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kentoxo · 8 months ago

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friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.9

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: prepare urself. next chapter may or may not be crazy. once again (the usual) spam of thank yous. all of your kind words both in replies and reblogs makes my heart sing. to those who said they want to be part of the taglist-- i reopened it! i might have missed those who recently asked to be on it so pls reply to this chapter so i can get you :( so sorry for my lack of meticulousness.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Saturday

You had to call out the following Thursday and Friday.

The cold you manifested was wreaking havoc on your body, the constant shivering now straining your muscles and bones. You couldn’t even find comfort in your bed, as you’d sneeze and cough, or dash to the bathroom during the waves of nausea. You were grateful to not have gotten frostbite, but damn this cold bites!

It was nice to have some space away from work, and Nanami. You deduced that this cold was inevitable, as the stress that loomed over since your confession (and second rejection). But this wasn’t fun either, as you could barely make yourself a cup of coffee while also having to answer Haibara every few minutes, who wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was bittersweet to say the least.

As you cuddle your heating pad meant for your tummy, you begin to scroll carelessly on your phone. Although it was your day off, and you were sick, you often liked to check your work emails. You like to be extra prepared for Monday, as those were the days when you have bigger workloads to tackle. As you scrolled, you stumbled upon an email directly from Takada shacho. Before you could open it however, there was a gentle knocking at your door.

“Coming…” you say weakly, quickly finding a mask on your bedside table. Comforting the straps around your ears, you make a slow walk towards your door. You get on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, only to back away in shock and slight embarrassment. “N-Nanami kacho? What are you… doing here?” You proceed to cough.

“I came to check on you,” Nanami hums from behind the door. “I know you’ve been sick due to my shortcomings. I wanted to see how you were faring.”

“A-ah, I see,” you stammer nervously. You were hoping not to see him until Monday, but luck still remains anywhere but your side. “You could have just called me as well…”

“I felt… that it would be best to come in person,” Nanami begins shyly. The sound of plastic shuffling joins. “I, um, also brought some things to treat you. If it’s okay with you, may I please come in?”

You go a bit pale, “um… I don’t really want to get you sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in and–”

“I don’t care. I’d like to see you, and make sure you are well.” Nanami interrupts you with a stern tone. His words sounded non-negotiable, and you didn’t want to [fuck around and] find out if you refused his entry. Reluctantly, you unlocked your door and slowly opened it, revealing the tall man before you.

His hair was once again messy, lazily pulled back with his fingers. He was covered in snow, of course, but had gloves on to protect himself from potential frostbite. You look down at his two large bags he got from 7-Eleven. You move out of his way and let him place the bags down. He closes the door behind him, and begins to untie his scarf from around his neck. As he did, you offered your hands out to take it from him.

“Let me,” you offer in a hoarse voice.

Nanami looks down at you, “you’re sick. Thank you, but I can hang it myself. Please feel free to go back to bed.”

“A-ah, but you’re my guest,” you insisted through weak coughs. “My mom would reprimand me if she saw the way I was hosting you right now. I haven’t even boiled tea…”

Nanami, now just in a sweatshirt and his joggers, quickly puts on his slippers and offers his hand to you. You look up at him confused. “Come and sit down,” he coos, taking your hand and guiding you towards your living room. He gently allows you to take a seat on the couch, which is quite the relief considering you were exasperating just from answering the door.

Through small coughs, you watch as Nanami brings his bags to the kitchen, and begins to unpack them. He silently takes out a few vegetables and cartons of broth. A pool of pill bottles also leave the bag, along with other cold suppressants. “Can I,” you start hesitantly, your index fingers looping around one another, “can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

“No,” Nanami shot you down quickly, “I’d rather you rest than concern yourself with me. Though, the offer in your condition is very touching.”

Your cold now felt like a fever, as your cheeks went completely hot. You looked crazy, your hair and makeup undone. Your pajamas were ornate with little ducks, and you don’t even have tea prepared. And here was this effortless, handsome man in your house, with a pot in his hands and his eyes navigating your tiny kitchen. It was an honor to see him outside of his work clothes, as it still made your heart run.

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” Nanami asks gently.

You sit up promptly, staring distantly towards the pot that was now full of water and preparing to boil. “I’m not a big fan of daikon in my soup,” you reply awkwardly. “A bit too strong for me.”

Nanami looks over at you and gives you a small smile, “I would have never expected that you didn’t like daikon, Y/N.”

“In soup, I’m not a fan,” you quickly mend the confusion, “soups are meant to be calming, not crazy.”

“Daikon makes soup crazy?” Nanami continues, amused by your detest.

“It’s a bit much,” You exclaim weakly. “Just me personally, I can’t deal with all that sass.”

“Sass?” Nanami finally lets out a chuckle, “what a way to describe a vegetable you don’t like.” As he cleans the vegetables he provided, he couldn’t help but continue to smile. “So this is what you’re like outside of work,” he whispers to himself. But your ears catch his words quickly.

You feel your cheeks burn from shyness. But as you stared at the back of Nanami’s head, you remembered all the tears you’ve shed these last 2 weeks. Your heart still hurts, even while sharing a warm conversation like this. He was still the man who you confessed to, and broke your heart twice. You look distant towards your window, seeing the snow slowly fall over the city.

“You don’t have to cook for me, Nanami kacho,” you say quietly, “you have done enough, so thank you. I can do the rest from here.”

Nanami purposely ignores you as he begins to chop a carrot. “What do I have to do in order to stop you from calling me kacho?” Your neck snaps back to look at him, noticing Nanami’s seriousness from his side profile.

You drop your hands to grip the end of the couch, squeezing it to calm you down. “You’ve made it very clear what kind of relationship we have. It’s inappropriate otherwise, so from your perspective, I should proceed with calling you kacho.”

“Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” A bit of attitude left the tip of your tongue. You jump in fear. Just because you were hurt doesn’t change the fact that Nanami is still your boss. The man that signs off your hours. ”Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to use that kind of tone. I just… think it’s best that we revert back to honorifics.”

“I disagree,” Nanami hums from the kitchen. He begins to look through your spice pantry (which you were surprised he knew where to find it) and pulls out your pepper. “How spicy would you like your soup?”

“You told me that you are my boss, and I am your assistant,” you repeated his words from the night before. “You want comradery but don’t see me as anything beyond your colleague.” You tighten your grip on your couch. “And...not so spicy, for the soup.”

You were sick. Having to bring this conversation up once more was making you even sicker.

“Y/N, I misspoke,” Nanami says firmly, closing the pot with a lid to allow the soup to simmer. He grabs a glass from your cupboard and goes over to pour water from the pitcher. Pouring the water generously, he makes his way over to you with a few of the pills he purchased. “Here, I have a few supplements you can take now. The painkillers will be for after you eat.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” you murmur. Nanami takes a seat next to you, pouring the pills into one hand while carefully handing you the water in the other. Lowering your mask, you swallow the pills like morsels, and follow it with sips of water. “Feel free to go after this. Thank you for setting up the soup, I can take it from here.”

Nanami eyes your face, making you blush even more. You were thankful that you were sick, as the hue on your cheeks can be explained by your current health. Putting the cup down, you quickly busy yourself once more by taking the decorative blanket on the couch and covering yourself with it. As you did, a finger appears before your face. You halt, watching as Nanami begins to drag some sort of salve on your lips. His middle finger gently drags the petroleum-like substance against your bottom lip, before swiping the rest against your top lip.

You could explode right then and there. Your nausea wave was a bit more intense, but more so from the intensity of Nanami’s gaze, and his touch against your chapped lips. Your heart was beating hard, and you couldn’t move. Like yesterday, you were frozen. His touch, despite his muscular stature, was gentle, soft. It felt like butter.

“S-sorry,” Nanami immediately pulled his hand away. He quickly looks away from you, hints of pink at the edge of his cheekbones. “I overstepped. I’m very, very sorry Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly spew, “just… wash your hands before you touch anything else or yourself. I would hate for you to get sick because of me.”

“A-ah, right,” he concurs, quickly jogging to the kitchen to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he once again joins you on the couch. “I will admit, I didn’t just come here to care for you. I wanted us to… discuss more about our conversation the other night.”

Here he goes. Opening a wound that is long but healed. “What else is there to talk about?” You say, coughing a bit to clear your throat. You felt light headed from how congested you are, especially since talking so much. And now, Nanami was forcing you to engage in a conversation that led to your feelings being hurt more. “We both expressed our feelings to one another, and came to the conclusion that our relationship should strictly stay as a coworker dynamic.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Nanami begins quietly. His eyes keep at your coffee table, with fingers weaving together slowly. He looks pensive, like he’s looking for the right words to say. But even within those thoughts, he was uneasy. “Hold on.” In a moment, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing himself in a black, skin tight shirt. This would be the first time you truly saw his physique, seeing as the shirt hugs into the dents and divots of his pecs and abs. The short sleeves give temptation to his muscular arms. His torso was enough to make any woman submissive.

You look away, but still hold your ground, “if that is the case, then I’d like to apologize again for my feelings towards you. I’m working on letting them go so they no longer pose as a nuisance or discomfort for you. And if need be, I understand if you’d rather distant our work relationship, or transfer me back to Sales.”

This is when Nanami faces you again, “Y/N, look at me.”

His tone wasn’t aggressive nor strict, but you felt submissive to his request. You slowly turn, your eyes finding their way to his own. Hazel eyes bore into yours, and you noticed his bottom lip snug between his teeth.

“That night when you confessed to me, I didn’t quite understand what it all meant for me,” Nanami begins quietly. He tightens his hold on his hands. “I’ve never really known what to do when people confess to me. But I was so used to not reciprocating those feelings that rejecting them was as easy as breathing.”

“You’re a little too good at it,” you let out, your heart jolting from the memory of the rejection.

“And for that I apologize,” Nanami quickly spews, “not only for hurting your feelings, but for lying to you.”

“Lying to me?” You felt your forehead going hot. “About what?”

“About my feelings towards you,” Nanami’s tone hinted at a dash of embarrassment, “Admittedly, not even I knew I was lying to you until I finally gave it some thought.”

You could only stare at him, trying to find some sense in his face. But as you stared at him, you noticed a break of conviction in his hazel eyes. His usual professional demeanor was absent, leaving you with a Nanami you’ve never met before. His confidence wavers, and before you was a red-faced, shy man.

“Kento,” you begin, causing him to jump from his first name leaving your tongue. “I’d feel worse if you’re feigning liking me for the sake of making up with me. I told you, it is my fault for liking you.”

“If you’re taking fault for that,” Nanami begins, his eyes diverting away from you, “then it is also your fault for making me like you back.”

Huh? You felt hot, cold, and dizzy. His words were nauseating, and you were confident you were green in the face. Your hands and arms shake with nerves, goosebumps ornate all over your body. Before you could even utter another word, you feel yourself going faint.

“Y/N?” Your name sounded distant. Before you knew it, your eyes flutter shut, pitch black surrounding you.

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sweetflanfiction · 5 months ago

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Asymetrical Symphony - Part 21

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20

• ··········· • ············ •

The night was bright, the moon and the stars illuminating the room at the Academy you were now standing in. You were sitting on a wheely bench, swaying from side to side, your fancy attire contrasting with the uniformed man sitting beside you.

The blackboard in front of you was filled with a familiar chicken scratch. You grinned at it. Man is a genius, but gods forbid he wrote anything legible. There was a 3D schematic next to the list.

"What was that shape again?" You asked, smiling mischievously, and heard the Zaunite scientist chuckle low after sighing.

"It is a dodecahedron."

"Say it again."

He snorted, looked you dead in the eye, and said it again, accentuating every syllable.

"Do-de-ca-he-dron."

"Sounds much better when you say it." You winked and saw his face redden quickly. It was cute, and you had recently found you enjoyed his cuteness. You wanted to pull this side of him out more.

You’d met a while ago; you being one of Jayce’s old friends, he took no time to introduce you to his new lab partner. And you two took no time in becoming entangled. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the attraction was there.

Looking away from the man, you studied the blackboard. Your head tilted to the side, your perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

You’d been drawn to it as soon as you entered the dark Tallis Lab. The dinner at the mansion had become boring, and you'd decided to disrupt Viktor's evening with your presence. Not that he minded; at least it wasn't what his tired smile told you when he opened the door to the lab to find you there, staring with an overly innocent smile on your face.

He had invited you in and told you to wait for a couple of minutes until he was done with his work. That had been an hour and a half ago, and at some point, he stopped apologizing.

And now here you were, hypnotically staring into a badly erased blackboard, with something written on it and a schematic that did nothing but fill you with curiosity. So much so that you got up from your seat next to Viktor to stand in front of it.

“It is not a painting in a museum, you know.” His voice came from behind you, the telltale sounds of him getting up and walking toward you loud in the empty lab.

"I do have to find something to do while waiting for a certain Undercity scientist to find out I'm waiting on him." You bit back at him and heard him chuckle as he limped towards you. “Besides, exactly how many museums have you ever visited?”

His hand snaked around your waist and stayed there, pulling you gently into him. You felt the scent of oil, parchment, and coffee coming out of him along with a smile on his lips as he breathed you in and nuzzled up to your neck, the ghost of a kiss near your ear making you smile.

"Maybe you'd like to take me to some sometime."

"Sure, should I schedule that before or after your 24-hour shift in the lab?" You looked sideways at him, and he shook his head; a tired sigh was the only thing that came out of him, though.

“What is it anyway?” You felt him place his chin on your shoulders, and you grabbed his forearm, making soft circles on his skin. “Not the shape…the whole thing.”

“The core facets of the arcane.” He simply hummed, his fingers drawing lazily, stroking your waist as he swayed you both gently from side to side. “It is for a project I’m working on. But most of these we add to the hex gems for them to work.”

"And what is this project you are working on?" He shrugged.

"I cannot say. If it all goes well, it can change everything."

"Everything?" He nodded confidently. "Well, reaching for the stars, aren't we?"

"Well, funny enough, one of those symbols is for the moon." He traced a symbol in the air, and you realized that the bullets from the bullet list were, in fact, symbols.

“You need to get better at writing so that someone else can read it.” You squinted at the blackboard.

“Jayce can read it, and that's all that matters.” You felt him shrug nonchalantly.

If Viktor's words were a pain to read, the smaller scratches next to them were downright impossible to decipher.

“What are they? The facets I mean.”

He straightened up but didn’t move, only adjusting his crutch and his grip on you to find a good position. The back of your head rested against his chest, and you felt his slow breathing.

“The first are the natural facets: air, earth, fire, and water. Then the heavenly bodies: the moon and the sun. And then the forces of magic: chaos and order.”

“That’s eight of them. The dodecahedron has twelve sides. You finished the question with a kiss on his jaw.

“We are still trying to figure out the rest.”

“I guess you two have to do something inside this big room to warrant the absurd amount of money you are being given by the Academy.” You joked and looked at him as his eyes dropped to you disapprovingly. “I’m joking. Tell me more.”

“We have come to some conclusions.” He started, his voice becoming animated. “For example, magic in itself cannot kill or give life, because you cannot kill a rock or bring a rock to life. But if certain sediments find themselves in the right order, a rock can be created, the same way that if something chaotic happens in the process, the rock may not be a rock at all. It becomes corrupt.”

“Are we bribing a rock now?” You joked, and he moved his fingers on your waist, tickling you and making you shriek.

“Not that type of corruption. Think of it as any condition that can deteriorate something.”

“Why aren’t those two in there? Create and corrupt?”

“Chaos and order…”

“No…” you argued, lifting a finger to shush him. “Chaos and order are different things. Chaos doesn’t necessarily corrupt, and order doesn’t create. You can create through chaos and corrupt through order.”

Viktor stayed silent for a while, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation. After a few minutes, he disentangled himself from you, and an impressed expression showed on his face, which you returned with a smug one. He walked over to the board and wrote what you assume were those two words with white chalk.

“If we add corruption as something that deteriorates…then we must add what deteriorates the most.” He pointed the chalk to you, and you raised your eyebrows. “Time.”

“If you add time, you might as well add space. Like... physical space... distances, dimensions, measurements, and whatnot.” You walked over to him, grabbed the chalk, and added your suggestion. "If you physically place a rock in a location with the right conditions, it can become a pebble."

“I’ll make a scientist out of you someday.” He grabbed your hand and placed the chalk on its little sill under the board.

“Yuck.” You grimaced dramatically. “And be stuck in this dark hole with y’all without getting the chance to leave whenever I want? Blah... thanks, I’ll pass.”

“I could make your time spent in this lab very much worth it." He took a small step towards you. "After hours, that is…”

You raised an eyebrow at his forwardness. This whole thing between you two was weeks long, and although Viktor's demeanor was a little cold and collected most of the time, he liked to throw these jabs just to see your reaction.

“Why spend that time at the lab when there's a perfectly good mansion?” You grinned, and he rolled his eyes jokingly.

Viktor’s cold hands came up to your face and held it, gently looking into your eyes with a loopy, tired smile, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. He moved a piece of hair from your forehead, gently caressed the space between your brows, and placed a kiss there.

“What if it is just a little bedroom over at the Academy dorms?” He whispered into your ear, and you smiled, moving so you could look at him.

“It'll do, I guess...” You joked, and he laughed, grabbing your hand and moving you towards the workstation.

You saw him go around the lab turning machines off, placing schematics in drawers. He grabbed his satchel and placed a couple of those in there with his notebook and pencil.

Before walking out the door, you looked back at the board, still curious about that subject. Your neat handwriting in the middle of Viktor's.

'Space'

"Are you hearing me?" Viktor asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No... I never do really. I'm just here for the pretty face." He blushed and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the lab, already rambling about the hexgate inauguration and how much he didn’t want to go.

• ··········· • ············ •

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sinnabarmoth · 6 months ago

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Tribute for the Dragon (15/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: With the rut drawing to a close, you and Sylus look to the future for what this means for you both.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Minor breeding kink. P in V.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (16) (17) (18)

Read on AO3

You soon realized that dragon ruts were not for the faint of heart. The next week of your life was the most exhausted you had ever been. Every single day, multiple times a day, Sylus found you wherever you were and fucked you within an inch of your life. He had cooled off a little, able to push aside the lustful haze to offer you some respite the longer it went on.

But that first day had been the most feral he had gotten. You hadn’t left the hoard room until late into the evening and that was just because you absolutely needed more food than what he scrounged up from the kitchen between rounds. Thankfully the entire rut didn’t need to take place in the hoard room so you at least got the cushion of the bed back to make things a little more comfortable.

You were also shocked at how sweet he was during the whole thing. Despite how rough things got and how filthy he spoke, he would always be there to help ease you back down. And if you really didn’t want to have sex, if you were just too sore for anymore he didn’t push you.

In between rounds you’d lay together and talk about what your future child was going to be like. “And you’re sure I’m not going to end up laying an egg?”

Sylus chuckled. “Yes. You won’t lay an egg.”

“But the woman who birthed you--”

“Was cursed and her womb magically altered to be able to lay a dragon egg. You are not cursed and because I am at least half human you should have a normal live birth.” Sylus assured you, “Although, the state of the baby is uncertain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I was born I looked almost entirely human except for my eyes and as I got older the scales and tail and horns grew in. The children will most likely be the same way. But I do not know what all they may grow. Some might have horns and tails and wings and scales, others may not. Maybe one grows horns and scales but no tail. Maybe another grows wings but no claws. I cannot say for sure.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about little claws or horns complicating things when they come out.” you touched your stomach. You looked back at him. “Do you want to try one more time?”

His smile sharpened. “You bounced back quick this time. Alright then, come here.” He sat up in the bed. He pulled you across his lap, your back pressed to his chest.

He receded the armor around his hands with a small groan. “Sylus, I know it hurts you don’t have to--”

“I want to be able to play with your pussy a little before hand. The pain is temporary and not important.” he dipped his now clawless hand between your legs, the soft pad of his fingers swirling over your clit.

You reclined your head back on his shoulder as little blips of pleasure heated your body. “That’s it,” he said, “Always so responsive to me.”

He removed his hand from your pussy and sucked the juices from his fingers. You whined at the loss but you only got a dark chuckle in response. “Do not worry, little bird. You’ll get my hand and much more back in a minute. But right now, I need you to do something.”

He caressed your arms and lifted them up and behind you before curling them around his horns. “Hold onto these while I play with you and do not let go. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” he sighed, feeling how tightly you were gripping his horns.

You thought he was going to go back to your pussy but instead he moved slowly, his hands gliding up and down your body at a lazy pace. He traced every dip and curve with his hands as if memorizing every inch of your body by touch alone. His mouth kissed down the column of your neck and to your shoulders. When his mouth landed on the faint mark of your mating bite he suck his teeth into your soft exposed skin. Arousal pooled between your legs as he continued to caress and tease you.

You could feel him getting hard underneath you. The hard ridge of flesh was hot and curved back to rest on your folds. You tried to grind against it but he pulled your hips back to keep them still. “Not yet.” his breath was hot in your ear, “I want you ready to burst when I put it in.”

He continued to strum your body, plucking at your most sensitive spots but without any of the relief you sought. It seemed wholly unfair that he could be so patient during a rut. Wasn’t he supposed to throw you to the bed and fuck you until you were screaming in a fit of lust filled rage? How come he was teasing you?

“Someone’s pouting.” he turned your face to his. “What do you want, little bird? What can I do to make that frown go away.”

“You can put your dick in me. That’d be a nice start.” you batted your eyelashes at him. “Please master?”

“Calling me master while I’m in rut,” he growled, biting your neck again. “Do you think that a wise decision?”

“I think it’ll get me what I want.” you smirked. “So please, will you put your dick in me and breed my pussy, master?”

“That dirty trick won’t work forever.” Sylus muttered angrily as he lifted your hips up.

“I just need it to work now.”

“Becoming my mate made you such a brat.” he hissed as he lowered you down onto his cock. “There, you have your precious dick snug in that tight little pussy. If you want it bred though, you have to work for it.”

“But--”

“You expect your master to do all the work? That’s what you’re here for. Now get moving but don’t move your hands. Keep them wrapped around my horns.” he cupped your breasts and pinched and pulled at your nipples.

You began shaking your hips, pulling yourself up and down on his lap. His cock slid against your walls, sending bursts of ecstasy into your brain while he played with your breasts. He had sufficiently worked you up enough that you felt like you could come right then.

“You feel so good, wildfire.” he moaned into your neck. “This is exactly where I want you forever. Fucking yourself on my cock, trying to make me come. Cause that’s what you want, right? You want me to come. You want me to come inside you and breed this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes!” you clamped down on him tighter. “Yes Sylus! I want it! I need it!”

“I know you do.” he groaned, drawing in a sharp breath as you sped up. “You make me wanna come, wildfire. Just keep bouncing yourself on my dick.”

One of his hands trailed down your stomach and found your clit, adding to the sensations that were already overloading your body. “I won’t come until you do.” he said. “So if you want my cum you have to come for me, wildfire. Come on you master’s cock and he’ll give you what you want. What you need.”

“Ha…ha…ah fuck!” you forced your hips to move faster, chasing a release so close yet just out of reach. Your hands were cramping holding onto Sylus’s horns. The tighter you held them the heavier his breathing got.

“Sylus…” you whimpered. You were so close. “Sylus please!”

“Right here. I’m right here.” he craned your head back to kiss you. “You can do it. Just come for me.” he rubbed your clit faster, his other hand squeezed your breast.

“Sylus!” you moaned against his lips as you both came. He smothered the moan with another kiss, panting against your lips.

“So good. You are so fucking good, wildfire.” he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

Your arms fell to your sides as you relaxed against him. He rubbed at your shoulders, relieving the ache that had grown there. He moved you back so you were laying side by side on the bed again.

You took several deep breaths to center yourself, grounding yourself by nuzzling into Sylus’s chest. “Hey, not that this hasn’t been a lot of fun but how much longer is this rut going to last? I’m getting exhausted.”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “You were the one that tackled me into bed this morning, not the other way around.” he reminded you. “I think you forget that your libido is just as bad, if not worse than mine can be.”

“Fine. I admit it. But really, do you think we’re any closer to knowing if I’m pregnant or not?” you stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh my sweet little bird,” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “If you had let me speak this morning instead of dragging me back into bed I would have been able to tell you that you already are.”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant. I could smell the change this morning. That’s why I originally came in here. I was going to tell you after you had a chance to wake up a little more.” he was smiling the widest you had ever seen him.

“I’m really…” tears sprang to your eyes. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“Yes, we are.”

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck. It was happening! It was really happening!

Oh gods it was happening…you were…with a… You were going to give birth to a little dragon baby. Oh gods. This was actually happening! It wasn’t just a fun roleplay in bed. It was real. You had a little dragon growing in your womb.

“You look panicked. Are you alright?” Sylus asked. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am! I am ridiculously happy!” you assured him. “I’m also kinda terrified. In a few months we’re going to have a baby. We’re going to be parents and be in charge of another life. I mean, how do we even do that?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

With your pregnancy confirmed the rut wore off. You were thankful for the respite but now your mind was filled with nothing but preparations for the baby. You weren’t even showing yet and all you could do was make lists of things that needed done.

“Where is the baby going to sleep?” You asked Sylus one afternoon as you sat at the kitchen table, a list of things that needed done in front of you. At the top of the list was make a nursery.

“I suspect they’ll sleep in our room until they’re old enough to move them to their own room. There’s a lot of empty rooms in the mountain. We can fit a whole brood of hatchlings in here.” he kissed the top of your head and went about grabbing a bowl of stew from the large pot over the fire.

“A brood? Exactly how many kids do you want to pump into me?”

“I was thinking at least six or more.” he said with a shrug.

“Six!” you shouted.

“My ideal is nine since it’s a lucky number.” he took in your dumbstruck expression. “What?”

“You are insane if you think I’m going to birth nine kids.” you couldn’t even comprehend having a family that large. “I’ll give you three.”

“Seven.”

Was he haggling the number of kids you were going to have? Fine then. “Maybe four.”

“Five?”

“Four.”

“Alright, four.” he set another bowl of stew done for you. “Make sure to finish that. You’re eating for two now.”

“I know.” you set the list aside. “I need to go into town and do some shopping later, as well as tell my father and friends the news.”

“I’ll take you down whenever you’re ready. Are you nervous at all about telling them?”

“A little. It’s only recently that father came around to you and I’m not sure how he’s going to react. I hope he’ll be happy with the idea of being a grandfather at least.”

“You’re giving him his first grandchild, he’ll be thrilled no matter what.” Sylus assured you.

