edge to your panting breaths as you did and he stopped you. You frowned, pupils blown, but he just held your hands still for a moment. 

“I got it,” he said, breathless himself. “Just one second, baby, I got you.” 

He pulled his pants off quickly and then yours, too and you were against him again almost immediately, your leg over his hip again as you lay side by side, facing each other, pressed so close and tight he was certain he could feel all of you against all of him. Your wet heat was tantalizingly, dangerously close to him, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive sex. He held you tight, his lips brushing yours as you breathed into each other, noses touching, foreheads pressed together, a singular being tied together by want. 

But he stopped himself from simply thrusting into you, no matter how badly he ached to bury himself inside. You hadn’t told him what happened when Mitchum had you this time, all Joel knew was that he prayed he’d reached you before your captor had managed to hurt you like that again, that his men were afraid enough of their boss that they hadn’t, either. But he remembered what the first time he was with you had been like, how you’d been afraid, how he’d held you. He wasn’t about to just take what he wanted, no matter how much you seemed to be begging him to, not until he knew it wouldn’t break you down further. 

“You sure about this?” He asked. “You don’t have to do anything for me, baby. All you need to do for me is keep living, alright? Don’t want you to give me this unless you want it…” 

“I know,” you panted, kissing him again, the ache of need on your tongue. “I want to. I want you, I love you, please…” 

He kissed you, devouring your wanting as he pushed himself inside, his hand spreading wide over the small of your back, holding you in place as he sank into the tight, hot clutch of you. 

You moaned as he did, keening and desperate, and he felt you straining not to move, your leg tight around him, tension in your hips. The moment he was fully sheathed inside you, though, you let yourself go, your hips working against his and you pulled your lips from his, watching him. There was a look of almost awe in your eyes and he could feel the flutter of your pulse on the inside of you, feel the shudder of your needy, shallow breaths. You were so warm, so soft, shaped so perfectly for him, taking him into yourself in a way no one else ever had. He belonged here, like this, with you. This, he thought, was the only explanation. That when the matter that made up the two of you sprang into existence it was alongside each other and had spent both your lives racing for each other until you could be joined like this again. 

“Joel,” you whispered. “I missed you.” 

“I know, baby,” he whispered back. “I missed you, too. So, so much.” 

He rocked himself deeper then and you groaned, pressing your body completely against his, the soft of your cheek like silk against the rough of his beard, your quiet breaths drowning out every other sound in the world as your fingertips sank into his back, pulling at his skin as if you could knit yourself into him anymore than you already had.

Joel just held onto you like that, feeling you so close, his cock pressing deep inside where he belonged before pulling back only an inch or two, not daring to go any further from you than that. He became lost in you that way, the rhythm of your bodies together and the delicate moans and the wet plush of your mouth when your lips found his neck or shoulder when the building pleasure became too much. 

He felt you getting tighter around him and he knew just how to draw you tighter, drive your pleasure deeper. He let his baser instincts take over, kissing and sucking the delicate skin of your throat and listening to the shift in your needy breaths when he did, pressing a little harder on your back so he could get just a little deeper and feel your channel tense even more. 

“I’ve got you,” he said when it felt like you couldn’t be drawn any tighter. “Just come, come for me baby, please…” 

You came with a strangled little gasp, one he wouldn’t have heard had he been anywhere but this close, so close it seemed you had to be a single being now, tied together deeply and permanently, close enough that nothing would pull you away from him again. 

The almost painfully tight throbbing of you drove him over the edge and he came with you, buried so deep inside that he could feel all of you as you fluttered and pulsed over him. 

“Joel,” you groaned, sounding like you were far outside your own body when you did. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, I love you, I love you.” 

You said it again and again until you went limp in his arms. He just held you for a minute, feeling your heartbeat and your skin, when you took a shaky breath and he felt a tear on his cheek. 

“Hey,” he carefully pulled himself back from you, your eyes red and wet. He tried to slip out of you but you tightened your leg on him, not letting him leave. “Baby, you gotta talk to me…” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice thick and wet and desperate in a whole new way. “I know I’ve been… I’m trying, I know I need to get back to normal with you and the girls and the horses and I don’t want to be like this and it’s like I can see where I was but I can’t reach it and I just…” 

“Hey,” he said again, taking your face in his hands. “Look at me. It’s OK. We’re in this together, you and me. It don’t matter how long it takes, what you need, as long as you’re here. When you were gone… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go back without you…” 

“Joel…”

“Nothin’ really seemed worth it unless you were there, too,” he said. “That hasn’t changed and it’s not going to. Don’t matter how long it takes or what you need, it’s you and me. I’ve got you, baby. Always.” 

