#because I refuse to eat meat that had gone grey

[david-watts]

well. may not be able to eat tonight lmao

[truglori]

Game Night...

(Heads I win...Tails you lose)

Synopsis: Game night at Erik’s crib with a twist...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Plus size OC

Warning: Language, Smutt

A.N- Inspiration was this picture

It was Game Night at Erik’s. He held them every other Saturday night and it was starting to become a ritual for Kaila to attend within the last month. When being surrounded by coworkers ,who became good friends, food, drinks, and music how could anyone turn down a time like this. Along with his beautiful luxurious bachelor’s pad Erik made a pretty good host.

Everything from wings with different flavors, a meat and cheese board, warm soft cinnamon pretzel bites, chicken and beef quesadillas, as well as different chocolates and chilled high class wine ,that Kaila wasn’t used to, had covered his antique walnut wooden dining table. Like she thought, he was a great host who had great taste and wasn’t cheap at all.

Standing in front of the miniature buffet with an empty plate Kaila was indecisive on what to get and how much. Still fresh to the friend group she was conscious on how much she ate in front of people that she wasn’t really comfortable with yet. Out of the six times she’s been here this was only her second time eating with them after getting pressured by her cubicle buddy ,Celina, telling her to make a plate before everything was gone.

Hearing the chatter coming from the livingroom, Kaila decided on a few slices of the quesadillas instead of the wings. She didn’t want to look like a pig knowing that she would try to suck the sauce off of her fingers afterwards. Filling up her red plastic cup with the cool wine she headed back into the huge living area. Spotting her purse and coat she sat in her spot and cuddled up with her belongings.

“See I told you, the food is good.” Celina smiled while sipping on her wine. She brought a hand to her hair stroking the box braids and giggled.

Kaila noticed that she had three cups prior so she knew that she was starting to become loose.

Laughing with her, Kaila shook her head and dug into her finger food. Looking at the small group she wondered how she was able to fit in with them. The group consisted of three women and three guys, Erik including as one of them. Every single person in their clique was extremely attractive and in shape. Her body type did not belong at all. There was always rumors going around the office about them setting up date nights to throw orgy parties. At least that’s what people assumed because they were so tight and never invited anyone else.

But Kaila had to take a chance and ask, since her desk buddy was a part of the famous group. So one day she asked Celina if it was true only to earn one of the most hysterical laughs in her face. She shut it down immediately and informed her the reason behind their closeness was because they all trained and got hired for their jobs at the exact same time and have been inseparable since.

Celina thought it was funny and invited her out so she could see that she wasn’t lying. Kaila refused the first few times but gave in after Celina had another one of their members, Leah, tag team against her insisting that she’d come. Kaila wasn’t an extrovert at all. Her regular day included work, talking on the phone with her baby sister who was away for college, and tv time with her cat, Snuggles.But she wanted to change that so she made Game Night at Erik’s a part of her weekend routines.

“Y’all mufuckas ready to get this bitch started.” Erik walked in finally making his presence known after being upstairs for half an hour. He was changed out of his work attire into something more relaxed. Nike grey sweats, a crisp white tshirt with his gold chains falling over it, and his Nike slides to match. His dreads were out of the braids that he only kept in while he was at work, now they were wild and free.

Kaila took in his frame. She watched as his muscles flexed from the slightest movements. Twisting open his personal bottle of Hennessy, she watched him take a long swig and shaking his head at the taste afterwards. She did a short giggle when she seen him hiss making his gold canines show. When Erik’s eyes turn to her direction she quickly averted her gaze to everyone else praying that she didn’t get caught staring.

This crush that she had for him was starting to be too much. At first she thought it would go away once she would find out that his body and personality didn’t mix but it became worst when she started to hang out with them. Erik was nothing like how she thought of him to be. Before hand she for sure figured him out as a smug and arrogant jerk but he was the total opposite. He was such a gentleman, sweet, and a charmer when it came to the ladies.

The littlest things he did like hold the door for her, or making sure that she wasn’t the last one going into a building whenever they went out for lunch to grab coffee. Kaila was falling for all of it. But after hanging out with them for so long Kaila noticed a few things about him. Yes, Erik was a sweetheart but he had a rough edge to him. When the drinks were in his system Erik liked to talk his shit, and he was nasty with it too. Of course all of the girls in the group would openly let him know that he could fuck if he wanted to. All except Kaila, she would never make a statement as bold as that no matter how much alcohol she had.

“About time nigga. The hell was you doing back there?” One of the guys, Tyler asked sitting in between Leah’s legs on the floor.

“My shit, my business bitch ass nigga.” Erik retorted playfully. He walked in front of his coffee table sitting in his chair. On the table had a display of all types of games. He sorted through them taking his time.

“Erik hurry up and pick a gamee.” Celina whined as she still sipped.

Glancing up he eyed everyone briefly. “The fuck is it, rush Erik night or sumn shit. Y’all niggas know without this y’all wouldn’t have shit else to do so calm the fuck down for I throw all y’all ass out.” He laughed drinking out his bottle.

“Hold up I didn’t say shit. I hope that’s not for everyone.” The thick dark skin girl who’s name was Keisha came in and sat down. Kaila thought she was the prettiest.

“Nah not you Keisha, you know you my boo.” He smirked.

She giggled doing the “period” motion with her hand. Kaila smiled sitting her plate on the floor beside her making a mental reminder to throw it away before she leaves.

Erik cleared his throat picking up a box. “Aight I got one. Do or Drink!” Sitting the other games to the side he placed the box in the middle.

Groanes and curses came from the other people. Kaila faced them amused with their reaction wondering what was wrong with the game he chosed.

“No Erik you always pick this game.” Leah flopped her hands to the side of her.

“Yeah I don’t like this one bae. You be making everybody drink and get drunk while playing this. Can we play something else.” Keisha sighed picking up her glass.

“No y’all only get drunk cause y’all mufuckas don’t know how to drink or hold ya liquor. Besides she ain’t never played this with us yet.” He spoke sorting the cards.

All of the attention went towards Kaila. Trying her best to shrink in her side of the couch she felt her cheeks heat up. Kaila hated when she was put on the spotlight in front of everybody. Bringing her cup to her mouth she sipped some hoping to calm her nerves.

“Kaila you ain’t never played this with us?” Troy asked.

Shaking her head she smiled timidly. “No but I guess I will tonight.”

“Kaila the game is real simple, all you have to do is draw a card, read it aloud so that everyone can hear you and you can either choose to do what it says or drink instead. Don’t worry about all that extra shit. Got it?” Erik asked her shuffling the deck.

“Yeah I got it.” She answered softly.