You grabbed some coins from the hoard room and left with Sylus for the village. Your first stop was to find your father and tell him the news. Sylus walked with you to the house but stayed in the background as you talked to your father. Your father was shocked at first but was soon smiling and congratulating you and Sylus both on your upcoming bundle of joy.

“I’ll have to get started working then.” he said, “I’m going to make a mobile for you to hang over the crib.”

“That sounds wonderful, father. Thank you.” you hugged him again. “I actually came into town to commission the woodworker for the cradle as well as buy some fabric and yarn to make baby clothes. I also need to find Tara and tell her. I know she’s going to be thrilled too.”

“That she will be. Congratulations, sweet pea. I can’t wait to meet them when they’re born.” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and you were on your way.

You left to run your other errands. Sylus was still by your side, looming in the corner wherever you went like a shadow. The village had really come to like him but he was still rather uncomfortable with the attention. He looked like he was going to fly away when you told Tara the news about your pregnancy and had given Sylus a huge hug in her excitement. She had promised to do a reading for your pregnancy as soon as possible and tell her mother so she could make you a perfect baby blanket for the little one.

Your last stop after the fabric shop was the woodworker to commission the cradle. There were some other people there that saw you come in with Sylus and froze. The woodworker looked up though and smiled. “Ah, what can I do for you today?”

“Hello, I came with a very special request. Mind you, I won’t need it for a couple months so take your time but what I really need is a cradle.”

“A cradle?” the woodworker smiled. “Oh my dear girl, you’re having a baby?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Another mighty dragon in the village. What wonderful news.” the woodworker called to Sylus, “How big of a baby do we need to plan for?”

“A regular sized cradle should be fine.” Sylus said. “They shouldn’t be much different from a human baby.”

Sylus looked to his side where a man that had been waiting in the shop was staring at him. You didn’t recognize him immediately but it was a decent sized village, you didn’t have every face memorized. Sylus didn’t seem to appreciate the man’s staring and glared at him. “Do you have something to say to me?”

The man shook his head and took off. While most people in the village were used to Sylus there were some who still didn’t entirely trust him. It was an inevitability but hopefully in the years to come everyone would come to recognize him not as a threat but as a neighbor.

Once everything was done and finished you stopped by to say a final goodbye to your father and returned to the mountain.

You set what you had bought down and started getting preparations ready for dinner. While you were cooking you kept hearing Sylus walking back and forth past the kitchen. What was he doing now? While dinner simmered over the fire you went out to find him.

It was then that you noticed there was a carpet under your feet. That definitely hadn’t been there before. Where had it come from? And there were more carpets! They made a trail down the corridor and into your bedroom. Sylus was in there unrolling another carpet and layering it with the others.

“What are you doing? Where’d all the carpet come from?”

“Ah, yes,” he stood up, “I got to thinking that when the baby is born it’d be best if they had something soft to crawl around on so I’ve been finding whatever rugs I could from the hoard room and laid them out. I may also need to go around the walls and smooth them out so if they run into them they don’t get cut.”

It was endearing watching him worry and fret about how to make the mountain safer for your baby. You hadn’t even been pregnant a month and he was already doing so much. You walked up to him, your feet squishing against the plush carpet, and hugged him. “I’m so glad that our baby is going to have you as a father. I really am.”

His arms closed around you. “I’m the lucky one, really. To have a child with you. Knowing that this child is going to have you as their mother.” he knelt down, his face inches from your stomach. “Your mother is so good, little one. And I am going to love and protect you both for the rest of my life. I swear, nothing bad will ever happen to you so long as I draw breath.”

He kissed your stomach. You ran your hands through his hair, holding him there as he rested his head against you. “I can’t wait to meet our little one too.”

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads mc #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #dragon sylus #lads dragon au

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ladykailitha · 7 months ago

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The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 15

Hey guys this story is back! I feel like it's nearing the end, but we'll see. I'm hoping for another couple of chapters (than the two have backlogged anyway) at least, but I'm not sure. Steve and Eddie are already freewheeling toward each other and I have learned when that starts happening either one or both of them hit the gas and they go from zero to sixty faster than NASCAR on race day.

Steve tries to get a job, has a good cry about it, Robin is bestest and they try the mall.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Steve sat at the desk, phone pressed to his ear, newspaper next to him, and paper and pen in hand.

“Hi, may I speak to the manager?” he asked in his best customer service voice. “Thank you.”

Once the manager was on the line, he began, “Hello, sir. I’m looking at your ad in the help want ads and was wondering if the position was still open?”

Steve shoulders slumped. “I see. No, of course. I’m sure your nephew will just be absolutely smashing at slinging those hamburgers. Thank you for your time.”

He set the phone down in its cradle and put his head in his hands. He had been on the phone for the last two hours calling up people for job interviews and he was utterly exhausted.

Everyone of them had turned him down. Not taking anymore applications at this time, the job has been filled, or in the cases he actually got far enough to tell them his name, they would straight up hang up on him.

He didn’t want to work in the mall, but it was looking less and less likely he’d get a job inside Hawkins.

Which meant that Joyce was going to be on his ass again. She had gotten so insistent in him finding a job, that he was forced to stop going over there, choosing to hang out with Will and Ellie at someone else’s house.

God, he got more peace at the Wheelers and Mike was openly hostile ninety percent of the time. So that was really something.

Steve picked up Eddie’s latest gift. It was a giant canary plushie. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. He loved it. He hugged it close.

“I miss Eddie, Kenny,” he murmured into its beak. “I know he’ll be home in a couple of weeks, but I miss being able to have him tell me I’m enough. That my worth isn’t dependent on what other people think of me.”

Steve stood up and carried Kenny over to the bed, where he fell asleep, tears falling into the soft material of Kenny’s neck.

He woke up slowly to soft music being played. He opened his eyes and blearily looked around. There on the sofa reading a magazine was Robin. She was listening to Blondie on his boombox but it was at a respectful volume so it wouldn’t wake him.

He had long since given her permission to just come in when she had a gift from Eddie or if she just want to hang out. As long as he wasn’t getting a shower or getting dressed, he really couldn’t care less.

Steve sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. Next to her on the sofa was a large box.

“Hey, dingus,” she said without looking up. “I took the opportunity to order us dinner.” She looked at her watch. “It should be here in about five minutes.”

Steve slid off the bed and padded over to the sofa where he flopped gracelessly next to her.

Robin set down the magazine and looked at him properly. “Still can’t find a job, huh?”

He shook his head and pulled his knees up to his chest. She gave him a big hug and just held him until the food arrived. She rolled the food cart over lifted the cloche with gusto.

“Tada!” she said triumphantly revealing the mountains of fries, mashed potatoes, pizza, onion rings. All of Steve’s favorite things. “I figured you’d want some pick me up food and I went all out.”

“If we weren’t both gayer than the day is long,” Steve sighed happily, “I’d marry you.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek pulling out a slice of cheese pizza. He munched, grinning around the slice.

“Gross,” Robin said grabbing a handful of fries. “I mean the pizza not the marrying thing, because I agree. No, your pizza tastes are abysmal. Plain cheese? No meat, not veggies, nothing?”

Steve swallowed and set the pizza down. “It’s all my mom would let me have. Even when I’d go to parties and shit, she’d insist on them having a cheese pizza for me.”

“Okay I take that back,” Robin said. “Eat your cheese pizza, dingus. It makes you happy. But if I ever see your mother, I might accidentally scratch her eyes out.”

Steve picked up the pizza again, but paused with it half way to his mouth. ‘How do you accidentally scratch someone’s eyes out?”

Robin batted her eyes prettily. “I wouldn’t know, officer, I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was washing the blood off my hands.”

Steve threw one of the throw pillows at her head. “Don’t quote musicals at me!”

“Ha!” Robin crowed in delight, clutching the pillow to her chest. “The fact that you recognize it makes you the chump, not me!”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but then his eyes went wide when he had no argument for that.

“I’d love to see proper theater, you know,” he said dreamily. “Like with a proper orchestra and not just a tinny tape that skips in places and actual actors instead of Old Mr. Abernathy trying to play Hamlet.”

Robin winced. “He couldn’t even remember ‘To be or not to be’ and that’s like the one line everyone knows.” She shoved more fries into her face.

“Maybe when I get out on my own,” he said, snagging one of her fries right off of her plate, “I’ll go see plays in Indy or Bloomington.”

“You’ve just got to take me with you,” she huffed, grabbing the half bitten fry right out of his mouth and shoving it in her face. “I’ve been saving up all the money I’ve been getting from this job so I can get driving lessons at school. I won’t be able to drive my parents’ care very much, but it would still be nice to say I have it.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something but she held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. No, you can’t pay for my drivers’ ed classes. Because I want to pay for that myself.”

Steve pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t treat my friends to a little thing like a new car or new bikes.”

The new bikes were still a point of contention between Joyce and Steve. He had bought all of them new bikes and gear with exception of Max where he bought her a new skateboard and gear. All in their favorite colors. But she refused to let Will take his. She said it wasn’t his to spend and therefore to take it back until he could buy it with his own hard earned money.

Will stopped talking to his mother for a couple of days after that.

And Steve hadn’t blamed him, so he told Will to leave it at Mike’s and ‘borrow’ it when ever they rode out places. Joyce couldn’t stop him from doing that.

“I’m not saying not buy me a new car,” Robin huffed a little laugh. “I’m just saying I want to pay for the lessons myself. It’s more of an accomplishment thing.”

Steve perked up and batted his eyelashes at her. “Really? I can buy you a car a gift for passing your test? You’ll really let me?”

Robin laughed and threw a fry at his head. “Yes, dingus, you can but me a car. I talked it over with my parents and I told them that Eddie wanted to get me a car for all my hard work and that you’d be the one helping me pick it out.”

He grabbed the fry and threw back at her, it landing in her hair. “Oh that’s smart. I bet they had all sorts of restrictions on it being sensible and shit.”

But Robin shook her head. “My parents were hippies, not stupid. They know that if they try and restrict me I will come home with the reddest, wildest hot rod they’ve every laid eyes on.”

Steve laughed. “God, can we introduce them to Joyce? Because it sounds like they could teach her a thing or two.”

“I know right?” Robin said rolling her eyes. “Eat your pizza, you heathen and the next time I come I’m bringing proper Domino’s pizza with all sorts of toppings and you can find you actually like. In the mean time, open this present that is digging into my side.”

Steve reached out for it with grabby hands. “Oooh, I really liked the plushie from yesterday. I named him Kenny. Kenny the Canary.”

“Because of course you did,” she said dryly, handing over the package to him.

He could tell it was clothes just from the shape of the box. There was just something about them that screamed ‘hey I’m clothes!’ Inside was the most beautiful yellow cardigan. It was soft and warm.

The note said, “It may be hotter than balls in Hawkins, but up here in Canada, the weather is pretty mild. Not quite sweater weather, but I saw this and just had to get it for you. Just ten more days, little Canary.”

Steve buried his face into the softness of the sweater and nearly squealed in delight. Eddie had sprayed it with his cologne. Oh this was exactly what he needed.

Robin took the card from him and smiled. “He seems to really like you. I know a lot of the people you hang out with give you shit about Eddie and the money running out on you, but Steve, the way he writes these notes sound like someone who genuinely likes you.”

Steve set down the sweater with a sigh. “I know. But it’s the imbalance I’m worried about. I’ve already been called a gold digger. I don’t want that.”

Robin frowned for a moment. “My mom is making me apply for jobs at the mall. She says I can still do this, but she wants me to know ‘what real work is’.” She put air quotes around the last part. “Which is bullshit, but I’ll do it so I can keep doing this.”

She scooted over to him and put her arm around him. “So come with me and maybe we can get a job together, shove it everyone else’s faces, yeah?”

Steve nodded and curled up into her side. She was the only one besides Hopper who knew who his benefactor was and could offer a different perspective than anyone else.

“But in the mean time,” Robin said softly, “maybe talk to Hopper about getting Joyce to knock it off.”

He shook his head. “He’s tried. She has straight up told him that until he tells her who it is who’s funding you, she won’t drop the job thing.”

Robin winced. “And if she finds out who it is, she going to be worse. I haven’t met someone who wasn’t an adult when he left other than Hopper who liked Eddie Munson. I mean the only reason my parents are letting me do this is that Uncle Justin vetted the job and that Corroded Coffin would be on tour, while I stayed here in Hawkins.”

Steve sighed and sat back up. “That’s not even the biggest problem with them knowing. It’s having to explain where I was that Eddie would have seen me to help me out.” He changed his voice so it was higher and clutched his hands to his chest. “Yes, Mrs. Byers I was underage drinking at a bar in the hopes of getting laid so I had a place to sleep!” He dropped back down to his normal tone. “Yeah, like that will go over well.”

“Ooh,” she said with a grimace, “yeah I could see how that might cause waves with the parents. Like tsunami level waves.”

“Pretty much!”

Steve flopped his head back on the back on the sofa. “God, what a fucking mess.”

“Maybe just tell them you were going to see your cousin, Monty,” she suggested, “and you were smoking outside when you met Eddie. See if that goes over better.”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Maybe. I know Monty would back me up if that’s the case. But I would rather wait until Eddie got home and see what he says.”

Robin nodded sagely. “That’s fair.”

They had decided to let Robin get all the applications and bring them over to Steve in the food court. He had ordered them a couple of large Orange Juilus’s and two huge slices of pizza from Sbarros.

She handed him a pen and they got to work filling out all the applications, by the time they were done, Steve’s hand cramped and he worked his fingers open and closed to try to get the muscles to work again.

Robin rolled her eyes, but wisely said nothing as she gathered up their applications to return to their stores.

Robin got three call backs, but Steve only got one. Thankfully it was one that Robin had also got, but it was Scoops Ahoy, the ice cream shop with the little costumes and silly hats. They were both hired on the spot.

Sorry if you saw chapter sixteen on here, too. I'll post it later!

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: SIX SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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separatist-apologist · 5 months ago

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We Never Go Out Of Style

Could end in burning flames or paradise

Summary: When Gwyn breaks up with her boyfriend on the eve of Nesta's destination wedding, Nesta Archeron has only one objective: set Gwyn up with her high school crush.

Note: Based on this tweet from @heathermcwrites: "One of my bridesmaids just broke up with her bf who was supposed to come to my wedding & I was sad for her for about 3 seconds until I remembered that her crush will also be at the wedding (single) and I'm now more committed to this 2nd chance romance than to my own marriage."

"I should also note that this is a destination wedding so there are EVEN MORE opportunities for uh…shenanigans"

She needed to get Jonathon out before anyone else noticed him. Azriel seemed genuinely surprised, frozen in place beside her. What happened when his brain caught up to what was happening and did something they’d all regret. She pressed her hand to his chest, cognizant of the place they were in.

The music thudded in time with her own panicked heartbeat. Jonathan was going to ruin whatever was blooming between her and Azriel before it ever had a chance to start. She wanted to sink into the floor and die.

“I’ll be right back!” she yelled over the music. Azriel nodded once, his eyes blazing with shadow even in the dark club. He clenched his jaw but didn’t move as Gwyn maneuvered through the bodies for Jonathon. He seemed so out of place in his skinny tie and his buttoned up shirt, better suited for an academic conference than a boozy night club.

Jonathan seemed to think her hand on his chest was a positive sign. His fingers curled around her sweat slicked wrist, causing Gwyn to look over her shoulder. Azriel was still watching, though if he saw the point of contact, she couldn’t tell—it was simply too dark.

God, this was such a mess.

“Outside,” she demanded, her fury rising to match the fear she felt. He couldn’t just show up and demand she talk to him. They were over? Hadn’t someone taught him that no truly meant no? Apparently not.

Outside, a crescent moon hung far in the sky, framed by the few spackling of stars visible beneath the pollution of artificial light. The air felt good, and Gwyn, wrenching her wrist from his grip, pulled her hair up off her neck in an attempt to cool herself off.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, resisting the urge to shove him violently to the ground. Asshole!

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, running a hand through chestnut hair. “You…Christ, Gwyn, I was thinking about calling in a welfare check.”

Gwyn nearly exploded, turning in a half circle to keep herself from screaming on the busy sidewalk, where any number of tourists might also call in a welfare check. At least it would be deserved.

“Breaking up doesn’t require a trip to the psychiatric ward,” she snapped when she was able to face him. God, how had they spent so long together? Looking at him, half illuminated in the harsh orange fluorescent of the nearby street lamp, all Gwyn saw was an insecure man. A pathetic man.

A man she’d once loved. She tried to pull up even an ounce of that love to keep herself in check, but found only revulsion. That was going to make the confrontation between them difficult. It was only moments before that she’d been afraid of the violence Azriel might exact, but now she was afraid of her own capacity for violence.

“Go home,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. The last thing she needed was a scene.

“No,” he replied, taking a step toward her. “Not—not until we talk.”

Gwyn threw her hands up in the air, her frustration mounting. “What is there left to say?” As far as she was concerned, she’d said everything she needed to when they’d ended things.

“A lot,” he challenged. “Is there somewhere…else…we can go?”

Gwyn looked upward at the stars, smoothing out her hair beneath nervous palms. It had been so easy to let him be the bad guy on this trip, but the fact of the matter was, she had interrupted his proposal to break up with him, blocked him, and had let Azriel spend nearly two weeks antagonizing him. Did she owe Jonathon an explanation?

“Fine,” she agreed, stalking off in the dark for one of the many hammocks not too far out. She wasn’t going to sit in one, but it got them away from people who had phones at the ready where they could record whatever explosion was brewing and then slap it on the internet for views.

To his credit, Jonathan followed along without remarking on how much he detested tourist traps, resorts, or the flip flops someone was louding smacking against the pavement.

“I asked you to marry me,” Jonathan blurted out, as if he couldn’t keep the words leashed for a moment longer. They’d only just reached the grassy courtyard, where the pavement branched toward all the differing buildings the resort housed. A playground stood empty in the distance, an empty swing swaying slightly from a phantom breeze. She could hear the nearby splash pad spraying water for children that would return in the morning, distracting her for a moment.

“I don’t want to get married,” she lied. Gwyn did—just not to Jonathon.

“That…why?” he asked, his tone slipping into desperation.

Gwyn was shaking her head before she’d formulated a response. “I…”

Jonathan seized on this, reaching for her hand to pull her closer. “We were perfect together. Everyone thought so. I…I envisioned a future for us, Gwyn. A family, even,” he added, though he’d never once mentioned children to her. He didn’t seem the type—his writing and research would always come first.

For a moment, Gwyn was overtaken by an image of it all. She’d stay home, because of course she would. Taking care of their home, their children, their lives while he soldiered on. Perhaps he’d reach the level of fame and success he’d always dreamed of, and she’d become a footnote in the back of his book. Her life was far less glamorous—researching private schools and arranging playdates or pouring through cookbooks.

It wasn’t a bad life. It simply wasn’t the one she wanted for herself.

“I don’t love you,” she told him, pulling out of his grasp as she shook her head once more. “Not like that, anyway.”

Pure pain flashed across his expression, leaving them both paralyzed by the silence. It was a brutal, yet truthful, thing to say. Gwyn wanted to cry all of the sudden, though she wasn’t sure why. Leaving him had felt like a weight being lifted from her very soul, replaced by a lightness that left her buoyant. Now, though, she felt those familiar chains, attached to a cinder block that threatened to bring her sinking back into despair. Guilt began clawing at her throat, demanding she say something else to erase that look on his face.

She wasn’t a cruel person by nature.

“How do you just stop loving someone?” he asked her, his own voice strangled with emotion. “I don’t understand it.”

Neither did she. Gwyn shrugged helplessly, already drowning in her misery. He was ruining what was supposed to be a good night. Already, it seemed a million miles from her, distant and half forgotten in her hazy memories. Had Azriel truly asked her to be his girlfriend? And had she actually been happy about it? Gwyn didn’t think she’d ever been happy for a moment in her life.

“I can’t explain it,” Gwyn said, trying anyway. “But I knew, when you asked, that I couldn’t say yes.”

“We’ll go to counseling—” he tried, but Gwyn’s hand flew up, palm facing upward to stop him as she violently shook her head.

“You need to go home,” she said again, this time with more force. “I’m not going to change my mind. This is over. It was good, but…we were all wrong for each other and I think deep down, you know that’s the truth.”

It was his turn to shake his head, his desperation hardening into something angry. Something mean. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? Azriel.”

“He has nothing to do with any of this,” Gwyn said truthfully, though the snappish way she said it likely did her no favors. Who cared if Jonathan thought she was being honest or not. He was looking for something to latch onto—something that would explain why she hadn’t fallen into his arms after this grand gesture, or agreed to work on things. He simply wasn’t ready to accept things were over.

He’d make her a villain to all their mutual friends, and that irked her. Maybe that was unavoidable. That didn’t mean she liked it, or wasn’t going to defend herself. She hadn’t even known Azriel when she’d ended things, though she doubted Jonathan would care about that distinction. Was she rushing into things with Azriel, she wondered? She'd jumped from one relationship seemingly into another with practically no time to breathe. What had started as a fun fling felt like so much more, but viewing it from the eyes of a stranger, Gwyn wondered if she wasn't just grieving the loss of her relationship with Jonathan. Would she wake up one day and realize it was all a rebound?

She wanted more than that from Azriel.

“No?” Jonathan challenged, looking over her head. Gwyn turned, suppressing a groan. Azriel was walking toward her, Cassian and Rhysand trailing a few feet behind with drinks still in their hands. It was hard to take either of them seriously, especially as Cassian’s mouth attempted to find the pink, curly straw without looking down at his beverage.

“I have this handled,” she called behind her, because she did.

Mostly.

Azriel was going to make things worse. She could see, from the expressionless look on his face, that he didn’t think so. They hadn’t been gone that long.

Jonathan was spoiling for a fight, and Gwyn didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know exactly how it would end. Azriel had the kind of hands that weren’t strangers to blood and bruises, but Jonathan wasn’t the fighting type. Had he imagined this scenario playing out as he’d flown down? Fighting for Gwyn’s honor, as if violence had ever once impressed her.

She was quick to get between them, arms thrown out. Azriel stood close enough her fingertips brushed his shirt. It was comforting, in a way, though she wished he wasn’t here to witness this humiliation. It would have been much better to tell him about it when they were both in bed together, and she’d had enough alcohol to find the whole thing funny.

“Is this because of you?” Jonathan demanded, half shoving Gwyn out of the way. Azriel held up a finger, his eyes flashing a warning.

“Don’t put your hands on her,” he warned, his voice cool.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” Jonathan replied, getting closer to Azriel. It was almost comical—Cassian chortled when he saw how much taller Azriel was in comparison to Jonathan. How much muscle Az had on her ex. It made Gwyn cringe—she knew where this was headed, a train wreck she both couldn’t stop or take her eyes off of. “Did she tell you she had a man? Or was that part of the fun?”

Azriel merely looked down at him, fingers flexing at his sides.

“Don’t,” Gwyn pleaded softly. Azriel’s gaze cut to her, jaw tilting upward in agreement.

“You sound drunk,” Azriel said instead, doing his best to diffuse a situation that was practically begging for a violent altercation. “You should go home.”

“Why don’t you come with…ah, don’t do that,” Cassian called, but Jonathan shoved Azriel, which did nothing tangible. Azriel didn’t budge, though his expression darkened. Shadows seemed to curl around him while even the temperature of the air dropped just a little. Gwyn shivered, waiting for a blow that never came.

He’d said he wouldn’t. She exhaled.

“Come on,” Gwyn whispered, slipping around Jonathan for Azriel. “Go home, Jonathan.”

“Fuck you, you…you bitch!” he yelled, his anger getting the better of him.

Everything happened too quickly to track after that. Azriel’s temper snapped, his fist colliding with Jonathan’s face. Gwyn screamed and Cassian swore as Jonathan crumpled, his skull bouncing off the pavement before he went still. For one horrible second, Gwyn thought Azriel must have killed him.

Jonathan groaned a moment later, still among the living, though his brain slightly scrambled.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that!” Azriel snarled, surging forward to hit him again. This time, both Cassian and Rhy dropped the drinks, the plastic cups clattering to the ground as they grabbed their friend by the arms to hold him back. Some voice she didn’t recognize started yelling as Gwyn looked upward at the sky.

Everything felt ruined.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

—

“How’d you sleep?”

Azriel looked up from the cot in the Italian cell he’d spent the night in. Of course Jonathan wanted to press charges, though the Italian authorities didn’t seem to care too much, one way or the other. They couldn’t care that much if Cassian was bailing Azriel out on his wedding day.

He’d assumed he’d spend the day there.

“Fine,” Azriel lied. He’d slept like shit. Gwyn hadn’t looked at him in the aftermath, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. She’d spoken to the police softly before Nesta and Emerie had taken her away, arms slung over her slumped shoulders.

Azriel didn’t regret his actions, even if he’d hurt her. He didn’t blame her for being angry, though. She’d asked him not to, and he’d let his temper get the better of him. It was just…fuck. Azriel ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts replaying on a loop. She’d told him she wanted him—only him—and for a moment everything had been perfect. And then her ex appeared, dragging her off with him and all Azriel could think about was how she’d get back together with Jonathan.

Of course she would. Seeing the two of them together…he couldn’t explain it. He’d always thought himself better than Jonathan until he saw the man in person, put together and crisp in a way Azriel was never going to be. His insecurities had gotten the better of him, and with Cassian and Rhys in tow, he’d gone to see what they were discussing.

He’d almost gotten away with his girl in tow, his temper in check. It was hearing her called a bitch that set him off—it was Jonathan’s voice, but it might have been his fathers, hurling another insult at his mother.

He hadn’t meant to retaliate. One minute he’d been seconds from slipping his hand into Gwyn’s and the next his knuckles ached and blood was splattered against his cheek. Azriel ducked his head, following Cassian out after signing himself out and collecting the few belongings that had been in his pocket.

“It’s your wedding day,” Azriel said, blinking against the bright, cheery sun.

“Yeah. Nesta’s pissed,” Cassian agreed cheerfully, nodding toward Rhys who was leaned up against a black sedan in a three piece suit.

Azriel groaned.

“You owe me money,” Rhys said as if he’d ever try and collect it. “Get in. You look like hell.”

Azriel only sighed, sliding into the back of the air conditioned car. A plan was made, haphazard and yet doable—they’d rush back to the resort where Az would take a very short shower, dress himself, and be waiting in the lobby to head down to the beach before Nesta could grow any angrier.