You nodded and burrowed into his neck and he held you until you were still and calm, drifting off in his arms. With you close like that, he managed to find sleep, too, passing out harder than he had since the two of you had come back to Jackson. He slept so hard that he didn’t feel you get out of bed in the night. 

It was still dark when he woke up and found himself alone, the bed cold. 

“Bambi?” He said quietly. But he didn’t expect you to answer. Something in him knew you were gone.

He got up quickly then, checking the bathroom and the living room and the kitchen and the porch but you weren’t anywhere. 

His heart raced. 

“Fuck,” he swore, wondering if you might have gone to see the girls or if he’d just scare them if he went there to check. He looked out the window, anyway, but their place was still dark. He tried to think of where else to go when it occurred to him, what you’d said in bed just a few hours earlier. The horses. You’d mentioned the horses. 

He shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie them, and ran to the stable, the faintest hint of dawn starting on the horizon. He damn near skidded to a stop at the fence, his bad leg throbbing, but he didn’t care. You were there, getting to your feet from the dirt in the middle of the paddock, a determined look on your face. 

“Got news for you,” you said to the horse in front of you, one of the stallions you’d been working with before Cody took you. “Not gonna beat me that easy. I know it’s scary, know it’s hard but I promise it’s good for you. Just gotta let me take care of you.” 

He watched you pet and soothe the animal for a moment before you pulled yourself roughly onto the horse’s back with a pained groan. It immediately rebelled, bucking and thrashing, but you held on, long enough that Joel thought you’d outlast the horse when it managed to dislodge you and you flew, landing with a sickening thud on the dirt. 

“Shit,” Joel jumped the fence, running for you as the horse took off to the other side of the paddock. You groaned and shoved yourself up onto your hands as Joel reached you and you jumped a little when he touched you. He helped you sit up and you tried to stand but he held you down. You frowned, watching him. “Baby, what are you doin’ out here? It’s…” 

“I can’t keep letting them go like this,” you said, your eyes wide. “They need help, they need to learn how to live here, if I just let them keep going back to what they were it will be harder and and harder to get them to where they need to be!” 

“Sweetheart, you’re still recovering,” he said. “You can’t push it, you’ll…”  

“I need to do this, Joel,” you said softly, your hand with the missing fingers finding his cheek. “Please, let me.” 

He watched you for a moment, seeing you - the determined, forceful you - in your eyes for the first time in weeks. He tried to stifle his fear and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back. 

“I’ll be right here,” he smiled softly. “It’s you and me.” 

You gave him a small smile in return before getting up and going to the horse, talking to him for a moment before getting right back on. 

Next chapter

A/N: This is it, just one little chapter left to say goodbye to these characters we've been with for a year now! I can't believe we're finally here, it feels like I've been writing this story forever. Thank you so much for sticking with it even as I took a million years to finish and left you hanging time and again. This story was a big learning experience for me and I appreciate you hanging in there through it. Thank you for spending your time here and for loving them and making sharing this story so special. It means everything to me.

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[christinesficrecs]

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“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 87.5K | Abandoned

“Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

I'll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

How long have I been on the hunt for you? by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 20.3K

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

[retromotherfuckers]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

[frost-queen]

Sudden attention (Reader!Potter x Fred Weasley)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: [Order of the Phoenix] Harry and you were each other's solace for many years. When you suddenly get boy attention he can't cope with it. Things tense up when you receive a letter at the Black manor certainly making one specific boy jealous, who is loving you in secret. [part 2 & part 3]

The pages of Hermione’s book fluttered between numbers as a strong wind caught up with it. She sighed loud having just been fast enough to place her finger at the right page she was. Wiping some hair out of her face, she turned all the pages back to hers. You stood up right close to the edge overlooking the Quidditch field where Gryffindor was practicing. – “Maybe you shouldn’t have brought a book outside.” – you pointed out looking over your shoulder to her. Hermione sighed soft shutting her book. – “Maybe you are right.” – she answered placing the book beside her.

She got up from the bench joining you. – “They are almost done with the warm-up.” – you told her as she let her arms rest on the railing. Without asking you told her where she could find Ron. – “He’s right over there.” – you pointed at the three hoops where Ron was waiting patiently in the air for. Hermione gave you a faint smile. You had seen their practices so much you could blindly say who was at what position. Fred and George both beaters were flying around to stretch their arms out. Harry, your brother and seeker overlooking it all.

You received a firm nudge from Hermoine making you look at her. – “Who’s he?” – she motioned with her head to the other side of the hoops. Your gaze went over the field to the other side seeing him sit on his broom. – “Oh that is McLaggen.” – you told her. – “He’s new this year, just like Ron. He’s father is a big man in the ministry. See that broom of his, his dad’s special gift for his entry this year.” – you told her making her frown. – “How do you know all of this?”