When he eyed her up and down part of her had to clenched her thighs to keep the wetness she felt down there from damping her panties and the other part wanted to run away from his gaze. The way he looked with his dreads covering his eyes was so enticing and it had her excited. Something she haven’t felt with a man in almost two years.

There was an order on how the rotation went. It was Celina, Keisha, Troy, Tyler, Leah, Erik, and lastly Kaila. She was okay with going last just to see how the game was to be played. It was easy to catch on to after the first few turns. Some of the draws that Kaila picked up were to risky for her so she had to drink for not doing them. Because she didn’t drink hard liquor Erik allowed her to take shots of the wine but for everyone else it was either tequila or some of his Hennessy. She was definitely starting to feel warm from the drinking she’s been doing.

Now it was going on the second round and it was Leah’s go,she had to draw a card. “Okay it says let the group go through your phones photo gallery for 60 seconds. Do this or take two shots?” She threw her card down looking for the shot glass.

Erik jumped up from his seat. “Unh uh hand it over. You passed the last time. Gimme your fuckin phone.” He chuckled walking near her.

Kaila laughed watching Leah try to keep her phone away from him but failed due to his tall and bulky stature taking it clean straight out of her hands. He held the IPhone to her face unlocking it and went to her gallery. Erik’s eyes went from entertained to lustful within seconds. Sucking in his bottom lip he glanced back at Leah.

“Damn girl. Yo shit pretty as fuck.” His low voice crept throughout the room. His eyes traveled down to her covered area.

Kaila, knowing what he was referring to, felt herself get jealous and turned on at the same time. She wanted him to look at her like that and speak to her the same way but she was to shy to say anything.

“Nigga let me see.” Tyler hopped up standing next to him. His mouth dropping when he saw whatever that was on the screen. “Damn Leah.”

Rolling her eyes Leah snatched her phone from their view. “Okay y’all niggas not bout to be fantasizing over my pussy.” She sat back on her end of the couch.

Erik shook his head walking to his chair. Picking up a card he read silently before trying to pick a new one. Celina sat up when she saw him and called him out.

“Uh Erik you never skip cards. What you doing baby boy?” She sat on the edge.

Erik smack his lips. “Nah not that one. Plus it’s my shit I could do whatever I want.” He spoke lowly going to the next card.

Keisha got up walking over to him. “No let me see the card because I ain’t never seen you skip one a day since I met you.” She tried picking it up but Erik snatched it away.

“Chill Keisha, watch out.” He grabbed her wrist lightly.

Keisha laughed. “Boy stop playing with me and let me see.”

Distracted by her going back and forth with him Erik wasn’t aware of Celina sneaking around the other side of him and successfully grabbing the card. She ran behind the couch and read it.

“Let’s see why Stevens was act like a pussy.” She slurred her words. “It’s says motorboat the person to the right of you for 15 seconds, even if they don’t have boobs. Do this or take three shots?”

Everyone looked to the right of him. Sitting at the end of the couch left only one person, Kaila. For the second time that night all eyes was on her. She wished that she could find a hole to crawl in and just die but that wasn’t possible for her. Hearing Celina read the card had her wishing that she would have just left it alone when he skipped the first time. She was embarrassed but she didn’t know if it was because the card dared him to put his face in her titties or that he wanted to skip the turn.

“Celina sit your drunk ass down and just leave the card alone.” Leah grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

“Oops sorry.” She burped putting the card back.

There was silence for a few minutes. For almost the whole night Kaila skipped her turn or declined when someone had to do something to her causing them to lose. She didn’t want to be the party pooper of the hour so she spoke up.

“You can do it if you want.” Her voice coming out lightly. Avoiding the stares from the others her eyes stayed on Erik’s.

His brows lifted up surprised. “Look don’t let Celina’s drunk ass pressure you into something you not down for Kaila.” The way he said her name made her squirm and Erik peeped it himself.

“She wasn’t but if you don’t want to I get it-“ She stopped her sentence when he stood up from his chair.

His body was now in front of hers. Kaila couldn’t help quickly glancing at the print that stuck out through his sweats. The feeling of his hand under her chin tilted it up startled her a bit.

“You wanna do this out here or we can go somewhere private? It’s up to you.”

The room was now quiet as everyone watched the two under the influence and yet still drinking from their cups. Kaila nodded as she stood up signaling that she would rather do it somewhere not in front of them. Stepping to the side she went in front of him and felt his hand on the small of her back.

“Don’t take longer than 15 seconds.” Celina laughed sticking her tongue out when they briefly looked back at her.

Kaila looked around aimlessly as Erik led her down his dark hallway. The only thing that could be seen was the faint wall art from the infrequent lightening outside that came through his windows due to the rainstorm they were going to have tonight. The closer they were to their destination the more the butterflies in Kaila’s stomach start to appear one by one.

“Here we are.” Erik pushed a tall black door opened revealing his master bedroom.

Kaila didn’t stop her eyes from wondering as she looked around. The theme color to his room was black and red. His king sized bed was placed in the middle with a Versace Medusa logo cover resting on top. Laying on the ground next to it was a large black and gold Persian rug. But what caught her attention was the wide mirror that was over his bed.

“You have a nice room Erik.” She sent him a light smile standing in the middle of the floor.

Erik closed his door with the weight of his body. He smirked watching her stand there timidly barely keeping eye contact with him. Erik knew that Kaila had some sort of crush on him but he never said anything about it because he didn’t want to embarrass her. She was always shy around him but was okay with talking to everyone else in the group. Erik couldn’t stand that shit. Watching her round face give her sweet smile to Troy and Tyler always made him jealous. He wanted to be the one to put it on her face but could never get the chance with her always running away from him.

Before she became a part of their group Erik already noticed Kaila around the office. The curve of her wide hips and thickness of her thighs that she would cover up lured him into her. There would be days when she wasn’t wearing her turtleneck and he could finally get a peak at her smooth and chocolate double D’s along with a whiff of her perfume. Erik’s mouth would began to salvitate as he became curious wondering how they would taste. Now he had the chance.

“Thank you. I appreciate that baby.” He chuckled walking to stand in front of her.

Kaila’s eyes averted down at the new pet name. Looking back up, his russet eyes met her chestnut colored ones. His teeth held the full bottom flesh between them. The moment she inhaled for the first time with their closeness Kaila smelled his cologne that sent signals down to her vagina. She could feel the sticky wetness that he was created and he hadn’t even touch her. Her chest rose and fell as her breath hiked up.

“So you ready? It’s only 15 seconds.” The sound of his deep voice had her doing kegals on an imaginary dick.

“Yeah let’s do this.”

The sudden movements of his hands going up to her breast spooked her. Wearing an off the shoulder ribbed dark grey long sleeve tub top Kaila was able to feel his fingertips against her skin. She did a soft moan from the contact hoping that he didn’t hear.