It left him no time to talk to Gwyn, which was the only thing Azriel wanted to do. He needed to tell her he was sorry…he needed to tell her a lot of things, if he was honest. The truth about his feelings, which hadn’t seemed terribly important when they were standing in the middle of a busy club. He regretted that, now. He should have taken her out of there and opened himself up.

Not that he had much experience in that realm.

Azriel sprinted across the resort when they were dropped off in the circular drive, heart pounding. He didn’t expect to see Gwyn in their shared room, but also didn’t expect to find all her things were gone. The room was neatly made up, and his things were exactly where he’d left them. Hers, though, were gone.

Azriel’s heart sank into his stomach. Trying his best not to think about the implications of her coming home alone, packing up all her belongings, and leaving, he showered quickly, shaved the stubble from his jaw, and flung on his suit which still hung in the closet.

Rhys was waiting outside for him with a carefully neutral expression. “You good?” Rhys asked. It was an opening—Azriel could have been honest with his friend and said no, he wasn’t good. What was the point? He wasn’t going to chase Gwyn down across a continent like her last lover. If she was done, Azriel would walk away.

Even if the thought of it made his chest impossibly tight. As he followed Rhys, who remained blessedly silent after Azriel nodded his head that he was, indeed, good, Azriel tried to take deep, calm breaths. At least on the outside, Azriel hoped he projected calm indifference, even on this inside he was drowning in his anxiety.

There was no time to talk once they got in the lobby. Elain Archeron had taken over, shoving him into a line beside Emerie. Gwyn was walking with Rhys, draped in a silken, silvery blue dress that made his knees shake. She hadn’t looked at him, her gaze fixed on Emerie as she adjusted a loose curl around her friend's face. Gwyn looked just as good from behind, which soothed him only a little.

Look at me, he pleaded silently. She didn’t, shifting in her flat shoes and fussing with the clingy fabric that hugged the soft curves of her body, but never turned to look back at him. Azriel focused on the color of her hair, curled softly as it hung loosely down her exposed back. Sunlight gleamed against the cinnamon colored tresses, bringing out the rich hues of red and brown. He flexed his fingers at his side and waited for instruction.

A beach wedding was, perhaps, not a choice Azriel would have made for himself. The wind whipped Nesta’s veil around her face and the waves made it difficult to hear anything the officiant said, even when Azriel stood close enough behind Rhys that they were nearly back to chest.

Sand poured into his shoes and even when the ceremony ended with Cassian dipping Nesta into a kiss, giving Az time to covertly shake out his shoe, he didn’t manage to dislodge any of it. Azriel tried to be happy for Cassian and Nesta—he was happy for them. Truly. Cassian deserved every good thing he got, and Nesta was his favorite addition to their little group.

Gwyn vanished with Emerie and Nesta, appearing occasionally for group pictures before melting into the background again. Azriel tried to track her, but it was as if she’d found a way to step into the very air itself and hide from him.

It seemed an obvious answer to his question. A better man would have just cut his losses—it was a vacation romance, after all. What had he truly expected? The wedding was over, and they would all be packing and heading home in the coming days. Sure, he’d asked her to be his girlfriend, but maybe that didn’t mean much, either. Maybe Azriel had only ever been fooling himself, thinking what was happening between them was ever going to be more.

The reception was a mix of indoors and outdoors, held in one of the ballrooms the resort hosted. It was on the smaller side given the size of their party, with an open bar and a balcony that overlooked the glittering ocean.

Azriel’s first point of business was a drink. Straight whiskey, no chaster, poured as a double in a glass as if he wasn’t about to drink it like a shot. Which he did—twice. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, and had barely slept, which was hardly anything new. Gwyn was doing her damndest not to make eye contact with him, and though Azriel knew a confrontation was brewing, he wasn’t quite drunk enough for it yet.

If she was going to end things, he wanted to be thoroughly numb when it happened.

Azriel found Emerie dancing with Mor and dragged her away with what he hoped was a subtle nod of his head. Her smile slipped into a grimace that made his stomach lurch.

“Hey Az,” she said, holding her shoes by one finger as she walked across the swirled, marble floors. Gwyn was nowhere to be seen, missing with Elain Archeron doing god knew what.

He didn’t know what to say, hadn’t planned that far ahead which caused him to stand there helplessly, mouth half opened as he waited for eloquence to flow from his lips.

Emerie seemed to understand, reaching for his arm to squeeze gently. “Just give her some space, alright?”

Space. “Yeah,” he agreed, throat tight. That was the last thing Azriel wanted to give her. Every inch of him was on fire, screaming that he needed to just explain himself, which had never truly been his forte. Neither were relationships, though. How fitting that it would end before it ever truly began?

That was his luck.

Azriel tried to find some enjoyment during the wedding. He shared another drink with Rhysand and Cassian and danced when they asked him to, feigning joy as though he felt it. It was easy enough to put on a facade, slap a smiling mask on his face, and spin Feyre drunkenly around the room while Rhys glowered from his perch on the wall. Azriel had almost found peace with Emerie’s advice until he saw Gwyn slip out of the room for the hall. He followed silently, well aware she didn’t realize he was there until she pushed open the door of the single bathroom and he caught it just behind her.

“Az,” she breathed, swallowing like she was scared. Azriel stepped into the room with her, hand reaching for the knob behind him while she pressed further in. The women’s bathroom was nice. The men’s was fine, though it smelled faintly of urine, but in the womens there was a full length mirror, a plush red sofa, and a backlit mirror.

“I need to go to the bathroom—”

“Just…” Azriel’s eyes closed when the door to the toilet closed. A better man would have taken that for what it was and walked away, but he knew if he didn’t tell her how he felt, he never would. He’d bottle it up and let it haunt him at night, like so many of his other past failures.

“I know I fucked up. I’m sorry, I…” he swallowed, certain he sounded drunk and too much like Jonathan for his liking. “He shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”

She opened the door, her own eyes suspiciously glassy while her cheeks and nose were bright red.

“I’m not mad,” she whispered, arms wrapped around her frame. Azriel’s blood went cold. “I just think…maybe I need to be alone for a while, Az. To figure myself out.”

“Figure yourself out,” he repeated. She was ending things, then. He wanted to die.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Azriel shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, heart thundering loudly. “Take whatever time you need. I ah…I’ll be around if you ever…”

Fuck, he didn’t know.

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know.”

Azriel turned to leave, needing to breathe air that didn’t smell like her. He didn’t know what caused him to stop, the words tumbling from his lips before his brain managed to catch up.

“I’m in love with you, and I’ll wait,” he heard himself say, taking himself by surprise. A sharp inhale of air came from Gwyn, though he didn’t dare look back at her face. He was certain it would shatter him.

Azriel stepped out and took his own shaky breath of air.

It was time to go home.

#gwynriel

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runningincircl3s · 4 months ago

Text

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prologue

chapter warnings: negative thoughts?

AHHH!! so this wasn't long enough to be an actual chapter, but it sets the story, hence the name prologue :) i had an epiphany at like 2am this morning and decided to rewrite this entire story from the beginning because i just wasn't happy with it, but i LOVE the direction it's going in now and i've gotten to chapter 5... so expect weekly updates!! (i'm thinking fridays for this fic?)(for folio friday?) <3

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been months since you left.

6 months to be exact.

After coming home, you found yourself falling back into the same mind-numbing routine you once had. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. When you weren’t home, you were working, when you weren’t working, you were at home. You basically had no social life, you felt like an empty shell of a person, like a robot. But this is what you had to do to take your mind off of what happened.

The guilt, the lies, that one last look he gave you before disappearing, it all still played on your mind. It was especially tough when you’d go to bed at night, with nothing else to think about. You’d lie there, tossing and turning for hours, blaming yourself for everything, wishing you could go back in time and change everything.

It was finally beginning to get easier, months along the line. You’d gotten a promotion, you were earning more money, had more spare time with nothing to do. You thought about dating again, but that was as far as it went. You downloaded a few apps, but never made yourself any profiles.

Because how were you supposed to move on? You had lost the one person you never wanted to lose.

And you couldn't imagine he'd ever take you back. You were hated by him, by all of them.

Or at least that’s what you believed until now.

This day was like any other, you came home from work after visiting the store to pick up something for dinner. Just as you shut the door behind you, you spotted a card?

It wasn’t your birthday, or a holiday.

Who the hell had sent this?

You brought it out to your kitchen with you as you put the bag down, and began to tear it open. As you pulled the card from the envelope, your expression softened.

Save the date!

Alyson and Matt are getting married!

May 12th

You brows furrowed. You read the card three times over, even making sure the name and address was right. Surely this was a mistake, right? You and Bryan were finally back on good terms after seeing each other at a friend’s baby shower, but the others? You hadn’t spoken to them since that night.

Maybe Matt had sent it out of obligation, a formality more than anything else. Maybe they forgot to remove your name from the list. Maybe Alyson had insisted. Maybe-

Before you could overthink and worry about it, you decided to do the right thing.

In the months you’d spent alone at home, you’d told yourself you’d start confronting your problems, because maybe if you did that all those months ago you wouldn’t be here now.

So you sat down at the kitchen table and called Matt.

Your phone rang, once… Twice… Three times…

“Holy shit,” Matt’s voice broke through the static with a laugh. “No way.”

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“Uh… Hey.”

“Hey? That’s all you’ve got for me? I haven’t heard from you for months, and all I get is ‘hey’?”

“I didn’t think you guys wanted anything to do with me anymore, and then, well… I just got your wedding invite.” You took a breath, “I wondered if it was a mistake? If…”

“If we actually wanted you there?” Matt finished for you, his tone softer now. “Come on. Of course we do. You know it wouldn’t be the same without you. We'd love to see you there.”

Something in your chest loosened. You hadn’t realised how much you needed to hear that until now.

“Everyone misses you,” Matt continued. “Folio, Ruff, Jolly- hell, even deep down I know Noah does, though he’d rather die than admit it.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of his name, but you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I miss you guys too,” you admitted quietly, “... So why didn’t any of you reach out?”

There was silence for a moment, before he answered.

“We didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with us anymore,” he chuckled, “Bry told us you got your old job back, you gave up on photography. And after everything that happened… We just thought we should give you some space. I kind of assumed you wanted a fresh start, so I wanted to give you that, but then we were sending the wedding invites out and I thought I'd send you one whether you wanted to come or not!”

“Thanks, Matt.” You say, a small smile creeping up on your lips, “I really do miss you guys, it’d be nice to see you all again-”

“Then come to the wedding! Everyone will be there,” Matt said. “No pressure Just… Be there. For me?”

You hesitated, but in the end, you knew your answer.

“…Okay, yeah I will.”

“Great! If you want we can book your flight, we've got a spare room you can stay in... It’s still a few months away but it’s best to be prepared, right?”

“Really? Thank you.”

After the call ended, a strange sense of relief settled over you, along with a newfound anxiety.

You were going back.

You would be seeing them again.

Seeing him again.

How the hell could you even look at him after everything?

Not a night went by that he wasn’t on your mind. You considered texting him, calling him, but you were almost certain he had your number blocked. You even considered sending him a letter via messenger pigeon.

You just wanted to give him a real apology, to really explain everything to him.

You just hoped you were ready for it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

After leaving that night, Noah had gone home. He got on the first flight and fled without even thinking about it. He had to leave, he needed space, he needed time, he needed to be alone.

Months passed, although it only felt like days. They all blurred into one.

They say time heals all, so why did he still feel this way? He couldn't stop thinking about you, wondering what he did wrong, why you could've possibly wanted anyone else. It ate away at him, and he couldn't bear to live with this building up inside him.

So, he did what he did best.

He must've spent days at a time in the studio, making beats, writing lyrics, doing all he can to take the pain and anger away, to channel it into something else. Turning whatever ugly thoughts were plaguing him from the inside into something beautiful.

He always thought about texting you, calling you, but he assumed you had made your choice, and it wasn't him. If it had been him, you would’ve chased after him that night. You would’ve tried harder. But he was all to blame, in his opinion, if he had told you the truth about how he really felt about you sooner, maybe everything could’ve been simpler.

Maybe you two would have made it work.

But now it was too late.

Right?

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

fighting the urge to post chapter 1 right now...

@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts (if i missed or you want to be added/removed just let me know!)

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic #★blood sport

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morgana-larkin · 1 year ago

Note

FIRST i just wanna say im obsessed with your writing!!

second i wanted to ask for a mel x reader!! where they are at janines party (like the finale”. basically they have really big feelings for each other but neither of them (especially mel) wants to admit it. during the party reader and mel gets really drunk (like she did in the episode). some guy starts flirting with the reader and mel gets jealous and just grabs the reader and pulls her out of the party and kisses her, and takes the reader to her place. maybe leads to some smut!?? then they wake up the next morning and remember what they did, they admit they’ve had feelings for a while and maybe some softer smut at the end!!?💕💕

Hi anon! I’m so happy you love my writing! ❤️. I hope I wrote it to your liking with enough fluff and smut! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’ll either be working on the next prompt or the next chapter of worth it, I haven’t decided yet. It’s a Chessy prompt, which one would you like?

Drunk With Jealousy

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst

Words: 2.6k

“So are you going to Janine’s party?” You ask Melissa in the break room. It’s the last day of school today before summer break.

“Yep, are you?” She asks and you nod.

“I wouldn’t miss it, especially more now that I know you’re going to be there.” You tell her and you look at your food and miss the blush that forms on her cheeks.

Later that day you arrive at the party at 7:50. You wanted to be early since you could help Janine with last minute setups that always happen at parties.

“Hey y/n!” Janine exclaims

“Hey Janine!” You say. “I wanted to know if you needed help with last minute setups.” You tell her and you hear voices coming from her kitchen.

“No I don’t believe so. Barb and Melissa are already here if you want to go see them, or at least Melissa.” Janine says and you look at her confused. “We all know you have feelings for her.” She tells you and you sigh. You go to the kitchen and true enough, Barb and Melissa are there, talking about something.

“Hey guys.” You say and Melissa whips her head around to see you and she smiles.

“Hey y/n!” She says.

“Hello dear.” Barb says as Melissa looks at a loss for words. “I’m going to finish up the living room. Maybe y/n can help you out in here.” Barb says to Melissa with a wink, that you don’t see, and leaves.

You’ve had a crush on Melissa since you started there 2 years ago as a second grade teacher. She was in a serious relationship with Gary at the time so you didn’t say or do anything. Then they broke up about 6 months ago and you found out she started hooking up with the fire chief.

Melissa on the other hand was a bit different. When you first started she didn’t think much of you as you were new. She thought you were attractive but nothing more than that. It wasn’t until 6 months after you started that she started getting to know you. She started developing a crush on you close to when you were finishing your first year at Abbott. She didn’t act on it as she was still with Gary at the time. But when they broke up, Melissa thought about telling you how she felt but chickened out and started hooking up with the fire chief. She will neither confirm nor deny that she’s imagined you there instead of the fire chief, more than once.

“So what are you two doing here early?” You ask Melissa once Barb left.

“Helping to tidy up. You?”

“I was making sure she didn’t need any help with last minute preparations.” You tell her and she nods.

“I see. So are you planning to get drunk tonight?” She asks and you chuckle.

“I am yes. I took an Uber here and I’ll take one back home.” You tell her and she shakes her head. “Are you planning to get drunk tonight?”

“Maybe, we’ll see.” She says and then you hear a knock at the door.

10 minutes later people are filling the space and dancing and getting drunk. You started drinking about 5 minutes ago and you’re currently on the dance floor while Melissa is happily staring at you from the kitchen. She’s leaning against the doorframe, with a barely touched drink in hand while she’s watching you dance.

“Why don’t you go dance with her.” Barb says as she comes up beside Melissa.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because then you’d both have fun together.” Barb states like it’s obvious.

“I’d have fun but I bet she wouldn’t. She probably wouldn’t want to dance with someone my age.” Melissa says. Just then you look over to see Melissa and Barb at the kitchen entrance and Barb is motioning you over. Melissa downs her drink as she sees you coming over, stumbling a bit.

“Hey guys!!” You slur a little bit.

“Hello dear, how many drinks have you had?” Barb asks and you think for a second.

“2 or maybe 3.” You tell them and Melissa snorts.

“Here, lemme take your cup and get you a refill. I need another myself.” She says and takes your cup to get you another drink.

“Dear, you should invite Melissa to dance with you.” Barb says.

“I would love to, but I don’t know if she likes to dance.”

“I’m certain she’d love it if you invited her to dance with you.” She tells you and you smile at that. Just then Melissa returns with 2 cups full of alcohol and you take a sip before looking at her.

“What?” Melissa asks as she catches you staring.

“Wanna dance with me?” You ask her and she looks taken back.

“Uh, um, s-sure.” She stutters out and Barb pushes her a bit towards you when she doesn’t move. You grab her hand and lead her onto the dance floor. You get to a spot near the middle where you both have space to dance and you start dancing with her. Barb starts dancing near you guys at some point.

About 10 minutes later the power goes out and Melissa goes to refill your cups. When she comes back a couple minutes later, she sees you talking with another teacher and she grips the cups a bit tighter. She walks closer to you guys to hear what you’re talking about and she sees him touching your arm and laughing at whatever you said. She puts the plastic cups down at whatever is closest to her and makes a beeline for you. She’s had about 3 cups of alcohol at this point and she’s not in the right state of mind to think about anything clearly.

When she reaches you, she grabs your hand and pulls you away from the teacher. She brings you to the doorframe of Janine’s bedroom and kisses you with force. You kiss her back with just as much force and then the power comes back on. You both pull apart and look to see it back on and then Mr Johnson comes and stops in front of you.

“Hey Janine.” He says and looks past both of you. “I fixed the problem.” He says and you both turn to face the bedroom and see Janine and Gregory there looking shocked at you both. “Am I interrupting something?” He asks all 4 of you.

“No, come on y/n.” She says and grabs your hand.

“Where are we going?” You ask with a giggle.

“My place.” Is all she says and you let her lead you away. She calls an Uber and you make it back to her place in 10 minutes. As soon as you walk through the door, her lips are on yours again and she pushes you up against her door. She hoists you up and you wrap your legs around her waist and arms around her neck. She moves her mouth to your neck and begins sucking whatever spot she put her mouth on first. You put your hands in her ginger locks and gasp as she began sucking. You undo her blazer and take it off of her and roam your hands on the exposed skin. She then carries you to her bed and drops you on it then crawls on top of you. She grabs the hem of your dress then looks at you and you nod. She takes your dress off and you're left in your matching bra and underwear set.

You take her gold shirt off and roam your hands all over her back and tummy while she kisses you and cups your breasts over your bra. You moan into the kiss and she reaches behind you and unclips your bra then rips it off of you. She cups your now fully exposed breasts as she’s straddling your hips. She leans close to you as she starts playing with your nipples.

“You’re mine y/n. You’re not that other teacher’s, the one who was flirting with you, mine.” She says, voice dripping with jealousy. You buck your hips and moan as she’s playing with your nipples and the sound of her voice with so much jealousy is getting you excited. She takes her bra off and you open your eyes and see that magnificent sight. The sight of her ginger hair perfectly framing her face, her emerald eyes that are so captivating, her lips that are so kissable, her amazing breasts that you want to suck on, and her tummy that has so much skin to touch. She takes her leather pants off and she’s left in her underwear and socks.

“You’re so beautiful.” You blurt out and she smiles at you as she strokes your cheek.

“Thank you, and just so you know I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’ll forget about ever wanting to be with someone else.” She tells you and you quirk an eyebrow.

“What if I already do that?” You tell her and she gives you a smile then a passionate kiss. She then retrieves the strap on and goes back to the bed. She takes off her underwear and puts the strap on. She takes a nipple in her mouth and she begins sucking on it and licking it with her hot tongue and you buck your hips. She lines the strap with your entrance and inserts it slowly. You gasp out as you feel it start to fill you up and you want more, more of Melissa. She gets you to bend your knees when she’s all the way in and she starts to slowly pump in and out of you. She goes faster and faster until you’re moaning out her name. “Omg Melissa, please I need you.” You tell her and she has no idea what you’re asking for as she’s already fucking you.

“What do you need from me babygirl?” She asks and you moan.

“I need you closer to me.” You tell her and she smiles at you and brings her body down to lay on your body.

“Is that what you need from me babygirl? My body on yours.” She questions and you nod. You place your hands on her back and dig your nails into her skin and she moans as it feels good, like you’re trying to mark her so nobody else does. She keeps pumping in and out of you and she puts her hand to your clit and begins rubbing circles on it. You come not long after that but she doesn’t stop.

“Omg Me-Melissa.” You gasp out.

“I still need to come babygirl, I’m so close.” She tells you. She comes a few seconds later and you come right after her as she was still rubbing your clit.

She pulls out of you gently and removes the strap and lays down next to you. You both try and catch your breath as she gets you to cuddle her. You shimmy closer to her and lay your head on her chest and wrap an arm around her waist. You fall asleep on her and she watches you for a few seconds before she gives you a kiss on your head before falling asleep herself.

You wake up to her spooning you and you began freaking out a bit. You try to get out of her grasp and out of bed to change and leave but you slip and fall off the bed. Melissa bolts awake at the noise and crawls to the edge of the bed to find you on the ground.

“Ooowww.” You groan out.

“Are you ok? Did you get hurt at all?” She says as she helps hoist you up.

“I think just my ass… and my pride.” You tell her and she giggles. You then suddenly remember you’re completely naked and you go to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” She asks you as she watches you put your underwear on.

“I’m getting dressed, what does it look like I’m doing?” You tell her and she looks slightly upset.

“Why?”

“Well I’m not going to leave naked.” You tell her a bit annoyed.

“Why are you leaving? I mean, you- you don’t want to stay?” She asks you as you put your bra on and then look at her.

“Melissa, usually one night stands don’t stay.” You tell her and she’s looking at you confused.

“This was a one night stand?” She asks as you pick up your dress.

“Well we got drunk, and then we had sex. What would you call that?”

“I think you left out the part that I got jealous.” She tells you and you look at her confused.

“Jealous? Jealous about what?”

“The teacher who was flirting with you.”

“Why did you get jealous of that?”

“Because I like you.” She says and you drop your dress that you were holding.

“You-you like me?” You ask her and she nods. You walk towards her as she’s still in the bed. You cup her cheek and she leans into your touch and hums. “I like you too.” You tell her and she smiles softly at you.

“Really?” She asks and you smile and nod. She gets so excited that she grabs your waist and pulls you down onto the bed and you end sitting across her lap. She moves the hair out of your face and she kisses you. She gets you to lay on the bed and goes on top of you. She kisses your neck and unclips your bra. She trails down to your nipples while she takes your underwear off. She rubs your legs up and down to touch all over you.

You’re gasping and moaning underneath her and then she switches to the other nipple and you buck your hips. She inserts a finger in your entrance and you buck your hips.

“Oh, oh my god Melissa. I love you!” You scream out and she freezes the pumping.

��What did you say?” She asks and you look at her.

“I said I love you. And I do, I really do love you.” You say and she smiles at you.

“I love you too.” She tells you and kisses you before you can reply. She starts pumping in and out of you and you gasp into the kiss. She presses her thumb to your clit and brings her free hand to one of your nipples. The pleasure is quickly building and you feel yourself getting close to an orgasm.

“I’m so close, Melissa.” You tell her and you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her close to you.

“Come when you need to babygirl, I’ve got you.” She tells you and she goes faster.

You then gasp out as you come and she slows down before she pulls out.

Before she can react you stick your fingers in her and she gasps out as she falls forward. Her hands are next to your head as you pump in and out of her.

Oh, oh, y/n, yes! Don’t stop! Please!” She screams out and you pull her down to you and kiss her lips. She pulls back just a little bit and she’s breathing heavily in your ear as she’s close to coming. “Oh y/n, I’m about to…” She screams out as she comes. You pull out of her and she stays straddling your lap, trying to catch her breath. She strokes your cheek and she smiles at you. “I love you so much, babygirl.”

“I love you so much too.” You tell her and pull her down to kiss her.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

Let me know if you want to be added!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #law

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gugapuppy · 5 months ago

Text

Abortion - Part 8 (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

═══════════════════════════

This chapter was made to hurt a lot and give facts, the main ones at least.

Tell me your opinions, if it lacked angst or if it was too much. For me, I think it lacked a little, but I can't explain why.

CW: Hurt no confort, Break up

═══════════════════════════

Finally, after a few more days, Ghost returned to base.

He was anxious but somewhat hopeful about the conversation he would have with Johnny, he even wrote a long letter of apology in case he couldn't get the words out of his mouth.

It was night when he arrived, so he would have to wait for Johnny to wake up tomorrow so as not to disturb his sleep. Unfortunately he couldn't rest yet, having to give Price a report.

As he approached Price's office, Ghost began to hear some muffled voices shouting. Laswell and Price.

He hurried his steps and knocked on the door quickly, the voices inside stopped and then he heard Price telling him to come in.

As soon as he enters, Ghost notices the pile of paperwork on the desk, Laswell standing in front of the desk looking seriously at Ghost, and Price sitting holding a folder with other documents, but he freezes when he notices Johnny's name on the cover of the folder.

"What's going on?" He asked, a bad feeling in his stomach.

Instead of receiving a verbal answer, Ghost receives a strong punch on the cheek, not a slap, a punch, making him feel his tooth scratch inside. A sour smell scents the room, an angry alpha. Laswell.

His eyes widen as he looks at Laswell, who growls at him. Ghost resisted from letting out a whimper.

"Sit down, now Lieutenant." Laswell commands, and without wasting time Ghost sits down, looking down to avoid eye contact.

Laswell stops next to Price who is still sitting, he hears a breath before listening to the captain.

"Mactavish was transferred to another unit, Lieutenant, while you were away." Ghost quickly looks at Price, his body becoming tense. "It wasn't my decision, it was the sergeant's."

Again, before he can ask, Laswell interrupts. "Soap asked me a few days ago for him to be transferred, claiming to have been fraternising with you for several months."

Ghost let the words sink in before replying in frustration. "You knew that a long time ago! Price doesn't even care about this within our unit! What are you trying to do, Laswell?!" Gasping, he takes a deep breath before demanding. "I want to see Johnny in person, I need to talk to him-"

"Unfortunately that won't be possible, Lieutenant." Laswell replied firmly, indifferent to the anger of the other Alpha, Ghost tense as he stood in front of her. "The sergeant has already been transferred, and you're out of the field until you complete a psych eval of at least six months."