You shrugged your shoulders. – “I don’t have much else to do…” – you said to her. You notice the twins flying close to the stands, Fred waving at you. You waved back at him so used to their presence you didn’t think much else of it. The practice started as you focused on the training. A girl was flying towards McLaggen throwing the ball at him. He easily caught it, looking your way as he cheered proudly. You clapped for him just to be nice. Hermione looking all bitter as she wanted Ron to do better than him. Practice went on.

Ron had stopped a score a few times making Hermione lose her mind. Screaming and cheering as loud as she could. McLaggen seemed to look your way much during it. Fred too, but you were used to it. When practice ended were you surprised that McLaggen flew over to you. You barely noticed him, ready to go down when Hermione nudged you. – “Y/n!” – he called out making you turn to him. – “Cormac!” – you called out surprised making him smile. – “You know my name, good.” – he said making you smile sheepishly.

“I…I was wondering if I could dedicate the good practice to you?” – he offered making you frown. – “I hadn’t anything to do with it?” – you responded looking bluntly at Hermoine who pulled her shoulders up. – “You… you did… seeing you cheering gave me the strength I needed.” – he continued making Hermoine snort loud. You shot her a glare to not be so rude. Hermione pressed her lips together, looking away. McLaggen searched his inner pockets for something as Hermione whispered to you she would meet you downstairs on the fields.

You nodded at her as McLaggen pulled out a handkerchief. He patted it against his cheek before handing it out to you. You stared dumbfound at the piece of cloth. – “I want you to have it Y/n.” – he said with a smile. – “You… you want me to have this?” – you pointed out a bit shy while he nodded. You reached your hand out to grab it, not sure why but declining felt rude. Before your fingers could grab it, it got snatched away from his hands a broom flying past as it made you stumble back. McLaggen clenched his teeth, glaring at Fred. Fred held the handkerchief annoyed up.

“Giving your laundry to Y/n, McLaggen?” – Fred laughed out to swallow the bitterness aching inside of him down. – “Give it back Weasley!” – McLaggen bit back bothered. He grabbed at it as Fred moved it higher up. In no time came George and Harry flying over as well. – “That is for Y/n!” – McLaggen said loud. – “This stinky cloth?” – he announced loudly as George laughed loud. Fred held the handkerchief out to you. – “Do you want this Y/n?” – he asked hoping so badly you’d decline it. His expression practically begging you not to for it would pain him to see you accept it.

Fred freaked out letting go of it as it suddenly caught fire. It vaporized in front of him, turning his head to see Harry with his wand out. – “No!” – he simply called out. – “Now get changed McLaggen!” – he ordered. McLaggen puffed loud giving you one last wink before descending. Fred gritted his teeth ready to fly after him and give him a piece of his mind if it wasn’t for his brother stopping him. All three of them descended leaving you speechless. Having no idea what just happened. You went down as well meeting up with Hermione again.

Some moments later came Ron over. – “It was a stupid practice.” – he mumbled out annoyed. Hermione came to his side, shaking her head. – “You are still learning Ron. You did so good. Give it some time and you will be the best.” – she said giving him courage. You narrowed your eyes seeing McLaggen making his way over, yet he got bumped aside by Fred running excitedly over to you. Almost like it was intended. Fred threw his arm around you, turning you away from McLaggen. – “Say Potter how about some Butterbeer to celebrate?” – he ruffled his fingers through your hair.

George and Harry also arrived. Harry poked Fred in the armpit so that he would release his arm from around you. – “Butterbeer sounds great.” – you said with a smile. Harry took you by the elbow pulling you a bit aside from the others while leaving the field. – “Y/n… how well do you even know McLaggen?” – he asked looking over his shoulder. – “Not much really… why?” – you answered not understanding fully the intention of his questions. – “Nothing…” – he mumbled out. You saw Fred look behind him to you, making you smile sweetly back at him.

“It is just…” – Harry continued breaking through your gaze with Fred. – “I was wondering why he was suddenly interested in you. It’s not like he was before. I mean he probably never heard of you before joining the team and to be fair I don’t see in why.” – harry rambled on making you come to a sudden stop. – “Really?” – you called out slapping his hand away. – “I can’t believe you! Someone shows a bit of interest in me and the first thing you do is question it! Not everything has to do with you being the chosen one and them trying to get to you through me!” – you called out furious. – “I just don’t trust him!” – Harry replied loud.