“Big ass fucking titties.” Erik spoke out loud not caring if she heard him or not.

He began to grope them. Bringing his hands to the cuff of them he played with her breast. Lifting them up and down. All of a sudden he was like a kid in a candy store. Kaila could feel her nipples harden on his hands, that frequently rubbed against them. She bit her lip.

Erik smirked watching her get aroused in front of him. He could feel the pebbles turning into rocks from his touch and when he saw her suck on her bottom lip his dick jumped. Wasting no time he lifted her breast up and dove straight in face first. With the combination or her soft titties and her scent Erik’s dick started to get rock hard. He knew then that he now wanted to add titty fucking to the list of nasty shit he wanted to do to her.

“Mm.” Kaila tried her best hide her moan. She didn’t want him to think she was a prude for moaning at something as little as this. It was all a part of a game for goodness sake, but she couldn’t help it. Reaching up she gripped his dreads holding on to him while he moved his head side to side.

The fifteen seconds was long and over with but he was still down there. What was only supposed to be a quick playful motorboat session turned into love bites and delicate sucks. Erik took his time placing a kiss on to each breast. Tracing his tongue over them and then giving a soft suck. He could hear her trying to suppress her moans, but he was working for them and wanted to hear them clearly.

Reaching behind her he slid his hands around her thick waist and then traveled down to her ass. Gripping her cheeks roughly through her leggings he pulled her body into his pressing her down on his thick and solid member. Still continuing his sucks on her breast he groaned hearing her give in.

“Erikk.” Kaila felt the flutters in her stomach and her toes curl when she felt his package bump her area.

“Hmm?” He was now moving up to her exposed neck never losening his grip on her ass.

“The game.” Her words came out as a whine.

“Fuck it. You can’t tell me you not tryna let me fuck right now. Letting me suck on you and shit. I know you wet as fuck down there.” The confidence he spoke with had her dripping even more.

Kaila brought her hands up to his biceps. She turned her head to give him more space to kiss. Squeals left her mouth every time he would grip her cheeks separating them. Kaila wanted to submit badly but was still undecided as she worried about the others listening to what could happen in this room.

Erik pulled away from her seeing that she was hesitant. That’s when an idea popped into his head. His dick was too hard for him to leave without feeling any type of warmth. Going into his nightstand he found the coin and flipped it before walking back to her.

“Alright I have this coin here that’ll decide on what I can receive from you. Since you’re so worried about that dumb ass game out there. We can play our own.”

Kaila’s knitted with confusion but she was curious.

“What type of game?” Her soft voice asked.

Erik licked his lips as she watched hers move. He tugged on her lower lip with his thumb and index finger before showing her the coin and handing it to her.

“If it flips on head I get some pussy and if it flips on tails I get some head. You down?” Stepping in her space he bent his head kissing on her neck. She was so soft to him and it was hard for him to stop.

Kaila observed the gold naughty coin. She never tried anything like this in her 24 years of living. It was new and exciting and with Erik being the person behind it tempting her, she wanted to give it a chance.

“Okay. You flip?” She handed the coin back rubbing her sweaty palms up and down her black leggings.

Taking the coin he strolled over to his bed. Sitting on the edge of it he patted the space next to it offering her a seat. Kaila worked up the nerve to walk over from the liquid courage that she was feeling from the wine. It was making her feel frisky and horny all in one. She sat next to him and smiled sheepishly.

Erik leaned back and smirked. He wrapped an arm behind her as he got ready to flip the coin. “Heads I win...Tails you lose.” He chuckled as she understood the double meaning.

He tossed it up just a few feet above them and caught it quickly with the same hand.

“Hold your hand out.” He demanded and placed the coin flat on her palm. There was a pause for a few seconds before he lifted his hand. It landed on tails.

“Hope you know how to suck some dick.” He reached his hand behind her smacking her ass.

Kaila got up and stood in front of him. Rolling her eyes at his cockiness she pulled her braids up into a bun wrapping them around to keep them out of the way. She pushed him back causing him to lean on his elbows. Getting on her knees he started to rock his leg side to side. Tugging at his sweats she pulled them down along with his briefs making his semi-hard long and girthy length pop out. From the size alone Kaila got intimidated know that if he knew how to work with it he would make her go crazy.

Erik pulled on the hem of his shirt hiking it up to show his abs. He reached down grabbing the base of his dick whirling it back and forth. “I don’t wanna feel no teeth. You hear me?” His command coming out crystal clear.

Nodding her head Kaila leaned forward giving him a gentle kiss. The thick mushroom tip felt good against her lips. She hasn’t been with a man in almost two years so she wasn’t sure if she still had it. But tonight she would find out knowing that Erik would have no problem letting her know.

Getting her mouth wet she let a long sting of saliva drip on to his length. Sticking out her tongue she ran it against the sides wetting his stick up before taking him into her mouth whole. Erik was a challenge so she wasn’t going to get him down in one fit. She’d have to work her way down. She let him slide in and out of her mouth twirling her head when she would reach his tip. Taking one of her free hands she stroked his shaft while shoving her other hand in her leggings rubbing her clit. The feeling of having a dick grow in her mouth made Kaila’s pussy drip and nipples hard.

Looking up she watched as Erik kept his eyes on her. His jaws tightening from her locked jaw that she had on him. The ‘gawking’ sound coming from her made his balls jump. Erik’s eyes now became low as he reached for her braids unraveling the bun and created a ponytail with his fist.

“That’s how you sucking Daddy dick?” He asked surprise as he now sat up leaning on his free hand watching her perform her work of art.

When she felt him hit the back of her throat she answered him on purpose so that he could feel the vibrations. “Mmhm.”

“Ahh SHIT!” Erik threw his head back feeling how her throat had clenched around him. Kaila surprise the fuck out of him. He never expected a head monster behind that quiet little desktop bookworm facade she had put on, but everyone know that they be the main freaks.

She was sucking his shit sloppy just the way he liked it. Her tight warm jaws had his heads in the clouds. Kaila’s head game was starting to get so good Erik felt like he had to do or say something to throw her off.

“Let Daddy slut this muthafucking throat out....gah damnn.” Standing up he lifted his crisp white shirt up to his mouth tucking it in between his teeth. Grabbing her braids and making a ponytail with one hand he cupped her chin with the other as he fucked her throat.

When the spit began to run down her chin and hit her top it reminded Erik of her big chocolate melons that he wanted to fall asleep on. He had got to feel them now he wanted to see them.

“Pull them big ass fuckin titties out.” He spoke with his shirt still clenched in his teeth making his dimples show.