Ghost had already done this assessment years ago, why would he need it again? He didn't need Laswell meddling where she didn't belong.

"I'm fine! I just need to talk to Soap, and that's going to happen whether you like it or not, he's carrying my fucking child!"

As Ghost says this, a strange feeling passes over Price and Laswell's faces.

"Ghost," Laswell says, pulling something out of her pocket, a small envelope. "He doesn't want to see you, he gave me this to give to you." She hands the envelope to Ghost who shakily takes it.

"Simon, dismissed for now." Price says easily.

Ghost stands up slowly, anxious about what the letter says, Soap asked for a transfer, he didn't want to see him anymore? He was carrying their baby, why would he want to ignore him like that? It didn't make sense.

In the back of the lieutenant's mind, his father's voice came through, cursing him and saying how alike the two of them were as a country, Simon couldn't believe it, he still was, he could be a good father.

The lieutenant quickly went to his own room, opening and closing the door with a bang.

The clothes from the mission were quickly discarded on the floor, leaving Ghost with only his shirt, trousers and mask. Sitting on the bed, he stared at the letter for a while, not knowing how to react yet.

It seemed like hours before he finally managed to gently open the letter, grabbing two pieces of paper. The smell of the papers reminded him of Johnny, and Simon sniffed the paper to calm himself.

Little did he know that the words, phrases and emotions would make him spiral.

——🧼——

Hi, Simon.

I hope you're okay, because I haven't been lately.

Before I write what I need to, I need you to understand that this is what's best for both of us, and that my choices came from a place of dignity with myself.

Ever since you left on that mission, my life has been a hurricane of anxiety, panic and melancholy. Nights have been spent awake, imagining that you were there with me.

Only for me to wake up and discover that it was a lie from my own naive mind.

You were the sun that lit up my mornings, the reason that pulled me back to reality when I was in doubt, you were more to me than just a person in bed for pleasure.

I thought there was something between us that was true, that was sacred.

But the day you slammed that door in my face, swearing at me and accusing me of things you knew I would never do, I realised that maybe there was no going back.

I was raised only by my mum, since my sperm donor walked out as soon as he found out she was pregnant. And, well... ironically history repeated itself with me.

When I asked her for help, she counselled me on the pros and cons, and I realised that I had a lot to lose. Yes, I would have liked to have a family if you had been with me, but that's not what happened.

I couldn't waste my life looking after a child who would be born into a totally bewildered home, wondering why he had only one father instead of two, or even if the two of us were together, what would one of us say if we died on the war field?

When you sent Price to confront me, informing me that you weren't infertile and saying that you couldn't “wait to be a happy family”, how do you think I felt? Anger was the only emotion, I felt deceived by the person I trusted the most.

Did you think I'd jump for joy? That I'd call you? That I'd be waiting like a good partner?

I can't wait for you Simon Riley, I can't.

And if a similar problem arose in the future with a child in the middle, would you run away again? Run away until you got your head round it? I can't trust you, Simon.

I'm not saying you're a bad person, but I can't stay with someone who still has problems that need to be dealt with. And the same goes for me.

Now, I need you to understand that I can't give up my future for a child who would be born into a dysfunctional family, or put the child up for adoption, that would leave a moral weight on my mind that I can't bear.

So I'll just tell you straight out, Simon. I'm no longer pregnant.

The paper next to this letter will tell you what happened, but by now you should recognise that I had an abortion. Believe me, it was one of the hardest decisions of my life.

Every day I kept telling myself that I had to put myself first.

I'm sorry, Si, I can't forgive myself, but I'll be looking for that in the future, for myself.

Please don't contact me. We'd better go our separate ways from now on.

Goodbye, my dear Simon.

——💀——

He was sobbing, snot dripping from his nose, and tears began to fall onto the letter, staining the ink of the pen, as soon as the last words were read.

‘Please don't... no, no.’ He murmured slowly as he looked at the other piece of paper, the one that was Johnny's abortion results from the clinic.

With trembling hands, the papers shook and a small photo fell out of the envelope. As he picked it up and analysed it, Simon began to cry loudly, looking at an ultrasound scan.

Simon's child, the child he would never have because he'd fucked up with his own omega, the very person he loved.

He cries, not knowing how much time has passed, at some point Price came to him and held him while he cried, begging Price to bring Johnny back, saying that he would change for the better.

He just wanted to be loved and have a family that wasn't like his, but in the end, he became the same as his father.

However, even Simon's father managed to stand by his mum for years, while Simon managed to ruin even that.

═══════════════════════════

This was practically the penultimate chapter of this story, the next two chapters will be the bad ending and then the hopeful ending.

(Yes Laswell was trying to fuck Ghost postion/work in a certain way)

Again, for those of you who are going through a very heavy and difficult situation, seek help from a professional or someone close to you that you trust.

Take care, I love you all! ✨💖

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da-rulah · 1 year ago

Text

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 7]

Summary: Mary is in danger, walking into the lion's den with nothing but a pocket knife. Forrest is on his way, but will it be too late…?

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, themes of abandonment, difficult childhood, threat, violence, blood

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Ladies, gents and enby darlings, I need to draw your attention to this stunning artwork I commissioned of Mary from the unbelievably talented @ghuleh-draws... I cannot believe how gorgeous he is and I could talk about it for hours. Please, go and show her and the art some love. Hopefully it might heal some of the trauma I've caused with both last chapter and this one... And once again, a big thank you to @angellayercake & @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading this!

Mary’s arms ached, and yet, he continued with his work. Mr. Rogers had started to lose some of his dexterity, his arthritic hands no longer able to do as much as they used to and so, Mary’s workload had as good as doubled. Furniture in need of a new lease of life had begun to pile up in the workshop, and school prevented him from making the dent in the work he needed to. Late evenings were becoming later and later, and yes, Mary’s grades had started to suffer.

But it was becoming impossible to ignore the financial situation he found himself in, and – even at sixteen years old – the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. There was no choice here. If he wanted to move himself and his mother into a real home and out of the scummy little motel on the outskirts of town, they had found themselves in, he had to do what he had to do; with very little time to be the kid he still was...

He’d stopped glancing at the clock on the wall of the workshop long ago, well aware midnight had come and gone. It wasn’t the ideal place to be on a Friday night, when all his friends were out enjoying their freedom. Still, he continued to sand down the wood of the dresser he was working on tonight despite the aching. If he could just get the sanding and the first layer of staining done tonight, it would be dry by the time he came back into the workshop on Sunday and he could spend at least Saturday evening with his friends like he’d planned. If one night a week was all the free time Mary would get, he’d just have to be grateful for that.

Mary turned off the sander and swiped his hand across the top of the dresser, feeling how smooth it now was to the touch – no ridges, no scratches and totally even. Mr Rogers himself couldn’t do a better job, he was sure of it. And so, he pulled his dust mask from his face, letting it hang beneath his chin as he put the sander away and reached for the brushes and varnish.

As he did, his phone began to vibrate on the tool bench, violently rattling against the metal. He stared at it for a moment, part of him wanting to ignore it and continue his work. Another 45 minutes or so, and he could head back to the motel and get some rest. But it vibrated incessantly, until he had no choice but to put down the brush and tin in his hand with a loud thud and answer the damn thing.

“Yeah?” he spoke into the receiver, his tone dejected. He knew who was calling at this hour. He always knew.

“Yeah, hey kid. Me again. Look, I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to come and get her. I’ve cut her off but she won’t go.” That voice belonged to Manny, the bartender at Ace’s Taproom. He sounded as exhausted as Mary did.

Mary sighed into the phone, rubbing at his brow as if it would relieve the pressure that had built there.

“Can you just... I don’t know, can it wait an hour?” Just enough time to get this layer of varnish done... Then he could still head out tomorrow night, his plans intact.

“She’s already causing a bit of a scene, kid. The sooner you can get here, the better.” His tone was apologetic – even Manny knew this burden was too much for a kid to take. But who else was there?

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. Thanks, Manny,” he relented, already untying the tool belt from around his hips with his free hand.

“I’m sorry, man. I’ll see ya soon,” Manny consoled just before he hung up. Mary dropped his phone back onto the bench with a loud slam, running his dusty fingers over his face and taking a deep, steadying breath. This was happening too often, almost every damn night. It had to stop, but what else could he do? He’d just have to keep saving her.

When Mary pulled into the parking lot in Mr Rogers’ old van that he had kindly gifted him – for the sole purpose of collecting and delivering the pieces of furniture they worked on at the shop, since he could no longer lift them in his old age – he took a second to himself, collecting his thoughts and preparing himself for a confrontation he knew was bound to happen.

He got out, heading towards the sign that flickered in neon red in the shape of an ace of spades. At this hour, there were very few people on the streets, much less left in the old taproom but still, he could feel the shame creeping in.

Inside, he spotted her immediately, slouched over the bar on her usual stool nursing an empty glass with an incredibly pale drop of amber liquid in, as if the ice that had inhabited the last dregs of her scotch had melted and watered it down. Manny stood at the other end of the bar, talking to one of the other regulars but he shot Mary a sad yet appreciative smile across the room. Mary just lifted his hand in an almost-wave, and headed over to the bar.

“Ma?” he called out gently. She barely stirred, her head laying on her arm like she was asleep. He shook her gently, pushing her hair from her face. “Ma, come on. Let’s go.” He pulled her shoulders into an upright position, her head lolling as she came to.

“N-no, I’m not done yet, baby,” she slurred, her tongue as drunk as her mind.

“Yeah you are, they’re shutting up soon. We gotta get home,” he encouraged, trying to help her down from the bar stool. Her head gained its bearings, and she caught sight of Manny at the other end of the bar, as well as the other patron, watching the saddest scene unfold in front of them both.

“Th-this prick... Said he wouldn’t serve me no more,” she rambled, pointing at Manny with an arm too weak to stay elevated. “What you starin’ at, huh?”

“Ma, come on... Let’s just go, yeah?” Mary’s cheeks were heating up with embarrassment.

“Don’t need your pity, dickhead!” she shouted, still slurring as if her tongue were too big for her mouth.

“Go home,” he told her firmly, trying not to rise to her insults. She flipped him off, while Mary wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and hoisted her to her feet, slowly taking her outside.

As soon as the door shut behind them, his mum pushed Mary from under her and tried to stand on her own two feet, stumbling a little in the process. But she found her footing, while Mary stayed close enough to catch her if she did fall.

“Idiot boy, ruining my fun,” she mumbled. That was like a knife to the chest...

“Either me or the cops, Ma,” he sighed. “Let’s just get home.”

“Home? HA!” she hollered, “Where’s that then?” Mary just rolled his eyes, taking her arm gently and guiding her back in the direction of the van. Her walking reminded him of a newborn foal, so unsteady as she took one step at a time and yet she tried to get him off her the whole way, unwilling to admit she needed help.

“Ma, this has gotta stop. This ain’t healthy...” he began, starting a losing battle. She stopped and slapped her hands down by her sides.

“Don’t start with me, Mary,” she warned, but he was determined.

“You’re drinking our savings, Ma! How are we ever gonna get outta that motel when you’re spending it faster than I can make it?” He raised his voice, his frustration evident.

“You said you were working overtime!” she argued, as if that were any real argument at all. Mary was a 16 year old boy; his only job should be a few hours a week at most, if at all. Not every hour he could squeeze in, and certainly not to pay for her alcoholism.

“Yeah, to get us a new place! But I can’t make enough if you’re just gonna spend it. Do I have to stop giving you money for you to stop? That’s for groceries, Ma. For shit you need!”

“Don’t you curse at your mother, boy...” she practically growled.

“Maybe if you acted like my mother-” It was a low blow, but not entirely unwarranted. His mother interrupted him with a sharp slap to his cheek, the suddenness stunning Mary into silence. His cheek stung, but his heart even more so. She’d never raised a hand to him before.

“M-Mary...” she stuttered, her eyes beginning to fill with tears as the realisation sank in that she’d just slapped her son. Her little boy... Mary took a step back as she reached for him, letting her stumble and regain her balance again. “I’m sorry...” She tried to grab at him, to hold him and stroke his hair and desperately apologise but he shoved her off, and she stumbled to the ground in a heap.

“I’m done. Get yourself home, Ma.” He turned quickly back to his van, his hands shaking with emotion he tried to hold back. His keys jangled in his hands as he unlocked the door with the press of a button, and he climbed into the seat with a slam of the door.

His cheek still stung with the force of her slap, his eyes welling up as he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth could have splintered. He squeezed his eyes shut and hit his head back against the plush cushion of the headrest several times as he slapped at the edge of the steering wheel, releasing all of his hurt, his anger in an outburst he contained to the cabin of the van now that he was alone.

Taking some deep breaths, he calmed himself to a point where he could wipe the fresh tears on his cheeks and shoved his keys into the ignition. But he paused before he turned them, the engine staying dormant, and glanced down into his wing mirror only to see his mother still in a heap on the floor. Her shoulders shook violently, her sobs audible even from here in the cab. His eyes lingered there, unable to tear them away as his chest ached. She looked so helpless, so utterly destroyed by what she’d done but more so, what had been done to her...

“God fucking damnit,” Mary muttered, climbing back out of the van and walking back over to her with caution. Of course he did... How could he leave her? His own mother, lying on the cold tarmac of a parking lot, in this state? Mary was all she had now, their shitty little apartment snatched from them, abandoned once again by anyone and everyone. For years it had always been Mary and her, against the world – that couldn’t change now, when he was all she had left.

Without a word, he lifted her again, her sobs quietening when she felt his hands under her arms and realised he’d come back for her. Her expression changed from anguish to surprise with an essence of gratitude and apology, allowing her broken son to pick up the pieces as he helped her back into the van. He took great care with every move, gently letting her get comfortable as he leaned over to strap the seatbelt across her, laying her head against the seat while she sobbed silently and hiccupped from time to time.

As he drove her home, she reached for the radio to flick it on, getting comfortable in the seat and using the sound to try and distract from the situation the pair of them found themselves in. Mary stayed quiet the whole time, keeping a watchful eye on his mother as she seemed to drift between sleep and reality now she was bundled into a warm and comfy seat.

“You used to tell me... I would hear you on there someday,” she slurred as they got closer to the edge of town, pointing weakly at the radio with a fond but weary smile. “My boy, ‘the rock star’,” she giggled. Mary looked ahead at the road, trying not to entertain the drunk rambles nor the dreams he’d squashed for himself with the weight of his responsibility. His one and only goal right now was to get them back on their feet – and even that felt unattainable.

Back at the motel, he watched his mother struggle with her dexterity to fit the key into their room door. Eventually, he gently took the keys from her and let them both inside, guiding her as had become their routine. He let her sit on the bed – the one they now had to share under the circumstances – and crouched at her feet to take her shoes off for her, placing them one by one on the floor.

He helped her take off her jacket, laying her down gently on the pillow while she curled in on herself in a foetal position. Mary headed into the bathroom with an empty glass, filling it with tap water and bringing it back out to his mother’s side of the bed. He crouched down next to her, urging her to drink. She did, small sips at a time.

“Ma, please... you gotta get better. We need to get outta here,” he said softly.

“I was getting better...” she sniffled.

“I know, Ma. You can get better again,” he encouraged, but there was a small part of him that worried she never would. “You just gotta move on from-”

“Stop,” she begged. “I don’t wanna hear it...” But Mary persisted. She had to hear him.

“You can’t let this shit stop you. You’re stronger than that. We’ve been through worse,” he insisted. Her head shot up from the pillow, her gaze stoney and angry.

“You have no idea, Mary... What it’s like to have the world promised to you and then ripped out from under you.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“You’re worth a lot more than that fuckin-”

“Enough!” she yelled, rolling over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We could have had everything, if you had just...”

“Me?” Mary interrupted, instantly offended at her accusation. “What the fuck did I do?”

“Your attitude, Mary,” she shot her glare back at him. “Always fucking attitude.”

There was no chance she was blaming him for all this... This was neither his, nor his mother’s fault. There was someone to blame, but in their absence the only person close enough to his mother was Mary, and the only person she could lash out at was him. She couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying, and yet, it still stung all the same.

“Go to sleep,” he told her, his voice hardened and stern as if he were the adult, and she the child. “You’re just talking pure shit now. It ain’t my fault he lied to you.”

“He didn’t lie-”

“He did, Ma. He lied to you, and everyone else. He’s a piece of shit like everyone else in this washed up town!” Mary raised his voice, his anger at every injustice he faced from everyone around him mounting higher and higher. “I’m fucking sick of it, here! I wanna get us out, but you’re too busy drinking every dime I fucking make to notice that I’m fucking drowning!”

Mary stood up suddenly, smacking at the shitty motel phone on the dresser beside the bed. His mother sat up, steadying herself from the headrush and the room spinning around her.

“I’m doing my best, Mary!” she yelled.

“Are you? Cause your best was getting clean eight months ago. Your best was no alcohol, getting yourself a job, being a normal fucking Mom! But now you’re back here, and it’s me who’s gotta look after you!”

“I-I... I have an addiction, it’s not that easy-”

“You’re not even trying! You’ve fucking given up, and why? Just ‘cause some fuckhead promised you the world with a cherry on top and it turns out, he was lying like every other dickhead?” Mary was going too far, but with a lack of a proper outlet, being forced to grow up quickly and fend for the both of them, every bottled up thought and emotion was spilling from him without restriction.

His mother sat on the bed, watching her son thread his fingers through his hair in frustration and take some deep breaths to try and steady him – but they weren’t working.

“Y’know what? Fuck this. You call me when you decide to be a mother again.”

And with that, Mary grabbed his keys and stormed out of the motel room, slamming the door with so much force that the cheap painting on the wall fell and shattered behind him.

Despite picking up his keys, he bypassed the van and kept walking, his legs taking him further into town without a destination in mind. He’d roam aimlessly if he needed to, but he needed to let off some damn steam, to expel some of this fucking rage that he’d imprisoned for too long.

As he went, he found himself kicking over trashcans, the metal rattling along the sidewalk. He used his keys to scratch the sides of cars he stomped past – the expensive ones, mostly. The ones owned by people in this town with too much money, greedy fat cats with more of it than sense. On his keys, he had a swiss army knife keychain, and one particular car – a very expensive black SUV – he shoved the blade attachment into the tyre deep enough that it deflated, high pitched whistle getting quieter and quieter as he walked further into town.

By the time he was in the town centre, he was starting to see a few people out and about, shoving shoulder to shoulder into them with a look of pure thunder on his face. Most people simply yelled out at him to watch where he was going, or called him a punk or other variations of ‘delinquent’.

‘Yeah’, Mary thought, ‘that’s what you all fucking think of me’. A town full of people who only knew him for his namesake – a deadbeat father and a drunken mother. Why wouldn’t Mary follow suit? If people thought that of him already, maybe he should just live up to the expectations; become the stereotype and stop giving a shit about anyone and everyone around him.

Why should he try anymore?

But he shoved at the wrong shoulder outside a pool hall, two kids Mary knew as seniors from his high school stood outside with cigarettes in one hand and beer bottles gained with fake IDs in another.

Corbin and Asher.

“Hey! Hey, fuckface!” Mary heard from behind him. He kept walking, too angry to give a fuck. But they followed. “Mary fuckin’ Goore, huh? You piece of shit, think you can slam into me and walk the fuck away?”

Mary didn’t even look back, but they caught up...

Corbin grabbed the back of his jacket and slammed him face first up against the shutters of a closed store, the metal rattling under the force. In an instant, he spun Mary around, slamming him again and holding him there.

“You got a problem, kid?” he asked, cocky and ready for a fight. Mary struggled against his hold, trying to shove at his arms and kick at his shins.

“Get the fuck off me, man,” he yelled. “You were in the way.” Corbin laughed condescendingly, looking back at Asher who stood there with both of their beers in his hands smirking the whole time.

“This kid thinks he owns the sidewalk, Ash. From what I’ve heard, he belongs in the fucking gutter...” Corbin landed a fist to Mary’s gut, Mary folding up like a ball of paper as he coughed. “Maybe we’ll put him there.”

He dragged Mary by his jacket and threw him to the ground, watching him roll around in pain until he tried to get up. Corbin raised his foot as if he were about to stomp on him, but Mary rolled to the side just in time to avoid it and instead reached out and pulled on his ankle, toppling him to the ground with a loud thud too.

Corbin was older, heavier, but Mary was younger and nimble – quickly he straddled Corbin and started throwing punches, every ounce of anger inside him forcing his fists into Corbin’s face who was yelling at Asher to do something, to stop standing around like a fucking moron and get this ‘little shit’ off him before he ‘beat the crap outta him’.

Before Asher could get close, Mary was being dragged off Corbin by someone else – someone in blue. Before he knew it he was being shoved against the hood of a car, his wrists clamped together in cold metal rings as the cop who’d stumbled on the scene slapped the handcuffs on him. His partner restrained Corbin just the same, slamming him on the other side of the hood.

One of them called for another car, unwilling to shove both Mary and Corbin into the back of the same cop car lest they kill each other on their way to the station, but Mary was thrown in first, and taken in for processing.

“Mary Goore, huh?” was the welcome he got when escorted inside by the Chief, sat behind the processing desk on a late shift. “Was only a matter of time,” he scoffed. Mary’s blood boiled at that. A few minutes later, as Mary was getting processed, another cop rolled in with Corbin in handcuffs. Immediately, Mary tried to lunge towards him, both of them hurling insults at each other while restrained.

“Pembrook, get this kid in a fuckin’ cell to cool off!” the Chief yelled at the officer restraining Mary, who did as instructed and hauled him off to a solitary cell.

“No, no wait! I get a phone call!” Mary said, running back up to the locked door as the officer shut it behind him.

“You’ll get your phone call when you calm down, kid,” the officer shouted back through the door. It was at least another hour before Mary got his phone call...

Not that it did him any good. He tried both his mother’s cell, and their motel phone – no answer. Perhaps he’d fucked up the phone when he smacked it off the side table, but still, his mother wasn’t answering her cell, probably passed out for the night.

Mary was left alone, sat in a solitary cell with fresh bruises and cuts, until the sun had long since risen. He curled up on the bench at the back of the cell, cold and metal and uncomfortable, and barely got a wink of sleep.

“Goore, let’s go,” he heard through the hatch in the door at God knows what time. He rolled over and sat upright, wiping the exhaustion from his face as the officer – a new one, only having just started his shift – opened the cell door. Behind him, was perhaps the only person Mary could really depend on at all.

Forrest.

“You can collect your things from the registration desk. Don’t find yourself back here again, kid. You got lucky, this time...”

Mary just nodded meekly as the officer turned and walked off, the door wide open and Forrest stood there looking at him with an expression of nothing but worry.

“Corbin got out last night, heard you were still in here. Got my parents to pull some strings,” he explained with a shrug. “Shit, Mare, you alright?”

Forrest stepped into the cell and placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders, inspecting him. Mary just nodded again, both too exhausted and too somber to form actual words.

“I’m gonna kick Corbin’s fuckin’ ass for this,” he grumbled. “I’ll set his eyebrows on fire in chem. He’s the worst fuckin’ lab partner anyway.” Mary huffed out a barely-there laugh at that, his shoulders shaking in Forrest’s hands.

Forrest was a senior, like Corbin and Asher. He knew they had a reputation, always getting into shit like this but he never thought he’d see Mary heading down the same path. He was the only one who saw what Mary went through, the work he put in at the workshop, the nights he spent nursing his alcoholic mother. He’d taken him under his wing a little, made him one of the gang and tried to offer him some respite from the slurry of shit he found himself in.

Getting the money from his parents to bail Mary out wasn’t difficult; they threw money at him like it was bird seed on the steps of a cathedral, but it was for that reason he knew loneliness just as much as Mary. On opposite ends of the spectrum financially but somehow, they shared a common ground in just how shitty their relationships with their parents were.

It shouldn’t have been him who got Mary out of here. It didn’t matter to him who started the damn fight or why; Mary had been through enough as it was, and an outburst like this was simply a ticking time bomb. What bothered Forrest more than anything, was knowing it had to be him walking him out of that police station and not the one person Mary loved most in this world, the one who was supposed to love, protect and care for him.

This wasn’t the last time he would collect Mary from a cell; there were more outbursts to come, more frustrations and stupid mistakes but if he had to, Forrest would be there for them all. He’d never abandon this kid who cared so deeply about people and the injustices they would face. Mary could have his rebellious phase, get it out of his system – hell, Forrest certainly did, and he wasn’t sure he was even out of it yet. But he needed someone to lean on, someone to reign him in when he started to go too far.

That night was Mary’s rock bottom, but Forrest jumped down into the pit with him, armed with ropes and twigs, ready to build a ladder to get them both out.

You were pacing outside the convenience store, desperately calling Forrest with your groceries in one hand, cell phone pressed tightly to your ear in the other. He didn’t pick up the first time, probably ignoring a number he didn’t know but you were getting more and more desperate. The second time you dialled, he picked up after a few rings.

“Yello?” he answered, chipper and riding off the high of a show well played.

“Forrest?! Oh my god, thank fuck for that. Listen, it’s me... Mary gave me your number,” you rushed out, barely intelligible at the speed you spoke.

“Duchess?” he questioned, using the nickname the boys had seemed to settle on when they realised you weren’t going to castrate Jed for creating it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Mary’s... I don’t know, he said to call you! I’m at the store, he told me not to come back. Something’s wrong, Forrest... He said it wasn’t safe?” you panicked.

“Shit...” he muttered. You heard scrambling on the end of the line, like he was getting up and grabbing a few things around him and stuffing them into a backpack. “Listen to me, you don’t go back to that apartment, okay? I’ll be there soon, one of us will call you when it’s safe. Just stay there.”

“Forrest what’s going on?” Your voice had raised an octave in pitch, your cheeks burning from holding back tears.

“Those guys at the bar... They know him, they’ve hated him for years and they threatened him. He just needs some back up, it’ll be alright. Just stay, okay? Promise me.”

You wanted to promise that, but how could you stay there and not try to help Mary? If those guys had turned up at his apartment, he was outnumbered and if nothing else you could act as a distraction. You stayed quiet for a beat too long, and Forrest stopped rustling about his apartment needing to hear confirmation. He couldn’t be worrying about you too when his best friend was in danger.

“Duchess?” he yelled into the phone.

“Y-yeah, yeah... Sorry. I’ll stay,” you told him, still unsure if you were telling the truth.