“Give me one good reason?” – you demanded crossing your arms. – “He’s… he’s a guy!” – Harry used as an excuse making you puff loud. – “Unbelievable!” – you muttered walking away from him. – “Y/n! wait! I’m just protecting you from guys like him!” – Harry shouted after you whilst Fred came jogging over with George. – “Where is Y/n going?” – Fred asked looking at you. Harry sighed loud. – “I don’t get it why are boys suddenly interested in her?” – he said loudly.

George glanced over to his brother who avoided eye contact. – “Well she is getting older Harry…” – George spoke to sooth things over. That made Harry panic even more. – “Oh Merlin I can’t take it with these boys…” – his hands desperately in his hair. – “I’m freaking out. Am I freaking out?” – he asked George in a state of panic, grabbing onto his sweater. George nodded grabbing Harry by his wrists to pull his grip off him.

“Calm down Harry, it isn’t the end of the world that boys start to notice your sister. You didn’t think she would be with you forever did you?” – George chuckled out but seeing the concerned look in Harry’s eyes he stopped chuckling. He was absolutely thinking that. George sighed loud wrapping his arm around Harry. – “Don’t worry we’ll make sure McLaggen doesn’t date your sister.” – he looked over his shoulder to Fred throwing him a wink. Fred smiled shyly. The three of them caught up with Hermione and Ron to head to Hogsmeade.

 *

“Y/n come down please!” – you heard come from downstairs. You made your way over to the stairs seeing several other doors open as well. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George popping their head out of their rooms as well. Harry got in motion to go after you. You were already going down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs stood Sirius Black. – “Uhm just Y/n Harry.” – he said waving Harry away. Harry nodded obeying his godfather. With a double feeling he went back upstairs. – “What’s going on?” – Ginny asked in a low voice. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“It wouldn’t be about last night would it?” – Hermione said scared. – “It was Ginny and I who couldn’t stop giggling at night and Y/n making sure we kept quiet.” – she confessed. – “Oh so that was what I was hearing.” – George laughed out. – “I thought you were keeping pigs in there.” – he joked receiving a firm nudge from Ginny. – “I can’t let her take the blame for that.” – Hermione said determined making her way to the stairs. Ron quickly grabbed her by the elbow before she could take the first step down.

“Let’s just wait what it is about. What if you wake something up that shouldn’t be woken up.” – he said referring to if Hermione spoiled what happened last night whilst they were supposed to be sleeping, she might infuriate Sirius or rather his mother Molly even more. Hermione sighed defeated letting him pull her back away from the stairs. – “We could always listen?” -  Fred suggested as he was curious too. Not a moment later stood they all by the stairs, looking down. An ear on a string getting lowered to overhear the conversation. – “If we get caught.” – Ginny said.

Fred shushed her focusing on lowering the ear just right. Ron holding the other ear in his hand. The moment he could hear noises he shushed everyone. – “I can hear them.” – he said as they all squashed against him to overhear. Downstairs you stood in front of the table, your godfather sitting down with Lupin near him. – “Can you tell me what this is?” – he asked taking out a letter from his pocket. Molly cutting some vegetables at the other end of the table, stopped cutting to look curious your way.

“I’m not sure Godfather, you’ll have to tell me as I have no idea.” – you responded keeping your hands folded behind your back. Sirius placed the letter on the table, sliding it across. – “It’s a letter.” – he stated. – “A letter from a Cormac McLaggen.” – he continued as your eyes widened. – “May I ask who he is and why he sends you a letter?” – Sirius questioned as you were still stunned on the fact that he wrote you a letter.

Upstairs Harry was rioting. Ready to rush downstairs and obliterate the letter. Fred’s hand was shaking with jealousy as he couldn’t steady the ear. – “Keep it steady, I can’t hear them!” – Ron called out. George took over steadying the ear back again in his grip.

“I do not know of any letter Godfather. I certainly never asked him to write me.” – you answered truly not knowing why. – “So who is he?” – Sirius wanted to know, speaking rather rudely. Lupin held his hand out to calm his friend down. Molly stopped cutting her vegetables coming over. Wiping her hands on her apron. – “Isn’t it obvious!” – she called out coming to stand beside you. – “That is a letter from an admirer.” – Molly said placing her hands on your shoulders. Sirius chuckled loud almost mockingly as he snatched his glass from the table.

Molly turned you to her. – “So who is he? Is he handsome? Well mannered? Tell us dear.” – her smile ever so warm. – “No!” – Sirius slammed his fist hard on the table. – “I don’t want to know!” – he called out. Molly rolled her eyes at him. – “She’s not a kid anymore.” – she declared. – “I don’t care, no boys till you are at least 30… or 40!” – Sirius stated making your eyes widen. – “Sirius!” – Molly shouted. – “You are unbelievable!” – Sirius only shrugged his shoulders not caring one bit for it.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll figure something out.” – she reassured you holding her hand underneath your chin, making you smile warmly at her. You always considered her a mother to you. You eyed the letter on the table, curious as to what it read. You had never gotten so much boy attention you were curious as to what boys in love would write about you.