Kaila heard comply to his orders. She pulled the top down and her strapless bra up and began to play with her nipples for him. Using the spit that dripped on her chest she rubbed it on her pebbles as her mouth became wetter with her arousal. She brought a hand back into her pants and tweaked her nub.

Erik watched her play with herself knowing that head wasn’t the only thing he was trying to get from her for the night. If she could suck dick this good he only imagine what that pussy was feeling like.

“Mouth to fuckin good to not try and fuck. You gon give me sum pussy after?” His hips still stroking in her mouth. Kaila tried to push him out by his thighs but he pushed her hands away. “Move them fuckin hands and answer my question.”

Closing her eyes trying to breathe through her nose she nodded her head. Erik smirked as he pulled out of her mouth. Dick standing up and dripping with her saliva.

“Get yo ass on this bed.” He took off his shirt and stepped out of his sweats and underwear leaving him in his naked glory.

Kaila got on the bed, kicking of her shoes she laid on her back looking at herself in his mirror that was above them before she felt him pulling at her leggings. She squealed from the quick action lifting up to help him get them off. The moment the air touched her thighs she grew self conscious of her appearance. Erik noticed when he opened her thighs climbing between them.

“Instead of being worried bout how thick these thighs are you should be worried about how you gon take this dick.” He leaned up and tapped his heavy meat on her covered clit.

“Ooh.” Out of reaction Kaila moaned and shut her thighs closed.

Erik grabbing them and pushing them back to their previous position. “Unh uh. Open ya fuckin legs. I know you got some good warm wet ass pussy. I can feel the heat coming off that muthafucka and I ain’t pull ya panties to the side yet.”

His dirty talk was making her pussy throb. Kaila wanted to feel that heavy dick split her open even if she cried right after. Erik spoke with big dick energy because he know he had big dick to deliver.

“I want some dick.” Her shy hushed words coming out. Kaila didn’t usually speak like this but Erik brought it out of her.

He smirked and grabbed her the back of her thighs and lifted them up pushing them on her stomach. “Oh you gon get this dick, but I wanna eat this pussy first.”

Without warning he bent his head down between her thighs. Using his teeth he dragged her panties to the side. Kaila jump feeling his breath on her lower lips. She started to brace herself when she felt a long lick go up and down her slick coated slit. Taking his hand he used it to separate her meaty flesh. Her natural juices sticking to the sides

Erik groaned biting his lip. “Mm I know you be making niggas drown in this shit.” He watched her hole open and closed as he spoke to it.

Spitting on her clit he went straight to sucking on it. Erik had to stop her legs from snapping on his head. He used the all the upper strength he had to hold her thick thighs down all the while never letting up on her clit. Keeping his mouth around her he flicked the bud repeatedly. Her juices started to drip out already soaking his beard. The smell of her sex made his dick jump with anticipation. He was ready to feel her in some type of way. Bringing his tongue down he began to tongue fuck her tight hole. She clenched down on him as he slid in and out of her walls. Using his thumb he rubbed her clit adding to her pleasure

“Ohh fuuckk....I’m about to cum babyy.” Kaila covered her mouth to try and lower her whining moans but the way he stuck his tongue in her made it impossible.

“Let that shit out.” Smacking her inner thigh he went back sucking her clit. Erik felt how tight she was on his tongue. He knew he had to open her up a bit to get her ready for his dick. He took two fingers and slowly worked them into her.

Kaila lifted her hips to meet his strokes as she felt herself come undone on his fingers. The suction he was applying on her clit brought tears to her eyes. Her legs shook already giving out. Erik lifted up bringing his fingers to his mouth sucking her essence.

“I’ll have game night every day just to get up in this pussy.” He rubbed his tip against her clit. Using her natural lubricant he made himself slick enough and sat at her tight opening. Erik lifted her thighs back to as far as they were able to go and used the weight of his hips and thrusted inside of her.

“Ahh FUCK!! Gah damn. Wait a minute.” He pulled out instantly and closed his eyes. He chuckled lowly shaking his head. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m not beatin this shit down.” He gripped Kaila’s thighs pulling her to the edge of the bed. He had her at an angle and was standing up.

Kaila squeaked. “Erik wait don’t go too deep-“ She was cut off feeling him sink inside of her. Her arms flailing over as she gripped his sheet. Mouth ajar and formed into a silent ‘o’ as she felt herself getting stretched open to max she’s ever been.

—

Erik wasn’t playing when he said he was going to beat her pussy up. The size or weight of her body didn’t stand a chance to him. He was in beast mode as he drilled her shit in. Kaila’s cry’s and moans fell on deaf ears as he was hitting her spot. No matter how much pushing at his chest she did, it didn’t change the pace or motion he was going in. She had already came on his dick two times but that didn’t mean anything to him.

Kaila whimpered as she brought her hands to his hips to try and stop him. “Daddyyy please l-I can’t.” She brought a hand up to her mouth and bit on her knuckles.

Erik ignored her knowing that she was only speaking because of the sensitivity of her pussy started to probably grow higher the more he stroked her out. The minute he felt her pussy wrapped around his dick Erik got stuck. Her warm and gushy walls clenching him every time he tried to pull out. There was no way she wanted him out of this pussy.

“Move ya fucking hand and take some dick.” He barked as his dreads hung over his eyes and chain swung low. He pulled out tapping on her clit only to slide back in deeper this time.

“Unh..okayy.” She cried frustrated that she couldn’t run

He had her thick frame bended up like a pretzel. Looking between their bodies that was starting to sweat up, Erik watched the way he slid in and out of her. Her coat attached on to his dick. The way he could see her pussy throb around him. But the way she would involuntarily clenched her walls around him when he would pull out only leaving his tip in had her flipping Erik’s crazy switch.

Erik wanted to laugh when he saw the tremble in her lower lip and her tears coming out the corner of her eyes. He was giving her that good dick and he loved watching her get ruined in front of his face. Leaning over her he started to suck her nipples while his stroke never faltered.

Glancing up at the cieling Kaila watched him stroke deep inside of her in the mirror. The rotation of his hips along with his slight curve he had on his dick was sending her to another dimension. He was digging so deep inside of her it had her mind making up scenarios of having a family with him. It was the way he stroked her and fed on her nipples at the same time that had her seeing stars on his wall.

Kaila gripped his dreads. She moaned and whimpered with panted breaths. She couldn’t control the level of her voice. When his strokes were short and fast she’d moan but when he started tapping at her bottom her toes would curl and she’d whimpered and shake underneath him. Kaila didn’t have a clue when she would be able to find another person to hit it the way he did or if there would be another at all.

“Ohh daddy....you so deep in my pussy.” Her sexy moans in his ear had Erik ready to bust. He lifted from her tittes and gave her a nasty kiss. Tongue and all. Kaila moaned and clenched down onto him. Erik’s fingers dug into her skin and sucked on her lip.