“Good, just wait for the call. He’ll be fine,” he assured, but the panic in his voice betrayed him too. He hung up without another word, leaving you stood in the street in the early hours of the morning, absolutely petrified for your boyfriend...

Could you really stay put when he was just a few blocks away? When there was potentially something you could do to help him? You supposed you’d just have to...

The door creaked as it slowly swung open, betraying Mary right from the start. If someone was in his apartment still, they’d have heard that... No doubt about it. And so, his grip on the swiss army knife tightened, and the steps he took became slower, steadier so he’d be able to plant his feet should he be ambushed.

Stepping into his apartment, it was still dark. No lights had been turned on, just the orange glow from the street lamps outside streaming in through the windows. He listened out for any sign of movement, but nothing. To his left, nobody in the kitchen... But things were out of place, to put it lightly. Drawers hung open, cupboard doors almost ripped from their hinges. Cutlery, food and crockery lay strewn about the floor and countertops, like it had been ransacked.

Mary proceeded with caution, noticing that the floor of his apartment was covered in his things... Records, clothes, blankets and pillows; even his tatty little guitar was on the ground in the middle of the floor, the neck broken and strings snapped. He wasn’t sure whether to feel rage or despair, but both hit him like a freight train.

Slowly, he stepped a little further to peer around the corner that led to the bedroom and bathroom to his right, and then to his left, around the partition between the kitchen and living space. That’s when he noticed.

A figure, sat on his couch with their back to him. He knew who it was immediately.

Mary planted his feet, readjusting his grip on the blade in his hand. He was preparing himself for any sudden movement, every single one of his senses heightened. Should he be ambushed from another direction, he was ready.

“Where is she?” The shadow asked, their voice low and eerily calm. Mary stood his ground; he was in no mood for games.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he asked, ignoring their question. The figure straightened up where they sat, no longer hunching forwards as they studied something on the coffee table. They took a deep breath, before answering with another question.

“Where... is my daughter?” The shadow turned their head towards where Mary stood, between the outer wall of his bathroom and the entryway to his kitchen. The street lighting gave just enough of itself to illuminate the stark features of the man in front of him, the hardened glare pointed his way.

The Mayor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mary lied, without much conviction at all but he already knew there was no point. But he wasn’t giving him any information. He could go fuck himself.

The Mayor cracked a grin; a sadistic little grin, as if he were some kind of comic book villain spoiling for a fight. “Now I know that ain’t true, so you’re gonna tell me where she is, I’m gonna go get her, and I’m gonna deal with you later.”

“I don't know where she is,” Mary spat, his resentment and hatred for this snake barely contained.

The Mayor sighed dramatically, slapping his hands to his knees and standing up. He turned towards Mary then, folding his arms across his chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, top button undone now he was technically off the clock. But he still wore his expensive suit, save for tie and blazer, as if it would intimidate Mary somehow.

“Should have expected this from you, Mary,” he chuckled, “Defiance. Attitude. Even coming in here with a damn weapon.” He nodded towards the swiss army knife in Mary’s ever tightening grip.

“Someone broke into my apartment. Gotta defend myself,” he stated plainly.

“Nah,” the Mayor scoffed, “it was only a matter of time before you got yourself in trouble again. Cops of this town were always too good to you, lettin’ you off too easy.”

As if Mary had ever done anything to hurt anybody... Sure he’d been picked up a handful of times for graffiti, or destruction of public property, that one fight with Corbin and Asher – which technically, he didn’t start... But Mary stayed quiet, staring at the threat in front of him just waiting for him to try something.

“You know,” he started, turning back to the coffee table, “maybe I’m forgetting my manners, huh? Maybe we should catch up first?” He bent down, picking something up from the table and turning back. In his hands, was the photo frame Mary kept on his windowsill...

The Mayor looked down at it, studying it with a smirk. “She always was a looker, huh? How’s she doing these days?”

Mary saw red, desperately fighting every instinct in his body that wanted nothing more than to tear into this vile man, rip him limb from limb and cast him to the wolves. His already injured knuckles turned white, the wounds splitting back open as his fists balled up tighter, the handle of the blade in his right hand digging painfully into his palm. But he stayed grounded. He would not make the first move.

“Get the fuck outta my apartment,” Mary warned. The Mayor was testing his patience, and it had already snapped once tonight.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where my daughter is.” His smirk dropped, along with the frame in his hands. He disregarded it without a care in the world, letting the glass crack as it hit the ground with a thud. Mary winced at the sound.

“Wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” he lied. He was adamant he would never tell him where you were, never give you up if he beat him into a pile of broken bones. You’d been free of him for less than a week, but already you’d come out of your shell so much, found yourself. How could he ever put you back in the box they’d kept you in all those years?

“Do you think you’re good for my daughter, hm?” the Mayor took a step closer, “You think she’d want someone like you?”

Mary ignored him. He had to. This was just a manipulation tactic, something to throw him off and degrade him like everybody always had.

“You’re the scum of this town, Goore. Everybody knows it.” He stepped closer again, circling Mary with slow and calculated steps like a panther on the hunt. “You, and your drunken whore of a mother, your deadbeat father... You were fucking destined for the gutter.”

Mary watched him as he came to stand in front of him again, just a little taller than Mary but puffing his chest out as if to intimidate him. Mary stayed painfully still, grinding his teeth in rage. One wrong move, he was poised and ready to defend himself.

“You think you know me... You don’t know shit,” he taunted, “But I know you...”

“Oh-ho-ho," the Mayor laughed, “You do, do you? This should be good.”

“Yeah... I know you’re a filthy letch who takes everything from good, honest people and lines his pockets with it.” Mary was getting cocky now, arching his eyebrow and tilting his chin up in defiance as a sadistic little smile crossed his split lip. “I know you used to be a good guy, once upon a time. Beautiful family, on top of the world...”

The Mayor barely reacted, pushing his tongue into his cheek and looking down at Mary with the same arrogance he always exuded.

“I know you trapped your perfect little wife up in your ivory fuckin’ tower while you flashed your shit about town like a damn Kennedy brother...”

The Mayor’s eyes darkened. Now Mary was getting to him.

“I know you trained your precious little girl like a damn puppy her whole life, only to have her grow up to resent every little fuckin’ thing about you...”

Mary was about to cross a line. He was about to say something just to get a rise out of him, just to make him snap. He’d never talk about you like this and mean it, but for all the pain and misery this man had caused people through the years, he deserved something that cut him to the bone.

“You repelled her so much that she crawled out of her pink, frilly cage... and spread her fuckin’ legs to the town scum...” Mary laughed, smug and satisfied when he saw the way the Mayor’s hands tightened around his biceps, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Mary took a step closer to him – a stupid move, but he was oozing cockiness, no longer thinking clearly and only wanting to cause as much fucking damage to this prick’s ego as he damn well could. He knew it would turn his stomach to know his daughter was friends with Mary, let alone willingly fucking him.

Mary looked the Mayor up and down, smirking with barely contained glee as he leaned into him to deliver the final blow.

“She calls me daddy now...” he whispered, staring directly into his eyes with an impish sparkle in his own.

The Mayor’s eyes raked over Mary, sizing him up, looking him up and down while he chewed on his cheek, the disgust on his face twisting and morphing into a vile expression of hatred. Before Mary knew what was happening, the blade in his fist was knocked clear across the room, his balance thrown off as two large hands wrapped around his throat. He was spun around and pushed backwards into the small kitchen space, tripping over the mess left there as he tried desperately to fight the power of the much older, much bigger man attacking him.

Soon enough his lower back was being slammed into the edge of a counter, the thumbs of the hands around his throat pressing down on his airways while Mary did what he could to fight back, clawing and scratching at the Mayor.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, spots starting to flicker across his vision as that murderous glare stared back at him. The thought briefly crossed Mary’s mind that he might not stop... Once he was rendered unconscious, there was nothing to stop him from taking the life he’d worked so hard to rebuild over and over again away from him. Just as he’d found a semblance of happiness, too... The Mayor was going to take it all away from him. Again.

The Mayor’s grip adjusted to just one hand tightening around his throat, the other pulling back and coming crashing down on Mary’s cheek with a blow that reopened old wounds of the evening. Mary was going to lose this fight, there was no contest. Blow after blow landed to his face as the Mayor squeezed the life out of him...

“Daddy!”

The Mayor snapped out of his trance, his head whipping behind him with his fist pulled back in preparation for another strike, the other still choking Mary. You looked on in pure horror at what you’d walked into... You had expected to come back to a dangerous situation, but not one that included the attempted murder of your boyfriend at the hands of your own father.

With the Mayor’s attention on you, however brief, Mary took advantage and lifted his foot to push at the Mayor’s hip quickly, twisting him just enough that he lost his grip on him, and Mary fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and spluttering as the oxygen rushed back into his lungs. It was all too much all at once, the sudden rush of blood back to his head and the pain of the punches hitting him at the same time and he rolled and writhed on the floor as he tried to regain control of his body. But the spasms continued, and he could barely see nor hear anything while he squirmed at the Mayor’s feet.

You rushed into the kitchen, attempting to bypass your father and to immediately help Mary but you were stopped, a hand wrapped tightly around your bicep and attempting to drag you away. Of course, you fought back, smacking at your father’s chest and kicking at him as if it would help.

“Let go! Get the fuck off of me! GET OFF!” you screamed over and over, hoping someone might hear from another apartment and come to your aid.

“You forget your place, girl,” your father snarled, barely affected by you beating at him. You managed to wrench your arm free of his grip and take a step back, your father’s attention on you and you alone while Mary still coughed on the floor, almost vomiting with the way his chest heaved.

“If you think it’s with you, you’re sorely fucking mistaken,” you growled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Teaching this little fucker a lesson in manners,” he spat, pointing down at Mary who spat a glob of red tinted spit to the floor – a biproduct of the hits to the face he had taken. He’d regained enough composure to sit himself upright against the cupboard, letting his head hit the wood as he glared up at your father, chest still heaving.

Only now did your father take a good look at you, seeing how different you looked in a short denim skirt, a fishnet top, the make-up you’d chosen to wear over what you had always been told to. Once again, his expression clouded into disgust.

“What has he done to you?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“Him? You think I’d jump from a life where I’m controlled by a man into another one?” you shrieked. Your father pretended not to hear you, instead leaning down to quickly grab Mary by his shirt and heave him to his feet, holding him against the cabinets again. Mary didn’t fight back; he couldn’t. He was still in too much pain, his body not responding to his commands.

“You take my daughter from me, and dress her up like one of your scummy little whores?” he screamed into Mary’s face while all he could do was wince and squeeze his eyes shut, trying to steady the swimming sensation in his head.

You rushed towards them, pushing at your father until you could weave yourself between the two of them. Mary barely kept himself upright against the counter, but you reached a hand behind you anyway, securing it in his and holding it tightly against your back.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” you warned.

“You wanna protect this little shit? Why? You think you love him?” your father mocked, scoffing at the mere thought of it. “I couldn’t quite believe it when I finally got it out of your mother... As soon as she told me she saw you get into a shitty black van, I fucking knew... I thought ‘no, no way my little girl is that fucking stupid’. Of all the decent guys in this town, you choose this?”

The anger you felt as he berated you, insulting not only Mary but you and your intelligence too... You had no time to be angry at your mother, knowing what your father was like and how he could manipulate anybody to get what he wanted out of them. All of your energy was directed into protecting Mary, standing between him and your father and proving to them both you weren’t backing down. Gone were the days of obeying and staying in your lane. If Mary had taught you anything in your short time together, it was that you could be yourself and stand up for what you believe in unapologetically. And you believed in Mary...

“He’s a better man than you give him credit for,” you seethed, squeezing his hand behind your back. Your father laughed maniacally at you, throwing his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Really? This little shit? If you think he’s any good for you, you’re dumber than I ever imagined. You come from a good, respectable family. This whole fucking town knows me, loves me, and all I ever did was give you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter... But you throw it back in my face?” he argued, throwing his hands around as he yelled. But you stood your ground. “You know where he comes from, right? Deadbeat fucking dad who drank and gambled his money away. A whore of a mother who also drank herself into a permanent hospital bed?”

“You’d... know all about that, w-wouldn't you?” Mary struggled to speak through laboured breaths from behind you, hunched over but pushing up on the counter to stand upright.

Your father’s head snapped back to glare at Mary. “Excuse me?”

You felt a change in the air, notably in your father’s demeanour. His eyes had widened, and he seemed to freeze in place, waiting for Mary to speak again while he caught his breath and used his strength to stand properly behind you. He kept hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly but once he stood up, he used his free hand to steady himself on your waist; both protectively and for stability.

“You... you think you have a right to judge... my mother? After what you did?” he asked rhetorically, which only confused you. Your brow creased and you turned your head to look back at Mary.

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He tore his eyes from your father to glance at you, offering you a look of apology laced with fear as if he were apologising for what you were about to hear... When he looked back at your father, your eyes followed to see that same wide-eyed expression. “What did you do?”

“You gonna tell her, or should I?” Mary’s voice was a warning, but still, your father remained silent. If he wasn’t going to tell you what the hell was going on, you’d just let Mary. Someone needed to say something, and quickly, before you lost your cool again.

“Tell me,” you ordered them both, but still you directed your glare at your father.

“Yeah why don’t we tell her, hm?” Mary’s voice had grown a little stronger, recovered from the hands that had squeezed his neck for almost too long. Adrenaline was kicking in, numbing the pain in his head from the beatings and giving him the strength to get angry, to challenge the Grand High Mayor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he defied. Mary just scoffed.

“You tricked my mother, and took everything from her...” he spat. You looked back at Mary, confused and shocked. Your father just stood in silence, glaring.

“How?” you asked, “Tell me everything. Now.”

“You won’t like this...” he warned, never breaking eye contact to look at you.

“I don’t fucking care, Mary. Tell me.”

He took a moment, forcing a steadying breath to calm the rising nerves. He’d never wanted you to hear this, fearing it might just devastate you to know who exactly your father was, the kind of man he could be, and what he was capable of. You hadn’t needed to find this out, but this had all gone too far. He wanted nothing more than to pull the rug from under the Mayor’s feet, to make sure he knew that Mary knew everything, that he needed to be very fucking careful this secret never got out. Mary had him in checkmate, holding the secret in until someone came along who would hear him and believe him – someone with a higher standing in the town than himself and his friends.

“My mom got clean when I was 15,” he began, “She’d stopped drinking, got herself a job that could keep us going while I was in school, and still working for Mr. Rogers on the weekends. We were living out in the Oak Ridge apartment complexes, and we were doing alright.”

“Then in came a man in a dapper suit with a briefcase and a fuckin’ God complex, who convinced the landlords to sell up so he could flatten the building and build office blocks instead. He fucked over all the residents, all hard-working people, by flashing compensation to the landlords who just handed out eviction notices. But my mom owned our shitty little apartment outright. She’d just managed to club together the money for the deposit, to get herself a mortgage and have a place that was just ours. She wanted stability, and she didn’t want to sell up. She was the last one who refused...”

Your father’s eye twitched as he readjusted his stance, like suddenly he was incredibly uncomfortable. “You don’t actually believe this fucking scumbag, do you?” he asked you, interrupting Mary.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, and miraculously, he did just that.

“So he... He charmed her. He bought her pretty things, took her to fancy places out of town, told her everything she’d ever wanted to hear... He told her he loved her,” Mary’s voice cracked at that, at the hurt of somebody lying to his mother when that had been all she’d ever wanted, “He seduced her, and told her he’d run away with her and give her the life she’d always wanted with him... if she’d just... sign on the dotted line...”

You felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he taken advantage of Mary’s mom, their situation, all for his own gain, but he’d cheated on your mother, gone behind his own family’s back to manipulate a damaged but healing woman and ruin her life. Your head span with overwhelm, purely disgusted by what you were hearing. You knew your father wasn’t a good man, but you had no idea he was such a monster...

“When she signed the deed over, he dropped her and left us both on the streets. He left us with nothing; no money, no home. We had to move into the Quartz motel, and she was heartbroken. She started drinking again, more and more because of what YOU did,” Mary snarled at him, pointing his finger as he raised his voice. “She was too depressed to get back up again, and I had to pick up the pieces. I had to quit school, work full time and give everything up when I was fucking 16 years old just to keep us afloat. She never recovered, and it didn’t matter when I got us this shitty little apartment and finally moved us outta the Quartz, her body gave up.”

Mary pushed you to one side in his rage and stepped up to your father. You stumbled and caught yourself on the counter, too stunned to do or say anything about it as the truth sunk in. Mary got in his face again, pointing his finger directly at him and screamed, “It’s because of YOU she almost fuckin’ DIED. You piece of SHIT! YOU AS GOOD AS KILLED HER!” Mary slapped his hand against your father’s chest, who just stood there and took it, glaring at Mary as if he were still that same kid.

You shook yourself from your own little trance and pulled Mary back to you by his arm, turning your back on your father and holding Mary’s cheeks to soothe him, to calm him down as he broke down at the truth. Mary stood there and sobbed, letting you wipe the tears as you shushed him, whispering apologies to him as if any of this had been your fault. But your heart broke for him...

How could your father have ever been that callous? You thought you’d known him, that he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it seemed he was. You were aware he leaned more towards right wing politics, and no, you didn’t agree with him. And you’d known some of his associates were bent and unethical in their ways, but you’d never known he was as corrupt as Mary was telling you. All those whiffs of under the table deals you’d gotten over the years were true. He was a crook... A liar, a cheat, and abusive fucking monster.

“You don’t seriously believe this shit, Pumpkin?” he asked, using a damn pet name of all things to try and get you back on side. You span around to glower at him, rage bubbling up inside you.

“Don’t you fucking ‘Pumpkin’ me, you arrogant letch!” you screamed. “That explains why you kept disappearing all the damn time, spending your evenings and weekends anywhere but at home. I guess now I fucking know where you went... You missed half of my sweet sixteen, for fuck’s sake! Sped off right after the cake and didn’t come home for two days. Is that where you went? Is that where you always went? To take advantage of a decent woman who only wanted to be loved? To give her kid the BEST FUCKING LIFE POSSIBLE!?”

“I never went anywhere near his slut of a mother!” he yelled back.

“Oh, please!” Mary interjected, “You fucked her, and then you fucked her over.”

“You LIAR!” Your father lunged at Mary again but you stopped him, forcing him back with a push that took all of your strength, all of your anger. He didn’t try it again, instead focussing his anger on you now.

“You gonna let him manipulate you like this? Lie to you? He’s just trying to come between us, Pumpkin, to keep you away from me. He'll fucking use you and dump you for the next girl who shows him any attention. You’re just some petty fucking revenge he’s taking out on me... He’s USING YOU!”

“Sounds more like something you’d do...” you growled at him. You had made your choice already, long before tonight. Your place was at Mary’s side, now more so than ever. Fucking revenge. As if Mary would have lied to you all this time... There was no way?

Your father straightened himself up, dusting his shirt off as if there were something on it, but it gave him a moment to collect himself, to make himself seem the prim and proper one.

“If you choose to believe his lies and stay with him, then that’s your stupid choice,” he told you as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, not even affording you the decency of eye contact. “But know this; you choose him, and that’s it. You will have nothing. No money, no home, no future. I’ll make sure neither of you work in this town. I will cut you off completely.”

He thought he had the upper hand, that his words would scare you into submission and force you to come home with him. He seemed to forget the heated words you’d exchanged the night of the dinner at the Town Hall...

“I thought I’d made myself pretty clear last time we spoke... I don’t want to live under your fucking thumb anymore. You told me to leave once before, and what, now you’ve changed your mind? You want to play happy families, and drag me back into the life you forced me to live? I want my own life, and now? I want it as far away from you as I can possibly get.”

Your father stared at you, his jaw grinding in anger. He’d lost control of you, and he hated it. You were unravelling his perfect ‘family man’ façade that had won him all those elections, tearing down the perception the town had of him as this kind, caring man with a beautiful family.

As you glared at each other, challenging the other to speak first, heavy footsteps got closer as if someone were running down the hallway outside the apartment and soon, Forrest ran into the apartment clutching a baseball bat and ready to swing. He stopped short at the scene in front of him, not having expected this at all... Mary, beaten and bloodied behind you, squaring up to your father, the Mayor...

Forrest knew everything and quickly connected the dots, keeping the bat raised and ready in case your father tried anything at all. But now he was outnumbered, and his pride wounded.

“You’re making a big fucking mistake, madam,” he warned. “You’ll end up a low life like these idiots, and laying in a hospital bed just like his mother.”

“You need to leave,” Forrest told him firmly. “You got another witness now, sir,” he warned, sarcasm dripping from the honorific.

Your father straightened up and turned, taking a few steps to stand at the edge of the kitchen where Forrest backed up to give him the room to leave, bat still raised. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to see you reach for Mary’s hand, holding his cheek gently in yours as you took a good look at the bruises and blood that covered his face.

“You should get out of town before morning,” he began. “I will pull every string at my disposal to make sure you will never find peace here. This is my town, and this?” he waved his finger around, “is a dangerous neighbourhood. Especially without a deadbolt.” He nodded towards the front door that he’d bust open.

“Get out,” Forrest reiterated with a look that could have burst him into flames if he had the ability.

Without another word, your father turned and left, slamming the front door that only bounced back open with nothing left to catch.

Forrest lowered the bat with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead from the stress. You focussed all of your attention on Mary, checking he was okay. He certainly wasn’t... He’d taken two beatings in one night and was covered in a litany of injuries that needed attention.

Without saying a word, Forrest dropped the bat on the floor with a clatter and rushed into the bathroom, pulling out an old first aid kid from under Mary’s sink and rushing back with it while you gently guided an exhausted Mary to his couch, forcing him to sit back.

As you patched him up with band aids and gauze and fed him a glass of water, no one dared to speak another word. After everything that had happened tonight, the silence – however brief – was welcome. But eventually, one of you had to break it.

“We should get you to a hospital, Mare. You might have a concussion, or a bust nose or something’,” Forrest reasoned. Mary shook his head.

“I’ll be good, don’t think anything’s broken.” Neither you nor Forrest argued with him. “Fuck, what the hell are we gonna do?” he asked, sinking further down into the couch beside where you knelt on the cushion, hovering over him.

“He’s just trying to scare you both, right? He’s pissed, just wants you both out but what the fuck can he really do?” Forrest asked from the floor, where he’d picked up the broken picture of Mary and his mom and set it on the coffee table. Mary stared at it, biting back the sting of tears.

“Anything... he can do anything. He’ll make good on his threat, his security don’t ask questions.” You chewed on your thumbnail anxiously, trying to think of your next move.

“I’m sorry...” Mary mumbled, looking down at the picture on the table with shame in his eyes.

“For what?” you asked, shuffling closer to him and gently turning his chin towards you, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“He’s cut you off because of me,” he sniffled, keeping the tears in his eyes at bay. “I’ve fucked your life up for you already...”

“Don’t you dare,” you told him firmly, “you listen to me. I chose this, I needed to get away from him and I did. This is a blessing, we’ll be okay-”

“How the hell are we gonna be okay? We can’t stay here anymore, we got nowhere to go and the money I make at the shop isn’t gonna keep us both afloat for long...” he panicked, but you hushed him with a finger to his lips.

“We’ll figure it out. Money’s not a problem...” Mary looked confused, as did Forrest, the pair of them staring at you. “I’ve... I’ve been saving. Funnelling money away for a while. I knew someday I’d wanna get out and well... I opened a bank account as soon as I was old enough and just kept throwing my allowance into it. I got a trust fund when I was 18, he thinks I spent it. I didn’t, it’s been stashed away for years. We can get a place Mary, we just need somewhere for now.”

Mary blinked at you dumbly, “You... You want that?”

“What, to run away with you? Are you kidding?” You ran your fingers through his hair, avoiding the long strands that were clumped together with dried blood. “Haven’t I already done that?” you asked with a soft smile.

Mary gawked at you, smiling a little himself before he leaned closer to you and planted his bust lips onto yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. Forrest coughed from the floor, bringing the two of you back to reality.

“That’s great and all, but... where the hell are you gonna go for now?” he asked. Mary processed his question for a second, thinking it over.

“Well, it’s not exactly a ‘best case scenario’, but... I have an air mattress back at the shop? It’s just a storage unit but it’s outta town. Sometimes I’d work late and be too tired to drive home so I’d crash there. No one really knows where it is, I never have clients come to the unit.”

“It’ll do, while we look for a place in the city,” you told him. You didn’t care where you stayed or what you slept on, as long as it was safe – as long as Mary was safe.

Forrest nodded, getting up from the floor and starting to gather some of the mess from your father’s rage. “Better get a move on then... Grab what you need, I’ll help you move it in my van too.”

Before either of you stood up, Mary sat upright and turned to face you. “You sure about this, doll? Like... really? I can’t expect you to use that money to set us both up.”

“Oh, shut up...” you smirked, swatting his shoulder lightly. “You really having second thoughts about taking my dear daddy’s money and running off into the night?”

Mary’s eyes glinted with a mischievous sparkle, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Well, when you put it like that...” He leaned in as you giggled, welcoming another slow, tender kiss that felt like a triumphant win given the events of the night.

From across the room, Forrest rolled his eyes, picking up a small pillow and throwing it at the both of you to break you up. When you both yelped and looked up at him, he simply widened his eyes and shook his head, tapping at an imaginary watch on his wrist as if to say ‘hello? Get moving!”. You stood from the couch, reaching your hands out to Mary who used your strength as leverage to sit upright, his whole body aching and protesting after all the damn fighting tonight. Forrest was, of course, right. You needed to pack up what you could quickly, and get the hell out of town.

So much had happened tonight, and so much had been said that couldn’t remain just a fleeting exchange in the heat of the moment. Revelations of the kind of man your father truly was had to be put to the back of your mind for now, to be dealt with and talked properly about in the coming days. For now, you couldn’t focus on it - the wound too painful to acknowledge until you were out of harm’s way. You couldn’t think about the truth, or what that meant in terms of your relationship with Mary. The thought that perhaps you were just Mary’s retribution couldn’t take root in your mind, lest it grow into genuine suspicion. There was no time to let doubts creep in. Instead, you dove into packing with Forrest, shoving clothes and essentials in whatever bags or boxes you could find to busy your mind.

But Mary; he stayed put, fiddling anxiously with his rings. Neither you nor Forrest questioned him, figuring after two pretty rough beatings tonight he could sit this one out. But it wasn’t that that held him back...