 “Can I read it?” – you asked already moving to take the letter. Sirius slapped his hand down on the letter, stopping you. – “I shall read it first!” – he insisted upon, sliding the letter to him. You watched him open the letter with annoyance. He flipped the letter open, reading out loud. – “My cheerful Y/n.” – he read out loud with a scoff. – “Oh how delightful.” – Molly said to you as Sirius gripped onto the letter tight. His eyes going over the words rapidly, each word agitating him more as he read it in silence. – “Well what does it say?” – Molly questioned as you were waiting patiently too. You jumped out of your skin when loud thumping thundered down the stairs.

“No!” – Fred called out barging into the room. Wand out, the tip of his wand sparked. Moments later the letter evaporated in Sirius’s hands. Out of breath he grabbed you by the shoulders, turning you to him. – “Have you seen it? Read anything from it?” – he panicked frantically as you shook your head rapidly. That made him sigh loud letting his forehead fall against yours. Molly quirking a suspicious brow up. – “Good riddance.” – Sirius said wiping some ashes from the letter off the table.

“Fred what are you doing?” – you called out pushing him a bit off you. – “I…I…I was looking out for you. McLaggen is a toad.” – he said confused about your outburst. You puffed loud, turning your posture away from him. – “As soon as a boy takes interest in me you all go mad!” – you shouted not only referring to him, but Harry and Sirius as well. – “But Y/n…” – Fred said trying to reason with you. You pulled your hand away before he could take it. – “I don’t want your meddling! What is it? Do you think I’m not pretty enough to get attention?” – you scolded shooting a glare at Sirius.

Lupin cleared his throat, looking away. – “No I just…” – Fred interrupted as you rolled your eyes at him. You moved away from him closer to Molly. Molly shook her head at her son as she threw an arm around you. Then looking over her shoulder, she threw him a wink, knowing very well that he fancied you. – “Boys are insane.” – you told Molly as she guided you away. She could only nod with a hum.

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

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[suuuupernovaaa]

muntxa si

MUNTXA SI: (english) to mate with, marry

(Adult) Neteyam vehemently opposes his human mate becoming Na’vi, for fear of losing her.

This story makes many assumptions - just go with them to enjoy the ride.

2,247 words.

The strength with which Neteyam opposed the idea, right from the very start, was a shock to everyone who knew him. When his mother first mentioned it, she saw a familiar fury in his eyes, one she knew she’d worn many times. 

His brother nearly lost his head when he brought it up, and his father hadn’t even tried to broach the subject.

What he didn’t know was that they weren’t bringing it up of their own accord, though it was something they’d thought about before. They were bringing it up because I had brought it up to them first.

I was the only one who wasn’t shocked by his reaction. I knew that all Neteyam would see was the danger and risk involved, and there was nothing more detestable to Neteyam than putting me in harm’s way. This was a sometimes annoying but mostly reassuring trait of his, especially given that, as a human living on Pandora, danger was lurking around nearly every corner for me. Ewya had blessed me with a strong and capable - but slightly overbearing - protector.

After weeks of his family telling me it was me who would have to convince him, I finally plucked up the courage.

We sat in our Mauri pod, late at night, and the words spilled out of my mouth before I could fully control them.

“I want to become Na’vi. Norm has an Avatar for me, he’s been hiding it since I was little, and he told me on my 20th birthday. It’s fully mature now.”

Neteyam sat at the edge of our pod, his legs dangling over the edge and into the water, and he spun around so fast that his braids smacked the wall of the Mauri.

His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin. “No.”

Taking a deep breath beneath my mask, I stood up. “You don’t get to decide for me, Teyam. I have decided, and I know the clan will support me.”

“No!” He was standing too now, towering over me at nearly twice my height, but he could never scare or intimate me, even if he truly tried.

“Listen to me, Neteyam. You are only thinking of the risk involved, and not the reward. I can’t survive here forever, as one of the last humans. What if the air tanks run out? How will we live our lives together, with me in this human body? Have you considered the fact that your lifespan is twice mine? What will you do when I am too old, even, to run and swim? I won’t live like that, Neteyam!”

I felt hot tears in my eyes, and tried to blink them away in frustration. “You can’t force me to live a half-life with you when a full life is within my grasp! I know Ewya will give this to me. She wouldn’t have brought me to you if she didn’t want us to be together.”

Neteyam’s hands rested on my shoulders, enveloping me, stressing to the both of us our impractical size difference.

“Y/N... you don’t know that she will give this to us. She may take you home to her.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic I could see in his face. 