“You gon let me nut in this tight ass pussy?” He whispered in her neck.

Kaila shook her head yes willing to agree with anything while he was laying that pipe on her. “Cum in me daddy.”

Erik wanted to hold off but the pussy was hitting too good. He stood back up and stroked until he bottomed out inside her. He’d always get his best nuts when he would go deep. Tucking his lip into his mouth his deep long strokes started to slow feeling his balls tightened. Erik closed his eyes when she gripped his meat and pulling his seed right out of him.

“Fuck!” He groaned and continued to stroke his nut out until he was empty. He pulled out of her with her cream coating his member.

His dick was still hard. Kaila was laying in the same position. Her thighs sore and unable to close from staying open that long. Sitting up she rested on her palms to observe him. Erik’s eyes was glued to her pussy before taking his hand and rubbing her clit.

“I can’t stay out this shit.” He licked his lips.

Kaila shyly smiled as she was about to speak when she heard laughing on the other side of the door.

“Now y’all niggas know them 15 seconds been up.” Celina stated loudly before laughing along with the others.

Her hand covered her mouth as embarrassment clouded her face. She pushed his hand away.

“See Erik I told you.” Kaila whined getting up.

“Wait,where you going?” He asked stepping in front of her.

“I’m going back to the game.”

“We not done here yet. Now come flip this coin to see what you could get. This head...or... this dick.”

_____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

(Going to have to edit this later)

Tag-list

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee-blog @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaanime @bellanay @skylahb @toni9 @iambabyharry @kiabialia @youlovetkay @lahuttor @kehlaniswifee @childishgambinaax @readingaddict1290 @sociallyawkward18 @iamching07 @sourbabynaee @unholyxcumbucket @ladymac82 @efonteno @xsweetdellzx @shalynn-m

[hockeyboysimagines]

Guess I always knew

Prequel to Say it to me Softly.

Pairing:Nolan Patrick x Sawyer Grey(OC fem)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, parties, alcohol, sexual situations, fluff, angst, harassment, fighting.

Hi all! This is really long, but it had to be done! Just some fun Nolan and Sawyer moments through the years until he asks her to move with him. Hopefully it can give you some background on them and you enjoy it!

-💕

Toast popped up just as Delaney wrapped the hair tie around the bottom of Sawyers braid

“Viola.” She said smiling and pulling it tight. Sawyer smiled at her sister as her mother pulled the toast up and put butter on it. It was a warm early summer morning and a cool breeze was drifting through the open screen door in the kitchen. The radio was on, Sawyer’s mother, Anna humming along with the radio as she moved about the kitchen making breakfast. Mason was in his high chair eating cereal, and she could hear Liv making her way downstairs. Kellan was seated at the island reading the sports section of the paper.

“ Alright.” Delaney said, finishing her orange juice and placing her plate and cup in the dishwasher “I’m out.”

“Where you off to today?” He mom asked as she stirred pancake batter, bowl perched on her hip.

“Heading to the lake with some friends, shouldn’t be home too late.”

Her mom smiled, as Delaney dropped a kiss in Mason’s head and slugged kellan in the side. She waved to the girls and her mom.

“Del?” She turned hoisting her bag over her shoulder, hand braced on the door frame.

“Be careful. “

She smiled “Always am mom.” She breezed out the door, the sound of her flip flops on the gravel growing faint until she reached her car and pulled out of the driveway.

“How bout you?” Her mom said turning to Kellan. He stood drinking the last of his coffee, and stretched setting the paper down.

“I’m heading out to pick up some bait, then I’m gonna meet dad out at the mill and we’re gonna go fishing and then we’ll be home with dinner.” She smiled and wiped her hands on her apron, accepting a kiss on the cheek as he walked to put his boots on.

“And you?” Sawyer smiled and before she could say anything she heard her name being called from the driveway.

“Why do I even ask?” He mother chuckled and opened the window.

“Good morning Nolan honey! Are you hungry?”

“Good morning Mrs.Grey! No thanks my mom wouldn’t let me leave without eating. She said she has flowers to drop off for you later today!” Sawyer shoved her feet in her sneakers and put her plate and cup in the dishwasher before giving her mom a quick hug and waving to her siblings.

Nolan was sitting on his bike at the bottom of the driveway, backpack strapped on his shoulders. Sawyer heaved her own bike up, throwing a leg over it and hoisting herself up on the seat.

“So what do you want to do today?” Nolan asked as they began pedaling down the gravel road.

Summer had just started, and they had 3 whole months of free time with no school, no teachers and no responsibility.

“ I don’t know. It’s not warm enough to go swimming.”

He shook his head as they continued down the road waving to various neighbors and classmates. The sun was out now, high in the sky beating down and burning their shoulders. They ended up pedaling out of the neighborhood and dropped their bikes at the end of a hill and hiked to the top. They could see almost the whole town from there. Nolan was stretched out laying on his back eyes closed. Even at 12 Nolan was all legs and arms, hair shaggy that he refused cut. His mom had given up chasing him around with scissors and threatening bodily harm if he didn’t keep it short.

“I’m so glad schools over.”

“Yeah me too. No more homework, no more class, no more hockey.”

“You love hockey.”

“ Well yeah I do but I like a good break now and again you know.”

They sat for a while talking about the important stuff all 12 year olds talk about until it got too hot. They trekked back down the hill and decided to go to Nolan’s. The sun was shining and the air was warm and what should have been the start of a fun filled summer was the day their lives were about to change. Nolan’s mom had come frantically running from the front door when she saw them coming up the front walk and ushered them both into the car.

Delaney Grey was gone, her car abandoned, and no one knew where she was. Sawyer watched the following days destroy her parents, and turn her world upside down. The discovery of her car and her body later on would change the course of Sawyers entire life. She would forever be known as the girl who’s sister was murdered. Nolan was more important to her than ever. His mom took her in, keeping her shielded and protected from things she didn’t need to see, and stepped in when her mom couldn’t.

Time passed, the wounds healed but her parents were never the same and never okay. A lot of it passed so quickly she woke some days and didn’t remember. But the time they turned 15 rumors and stares mostly died down, until the anniversary. It would always be a part of her, and something that would always affect her. But she had Nolan. So she would fine.

******

“Gosh it’s so hot.” Jessi was sitting on a lawn chair in Sawyers backyard, sunglasses perched on her nose. Jessie had become an unexpected and close friend over the school year. They had met in English class, and paired together in a project. Jessie had a purple streak in her long dark hair, and a nose ring but she was funny and the only person who she could spend long amounts of time with besides Nolan. He even liked her, and the two of them got along well. The girls had been laying out in their bathing suits for almost 45 minutes and the most color they had gotten was sunburn. Sawyer closed her eyes and tipped her head back. It was rare to have peaceful moments like this so she was going to cherish it.