His own doubts were seeping in, an anxiety burning in his chest. He’d unveiled a huge part of himself tonight, something he’d never intended for you to know. He’d never wanted to hurt you with this and now that he had, he had to force down the guilt that came when he’d seen the look on your face as the truth spilled. His disdain for the Mayor hadn’t ever been as simple as hating the face of the town that hated him. There was so much more to it than that, but he’d never wanted to make that your burden.

Part of him now was terrified. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps – maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but someday – you might think he chose you for this, like some sick revenge on the Mayor. Even he had accused Mary of it, claiming he was using you... Taking his only daughter and defiling her, corrupting her just to get his own back. That night back in the dive bar had started as a bet, yes. The thought had indeed crossed his mind that it was ironic he’d got to fuck you after your father had fucked over his family. But you were so much more than that...

He was in too deep now. He loved you. Now more than ever, he was afraid he might lose you over this. He prayed that you didn’t think that, that your father’s own accusation had fallen on deaf ears.

But for now, he just needed to get you both out of town. As long as you were safe, he’d take whatever consequences came his way.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

#mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #mary goore smut

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wood-white-writer · 2 years ago

Text

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not.

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord.

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts.

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd.

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same.

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to.

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot.

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?"

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't.

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off.

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his.

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it.

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a...

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant.

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak.

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop.

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me."

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable.

It goes as quickly as it came.

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events.

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you.

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right?

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark.

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates."

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination.

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same.

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again.

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones."

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream."

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude.

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy,"

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts.

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate.

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through.

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

#buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy the clown live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece x reader #one piece live action #buggy one piece #buggy x you #buggy x female reader #buggy #buggy live action #captain buggy #one piece buggy #one piece netflix #one piece fanfiction

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atlasofthestaars · 2 years ago

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[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .012

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE: TBH a while ago I considered putting titles for these chapters but then I realized I am pretty, pretty bad at titles. Would you guys want titles anyways?? For convenience I would still probably have the numbers be the main thing to click on but for AO3 and the top of the page it would be labeled???

I broke down the votes on tumblr for the poll combining the votes of the tumblr poll and here :D! Here’s a link: here

I know links are not. really usable on ao3 though so I’ll copy and paste the breakdown in the bottom note.

The tldr version is: 1) Johnny 2) Bi-han 3) Liu Kang 4) Tomas 5) Raiden 6) Kenshi 7) Kuai Liang 8) Kung Lao

I’ll reveal what these votes are being used for when we get to the part when this was important LMAO <3 ty all for voting!!

FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO TRIES TO FIGURE CERTAIN THINGS OUT

Today was the first day in a while that you did not awaken to see the sun.

Opening your eyes, it felt like a dream to awaken to a room lit up with the soft glow of the crystal lamp. For a moment, your heart raced. Your brain panicked at the unfamiliar feeling of waking up in a spot that wasn’t your room or the Wu Shi academy. Then, you felt a sense of calm fall over yourself as your brain remembered that you were simply in Outworld for the tournament.

You sat up, feeling your body slowly come to life. Joints popped, muscles stretched. You drowsily rubbed your eyes as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. After a deep inhale, you forced yourself to get up. A yawn left your lips as you walked over to the small closet you had unpacked your extra clothes into. You undressed, and as you did so you took a moment to pause as you noted the mirror hanging on the wall right next to the closet.

You hadn’t noticed it until now.

Swallowing your nerves, you turned so your back was to the mirror. You didn’t really have mirrors in the Fire Temple. You supposed it could have been chalked up to a lack of vanity of those living there, you never really questioned or cared. But all that mattered was that you rarely saw the mark on your back.

It was a scar centered right between your shoulder blades. It was shaped as if someone had struck you with a leopard fist. Then, thin lines spread out from the mark in all directions, stopping conveniently just before it would be exposed with the clothes you wore. It was as if it were like veins and arteries and your scar was the heart. You let out a sigh as you reached back to trace the lines before gently brushing the main scar.

It felt rough compared to the rest of your skin, it was like comparing gravel to dirt. It was probably from the lack of care you put into it, but you had a feeling no matter how much care you would have put into it, nothing would cause it to get any less rough. The mark was notably lighter than the rest of your skin, the edges of it slightly pink before it faded into your regular skin color.

No one knew you had these marks. At least, you assumed not, you’ve never shown anyone you had these. It took you long to find out you even had these marks. It was only until one night you had stayed over at Madam Bo’s and noticed the mirror she had hung in the guest room you had been staying in. You figured it wasn’t important to tell anyone, especially when you didn’t know the origin of it. It’d only serve to make you seem more suspicious.

Your fingers brushed the mark again. You’ve always assumed this was from your current life, before the memory loss. The last reminder of your past before it was all wiped away when you awoke in those fields near the Fire Temple. Your lips pulled downwards into a frown. You’ve never put much thought into who you were before you lost your memory.

Did anyone know or care who you used to be?

You huffed, knowing the answer. It was doubtful that anyone did. Maybe this wasn’t even from this life, maybe it was from your past life. You wouldn’t know from your memories, they never included details of scars or anything of the sort. You shifted your weight as you considered it. No, maybe it wasn’t, you concluded. You don’t know how you would even retain a scar from a past life.

You tore your eyes away from the mark and tugged your clothes on. It was too much to think about for something that was probably so insignificant. You turned to look at your back in the mirror once you were dressed again.

It was concealed once more. Out of sight, out of mind.

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you needed fuel for today. Where would you even find food? You pondered over the food you could potentially get, and that’s under the assumption that you even had time to eat. You stood, staring at the door for a moment pondering over this new found dilemma before realizing you were wasting more time by thinking about it. You shook your head and walked out of your room.

Unlike your room, the rest of the palace was fairly open with windows and spots where the light could filter in. The palace felt like it was bathed in a soft glow of light. It felt almost like a dream to stand among the light.

How lucky you were that you could be here to witness this majesty in person. You took a moment to close your eyes and just bask in the atmosphere of the palace. Just standing here made you feel regal. It made you consider how the palace looked on the outside, was it just as beautiful as it was on the inside? You felt like you understood why the royalty enjoyed lavishness, just a bit. Who wouldn’t enjoy waking up to this view?

The tapping of heels caught your attention, snapping you out of your reverie. Loud, commanding and with purpose. You turned to look over, down the hallway to see who the source was. You blinked as you recognized Princess Kitana walking down the hall. You stared for a moment, thinking of how funny it was that you encountered her again like this.

Your heartbeat got louder again, and you recognized the feeling. A memory? Again? As the world faded away you could only question why Outworld was unlocking so many memories for you.

You opened your eyes to see a crowd of people around you. The faces of the people you saw felt hazy in your mind. You could vaguely recognize them, but it felt all too peculiar. Glancing to your right, you noted how you were once again standing next to Raiden and Liu Kang. It seems you were by their side more often than you had expected.

“Are you alright, Lord Raiden?” The words fell from your lips as you watched the uneasy look on the thunder god’s face. You saw him raise a hand to his head and your eyebrows raised. You crossed your arms and glanced to Liu Kang and noted his own worried look.

“Strange visions.” Raiden muttered, his gaze looking off into the distance. You heard the little crackle of glass. Raiden grabbed his amulet, something that made your stomach twist and turn at the sight, and you all saw the fractured glass.

“Your amulet!” Liu Kang exclaimed. Your breath hitched upon seeing the cracks.

“It is nothing.” Raiden dismissed, though you could hear the hint of worry that lingered in his tone. “The tournament begins.” He continued, turning his gaze to the front as he placed the amulet back upon his chest. Liu Kang followed his example, turning his attention to the proceedings. Your gaze, however, stayed on Raiden for a few moments more.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach. Father would have probably called Raiden out on his lies. Should you follow in his footsteps? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Perhaps not, he was closer to the god than you were. Taking one last glance at the cracked amulet, you took in a deep breath. Then, you turned your attention to the front.

Monks walked in from the left and right sides before the fighting arena. From behind them, you spotted the Outworlders walking in. An old man, a tarkatan, and two Edenians. You blinked as you locked eyes with the Edenian dressed in blue.

Princess Kitana.

Your eyes narrowed, giving her a challenging glare. The princess, in return, seemed to steel her own resolve.

No matter what this tournament throws at you, be it princesses, tarkatans, or sorcerers, you were determined to help Earthrealm win.

“Is something interesting, Earthrealmer?” Kitana inquired, snapping you out of your rather short memory. A perfect eyebrow raised as she came to a few feet away from you. You blinked, mulling over the sudden question before you realized that she must have found it odd that you were staring. You forgot you even were staring, too lost in thought.

“I was just thinking about how I encountered you again in this hallway, odd isn’t it?” You replied, lying. There was a moment where Kitana returned the stare, her face showcasing she was a bit perplexed by your answer. Perhaps she wasn’t ready for the answer you provided. It was rather mundane and casual. Were you performing a faux pas by being too casual with royalty?

“I wouldn’t consider it so odd, I take this route all the time.” Kitana replied, entertaining your conversation. You felt relief flood through you after her words, realizing you had not tarnished both your and Earthrealm’s reputation. That, and she had not caught on to your lie. A small, polite smile appeared on her face, the very same one she had shown you yesterday. It was all too perfect, too practiced in your opinion, but you would rather see that smile than a disapproving look. “Would you like to accompany me to the Great Hall?”

“It would be an honor.” You replied, sending her a smile of your own. Yours was less practiced, just a bit more honest. You, after all, didn’t have as much practice with sending polite smiles as the princess did. You only could hope it was enough for her. She nodded, seeming to be pleased by your response. You joined her side, a familiar feeling for something you had only done once.

Though the memory was short, your mind raced with the small details you remembered. This wasn’t your first tournament. You had fought in at least one other before in your past life. Though from the memory it seemed much, much more severe. Then, there was the other detail that was immediately nagging at you. The amulet.

Liu Kang had called it Raiden’s amulet. Was it mere coincidence that in this life he wielded the very same amulet? You chewed on your cheek as you mulled over the question. Liu Kang had mentioned how Raiden had been a natural with it. Had that been simply a statement of skill, or was it a tease of how he actually used to wield lightning and had an amulet like that?

No. That was impossible. Liu Kang was simply a demigod, how would he know anything of a past life? He had even speculated that your visions were of another world, not of a past life.

You were just overthinking it, surely. And yet, even with this confirmation in your head, the dread building inside you did not abate. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the fact that you didn’t even believe your own thoughts or that other nagging feeling you couldn’t quite place.

“How confident are you in your student?” Kitana inquired, peering over to you, breaking you away from your thoughts. Her eyes scanned you, as if she could glean how well the training went from your attitude alone. Or maybe, she was trying to analyze that pondering look you had. Her lips pursed. You smiled at the inquiry, feeling a surge of pride. You pushed the thoughts you had away, trying to lift your spirits.

“I’m very confident in Raiden.” You replied, hands clasped behind your back. Both from the pride you held in Raiden and the position, your back straightened a bit more. “He was a lovely student. He was very diligent in his training and very receptive to feedback. Not to mention, he was very adaptive.” You sang his praises, knowing very well that you and the others would have to hype Raiden up since he was far too humble.

“I see.” Kitana hummed, seeming to mull over your words as if it were like a fine wine which needed a review. “I hope we can see if he lives up to your expectations, then.” She commented. Not necessarily antagonizing, but you could sense the challenge within her words. You nodded, not taking the slight rivalry personally. It only made sense.

“I can assure you that he will.” You countered, indulging a bit in the challenge. An eyebrow raised at your words and a glimmer appeared in her eyes. It reminded you of the very same look she sent Johnny Cage last night, it was pure amusement. You smiled a bit wider, holding back a chuckle. “I would not underestimate him despite what his humble nature may lead you to believe.”

“We shall see.” The princess spoke after a beat. “I hope your high praises weren’t for naught.” She told you as the two of you arrived to the Great Hall. Her words hung in the air, though polite you could tell she was still very much rooting for the downfall of Raiden. Again, understandable, but you did have to commend Kitana for her attempt to be cordial.

The two of you had arrived rather early, so only a few people were around. Not only that, but it seemed that most seemed to be milling about trying to shake off the drowsiness that clung to them like a wet blanket. Had it not been for the conversation with the princess, you felt like you also would suffer from the same condition. With a nod, Kitana walked off, leaving you to your own devices.

“I see you have become somewhat familiar with princess Kitana.” Liu Kang spoke as you walked over. For the moment, your small group composed of the fire god himself, you, and the two former farmhands. You nodded at his comment before letting your gaze drift across the group.

Liu Kang, as usual, was pristine. After all these years you had no idea whether the fire god even slept or not, and if he did, you’ve never seen it. He always seemed ready and prepared. You couldn’t deny that you were at least a little envious of it. Raiden was prim and proper too. Not too surprising, considering how he was rather diligent in his routine. You could sense the nerves radiating from him though, and you had a sense that his nerves were the main cause of his alertness. Kung Lao, on the other hand, seemed to still have a few traces of drowsiness left.

“I wouldn’t consider it as me becoming more familiar with her.” You corrected the fire god, crossing your arms. You pursed your lips as you considered what you would call it. “She just entertained some conversation, I’m certain she was simply being polite rather than actual interest.” You said, shrugging. You didn’t mention how she was probably more interested in the way you were lost in thought around her. Liu Kang’s eyebrow arched at your statement, but he seemed to not continue his line of thought.

A member of the royal house staff walked by, offering some breakfast styled hors d'oeuvres to you. You smiled and grabbed some for the group. You offered the small portions to the group. Both Liu Kang and Raiden refused. Luckily for you, Kung Lao was more than eager to eat the portions you didn’t want. It seems he’s not as tired as you thought.

As you bit into the food, you felt a bit better and your worries melted away for now. There was still that annoying nagging voice whispering in the back of your head trying to make you remember something, but now it was much more quiet. It was like you placed a tarp over it, muffling it’s presence.

Maybe you were just hungry and over exaggerating everything while you were famished. The voice, faintly, yelled at you that you weren’t, but you kicked it away. You would have time to think about it later. You didn’t want to worry others by being oddly distant during the tournament. You wouldn’t know how to excuse yourself properly.

Soon enough, Kenshi joined your side. It seemed he took the extra time to make himself presentable as you could not see a hint of sleepiness from him. You nodded towards him and pointed out the hors d'oeuvres to him. He nodded to you in acknowledgement before slinking off to grab some for himself before he rejoined the group.

“Feeling better?” Kenshi inquired, peering over to you. His voice was discreet, trying not to clue in the others on your conversation. You looked at him, raising your eyebrows as you tried to interpret his question. When you continued to stare at him, he let out a small sigh. “Your headaches yesterday.” He told you, and you let out a small “oh” at the realization. “You seemed better at the banquet yesterday.”

“I am feeling better, I suppose I just took the whole interrealm travel worse than the rest of you.” You said, which was not entirely wrong. It was a little ironic though, you reflected, how you a supposed Edenian struggled the most in Outworld. You paused for a moment as your mind lingered on his last comment. He had noticed how you were at the banquet yesterday? Last you recalled, he had been eating at an entirely different table. The attention he had paid to you made you feel…touched. Your smile grew just a bit more. “Thank you for worrying.”

“It’s nothing.” Kenshi dismissed, nodding. His lips curled into a soft smile before it fell as he set his eyes upon something just past you. Raising an eyebrow, you turned to look at who or what had caused him to lose his little smile.

Ah. Johnny Cage.

“Man, I know we woke up early at the Wu Shi, but did we really have to wake up at the crack of dawn for this?” Johnny said as he joined your little group. You watched as he expertly snatched a few breakfast hors d'oeuvres from a passing staff member. He shouted out a causal thank you before turning to the group. “A man like me needs some beauty sleep, you know.” He complained before popping some food into his mouth.

“Empress Sindel would like the tournament fights to happen earlier in the day so the rest of the day is free for you all to explore and mingle with others.” Liu Kang explained, eyeing Johnny Cage. His hands folded together neatly. “I too, encourage the rest of you to explore Sun Do and its wonders. Just remember to not get too drawn in.”

“Got it, chief.” Johnny Cage nodded, though his eyes were clearly somewhere else already. You sighed and sent him a glare to get him back in line. “Hey, I’ve been sticking to my word, teach!” His hands flew up into the air. “I’m allowed to admire the merchandise, aren’t I?”

“I think you’re doing more than just admiring, Johnny.” Raiden pointed out, looking over to Johnny. The rest of the group seemed to agree, leading to the actor rolling his eyes.

“Everybody’s a critic…” The American mumbled as he sulkily turned away from you guys. You let out a small laugh as you pat his back to comfort him. You received a pout in return, though you could tell that his pout was more so on the playful side.

After a bit more of a wait, the princesses made their entrance with the Empress. Much like before, the crowd parted to allow them to cross. Silence hung in the air so their footsteps were more pronounced. Once they took their seats and got settled, Sindel stood up once more.

“Welcome back to the tournament.” Sindel announced, her arms spread with a cordial smile on her lips. You watched as Raiden stepped up to the front of the crowd, singling himself out. “You proved to fight well yesterday, young man.” The Empress said, turning her attention to look at Raiden. You watched as her eyes narrowed just slightly. “Let’s see if you can continue to impress.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “General Shao, whom have you chosen as our next competitor?”

“Your Majesty,” The General began, walking out from the side. Your lips pressed together as you focused your attention on the man. You still felt uneasy around him, it was the mixture of unsettling memories and the attitude he showcased yesterday before the fight. “I have chosen Reiko, my second in command.”

From the hallway, you spotted a figure emerging. The man, who you assumed was Reiko, marched forth. He looked more like he was going into war rather than into a friendly tournament. You wondered silently if that was the attitude of all the soldiers in Outworld or if it was just him. You recognized him as the man who stuck to General Shao’s side during the banquet last night.

“As a boy, Reiko was orphaned during the Katallah War.” General Shao announced as Reiko continued forward. “Though captured, his spirit remained unbroken. He scratched, clawed, and survived. After the war, I took him in. Molded him into the perfect soldier. Few others are as well versed in the ways of war.”

Your eyes went back to General Shao and you had to restrain yourself from raising your eyebrows. General Shao didn’t strike you as the type of person to take someone in, nevermind even being the fatherly type. Your eyes returned back to Reiko as you wondered if he had a fine childhood after being taken in.

He certainly seemed like a hardened soldier now.

Coming to a stop a few feet away from Raiden, Reiko turned away from him. Instead of greeting his opponent, he began to shadowbox, demonstrating his forms and skills. And here you thought Johnny was flashy. Raiden did not appear to be cowed by the little show which was a relief to you. After a spinning kick, the man finally turned to face Earthrealm’s champion.

“In whose army have you served?” Reiko interrogated, staring Raiden down. An attitude of being unimpressed rolled off of him in waves. You crossed your arms at this, narrowing your eyes just a bit. You could tell he did not take your student seriously, not even in the slightest. “In what wars have you fought?”

“I have done neither.” The former farmhand admitted, his softer tone contrasting with the second in command’s harsher one.

“Then you are woefully unprepared, Earthrealmer.” Reiko sneered. He lifted a hand to point directly at his opponent. “This will be your last battlefield.” He declared. A mutual understanding seemed to be in order as both of the men settled into fighting stances. Reiko bounced in his with a sense of barely restrained energy while Raiden was much calmer, much like how you had taught him.

Sindel called out for the fight to begin, leading Reiko to charge forward. His strikes were fast and aggressive, you could tell from the intensity behind them he was aiming to end this quickly and brutally. You were suddenly grateful for the training you had given Raiden as you watched him anticipate this and go more defensively.

You winced as you watched Raiden, at one point, get grabbed by the soldier and slammed into the ground. You had to admit, Reiko was ruthless and knew how to use his strength well. He was a grappler, something that you hadn’t trained your students well against. You could only hope that Liu Kang taught him good counters.

Still, despite the initial worry, Reiko seemed to lose steam against Raiden’s defensive tactics. This allowed the champion to gain the upper hand, turning the tide and turning the momentum of the battle against the soldier. It didn’t take very long after that occurred for Raiden to emerge victorious.

“Felled by a simple farmer.” Raiden spoke as the soldier laid defeated upon the ground. Your lips curled upwards at the small taunt. Reiko deserved that for underestimating the man. The electric user turned around to face the Empress and bowed. You watched as General Shao huffed upon seeing his second in command fail.

“Congratulations on another victory, young man.” Sindel commended, though you could sense an underlying sense of irritation behind her words. It seems she thought that Reiko would be capable of conquering Raiden. She stood and addressed the crowd this time. “We shall adjourn once more at first light tomorrow.”

Much like yesterday, the crowd dispersed quickly. Though this time, you could see how a few more people lingered just a touch longer to stare and whisper about Raiden. It seemed he was making waves already.

“And that’s another victory under your belt, Thunder Lad!” Johnny celebrated as the champion rejoined your group. Though he had a smile that told you he was grateful for cheers, you could have sworn you saw a flash of irritation at the nickname. You let out a silent chuckle at it. You recalled him mentioning how he hated that name, but you didn’t think it was that bad.

“Indeed, you are doing well.” Liu Kang spoke, nodding. “Many seem to be pleased at the display of strength you are showing.” A pleased smile was upon the fire god’s lips. Looking at the group, he gestured to the hallway. “The day is free for you all to explore and mingle with others. Although not a banquet, Empress Sindel will be offering dinner once more tonight.”

You all nod, looking towards each other and beginning to discuss their various plans. Then, you felt a hand settle on your shoulder. You look over to see Liu Kang looking at you. The same pleased smile was present on his lips, though you could sense something else lingering there.

“May we speak privately first?” Liu Kang inquired. Your eyebrows raised. As the question processed in your head, you felt a small sense of dread begin to build. He didn’t appear to be upset or overly serious, but the idea that Liu Kang needed to ask you to speak privately made you worry. What could he possibly need from you?

“Certainly.” You reply after perhaps a bit too long of a silence. You and Liu Kang waved to the group before walking off towards the outside exit. You both made your way towards a quaint bench in the garden outside. It was quiet here, peaceful. You swallowed your nerves as you sat down next to the fire god. You put on your best smile, hoping it was not obviously nervous. “What did you wish to discuss?”

“I just wanted to check if you were feeling alright, first.” Liu Kang responded, a gentle look on his face. You nodded, and it seemed that the god was pleased by the response. “Good, I didn’t get a chance to ask you after you went to get air yesterday.” You remembered that clearly, mostly because you had been only slightly avoiding him. You didn’t want to make too much of a fuss, but then again, here you were. It did feel nice to know that the fire god had still wished to check up on you.

“I’m alright, Lord Liu Kang.” You replied, your hands folding together as you relaxed just a touch more. “Is that all you wished to ask?” You inquired, tilting your head to the side just a bit. You had a feeling it wasn’t, seeing how he wished to speak privately. You doubted he would ask to speak alone if it were just that.

“No.” He said, confirming your suspicions. You straightened up a bit more, bracing yourself for the other question he was about to send your way. You saw him pause for a moment as he looked at you, observing your reaction. He leaned in a tiny bit more and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I wanted to ask again, are you having visions again?”

You hated how your body betrayed your thoughts. Immediately you stiffened up and you were certain your face contorted into a look of nerves and shock. You looked away as you forced yourself to relax, looking over the peaceful garden. You had basically given away the answer by body language alone, so you figured there was no point in lying about it this time.

“I am.” You confirmed, still not looking at Liu Kang. You were, for the time being, afraid of looking at him. You don’t know how many of your guarded secrets you’d let out if you told him. “It’s mostly memories of a different looking Outworld.” Your fingers drummed on your knee as you stared straight ahead, looking at the wonders of the garden. “It’s so…jarring.”

“I see.” Liu Kang said after a moment, seeming to take in your words. Before he could speak again, you decided to cut him off.

“Do you think an Outworld like that exists, one that is filled with more bloodshed and tyranny, or is it simply visions?” You inquired, testing the waters a bit. Maybe, just maybe if he thought so too, you wouldn’t be thought of as crazy if you did tell him. You turned your head just slightly to see his reaction.

He was deep in thought, his lips just slightly pursed as he seemed to mull over your words. His eyebrows were furrowed the tiniest bit. After a moment, he shook his head, and your heart sank.

“It is…unlikely.” Liu Kang spoke, the last word hanging in the air. You looked away from the god, closing your eyes. Perhaps you were truly alone in thinking that a past life existed that you lived. His hand covered yours in a comforting motion. You took in a deep breath, feeling your insides churn. Liu Kang probably misinterpreted your expression of unease from your visions. “Do not fret, that Outworld does not exist.”

Anymore, you finished in your head.

“I know.” You said, uncertain whether your words were lies or not. Were you just being crazy by believing that you were seeing a past life? Not even Liu Kang thought it had existed. Still, despite your uncertainty you felt the comfort of his hand. His hand squeezed yours gently, as if trying to anchor you.

“I am sorry that you are plagued with these visions. If I could, I would remove them from you.” Liu Kang told you, his words feeling like a soothing balm. Even though his words were meant to be comforting, a stupid part of you whispered in your head telling you that you didn’t want that. You couldn’t be getting these memories for no reason.

You’d figure out the reason alone if you needed to.

“Thank you for the sentiment.” You told him, opening your eyes and sending him your best smile. He smiled back, his smile much warmer than yours. You envied it, how could he look like the sun? You could feel your smile grow a little more, and you felt your face heat up for a reason you didn’t quite understand at the moment. You just felt warm. It wasn’t too odd, you supposed, seeing as Liu Kang was the fire god, so you pushed the odd, light feeling away. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” You asked after doing just that.

“Yes.” Liu kang told you with that same smile. After one last squeeze he released your hand. He stood up, seeming to be content after your small conversation. “I will let you explore Sun Do now, it is truly a prosperous place.” He nodded at you, looking at you fondly for one more moment before walking off. You sat there a moment longer, letting the conversation sink in a bit more.

You sighed as you leaned forward and rested your forearms on your thighs. You folded your hands and pressed them against your forehead, closing your eyes. You didn’t know what to make of the conversation you just had. The memories…visions…whatever they were, they didn’t feel fake. They felt too lived in, too real.

Perhaps a past life was beyond comprehension for even a god. You doubted Liu Kang would lie to you if it were real, especially about something you’ve had for so long and was so important to you. As you continued to sit there deep in thought, you barely registered the footsteps that was headed your way until you noticed a shadow fall upon you.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” You blinked as you registered the man standing in front of you as Rain. You sent him a perplexed look, but nodded to indicate he should go on. A friendly smile appeared on his face. “You were very intrigued by the prospect of the Imperial Academy, yes?” He inquired, and you slowly nodded. “Would you like to accompany me to see it tomorrow after the fight?”