“I have to do this, Neteyam. We won’t have a future together if I don’t. Norm and the others... they talk about having to leave, without a permanent colony here. Their supplies won’t last forever. They would either take me, or leave me here to die with no oxygen.”

Neteyam pulled me down, so we were sitting face to face, our legs crossed.

“I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

“This is our best chance, Neteyam. Please. Please let me do this.”

As much as I had been pretending it was only my choice, and I didn’t need his permission, I knew I couldn’t do it without his blessing. That just wasn’t something I could do to Ma Teyam. 

I watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as he contemplated.

“We will do this, Y/N, and if Ewya takes you, I will follow you to her myself and bring you back.”

-- 

It took time to plan - time that was exciting for all of us. We decided to fly back to the Tree of Souls to give my human body the best chance, since with the Metkayina, the ceremony would have to take place under water.

The Omatikaya welcomed the Sullys, and one sky person, back with open arms. After all, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to them - I had many friends to greet, as well.

The ceremony was set for the night after our return. Neteyam was quiet at dinner, and his mother watched him cautiously.

“Son,” she said, handing him a plate, “I see the spirit within Y/N. It reminds me of your father - strong, stubborn, a little frustrating.” She smiled, but Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. “She will be okay.”

She gripped her son’s arm and he nodded, but the sinking feeling in his chest was there to stay, until the ceremony was complete.

--

Neteyam walked with me, hand and hand, through the large crowd there to witness my birth - or my funeral.

I could feel the tension radiating through his body, but no matter what I said, I wasn’t able to ease it for him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, myself.

There she lay - me, but not me. Tall, with long, thick black hair and eyes that would surely be a piercing gold when opened. She was beautiful; it was the first I was seeing her.

“Oh, Neteyam...” I said, a lump in my throat, and gripped his arm tightly as we approached the tree.

He placed his hand over mine. “You can still change your mind,” he said, but with a sly smile, the first I’d seen him wear in a while - he knew there was little chance of that.

He lifted me up and placed me next to my new body, where the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya waited, a serene and focused look on her face.

She gestured for me to lay down, and I turned to Neteyam. Maybe it was the proximity to the Tree of Souls, but I felt a calm - and tried to convey it to Neteyam with a smile. His family stood behind him, taking their seats to join the ceremony. Neteyam would stay with me until it was done.

He nodded, and I could practically see his heart beating through his chest as he helped me to lay down, my head inches from my avatar’s.

“You will sleep now. Be calm,” a voice above me said, and I had only time to tell Neteyam I loved him before I sank away.

--

Watching her eyes close, a panic gripped Neteyam’s heart and he felt as if he could vomit in front of the entire clan.

He turned and sought his mother, and would have been embarrassed to do so in any other situation. She was seated between his brother and father, all holding hands with eyes closed, chanting to Ewya.

He watched as Ewya reached up, covering his mate in feather light touches, and he put his hands on her, praying to Ewya, reminding Ewya how much this human woman meant to him.

Silently, he told Ewya of the first time they’d met, at only six years old, and of their first kiss at 12, how she fought with him through the Great War despite her size, how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her to be his mate, and how they cried together when she said yes.

This woman is my life, Great Mother, he prayed, I ask that you return her to me in either body here, and we will make the most of this life we have together.

Every minute felt like an hour, and then the Tsahik reached over and pulled the mask off of his love’s face.

She was gone, at least from this form.

“She is passing through Ewya now, Neteyam, and you must guide her back,” the Tsahik said.

He leapt carefully over to her avatar body, taking it in for the first time. Those were her lips, the shape of her eyes, the sharp dip between her nose and mouth - all his favorite things about her, right here.

“Yawne,” he said, reaching out to touch her soft face, “can you hear me? Follow my voice. Come back to me so that we may return home together, and live the life you promised me.”

He looked to the Tsahik, who nodded in encouragement and resumed chanting. The cries of the clan rose around him, his father and mother’s the loudest, and he steadied his shaking body with a deep breath.

“Y/N, Yawne, hear my voice and follow it. I will wait for you forever - remember the promise I made. Do not deliver two souls to Ewya this day.”

He nearly shot back when the woman before him took a gasping breath, and amber eyes shot open.

--

It’s impossible to describe how it happens. It’s not a wordly experience, and there are no words to properly convey it.

Ewya is real, and she gave me a second chance at life.

Neteyam’s face hovered inches above mine as I gasped for air. He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up, and even in this new body, in my disoriented state, I was acutely aware that I was naked.

“Yawne,” Neteyam whispered, and I saw the tears spilling from his eyes. He only called me Yawne - beloved - once before, when he asked me to be his mate.