“Speaking of hot-“Jessi lowered her glasses and nudged her chin forward. Nolan and Chase, along with some other guys she didn’t know had just pulled into her driveway.

“Are you sure you never hit that?” Jessi was talking about Nolan, as always. She didn’t understand how ‘two people so attractive could exist as just friends without sex’.

“No Jess, I have not.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna now? I mean damn.”

“If you think he’s so hot why don’t you-“

“He’s way out of my league babe. I wouldn’t even try it. But you should.”

Nolan had immediately tried to get them to leave her driveway the minute they pulled up and he saw she was wearing a bikini.

“Oh hell no.” Chase said practically jumping out of the car. “Sorry Pat. You said I couldn’t touch, but you said nothing about looking.”

Nolan mumbled something and followed his friends into her backyard, already regretting not calling. Why couldn’t she be wearing clothing?

*******

Sawyer closed her locker, balancing her books in one arm as she clicked the lock shut. It was raining but it was Friday and school was halfway over. As she turned she bumped into a chest. She looked up, about to scold Nolan for sneaking up on her when she was greeted by Kyle Welch. Kyle was the captain of the football team and a pretty well known colossal dick, but all the same he was popular and someone she had never even spoken to. Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead and she took a step back.

Hi. Your Sawyer right?”

“I-Uh yeah?”

“Your in my English class right? We should study sometime.” He was smiling at her, all teeth like a fucking dragon. He was looking at her with the strangest of looks, one that made her very very uncomfortable. Like she was a piece of meat, a toy for him to play with.

“Uhm. Sure. I guess.”

He gave her another smile and a nod before walking down the hallway and disappearing.

She shook her head, still confused but began her walk to the cafeteria. She found Nolan and the rest of her friends seated at the usual table. She sat between Nolan and Chase, across from Jessie, still bothered by the exchange at her locker.

“Your never going to believe who asked me to study today.” She said as she bit into an apple slice from her spot between them.

“Who?” Chase asked turning to her, mouth full of sandwich.

“Kyle Welch.”

Nolan’s bottle of water banged loudly off the table as he dropped it and his head whipped towards her.

“He what?”

She nodded and as she went to speak Kyle himself passed by their table sending her a smile. Nolan was glaring at him so severely, if looks could kill Kyle would be dead and the football team would be out a captain.

“No fucking way are you helping that guy study.” Nolan said, face set in stone.

“Yeah I’m gonna have to second this one.” Chase said from her other side.

“I wasn’t going to anyways, I think he just did it to be a dick.” She could feel heat and tension radiating off of Nolan, though she wasn’t sure why. As far as she knew they had never had any interaction, and ran in separate circles. But he was still glaring at him all the same.

“I heard some pretty messed up shit about that guy.” Chase said, eyeing Kyle from across the room.

“Like what?” Jessie asked. She was staring at Nolan who was still visibly angry, eyebrows furrowed. She glanced at Sawyer, who shrugged and turned her attention to Chase.

“ I mean it’s just a rumor but someone said that spiked some girls drink at Jenny Miller’s party last year. And I guess she isn’t the only one. Apparently he’s done it before. Like I said, just what I heard but still alarming eh?”

“Just stay clear of him.” Nolan snapped. He was quiet for the rest of lunch till the bell rang. He gave her a long look as he stood, and then turned abruptly and left the cafeteria without another word.

“What’s his deal?” Jessi asked, making Chase roll his eyes.

“You know Nolan. Come on.” He said nudging Sawyer “We’re gonna be late.”

She had always tried to keep her distance from Kyle and his group of friends in general. Nolan had an issue with him that she never truly understood but because it was Nolan she trusted it was for a good reason. She was following behind Chase on the way to history, but as he rounded the corner Kyle reappeared in front of her separating them. Chase kept walking unaware that she was no longer behind him.

“Oh hi.” She said taking a step away from him. The hallway was mostly empty and he was way too close to her.

“So about studying. How about later?”

“Oh I Uhm. I don’t know.”

“Come on. My parents are gone for the weekend so we’ll have the place to ourselves.” He reached forward, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She froze. Nolan had a habit of tucking her hair behind her ear, but it felt all wrong when Kyle did it, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“I can drive you to my house. It’ll be fun.”

“I usually drive home with-“

“Me.” She jumped and turned to find Nolan coming up behind her. He was glowering at Kyle over her shoulder, who looked at him unfazed.

“Is this your boyfriend or something?”

“Yeah I am. Let’s go.” He steered her away by the waist, and down the hall away from him.

“What the fuck was that about?” He stopped suddenly and spun to face her.

“He wanted me to come home with him after school. I said no.”

He rubbed his forehead eyes closed “Go to History. And wait for me after school. “

He left, storming down the hall leaving her standing in front of her classroom. After class she said goodbye to Chase and stuffed her books into her locker before walking out the back entrance of school. The rain had stopped but it was damp and chilly as she walked, avoiding puddles on the sidewalk. She rubbed her arms through her sweater, and as she turned the corner to the back of the building she stopped.

Kyle and a few of on his football buddies were hanging around, and turned to face her. Kyle smiled slowly, and gave her a once over, making her feel like she needed a shower. She felt trapped for a moment when she realized she was alone, the closest person being way ahead of her in the parking lot.

“Hey. Decided to take me up in my offer eh?” She was still glued to the spot.

“I was actually heading to meet Nolan. Excuse me.” She tried to brush past him but he grabbed her arm.

“Hey where you going?” He pulled her closer, fingers gripping her skin painfully. The other guys had wandered over, circling around laughing. She broke from his grasp only to have him catch both of her wrists and pull him to her.

“You should be thankful I’m even giving you the time of day.” He said coolly “Now how about you come get in my car and we’ll go to my house and you can get on your-“

“What is this?” Nolan had turned to corner with Rhett and Chase. Kyle released her and held his hands up. She bolted to Nolan, falling into his arms holding back tears. Had he not turned the corner she had no idea what would have happened. Kyle and his friends turned to leave, and he yelled over his shoulder.

“Have fun slumming Patrick.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Whoa buddy. Calm down.” Chase said peering around him to look at her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine I just really wanna go home.” She swiped at a tear, as more came rolling down her cheeks, she heaved in a ragged breath. He had scared her, and made her feel small. She wondered if this was how her sister felt when she knew she was in trouble that day. Small and scared. And alone. Nolan ducked his head down to look at her.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay let’s just go.” She walked with them to the car, several student noticing her red eyes and tears. She got in quickly, while Nolan said goodbye to the guys. The ride home was quiet. Too quiet. She felt disgusting, and every time she closed her eyes she could feel his breath on her face and his hands on her skin. Nolan was gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white face unreadable. When he pulled up to her house, he parked and sighed. No one was home, and though normally he would drop her off, he got out.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

She nodded and he followed her up the front steps and in the front door. She was still crying as she dropped her backpack by the door.