“I would be delighted.” You said without even thinking. A grin appeared on your face and for a moment you forgot about your worries, too excited over the idea of seeing a school full of magic. Your answer seemed to please the High Mage, and he nodded with satisfaction.

“Good. Perhaps you may learn a bit to further your own abilities.” He said.

“I suppose if there was a place to help learn my limits and how to push them, it would be a school dedicated to magic.” You said, nodded. The smile on Rain’s face remained. It was quite nice how you found someone who seemed enthusiastic over magic.

“I shall see you tomorrow then.” He told you. Then, after that moment, he disappeared into the gardens. You were left feeling a bit happier. You let out a small sigh as you got up from the bench. You’ve had enough of sitting out here for now. That, and you supposed today would be a good start to finding gifts for the Lin Kuei trio.

You walked back to the Great Hall, intending to go to Sun Do through the entrance. You stepped in only to be surprised to see Raiden still standing there. He appeared to be milling about. Once he spotted you, the former farmhand seemed to light up and made a beeline for you.

“You’re still here?” You remarked. Your eyebrows raised as you scanned Raiden, trying to perceive the reason why he stuck around before he spoke. You watched as his smile turned just a tad more shy and there was just a barely perceptible dusting of pink along his cheeks.

“Yes.” Raiden confirmed, nodding. He seemed to pause for a moment to consider his words. His head tilted downwards, his hat brim obscuring his face. Then, another moment passed before he lifted his head to show his face which seemed a touch more confident. “I wanted to wait for you to go see if you would like to go explore Sun Do together.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You replied, laughing a bit in surprise. You crossed your arms as you looked at the man. You were touched at the fact that he had wanted to wait for you. “I’d be honored to accompany the Earthrealm champion, though.” You told him, teasing him just a little bit. The smile on his face only seemed to get brighter at your words. “Maybe you can even help me.”

“With what?” Raiden inquired, now walking by your side. You both made your way down the hallway side by side.

“I planned on buying some gifts for Bi-Han, Tomas, and Kuai Liang.” You explained, and in turn the farmhand nodded. “It’s not everyday that one gets to travel to Outworld, after all, and since they didn’t get to come I figured it would be nice to give them some gifts.”

“Why don’t the Lin Kuei participate?” Raiden asked, a thoughtful look on his face. Your steps faltered for a moment as you considered his question. Why didn’t they participate, you tilted your head, considering the question. You’ve never quite thought about it.

“I guess I don’t know.” You replied after your little moment. Your footsteps resumed at their pace. “It has probably something to do with the tournament rules, I suppose.” You carded a hand through your hair. “I’ve never really questioned it.”

How much else have you never questioned? There was so much you’ve never really taken into account. Maybe you should start questioning things. It wasn’t good to be ignorant, after all.

Sun Do was still as pretty as ever. Banners, lanterns, and other decor lined the streets. Music filled the air and many of the citizens laughed and danced along the streets. Vendors shouted out their wares, and you listened in to see if any of it would be of use to you. You grinned as you passed by them all.

“It’s very lively out here.” You mused as you turned to look back at Raiden after a while of walking. To your surprise, he was gone. You stopped and scanned the crowd to look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Frowning you made your way to the side to see if you could find him better. After a few minutes of searching, you sighed as you failed to see him.

“May I help you?” A voice asked. Stiffening up, you turned to see a Naknadan woman standing within the store. She peered at you with wide eyes as she put away various weapons with her arms. At first, you were about to dismiss it, then you looked closer at the store. It was a weapons shop. You took a moment to look around, then noted the collection of karambits lined along the wall.

“Ah, yes.” You said as you eyed the collection. You stepped forward to get a closer look, observing the fine craftsmanship that went into every single one. It was then that you found it. A karambit with the blade a silver white. On the handle were intricate designs etched into almost akin to smoke. It was as long as Tomas’ personal karambit too, so he wouldn’t have to adapt. The safety ring was gold. “How much is this one?” You inquired, gesturing to the blade.

She told you the price, giving you a sunny smile. You reached into your bag, grabbing the money that Liu Kang had given you prior to the trip. She peered at you curiously, inquiring what the blade was for. Enthusiastically, you told her that the blade was a gift for a friend.

“Would you like for me to engrave something on it? I can engrave it upon the safety ring.” The lady asked. You lit up at the idea, smiling. With one arm, she plucked the blade from the wall and placed it upon a table. Then with a few other of her arms, she grabbed various tools from another table nearby. “What would you like?”

“Have strength, Tomas. From,” You spoke your name. The Naknadan woman nodded. Using another arm, she grabbed some glasses and placed it upon her face. You watched with awe as she precisely engraved the message you had said onto the ring. Then, she delicately placed into a velvet lined box to which she wrapped up and handed to you. “Thank you.”

“I hope whoever you gift that to will enjoy it.”

“I’m certain he will.” You said, turning to exit the shop. To your delight, you spotted Raiden standing outside the shop, looking puzzled and searching around the crowd. Making sure to keep your footsteps light, you snuck up upon the man. With a small smirk you placed a hand upon his shoulder, making him jump. “It seems I have a knack for sneaking up on you.”

“Yes…Yes you do.” Raiden said as he recovered from the little scare you had provided. You let out a laugh, squeezing his shoulder. After his recovery, he peered at the box you held in your hand. “Where did you wander off to?”

“Well, after I noticed I had lost you in the crowd, I stepped to the side to try and look for you.” You told him before turning your head to look back at the shop you had stepped out of. “I happened to step inside there and happened to find a gift for Tomas.” You explained, lifting up the box and showing it off.

“I suppose that us splitting up was a good thing, then.” Raiden mused as he looked curiously at the box you held. He sent you a bright smile. “Would you like to continue to tour around Sun Do?” He asked you, and you nodded in return. You took your hand away from his shoulder and put away the box. As you turned back, you saw Raiden looking at you before he cleared his throat and turning away.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked. raising an eyebrow at the odd way he had reacted.

“Oh, well…” Raiden trailed off, still looking away before he looked at you once more, forcing himself to look you in the eye. Then, gently, he took your hand. For a moment, you wondered if he used his amulet on accident, because you felt electricity surge through your veins. In your surprise, your face heated up. “I thought it’d be best if we held hands, just so we don’t get separated again.”

“I guess that’s pretty smart.” You said, still feeling your face flush at the unexpected contact. You looked away, from him as you cleared your own throat. Surely he must have accidentally used his amulet, that’s why you were feeling so odd. It’s not like you haven’t held anyone else’s hand, so why did this feel so…different? You felt his hand squeeze yours softly as he tugged at it.

“Then let’s go.”

The rest of the day exploring Sun Do was quite fun. Despite all of the exploring you did all afternoon, there was still plenty left to discover. You decided you would have to spend a few more days to check it all out, especially since you had not found gifts to give both Bi-Han and Kuai Liang just yet. There were plenty of things you could have given them, surely, but it didn’t feel right.

Dinner went quite well as well. The food, though not as bountiful as the banquet, was still quite delicious. You had witnessed Kung Lao in action, he devoured enough for multiple men alone. That night, you returned back to your room quite satisfied.

It wasn’t until later when you crept back out into the dead of night. Tanya, once more, assisted you to the Hanging Gardens in a dutiful way. With a raised eyebrow, she inquired whether you always stayed up this late, or was it just the travel? With a friendly smile, you admitted that you struggled going to sleep. With a satisfied hum, she nodded and let you roam the garden in peace.

“I’m glad you can remember our little arrangement. I would have been quite disappointed to have missed out on hearing another one of your entertaining stories.” Mileena remarked as she noticed you walking over. She sat on the same bench that you had sat on yesterday. With a smile, you noted how this evening she did not seem upset as she was yesterday.

For a moment, you wondered what had happened to her that made her so upset. Then, you remembered that it was out of line to ask her that sort of question.

“I would hate to disappoint you.” You replied as you took a seat beside her. You tilted your head up to observe the sea of stars above. The sky was so clear here, and you didn’t think you could get over the view. It was just so…beautiful. After basking in the sight, you turned to look at the princess with a smile. “Was there a particular story you would like to hear about?” You asked, mentally trying to remember all the sorts of movies your students had shown you.

“Do you have any stories of royalty?” Mileena inquired after a few short moments of thought. You hummed, closing your eyes as you thought through the movies you had seen. What story was worthy enough of a princess who was to be the empress one day? You tilted your head as your fingers drummed upon your knee.

“Well, perhaps this one will suffice…”

Mileena was very taken in by the story you told her. She listened carefully at your retelling, only stopping you here and there to ask for clarification. You supposed it was fair, since there were some cultural differences you forgot to account for at times. Still, it was pleasing to see the princess be so enraptured by the story.

“You are quite the storyteller.” The princess remarked as you finished your tale. You grinned, pleased as one should be when complimented by royalty. “Tell me, where did you hear these stories from?” She asked, she leaned just a touch closer to you, but she still kept a considerable distance from you on the bench.

“In Earthrealm there are many other storytellers, I enjoy listening to their own tales that they share. They tell them far and wide, allowing for others to hear their stories as well.” You explained, not certain how to explain movies to the princess. “I only pass on their tales, just as they would have wished for.”

“I see.” Mileena took in your words, nodding. “Perhaps in the next tournament Earthrealm hosts I shall be able to listen to these stories from the other storytellers you speak of.” She said, seeming to be intrigued by your explanation.

“Johnny Cage, one of the ones here with the rest of us, knows many stories himself.” You told her. You held back a laugh at the face the princess made upon the name Johnny Cage. You wondered what he must have said to make her react that way.

“I prefer listening to you much more than…him.” She admitted, her nose still scrunched up at the mention of the actor. She stood, stretching before looking back over to you. “Your stories continue to entertain, Earthrealmer. I would enjoy listening to you again.”

“And I would be honored to tell more of them to you, princess.” You told her, feeling quite pleased by the fact that your retelling of movies was enough to entertain royalty. “Would you like to meet back here tomorrow night?”

“Yes, that would be preferable.” Mileena confirmed, nodding. She sent you one last smile, one that was more genuine than the ones you’ve seen from her when she had to present herself as princess. “Sleep well, Earthrealmer.” She told you, then disappeared off into the night.

“Sleep well as well, princess.” You called out to her, taking a few more moments to sit in the gardens. You sighed as you thought of the things you’ve learned and experienced today. Outworld was proving to be more than you had initially expected.

What would await for you tomorrow?

part thirteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

288 notes · View notes

killerandhealerqueen · 10 days ago

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Hawaii Five-0 Fic Recs

For @lovedoesnotconquerall who wanted a list of Hawaii Five-0 fics...and I aim to please! These are all from my bookmark list and I don't bookmark a fic unless I really enjoyed it so you know these ones are good

Fractures | general | 2.5K | oneshot

He hated this. Hated that his body had turned traitor on him, hated the way his hands trembled if he didn’t sit just right, the way the anxiety crawled under his skin and sat like a weight on his chest. But most of all, he hated how it all circled back to Steve.

Come Home | teen | 2.2K | oneshot (i would hold off on this one until you finish the show)

"You stupid son of a bitch." (Post-ep fix it to the H50 series finale)

Good Things | teen | 1.5k | oneshot

This was one possibility Danny had never seen coming.

Breakable | teen | 4.5K | chaptered (i would hold off on this until you've gotten a little far in the series, i have no idea where you are in the show)

"He wouldn't make it, I don't think. At least not the version of Danny we all know and love. So just... don't be the one to do that to him." Steve realizes there's a higher cost to his self-sacrificial heroics than he ever realized. (Set immediately after the season 6 finale) ***NOW WITH EPILOGUE***

With All Memory and Fate Driven Deep Beneath the Waves | teen | 23.2k

Danny swims for survival.

Carbon Dating | mature | 22.7K | chaptered/WIP

A meet-cute involving a skeleton, an egregious amount of corporate fraud, and a bullet wound or two. Dr. Daniel Williams, renowned forensic anthropologist with ground-breaking research in taphonomy, relocates to Hawaii on a teaching secondment in an effort to break through the hum-drum of academia and to be closer to his daughter. A chance meeting with Steve McGarrett of Koa Security Solutions turns his plans on their head.

Outlaws, In-laws, Etc. | teen | 21.7K | chaptered (again, i'd wait to read this until you've finished season 1)

Matt pops back up (in a much less awful, depressing way than on the show). Unsurprisingly, trouble shows up right behind him. (The freaking thing is FINALLY FINISHED!!!! *cue mad celebration noises from the author*)

break upon the waves | mature | 15.5k | oneshot

When a case draws Steve back to the SEALs and the life he thought he'd never be pulled back into, he comes to some realizations and has to make a choice.

Sunday Kind of Love | general | 2.7k | oneshot

Grace is wearing an apron, stirring something in a bowl with a fierce look of concentration, which breaks every now and then into a giggle when Steve pretends to tip various condiments – mustard, mayonnaise, coffee grounds – into the mix. There is flour in both of their hair and his kid looks radiant with happiness. The expression on Steve’s face is the exact same one Danny’s has seen on his own whenever he thinks about his daughter; soft with love and with a fiercely protective glint in his eyes. They look good together, comfortable, like they belong, no awkwardness at all, just open affection, and the feeling that floods through Danny’s whole body is two parts helpless yearning and one part resignation because on one level he’d known this was always where he’d end up. Where they’d end up, if Danny is very, very lucky.

Kiss You Or Kill You | teen | 7.4K | oneshot

Steve and Grace are kidnapped by a vindictive man from Danny's pre-5-0 days. While the team rushes to find them, Steve and Grace must rely on each other.

Criminal Persuasion | teen | 2.9K | oneshot

Danny had never seen Steve with so much out of control fury in his eyes before.

Tell Me Now (If I'm Worth the Risk) | teen | 3K | oneshot

A couple of missing scenes from ep 1x13, Ke Kinohi. Danny gets a phone call in the early hours of the morning: “You okay, babe?” Danny asked, suddenly alert. “Fuckers tasered me.”

Thinking | teen | 858 words | oneshot

Even now, Danny’s not used to someone being able to read him that closely. (Set after 7X14)

Wind Down with All Affection | teen | 1k | oneshot

Danny won't sleep. Chin calls in the big guns.

Pockets Full of Stones (What the Water Gave Us) | teen | 11.9K | oneshot

Danny never expected to fall in love again. He also never expected for the love of his life to be half fish.

Kill Shot | teen | 17.6K | chaptered

Steve's a mob assassin who just got his latest target - a former New Jersey detective named Daniel Williams. Unsurprisingly, that's when things get complicated.

Priorities | teen | 4K | oneshot

During an argument about Charlie, Rachel forces Danny to realize just how much Steve means to him. ***Post season 5***

Co-parent | teen | 2.4K | oneshot

“You’re my co-parent,” Danny breathed, stunned. “What?” This time, Steve’s voice was enough to jerk him back into reality. Or maybe not his voice so much as the sheer shock in it, like Steve had also missed the fact that Danny had hijacked him into step-fatherhood. Danny has a revelation. (Light spoilers for 7X23)

Smooth | teen | 3.8K | oneshot

Thanks to the unfortunate intersection of Danny's fist with the face of that smug bastard, Richardson, the fingers of his right hand are a little bit broken.

close your eyes and feel the crash | teen | 29.2K | chaptered

Danny's last mission as a member of the Delta Force is to rescue a Navy SEAL who had gone in way over his head. Their first meeting is nothing shy of a disaster – bodies lie in their wake and Steve doesn't remember ever being this beaten up. But it's also a catalyst for something great, and although it takes them a while to get there, they eventually do.

seen it in the flights of birds | teen | 33K | oneshot

AU from the beginning of Season 2. The Five-0 task force has been reinstated, but the new governor's determined to shake things up. Facing changes and unexpected betrayals, the team has to work together to face new challenges.

Our Girl | teen | 4.5K | oneshot

Halawa Correctional Facility was a place that Danny and Steve were no strangers too but walking through the bricked corridors this time was different. Of all the visits that Danny had made before and all the ones he expected to make in the future going to see the man who had almost killed his teenage daughter and her friend had not even entered his mind. And a heavy sigh left him as he stopped outside the room that held the man who could have torn his world apart even more than he already had.

A Safe Place | teen | 11K | oneshot

It was well past midnight and Grace sniffled uselessly as she was drenched through. She let out a short exhale as the house finally came into view and she slowed her pace as her feet ached fiercely. Home, the single word entered her mind as she climbed up onto the lanai and tentatively knocked on the heavy wooden door finally sheltered from the torrential rain that was lashing the island.

Far From Home | mature | 5.4K | oneshot

Nine months after Steve leaves Hawaii, Danny is shot and badly injured in the line of duty, meaning Steve is called to come home and be with the man he loves.

Stay | teen | 996 words | oneshot

Danno and Uncle Steve are the rocks in Grace's life. They need to stay right where they are.

Nocturne in C# Minor (featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn) | teen | 10.3K | oneshot

So, to recap, Danny has beautiful eyes, great shoulders, a pleasantly-shaped butt, a delectable mouth, expressive hands, and he smells good. You know, Steve has gone to bed with women who didn’t have that much going for them.

Bound and Determined | teen | 1.8K | oneshot

In response to desertport's prompt "Danny has been kidnapped and left chained to a wall" at the Hawaii Five-0 Hurt/Comfort & Schmoop Comment Fic Meme.

Pili 'ana | teen | 11.9K | oneshot

When Steve and Danny are trapped in a building collapse, the only thing they have is each other to keep themselves alive until rescue comes.

Call for Help | general | 1.3K | oneshot

Grace calls Uncle Steve for help when Danny's sick.

bring you out under this flooded sky at any price | explicit | 6.4K | oneshot

In which Danny puts his family first, New Jersey weather is as unpleasant as advertised, and absolutely no one is impressed with Steve.

They Said The Past Won't Rest | mature | 43.9K | chaptered

The Navy expected a result: capture Victor and Anton Hesse. Ten years have passed since Steve was sent to the mainland. He returns home in pursuit of justice, but he finds more than he bargained for after he meets Danny Williams and his young daughter.

Pacific Ocean Currents | mature | 26.3K | chaptered

Danny has always been a merman,but when he moves to Hawaii to be close to his human daughter,he makes the mistake of crossing paths with a Navy Seal named Steve McGarrett who makes him wonder,for the first time, if he truly wants to live in the water. Making a wager with a Great White stating he can stay a human forever if he can get Steve to share true love's kiss with him in three days, he is thrust upon land having to fight for his life when things start going his way.

one page at a time | teen | 27.3K | chaptered

The wikte folk were declared extinct decades ago and Danny's fine with that. No, really.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea | explicit | 39.6K | oneshot

Detective Danny Williams is not what Steve expected.

Mr Rosso Goes to Hawaii | explicit | 14.3K | oneshot

In which there is an undercover op, and no one looks like a waiter.

Back to Back (They Faced Each Other) | mature | 23.8K | oneshot

Danny didn’t even realize that Steve was a sentinel when they first met. That probably said a lot right there about what kind of a guide Danny was.

This Thing of Ours (It Needs a Better Name) | explicit | 35.8K | oneshot

Cosa Nostra: (kō'sə nō'strə) etym: Italian n. The branch of the Mafia operating in the United States. Literally, "our thing" or "this thing of ours."

Taking Care of the Ones Closest to You | general | 4.2K | oneshot

After Danny is dosed with sarin, complications arise. AU after Danny is admitted to the hospital.

Sad | general | 2.1K | oneshot

Catherine and Steve's date night is interrupted when Steve is asked to look after Grace for a week by Rachel who has to fly out for a business deal with Stan. Catherine can't help but notice how at home Grace is and how fatherly Steve is around Grace and it's not long before she realises she and Steve aren't going to work, not with how Steve feels about his partner even if he doesn't know it yet.

Follow You to the Ends of the Earth | teen | 6.3K | oneshot

Danny has a stalker, and now he's threatened Grace.

Curving Like the Ocean Toward You | explicit | 19.6K | oneshot

If it ain't broke, fix it anyway.

after the sky flashes, the sea yearns | general | 2.9K | oneshot

Steve rubs a hand over his own chest, which is starting to ache again even though he doesn't remember getting hit.

Folding Paper Moons Under a Cardboard Sky | teen | 12.4K | oneshot

Danny knows what Steve wants, but what Danny wants right now is to be rescued.

Sacred Tears | teen | 2.5K | oneshot

'There is a sacredness in tears. They are NOT the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.’ -Washington Irving

Foot In The Grave, Foot On The Pedal | explicit | 22.3K | oneshot

A serial killer arrives in Hawaii, leaving a trail of bodies and stirring up some old ghosts. Is it just coincidence that the killer has chosen the islands to resurrect his bloody career, or is he hunting someone in particular? When one of the team is taken, the case becomes a race to find them before the killer can claim another victim.

Down the Shore Everything's All Right | mature | 3.5K | oneshot

There's a better than average chance that Danny is getting crazier by association -- and he wouldn't change it for the world (although he could do without the head injuries, thanks).

А constant satellite оf your blazing sun | explicit | 8.3K | oneshot

When a case from Danny's past comes back to haunt him, Steve can't begrudge any help they can get to put it to rest. If only said help didn't have to come in the shape of a too-handsome FBI agent that Danny seems all too familiar with…

As The Night Caves In | mature | 18.8K | oneshot

In which there are stakeouts and a kidnapping (in that order), and Steve’s threats are not idle.

Home is the Sailor, Home from the Sea | teen | 7.2K | oneshot

“You know,” Danny starts, “when you said 'home,' I kind of assumed you meant you had a place here, or a boat to go back to, or you know, something other than an active crime scene.”

I Have a History of Taking Off My Shir | explicit | 5.6K | oneshot

Danny is damaged; what else is new?

All my heart I will lay down precisely at your feet | explicit | 17.2K | oneshot

Lt Cmdr Steve McGarrett is the leader of SEAL Team Six. When the workers at a foreign embassy are taken hostage, his team is dispatched to neutralise the threat and get the hostages to safety. Steve thinks it's just a routine mission. He doesn't realise that rescuing a certain ex-cop and his daughter is about to change the rest of his life.

All I Ever Wanted (It Comes With A Price) | teen | 3.5K | oneshot

Steve gets shot. Again. Danny is not okay.

Steve Doesn’t Babysit | teen | 1.2K | oneshot

It’s not fair, really, to call it babysitting. Not since the two had made the decision to take their relationship to the next level. Not when Danny had agreed to move in to the McGarett home, or that Grace and Charlie had decided amongst themselves to stop calling Steve ‘uncle’ because it just doesn’t sound right anymore. Calling it babysitting is just about as patronizing as saying Danny babysits. They’re Steve’s kids, too.

The Colour Of Camouflage | teen | 6.0K | oneshot

Episode 3x10 but Grace is dragged along through the jungle instead of Lucy.

Pineapples Are Not The Only Fruit | mature | 28.6K | oneshot

Danny is a former guide who moved to Hawaii with his daughter after Rachel (his wife and sentinel) died three years previously. Steve is a military sentinel who prefers to work alone. Their worlds collide when Steve's father is murdered and he returns to Hawaii to hunt down the killer.

Not Tonight Honey, I Have a Headache | explicit | 3.0K | oneshot

Chin and Kono stare at them bemusedly, as they always do, and then Chin says, “Wow, man, you really are his work-wife.”

Until the Hour of Separation | teen | 10.1K | oneshot

Danny has a long history of getting his heart broken. Steve sneakily tries to make him move in anyway.

Simple Facts | teen | 9.4K | oneshot

“You don’t want a soulmate,” Steve says, like it’s a fact of life: the sky is blue, his Glock holds twenty-two rounds, and Danny Williams does not want a soulmate.

Collision Course | general | 13.2K | oneshot

Written for the stevedannoslash After The Holidays Fest. From a prompt by the lovely and talented cattraine. The prompt was: Steve and Danny are stranded in the rainforest after a chopper crash and Danny has a head injury and his bad knee is screwed up again ―bonus points if Steve is forced to carry him as they try to escape the bad guys, and Danny bitches the entire way. So that's pretty much what I wrote, with maybe a little extra whump to spare. ;)

hoʻomanawanui i ka ʻono | teen | 5.1K | oneshot

Thursday.

Painting the Boy Blue | teen | 8.1K | oneshot

Danny is hanging white-knuckled onto the oh-shit handle in his car, as Steve executes a maneuver worthy of Dale Earnhardt--Sr. not Jr., because Jr. is still alive--and they’re having a cargument regarding yet another of Grace’s stalker ten-year-old classmates, when it hits Danny. He’s engaged. To Steve.

A Call to Arms | general | 4.4K | oneshot

While Danny’s dealing with a family emergency, Steve tries to hide his own problems.

Not Yet Written | explicit | 18.3K | oneshot

Someone from Danny's past is out to get him.

Beneath the Trident | mature | 36.8K | oneshot

Steve and Danny go undercover to investigate the death of a SEAL before a sensitive joint Special Forces’ operation. With Steve as the SEALs' new team leader and Danny as the reporter assigned to shadow him, Danny finally gets to see the hidden depths of the real Lt. Commander McGarrett. Set between 2.22 and 2.23.

High, High, Very High | mature | 20.8K | oneshot

In which nothing turns out like Danny expects, but pretty much exactly like he wants.

hoʻokāne | explicit | 13.6K | oneshot

As active as Danny's imagination was, however, as strong as all his fears could be at the thoughts of his little girl being taken away from him again, he'd forgotten to factor in one very important element: Steve.

Comfort in the waiting room | teen | 7.5K | oneshot

After two years as partners and friends, it's no secret that Steve and Danny care about each other. But when Grace undergoes emergency surgery, Danny is stunned to discover just how deep those feelings run.

Irate Wives and Navy SEALs | teen | 2.2K | oneshot

A couple of Steve's old SEAL buddies get the opportunity to meet the "wife."

All for Grace | teen | 7.5K | oneshot

Written for the h50promptmeme round 1: "When Grace is kidnapped, Steve goes full-on ninja to rescue her. Maybe they can only send one person in to get her, so against all of his protective paternal instincts Danny has to trust Steve to do it, since he's the most capable. Bonus if Steve gets badly injured during all of this. Also, please don't actually hurt Grace. :( I KNOW IT'S CLICHE AND I DON'T CARE."

It Only Hurts When I Breathe | teen | 14K | oneshot

After Holiday Prompt-A-Thon: #8 - Danny gets hurt on the job (any level of seriousness) and tries to hide it.