“Tiyawn,” I replied, my voice breathy and almost foreign to my ears. My ears! I reached up, trailing my hand over my thick hair and reaching up to feel the pointy, blue ears atop my head. A giggle escaped before I could stop it.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gripping my arms.

I leaned into him. “I am naked.”

“You are Na’vi now,” he replied with almost a shrug, “but I will carry you if it concerns you.”

“I think you should, my legs feel weak.”

They felt strong. My entire body felt strong, and I couldn’t wait to learn how to use it. 

I glanced over my shoulder to see myself. My former self. As Neteyam lifted me into his arms and stood up, I thought I should cry for her... but she didn’t feel like me, not anymore. 

The clan cheered and whooped, hollered and threw their arms triumphant in the air, as Neteyam stood with me and let out what sounded like a war cry, shaking me in his arms.

The joy in his face was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, especially seen through these new eyes.

He rushed through the crowd, to his Ikran, and mounted in one fell swoop with me in his arms.

The Ikran felt so much smaller than she had when we’d arrived less than an hour ago, but of course, I was the one who had grown over three feet.

He took off, holding the saddle with one arm and me tightly in the other, to a place we could be alone.

--

Back at our temporary home, I was finally able to take a breath and try my new body out. For my first few steps, I had to hold Neteyam’s hands, until I got the hang of it.

I felt weak, but I knew that would wear off. This body was strong, and I was going to make it even stronger, so I could finally keep up with Neteyam.

The thought made me burst into tears as he searched through his mother’s things for something I could wear.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you hurt?” he asked, rushing to my side with only a necklace in his hands.

Embarrassed, I tried to wave him off, but he was too on edge. “Tell me, Yawne. Tell me what you need.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to me. My face rested perfectly on his chest, where before, it was just over his waist - making hugging an awkward feat. We fit perfectly together now, and it made me cry even harder.

“I’m just so happy and grateful, Neteyam.” I pulled back, wiping at my tears. “Tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“Of... me. Of my body. Do you still, I mean, do you like it?”

His gaze softened and he reached up to cup my cheek. “I have loved you for 15 years, Y/N. I loved you human form. Your small body, your beautiful soft hair, and your light eyes. I loved every moment of our life together.”

The tears threatened to return.

“But this... this is my dream, Y/N. I see it now, what you’ve always seen. You were meant to be one of The People, to be with me, to be the mother of my children and my mate for life.”

A smile spread across my new face so wide, I thought it might crack. “I love you, Neteyam.”

He pulled me into his strong arms, and we took a deep breath together.

“Forever,” he whispered in my ear.

I squeezed him tight. “Forever.”

[soap-ify]

GLADIOLUS | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

cw — angst, heavy suicidal tendencies, simon is NOT okay, he is depressed, mentions of death, hurt/no comfort but there's comfort too if that makes sense, bittersweet ending. [1.4k]

italic paragraphs mean flashback!

Cold and stale, the tea in Simon’s hand had long lost its heat. Almost like a cruel mockery of his own life, slowly losing the warmth that made him a human, reducing him to nothing but a breathing corpse.

A waste.

“I think my life’s too short for our love.”

His words caused you to look at him with confusion, trying to mask the inner turmoil brewing in your head at his sickeningly vague words.

“Sorry?” Though you had heard him well, you still wanted him to repeat it, to hear his voice once more.

Simon sighed and put the tea cup aside, having no energy left within him to drink anything, or even do anything. Trapped by the chains he couldn’t see, maybe just simply forged by his own brain. Brown irises soon looked over at you, still holding the same fondness as all the other times.

“I…” He paused momentarily, the thoughts in his head too loud yet distant. “My life. S’too short to love you properly in the way you deserve.”

“Don’t say that, Si. It’s more than enough.” You smiled and placed a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. Your words were like a sweet lullaby, calming him a bit. A bit.

So he stayed quiet and nodded, pretending that he was fine now, letting you stay in this false bubble he had made up for you both — tranquil and domestic. A paradox to his actual life.

Simon had been overly fascinated by knives lately. Even guns. Not by their beauty, but by the damage they could inflict. He’d let his gloved thumb caress the sharp edge of his knife sometimes, wondering what it’d be like to just stab it into his neck at this very moment.

Some poor unfortunate soldier would find him lying in his own blood, completely oblivious to how contentful he’d be.

Other times, Simon would fiddle with one of his guns, awful intrusive thoughts invading his head, making him feel overly sick. What if he just presses the barrel against his forehead, his finger on the trigger. One click and he’d be gone for good.

Was it selfish to want to die? Simon couldn’t even point out why he feels this way, or since when. All he knows is that nothing helps anymore. Well, you do, sometimes. Though he’d rather have you not see this damaged man rotting himself away more and more. He loves you too much for that.