“Sawyer.” He said softly. She turned, head bowed and he very gently wrapped her in a hug, sobs wracking her body. They stayed like that for a while, till she was all cried out.

******

Nolan had completely forgotten that he promised Bo he would do an “interview” the best day. While he was annoyed, he was also relieved. They had been friends for a long time, and Bo took his mind off getting in his car and driving to Kyle’s house to murder him. Sawyer was going to come over afterwards. She was still upset, but was doing her best to mask it. He felt guilty for letting her walk out of school alone that day, when he would typically meet her by the entrance.

After the whole thing was over and Bo ended the interview, miffed that Nolan had answered the phone before he was done speaking, Nolan hung up and turned back to Bo who was smiling mischievously.

“ So?”

“What?”

Bo rolled his eyes “We all know who your best friend is Pat and we both know it’s neither one of those guys.”

Nolan rolled his eyes and scowled “ Leave her out of this.”

“I would but she’s just so hot-“

Before Bo could say anything else Nolan had pulled the back of his shirt over his head and had him in a tight neck lock. The other guys laughed immediately trying to turn the camera back on.

“Alright Jesus let go Pat! I was joking!”

He released him and pointed a finger threateningly at him as Bo straightened his shirt and started giggling.

“I’m serious-“

“I know Pat I would never do that. I thought you knew me better than that.”

That was Nolan’s worst fear. Most of his friends knew better than to even think about asking Sawyer out but it didn’t stop them from looking and making comments. The speculation that surrounded them had grown huge by the time they were in high school, and while it was exhausting to have to answer the same questions over and over again Nolan found that he didn’t really mind that people thought there was some attachment between them. It kept guys away from her and while he knew it was selfish he couldn’t help it. He just didn’t think anyone was good enough for her. He had purposely said someone else’s name when Bo asked so that they would leave him alone about her and it had backfired anyways.

It was frustrating for Nolan to know that given the opportunity all his friends would make some type of move on her, and he would break both his legs before that happened. He tried to keep a barrier between her and them but most of the time it didn’t work. She was just so damn friendly and approachable, her big smile pulled people in like a magnet.

“ I thought she’d be around, where is she anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Bo held his hands up, and as if on cue Sawyers car pulled into his driveway. Nolan had tried to hurry the process of the ‘interview’ hoping they would be gone before she got there but Bo had spent so much time goofing around they were behind schedule.

Great.

She stepped out, closed the door and made her way to Nolan’s back yard. Her hair was curly today, falling down her back to her waist. She had on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve grey shirt. Even completely covered the other guys had already given her a thorough once over and continued to stare as she came to stand next to him. Nolan gave Bo one last glare

“Hi.” Nolan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. For whatever the reason Nolan got slightly possessive over her in situations like this, which didn’t make sense because he wasn’t her boyfriend. But the arm that he wrapped around her shoulders stayed there, keeping her pulled flush to his side.

“Hi Bo.” She smiled at him, practically making the other guys flood Nolan’s yard with drool.

“Hey. Your boy here just hit me with a plastic ball right in the junk.”

“Well you probably deserved it.”

Nolan laughed and bid Bo and the others goodbye, as they filed out of his yard, and Sawyer followed him up the steps to his room and threw herself down on his bed. He pulled open a drawer and pulled his shirt off to put on a new one. Sawyer turned and felt a blush creep up her neck while he changed. She had seen him shirtless plenty of times but he had obviously been spending extra time in the gym and his long lanky frame was beginning to change.

What the hell am I saying? She shook her head and turned her attention to the tv instead, trying to ignore shirtless Nolan on the other side of the room. He pulled another shirt over his head and came to sit next to her.

“Tired?” He asked. She was curled in a ball, head on his pillow. She nodded and closed her eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep last night after you know-.”

He nodded “I’m still mad about it. But that’s never gonna happen again.”

He laid down next to her, settling in and flipped the tv on and she inches closer resting her head on his shoulder. She had an angry purple bruise on her wrist, another on her upper arm. He was pissed just looking at it. It was a reminder that he hadn’t been there to protect her.

Her eyes had slid closed. He was so warm and inviting and she felt safe and relaxed for the first time in 24 hours, as she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders. He felt her body grow heavy, and her breathing even out and grow slow. They were alone in his house, his parents and sisters were gone and would be for several hours. He reached a hand up and ran it tentatively through her hair. He always had his hands in her hair. It was thick and soft and caught the light just right when she moved. She stirred slightly, and wrapped an arm around his midsection, sighing. Her eyes opened and she tipped her head back to look up at him.

Nolan suddenly felt an extreme urge to kiss her. His eyes moved to her mouth, which was less than 6 inches from his own, and then back up to her eyes again. They stayed that way for a few moments before Nolan leaned forward slightly hand coming up to her face. Her heart rate increased as his nose brushed against hers. Their lips had just touched when the sound of a slamming door from downstairs made them jump apart and Sawyer moved clear across the bed away from him before standing up quickly. Nolan was alarmed at what had almost just happened and was rooted to the spot. She was backed up against the wall like a animal cornered in a cage, eyes large.

“Sawyer I-“

She hurried from the room, the sound of her feet carrying down the stairs, out his front door and into her car. He threw himself backwards and sighed.

Fuck.

******

Sawyer was standing with Jessie drink in hand when Bo came up behind her and bumped her shoulder.

“Your boy is here.” He motioned behind him with his head, and Sawyer rolled her eyes.

“He’s not my boy.” She looked over Bo’s shoulder and felt a twinge of annoyance. Nolan was standing with Rhett and Chase surrounded by a group of girls all giggling and twirling their hair around their fingers, giving them their best doe eyes. One girl in particular had Nolan’s attention, as he leaned against the wall hands in his pockets smiling as she spoke to him. The twinge of annoyance became anger. What the hell was he doing? He had nearly kissed her earlier that afternoon and now he was flirting with someone else?

“Kaylee Smith eh?” Jessie shook her head and took a sip out of her solo cup “Is anyone gonna tell him it’s supposedly like a cave down there?”

Bo stifled a laugh and looked at Sawyer. She was gripping her cup, other arm folded across her midsection.

“Well isn’t that just fucking cozy.”

She downed the rest of her drink and pushed through the crowd to get another one. Bo and Jessie watched her go before turning back to each other.

“This isn’t going to end well.”