Bonus (my fic):

Palekiako | teen | 49.9K | chaptered/WIP

Danny didn’t do cops. I mean, why would he, he was a fucking mobster, so the fact that he was standing outside of the Honolulu Police Department was a testament in and of itself that he…needed help. He then stared at the building for a moment before he took a deep breath and headed inside, pointedly ignoring the stares he got as he walked over to the front desk and looked at the receptionist. “Hi, I’d like to report a kidnapping” he declared.

#hawaii five 0 #fic recs #mcdanno

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sinnabarmoth · 7 months ago

Text

Worthy of Devotion (3/9)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: Reader learns more about Rafayel and can't help asking some more personal questions. Meanwhile Rafayel is learning new things about human peculiarities both funny and concerning.

Content Warnings: Self worth issues caused by religious trauma.

Length: 3600

Chapters: (1) (2) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

~~~

The next day was more of the same. You woke up, made yourself from breakfast and started cleaning a new part of the temple. You had decided to work on the bedroom this time. The main issue was all the dust and you ended up tying a handkerchief around your face to help keep yourself from sneezing.

You had also finally entered the attached bathing room. Yesterday you had just availed yourself to the communal toilets on the main level since that was where you had spent most your day. The bathing room was in much the same state as the bedroom, covered in a fine layer of dust. The main problem was the large tub in the center of the room. In any other circumstance it would have been lovely, the large basin cut into solid marble, you could fit at least four people inside easily. But over the years a layer of moss and fungus had sprouted inside, coating the marble like a carpet. That took a lot of scraping and shoveling and scrubbing to get clean.

You were knelt in the center of the tub, trying to get the green ring stain out of the marble when Rafayel wandered in. “There you are,” he sat at the edge of the tub. “Keeping busy?”

“Someone has to repair this temple and I’m the only one here, so yes.” you wiped the sweat from your brow but only managed to smear more dirt and grime against it. “I assume you’re here to continue working on the journal?”

“Yes. But you are going to need to clean yourself up first. You’ll end up dirtying the pages with hands like that.” he picked up one of your hands and inspected the grime caked under your nails. “In fact, have you bathed at all since coming here?”

“I have rinsed…” you muttered, “But I haven’t really had the time to--”

“Up. Now.” he pulled you up and out of the tub. “You are not doing any more work until you’ve bathed. To be perfectly honest, you smell rather bad too. I let it slide yesterday because we were working but there is no excuse for this now.”

“Alright. I’ll go down to the baths--”

“What are you talking about? You just cleaned this one, use it.”

“If I use this one then I have to carry buckets of water up here to fill it. It’s just easier to go to the baths downstairs.”

Rafayel rolled his eyes and reached towards the head of the tub. There was a pipe over the basin but you saw no pump with which to call up water from. Behind the pipe was a large smooth gem that he put his hand over. He muttered something foreign to your ears and suddenly water began to fill the tub. Even more than that, steam was rising from it.

“But how--”

“A water gem.” he pointed to the gem behind the pipe. “Very rare. They provide unlimited water with the activation of certain phrases. “Calidum, for hot water. Frigus, for cold water. To get it to stop, say finis. Try it.”

You put your hand on the stone. “Frigus?”

There was a pause in the spray of water and when it returned you felt it was ice cold. You touched the stone again. “Calidum.” Another pause and hot water came out again. “Finis.” The water stopped. “Wow. Do you know how useful that would have been to know an hour ago when I was carrying buckets of water up here to scrub the floors?”

He smiled. “Well now you know. There should still be some soaps around here somewhere. Clean yourself up, I will be back.”

“Thank you.” You started the water again, going back and forth with the cold and hot to get it to a nice temperature and then sank in. When was the last time you had an honest to goodness hot bath? It was always such a hassle back home to get a hot bath all to yourself.

You let yourself relax, the feel of the hot water easing the pain in your joints and relaxing your muscles. Yes, you needed this. After a while of just soaking and enjoying the bath you picked up a rag and the soap and started cleaning yourself in earnest. You shouldn’t have been surprised by how nice the soap was but it still caught you off guard to smell something so pretty and floral. It smelled like plumerias and a whiff of coconut.

You were rinsing the suds away when the door banged open and Rafayel strode in again. You ducked under the water up to your neck, covering your body with your arms. “I’m still in here!”

“I figured you would be.” he didn’t seem perturbed by your nakedness or the clear panic you were exhibiting. “I brought fresh clothes. Those rags you’ve been wearing need a wash, if you still want to keep them that is.”

“Yes, thank you. You can leave now.” you curled into yourself, trying to hide your body more the closer he got.

“You’re awfully jumpy. What’s got into you?” he cocked an eyebrow up at you.

“I’m naked!”

“So?”

You swallowed back the urge to scream. “So I don’t want you seeing me naked. Please.”

“I assume this is one of those human peculiarities.” he shrugged. “The nude form is very natural, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You especially have a rather delectable form, from what I glanced when I came in at least.”

You were going to drown yourself in this tub. “Thanks. But I’d rather not wander around naked so freely. So can you please leave now so I can dry and dress?”

“Yes yes, I’m going.” he left the room. “We’re going to add these views on nudity to the book I hope you know. It’s ridiculous that you humans are so preoccupied with it.” He shouted from the bedroom.

“Got it.” you sighed, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. “Gods give me strength.” you muttered.

“Strength for what?” Rafayel shouted again.

“That prayer wasn’t for you!” you snapped. So he really could here your prayers…great. You needed to be careful about what you said now.

After you had drained the tub and dried yourself off you picked up the bundle of clothes that Rafayel had left for you. It was a pair of loose pants and shirt made out of the same linens that he wore. There were little shells embroidered along the sleeves and a wave design along the thigh of the pants. They were simple working clothes, easy to move around in and lightweight.

When you left the bathing room you saw Rafayel packing more garments into the standing wardrobe. He turned back to you and smiled. “There, that looks much better.” he walked up to you and pulled you close. You froze as his face was buried in your hair. “Smell much better too. Now we can work without you smelling like dirt and sweat.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” you protested. Your resentment covered the sheer panic of his sudden embrace.

“It was. Come along, mudskipper. Time to get writing.” he pulled you to the sitting area of the bedroom.

“First I’m a grouper and now I’m a mudskipper. If you’re going to keep comparing me to fish can’t they at least be cute? Like an angelfish or even a starfish would sound nicer.”

“How about a clownfish?” he deposited you in one of the chairs.

“Do you enjoy mocking me?”

“What? Do you not think clownfish are cute?” he tossed you the book and sat down in the chair opposite you. “Now, where were we?”

You flipped open the book with a roll of your eyes. “Let me see, we had just finished discussing how the title of Sea God is passed down through generations and I have a note here about partners to the Sea God. I think we left off talking about unions and the powers that romantic partners had if any.”

“Right,” Rafayel cleared his throat, “It varies from person to person, some gods chose to have a partner with which they could entrust helping to rule over the Lemurians, in that way it was very strategic. Others were more driven by their desires and chose partners with their hearts. Sometimes partners are equal rulers with similar ruling authority, sometimes they are figure heads, but there is no set in stone responsibilities for the partner of the Sea God.”

“Interesting.” you started writing everything down. “And what about children? Is there any chance that progeny of the current Sea God may be chosen as the new god or is it entirely up to chance?”

“It is entirely up to chance. Children of current gods do not automatically inherit their parent’s title. I only know of one recorded instance in which one of the children of a past god was selected as the inheritor.”

Your pen paused. “Rafayel, do you have a partner?”

His eyes widened a fraction before he shook his head. “No. I do not.”

You didn’t know why but your heart did a pitter patter in your chest hearing that. “Then, do you plan on marrying for strategy or for love?”

“I don’t really have any plans right now.”

“Alright, let me just write that down. Current god, Rafayel, is not one to plan for the future.”

“Hey! You can’t write that down!” his face turned pink.

“I’m the one with the pen so--ah!” you held the pen back as Rafayel tried to grab it. “You’re the one who tasked me with writing this book so I get to write my findings!”

“No, you write what I tell you to write. Now give me the pen.” he made another swipe for it but you leapt out of your seat. “Are you disobeying me, clownfish?”

“Of course not. I would never dare disobey my god.” you handed the pen to him. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

“But I will be taking this.” you grabbed the book and took off out the door.

“Oh! I see how it is! My sweet clownfish is actually a slippery little eel!” he took off after you.

There was a part of you that screamed that you shouldn’t be doing this. Everything you had learned, everything you had been raised as told you that you shouldn’t have been disobeying and teasing your god like this. If any of the priests or priestesses could see your behavior you’d be put on floor scrubbing for a year, maybe ten. But they weren’t here. None of them had actually completed their pilgrimages. None of them had spoken to Rafayel. According to what they taught you, and according to your god, you were more worthy than any of them. No one was here to say otherwise. You could do whatever you wanted. And you felt like having a little fun, and the fact that it was at the expense of a god made it all the funnier.

You were flying down the stairs, a wide smile on your face as you ran. You could hear Rafayel gaining behind you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be caught or not.

You glanced over your shoulder to see how close he was and your foot hit a chunk of fallen ceiling. Your body pitched forward, gravity helping send you down the last couple of steps.

“Watch it!” you were caught by the waist and tugged backwards with force. You were tipping back instead and you landed with a thud on the stairs, Rafayel cushioning your fall. “Ow.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” you rolled off him. “Are you okay?”

“No. I think this is it for me. I’m weak, this is the end.” he threw an arm over his eyes. “The light shall need to choose a new Sea God now. I am to descend into the abyss. Tell my people I died heroically, saving one of my acolytes.”

You could tell he was being dramatic but you saw the way he winced as he sat up and the rock that he had landed on was painted a deep crimson at the point.

Rafayel looked at you, the humor on his face disappearing. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he waved a hand in front of your face, “Say something, you’re starting to worry me.”

“You…you’re bleeding.” you murmured, horrified that he had gotten injured saving you.

“Ah that,” he picked up the rock and tossed it away to a corner. “Don’t worry about that. I was only joking, I feel fine. A little sore between the shoulder blades but nothing to get worked up about.”

“I’m sorry.” you drew into yourself, pulling your knees close to your body. “I’m so sorry. You got hurt because of me. I’m sorry.”

“You would have gotten hurt worse if I let you fall. We really need to work on that balance of yours. You have about as much grace as a fish on a dock.” he smiled at you. When you did not return it he inched closer. He reached out as if to touch you and you flinched back. He eased away.

“You’re shaken from the fall. I get it.” he said slowly, as if trying to coax a skittish animal, “But I promise I’m fine. You don’t need to feel bad about it. Accidents happen.”

“I…I…” you glanced around and saw the book splayed out at the bottom of the stairs. You stood up, ignoring the pain in your foot as you hobbled down and recollected it. “I need to go.” You set the book on the bottom step and limped out of the temple.

“Where are you going?” Rafayel raced after you. “Your foot is scraped, if you get sand in it it will only make it worse.”

You ignored him, your body taking you down the steps and onto the beach. You kept going until you got the shore where the ocean lapped at the sand. You waded into the water up to your knees. The salt burned against your wound but you didn’t retreat, the pain helped to ground you. Staring straight ahead your vision tunneled as it tried in vain to see past the horizon line.

You hurt your god. Actually hurt him. And for what? Because you wanted to tease him a little? What right did you have? Was this a divine punishment? Fate reminding you of your place? A mortal poking fun at a deity like he was an old friend. No. There were lines for a reason. You couldn’t cross them. No one was ever meant to cross them.

“Come back inside,” you heard Rafayel’s voice behind you. “Your foot needs tending.”

“I shouldn’t be in there. I don’t belong in that temple or on this island. I’m not worthy. I need to leave. I need to--”

“By the tides, not this again.” Rafayel groaned and with an ease that surprised you he hefted you out of the water and started carrying you back to the temple. “Here I thought you were finally done with all that aggrandizing. One little tumble down some stairs and suddenly you think you need to throw yourself into the ocean. Those charlatans on the mainland really messed with your self worth in the name of worshiping me, didn’t they?”

“What--what are you--” you stammered as he marched you back into the temple. “Please! Put me down. I don’t--I can’t--”

“Shush.” he brought you into the kitchen and set you down on the table. “Stay there.”

“But--”

“Stay.” he pointed and left out the back door. He came back with a bucket of water and grabbed a clean rag out of one of the drawers. Dunking it into the water he grabbed your injured foot and started dabbing away at the blood and sand. “And here the day was going so well. I finally got you to take a bath, we were having a nice chat, then we took that little tumble and it was like it reset you. You had better not start calling me Your Radiance again, I swear.”

“I shouldn’t have ran though. It’s not my place. I shouldn’t have done it and then you wouldn’t have had to help me and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and--” you went silent as he glanced up at you, that spark of blue flame alighting his eyes once more.

“Did I not say yesterday that you are allowed to feel whatever you please in regards to me? You can feel guilty if you wish but your guilt doesn’t get to erase the fact that you also feel comfortable with me. I like that you play. I don’t want you to stop on account of this one accident.” He patted your wound dry and tore a strip of fabric off of his sarong, wrapping it around your foot. “Understood? Don’t make me have to make it an order because that will go against everything I am trying to accomplish here.”

“What is it you want to accomplish?” you asked.

“I want to create followers that want to follow me out of devotion, not fear. If I can’t get you to not fear me, then what hope is there for the others?” he handed you the wet rag. “I know I can’t undo everything you learned, especially not in a day. But we are not going to spend this time with you too scared to say anything out of turn or show any displeasure. I may be your god but I do not control you. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“No. Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?”

You took a deep breath. “I understand what you want from me.”

“Which is?”

“To be devoted to you out of desire, not obligation or fear.”

“Good.” he turned around and you could see the wound in his back where the rock stabbed him. “Now, could you be so kind as to help clean this for me?”

“Yes. Of course.” You wiped at the blood trickling down his spin and pressed the rag over the cut to staunch the bleeding.

“Rafayel?” your voice felt as if it was a thousand miles away from your body.

“Yes?”

“You talk of being a god worthy of devotion, but do you not have any requisites of your followers? Is there nothing to make us worthy of your blessings outside of wanting to worship you? It seems unfair that you hold yourself to such a high degree but not us.”

“You wish to know what I think makes my followers worthy of my blessings and spared of my wrath?” he thought for a moment. “They have to be kind and honest. They cannot spread fear in hopes that it will gain me more followers or larger offerings. To be worthy, their actions and words must come from their souls. A sand dollar offered by a child that believes in me out of trust is worth more than all the gold shoveled onto a dais by fearful priests. Chasing you through the halls as you try to play keep away with me is more precious to me than this self loathing you carry about inadvertently causing me injury.”

“I understand.” A smile started to creep its way back onto your face. “I like this version of you far better than the one I learned about on the mainland.”

“Nice to hear it.” he glanced over his shoulder. “Almost done back there?”

“Oh right.” you had forgotten what you were doing for a moment. You removed the rag from his back. You were shocked to see that the wound had completely disappeared, gone as if it never existed, save for a small pink spot between his shoulder blades. “What…how did that happen?”

“I’m God of the Seas, water is a natural healer to me, be it fresh or salt.” he rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his back flexing as he did. “Now, how about we do something relaxing for the rest of the day? No cleaning, no writing, something simple.”

“Like what?”

“Want to learn how to play a Lemurian board game?”

“Sure.”

“Alright,” he glanced around the room. “Right, I need to go get one. Stay here, don’t go tripping over anything else, I will be right back.”

He left to dive back into the sea while you stayed sat on the kitchen table. You picked your foot up, inspecting the makeshift bandage over your foot. He could have gone and found actual bandages but he tore off part of his clothes just to dress your wound. Either he thought very highly of your foot or very little of his clothes. You ran a finger over the gold embroidery, contemplating.

It would take him some time to return so you carefully stood up and limped back out to the staircase. The book was still resting on the top step along with the pen that Rafayel had dropped. You picked up both and cracked open the book, penning a new note near the back.

“The god Rafayel wants more than anything for his followers to follow him out of love rather than fear. I think this shows more than anything that he cares for us more than the priests of old would have had us believe. He is a kind god,” you bit back a mischievous smile, “and he likes it when you tease him, so if you are reading this you should do it a lot. He really does like it. Just be ready for him to tease you right back.”

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lads mc #rafayel x mc #rafayel x reader #sea god rafayel #lads sea god au

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

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@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss

@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv

@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #steve is a history nerd

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credince--writes · 1 year ago

Text

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 9

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7- Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N: lil treat for everyone since it's been so long since i posted this fic

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire

All it had taken was the muzzle of a handgun stuffed into the poor fed’ saps mouth- gagging on the metal pushed to the back of his throat (before he pulled the trigger)- for Keegan to acquire the necessary materials (a donor radio) to repair his radio (Merrick was pissed).

Not only did he get a reaming that had to of ranked at least in the top four of his current reaming tally- he’d counted a least twenty-five times Merrick had broken some kind of communication guideline. But at the same time- who was going to complain? They were doing the dirty work- Merrick could cuss Russ out over the radio until the batteries died and he doubted any brass would give a shit as long as the papers came across their desk marked as a success.

He’d conveyed over to the Ghosts that regardless of his time spent there no, he was not injured (a blatant lie)- ‘just about as banged up as usual, sir.’, the objective hadn’t been reached yet (it had gotten more complicated, and it didn’t help he’d been down for… he really didn’t know how long. Asking would give it away.), and there was a surprising amount of federation presence in this valley (which signaled exactly what they were worried about).

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was Merrick calling his bluff. He’s used to getting away with it-

“You’ve been on a path of self-destruction since he died, Russ.” “I don’t need your fuckin’ pity, Merrick.”

“I need to know you aren’t a liability in the field.”

“When have I ever been? Just give me the file.”

Merrick paused, that twitch of the vein in his neck he’d always had when anyone managed to raise his blood pressure ten points. “Don’t make me regret this Russ.”

He didn’t linger on the fact that this was probably exactly what he was worried about regretting. That much so that when he’d watched Kick no so subtly kick Hesh and Logan out of the back of his bush plane and into the landing zone he’d nearly contemplated slinking back into the woods and just not coming out. But that damned dog would find him- he was sure of it.

He didn’t though.

Logans arms wrapped around him, pulling him forward and into a tight hug. “I’m so pissed at you right now-”

Keegan's ribs groaned in response, the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze and letting out a strained, quiet “Ow.”

His arms immediately retracted, scanning him up and down for visible wounds. Hesh lingering in the back, scanning the treeline with Riley at his side. He quirks a brow, glancing over at him. “You good?”

“Nothing a few hundred hours of sleep won't fix. You both didn’t need to come out-” And babysit me, you fucking pricks went unsaid. He turned, marching his way back on track- he's fulfilled the list of items that needed to be carried out before returning to you.

Soft hands, kind eyes.

Soup.

His stomach grumbled, much to his dismay.

“Where’rya headed? Towns the other way.” Logan piped up after twenty minutes of navigating the forest in silence.

“Not headed to town. Headed up the valley.” His reply was blunt- and had he been in any sort of a better mood he’d had filtered his words to come out less like a baseball bat to the teeth.

“I think what we’re getting at is where.” Hesh bluntly replied- matching Keegans tone. Glancing back behind him to make silent conversation via eye contact with Logan.

It was going to be one of those hikes, wasn’t it.

Sure a shit hope not.

“Base of operations. Unless you want to be sleepin’ in the woods for the next month. Shut your trap and get a move on.” Keegan had been reasonably bitchy, withdrawn into himself. It really hadn’t been that long since they’d buried Ajax. There was a far away look in his eyes more times than not, a certain glaze that hadn’t gone away. Either outright ignoring Logan most days, locking himself in his room.

Merrick had grabbed Logans shoulder, pulling him back from knocking on Keegans door not to long before he’d been sent off to these woods.

“It’s not the right time.” He’d offered.

Give him time to mourn, in his own way.

He’d wanted to bite back- like we were given time to mourn? Like we were able to shut ourselves out?

He didn’t.

“How far?” Hesh asked.

“Keeping low? Two day hike.”

One and a half days, then.

---

A lot of people don’t realize just how quiet the forest is at night. The lack of sound out in the sticks- when the birds have gone to sleep, when the bugs and frogs aren’t nearby. The occasional hum of a mosquito just to add a whining hum into the silence.

“Be a doll and check these for me, would you?” Keegan mused to no one in particular- pulling his vest off and pulling his shirt up and over his shoulders and into his lap. “Infection check.”

At least a bit of his baseline humor returning- “Anything for you, honey.” Logan joked back. Crossing the two steps over to him and kneeling down. Both he and Hesh shared a glance at the remnants of black and purple bruises splayed out across his ribs, back onto his shoulder. “What happened?” Tentatively pulling the bandage back to see a deep, angry gash next to his shoulder blade. “And who patched you up- you can’t reach back here, let alone patch yourself up.”

Hesh knew the bruises looked worse than they were- or at least hoped. Neither were strangers just to how much of a pain rib injuries could be- let alone lingering ones not treated properly.

“I had brunch with the locals. And the bandage fairy, kid, who else?”

“Seriously-” Hesh but into the conversation- frustration rising up in his throat.

“A Civ. Pulled me out of a ditch and licked my wounds.” He grumbled, as if the admission of it was like waving a white flag in failure- admitting that he did need help.

“I’m doing the op alone. I don’t need backup.” He tossed the folder back onto the briefing table. “That’s final.”

“Must’ve been pretty bad to down you.” Logan offered, trying to lighten the tension of the conversation.

Keegan's silence was answer enough. A silent admission- neither would press him on it. They both knew better. It was better to let it lie, for the time being.

----

One thing they can’t turn off as soldiers, especially after time spent in no mans land- is the light sleep. It’d saved their asses many times before, he’d agree. Fully alert, glancing to see Logan & Hesh, eyes open and on the same page as him.

Gunshots-

One thing you can’t hide, with the silence of the forest, it the piercing sound of gunshots. Even far away-

Rifle, most definitely. Multiple shots- rapid succession in a varying frequency. Not someone holding down the trigger of a full auto rifle. Multiple separate hands pulling triggers.

“Seven.” Logan spoke, hushed down and slipped into the role of soldier.

There are probably a number of times Keegan would be able to count on his hand that he’d truly felt dread. Fear creep into his hindbrain and claw at the back of his throat as his time as a Ghost.

“We need to move now.” Keegan all but croaked out, tone evening at the end and assuming the role of Sergeant, and nothing else. All three were up and moving in step, silence. No fire to put out- the light and smoke are too risky in their situation.

They both heard fear in his tone as they quickly, guns drawn, ran toward the sound of the gunshots.

Keegan wasn’t going to barge in, middle of the night under the cover of darkness to startle you out of your skin. His grandma taught him better manners than that- better to show up in the morning when he knew you’d be making breakfast and grovel then.

He knew he left on bad terms, but he was sloppy, he realized. The last time he was running in this direction it was away from a group of Federation scouts.

Was this to blame on him? Did he lure them to your home?

Your sanctuary?

Why had they waited so long, had they been stalking in the periphery the entire time he laid there? Were they expecting to find him within your doors- not you, oh God, he stares up to the sky for a moment, eyes narrowing on the bright sliver of moon in the sky.

You’d be in bed- and men would be there.

He shut his spiraling thoughts down, locked them deep within himself in that little box he’d refuse to open. Not now- maybe never.

He’d never forgive himself.

The sound of his breath, the occasional scrape of Riley’s nails against bare roots. The synched footwork of the three men breezing over the landscape and into the clearing he knew. Just above the incline would be your home nestled between the trees. Hidden from eyes for so long.

He saw the flashlight attached to a rifle, along with a corpse casting a bright streak of light into the field. Gunshot wounds would always be one of his least favorite things- the obliteration of flesh with buckshot no matter how often he saw it would always make something curdle in his gut.

Even if there was satisfaction of knowing that it was likely you were the one that pulled the trigger.

Good Girl.

He was broken out into a sprint, passing the corpse without a glance and running into the house through the doorway. Feed crunching broken glass beneath him- the thick, tangy smell of blood hitting his senses- rifle raised.

The house had been ransacked, broken glass and furniture tossed.

He knew Logan had assumed a shadowing position behind him, Hesh not far behind and ensuring no one snuck up on them from behind. Riley an alert presence watching his back.

He peeks from over the beam, a direct line of sight- line of shot to where the blood splatter and corpses piled to your bedroom. Navigating the living area with ease- practiced and knowing that a pile of magazines and books layed around that corner.

He payed no mind to the sound of paper rustling when Logan's foot caught it.

“Kitchens clear.” Logan muttered, moving back in step.

He clears the hallway, knowing not much is laid ahead and signaling Logan ahead as he stops over the bodies and into your room. The gore splattered from what he assumed to be a well placed twelve-gauge shot coated the right side of your wall, covering cabinet to ceiling.

The beds sheets hastily pulled back. Drops of blood misted against the comforter and pillow. The bedside table drawer thrown open, something pulled out from under the bed. You’d tried to run.

“House is clear!” Logan called, footsteps nearing his own from the hallway.

Hesh staged himself in the doorway, a knowing glance to the shattered glass against the wooden flooring. He wouldn’t step in with Riley- there was no need for unnecessary injury. Not with a cleared house and nothing but corpses amongst them.

Keegan was frozen, bile raised in the back of his throat as he stared at the bloodied cotton torn between the two men's hands. Logan's eyes lingered too, a grim, knowing expression washing over his features.

The angle of the shot, he followed through the house, implied you’d gotten to the front door. Implied you’d been able to kill three of them before you disappeared. Whether that of successfully escaping, running into the woods to hide or captured- he tried not to even will that option into existence.

That you’d peaked out from behind the beam, killed the men huddled in your doorway, and ran to escape.

He needed to find you.

Now.

He was moving- brain on autopilot and a vile monster curling over his skin. The cold, calculated and methodical practice of a Ghost meshed with the anguish and rage bubbling up inside him. He’d pulled a shirt from the ground of your bedroom, no blood splattered against the cotton.

He remembered it, you wore it the first day he was cognizant enough to remember you spoon feeding him soup.

“Riley!” Keegan bit out, completely detached. Logan flinched at the bite in his words, the emotion, devoid and removed from the obviously distressed man in front of him. Arm outstretched, passing the shirt to Hesh before marching towards the body laying in the grass to investigate.

“Seek.”

#call of duty #deep in those woods #Keegan russ #Keegan p. Russ #keegan p. russ x reader #keegan russ x reader

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