Was it really selfish to want to die? All he wanted was to leave behind everything, leave behind the blood on his hands and the deaths he had seen, leave behind the memories and just fly away, finally free from the chains suffocating him.

He wanted to become the air, and you’d be his sunlight then — both of you dancing around each other everyday, together once again.

Maybe he could be better for you that way.

“Si.” You poked Simon’s arm, momentarily interrupting his quiet reading. Not that he minded though.

“Yeah?”

“I want to ask you something.” The mild shyness adorning your face sparked his curiousity, causing him to put his book aside and turn all of his attention onto you.

“Go on.” He urged softly.

“Um… Do you think we’d be together in every universe?” You felt silly for asking a question like that, blood rushing to your cheeks while your eyes looked away.

Simon paused for a second, brown eyes softening up as he studied your expression. Together in every universe? God, he’d do anything for that. Anything to love you in every life of his.

“Yeah.” He grumbled softly after a while, a poor attempt to appear nonchalant, though it failed as soon as you hugged his arm happily, making him chuckle under his breath.

“I’ll find you in every universe.”

Gladiolus. It’s a pretty flower, though Simon doesn’t like it just for its beauty. He feels oddly connected to it, uncomfortably exposed — even though he didn’t know why. Could flowers even speak to you?

Which is why he decided not to pick them, turning away to look at some other options. It was his little routine to bring you flowers whenever he could. Though this time, it was different.

A mission — a suicide mission. He was dreading the moment he would have to announce it to you, knowing that he couldn’t back out from it anymore. That was his job. All the dirty stuff.

It was hard, too hard. Watching you collapse in his arms while sobbing in pure devastation absolutely tore his heart, his arms holding you tightly while your fingers hardly dug into his arms, trying to touch him whole.

“M’sorry, love. It was just… supposed to happen one day.”

He couldn’t really recognise the words coming out of his mouth anymore, not really knowing what to say. He couldn’t give you false promises, especially when you both knew the severity of this situation.

Laying on the ground, drenched in blood, wasn’t that bad. He felt a sickening relief that made him feel nauseous yet happy at the same time. His hand was pressed against the severe bleeding wound on his stomach, fatal coughs leaving his mouth while he weakly stared at the sky, the sounds of shouts and gunshots too distant and blurry. It was as if he was slowly slipping away into a bubble that carried him away from this battleground and into somewhere calmer.

At least I didn’t kill myself with that damn gun, he thought to himself, smiling weakly. At least there wouldn’t be any nightmare anymore, no more sleepless nights and random outbursts. Peace. The beauty of death slowly engulfed him, wrapping her arms around him and slowly taking him away from this damned life.

You. He lost consciousness thinking about you — about how he left you back at home, about how he wasn’t strong enough to just retire from the military once you moved into his place.

I’m sorry, words he could desperately say, I’m sorry for not being strong for you.

Though right before dying, he made an oath to himself that if there was even a tiny chance of him living another life after this, he’d find you.

It was another one of those sunny days where you wished you had enough funds to fix the damn air conditioner. Your fingers silently put the last gladiolus into the bouquet one of the old ladies around the town had requested, the sweet scent of flowers soothing your senses.

The soft jingle of the door opening averted your gaze from the bouquet, your eyes falling onto your new customer walking into the flower shop. The sheer size of this mine caught you off guard, though you were quick to scold yourself for being so invested into someone’s height.

“Welcome. How can I help you?” You smiled politely and put the bouquet aside. Once those brown eyes of his met yours, both of you went dead silent for a split second, a strange spark igniting somewhere in between you.

He seemed… familiar. You were sure that you haven't seen him ever in your life, but something about him made you feel as if you knew him. Your fingers twitch involuntarily, feeling as if they had run through those dirty blonde hair off his.

He stared at you with, internally equally bewildered. His lips were slightly agape behind the black surgical mask he wore, for which he was glad for since you couldn’t see the soft shade of red slowly spreading on his cheeks. Why were you so familiar? He felt an odd pang in his chest, making him momentarily forget about why he was even here.

Oh yes, flowers.

“Can I have some roses?” He grumbled under his breath, quickly looking away as he reached for his wallet. “S’my mom’s birthday today.”

“That’s sweet. Happy birthday to her.” You looked away alongside him, a soft bashful smile creeping up on your lips as you began grabbing some newly fresh roses.

It was silent for a while between you both before he eventually broke the thickening silence, clearing his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks. Um… My name’s Simon, by the way.” God, he was awkward at this.

You stared at him for a second before letting out a soft giggle, introducing yourself. “Here are your flowers, Simon.”

He felt as if he had been searching for you his whole life.