“Maybe I should go warn Pat.”

Bo turned and weaved through the crowd of people, and gave Nolan a punch when he reached him. He turned pausing his conversation with Kaylee, and gave Bo a small smile.

“What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you?…. Alone?” Kaylee reached forward and gave Nolan’s hand a small squeeze before she turned to walk away.

“I’ll talk to you later.” She gave him a smile over the shoulder which he returned, and turned to leave with her friends.

“Are you a moron?” Bo asked arms folded. Nolan frowned, and Rhett and Chase both let out a chuckle.

“What?”

“Your about to cause a serious cat fight my guy.”

“Cat fight? I’m down for a cat fight.” Chase was snickering over the top of his solo cup, as he surveyed the girls in the living room.

“Who?” Nolan was confused. He had been talking to Kaylee since he had arrived and she was definitely flirting with him. He didn’t really have any interest in her, but he also didn’t have a girlfriend so he let her continue. And then it hit him. Sawyer had to be around here somewhere and no doubt it looked from the outside that he was going to take Kaylee home.

“Where is she?” Bo was frowning at him, and shook his head.

“What is up with you two? Your friends but I don’t think your really just friends-“

“Please dude we’ve had this conversation with him a million times and he refuses to budge.”

“Where is she?” Nolan repeated more forcefully this time. After what had happened earlier he had to at least explain himself. He couldn’t see her but he did see Jessie making her way through the crowd. He pushed in between them and caught her by the elbow.

“Nolan hi.” She knew what he wanted, but Sawyer had asked her to cover so she was going to.

“Where is she Jessie?”

“I don’t know honestly. I lost her a little bit ago. Check the bathroom maybe?”

Jessie’s face was solid as steel. She wasn’t going to tell him anything.

Sawyer in the mean time was in the kitchen pouring alcohol into a cup when she felt a presence behind her. Kaylee smith was leaning against the counter behind her, arms crossed. She had never spoken a word to her before so she wasn’t sure why she was in her space now.

“Sorry do you need something?” She wasn’t usually this snippy but she was already annoyed and the source of her annoyance was way too close for her liking.

“What’s with you and Nolan?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going home with him, and I just want to make sure you aren’t together.”

Sawyer giggled into her cup, before sipping off the top of it and shook her head as it burned all the way down her throat. “Your awfully sure of yourself huh?”

She pursed her lips in a tight smile, head turning to the side “Honey, I always get what I want. So you can find your own way home tonight. Kay?” She gave a wide nasty smile and Sawyer saw red.

“You really think he’s taking you home? Then you don’t really know Nolan at all. And don’t ever think he’ll take you home over me. Ever.”

At that moment Nolan himself entered the kitchen looking relieved to find her and then awkward when he realized she wasn’t alone. Kaylee smiled at him but he brushed past her and stood between them.

“Can I talk to you.” He gently grabbed Sawyers elbow and pulled her out of the kitchen. She sent a small smile at Kaylee over her shoulder as he steered her away, and left her standing in the kitchen mouth open. Once out of sight she pulled her arm from his grip and nearly stumbled, catching herself on the wall.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not enough.” She took another sip of her drink and ran her fingers through her hair before she turned on him.

“You and Kaylee smith huh?” She was squinting at him, cheeks red, hand on her hip. She looked angry, but Nolan wasn’t sure why because he hadn’t done anything.

“What? No.”

“Oh please.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, and stumbled back from the force of it “I saw her all googledneyes-gogole eyeed” Nolan was almost tempted to laugh as she stumbled over her words eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to say what she was trying to.

“Okay. I think it’s time to take you home.”

“She said you were taking her home.”

“God no. I’m taking you home. Now let’s go.”

He said goodbye to his friends and put her in the car. Her house was dark which meant no one was home. He had a hell of a time getting her out and up the stairs. He had just gotten her in the door when he felt her start to shake. At first he thought she was going to puke and immediately held her out at arms length, and rubbed against the wall near the light switch trying to turn it on with no hands. But when she let out a whimper he realized she wasn’t about to get sick.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” She choked out, bracing a hand on his arm as she almost fell in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s gonna take you away.”

“What? Who?”

“Kaylee what’s her name? Girlfriends never let guys have girl beat friends.”

“Oh my god are you-stop.” He heaved her up the stairs as tear flowed down her face. He turned her around so her arms were around his neck, face tucked into his shoulder. She had herself pulled so tightly against him he was struggling to get up the stairs. He had one hand firmly on her lower back, the other one he was using to pull himself up the stairs by the railing. She let out a particular loud sob, and Nolan tired to pull her off of him to look at him, but she just held him tighter.

“Im not even into her like that.”

“Her. Someone else. Doesn’t matter. They’ll take you from me.” She whispered against his neck. Her words touched Nolan’s heart.

“That’s never gonna happen okay?” He opened her bedroom door and walked her forward to her bed losing his footing and falling down into bed with her. They landed, bed springs squeaking with a small ‘oof’. Her tears had subsided and she was laying with her eyes closed on her pillow as he untangled himself from her.

“ Nolan?” Sawyer asked face against the pillow

“ Hmmmmm?”

“ Do you still love me?” He chuckled and pulled the covers up over her, pushing her hair from her face. She was flushed and her eyeliner was smudged around the eyes from her crying, but she opened them and stared at him waiting for his answer.

“ Of course I do. Why?”

She sat up suddenly, getting right up in his face. He was frozen as she stared at him, lips pushing up against his, arm wrapping around his neck. It was chaste at first but then she pressed harder and pulled herself flush to him. Like his body was on autopilot he let his tongue trace across her lower lip, and she opened her mouth allowing him to push it inside. Her heart was beating hard in her chest as one of his hands tangled in her hair and gripped the back of her neck. They carried on a few more moments till he felt her tug at the bottom of his shirt.

“No Sawyer.”

She looked shocked, and then angry as she backed up against her headboard.

“Did you say no? “

“Yes I did.”

She sputtered for a moment, genuine hurt clouding her face. Nolan felt bad but he had to put his foot down.

“ What? Not pretty enough?”

“No that has nothing to do with it. I’m not gonna let you do this when your drunk. Now go to bed. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She blinked sadly and laid down facing away from him. She was out within seconds and Nolan sighed looking down at her. He laid down on the sofa at the opposite end of her room, and folded his arm beneath his head as stared at the ceiling.

What the hell was going on?

Sawyer woke up with a raging headache the next morning. Her whole body hurt, and her mouth tasted like booze. She blinked a few times before she lifted her head and immediately put it back on her pillow. Her clothing from the night before was still on and as she curled up to snuggle deeper under the blankets her foot hit something. She froze and turned slowly to find Nolan was sitting up next to her on her bed, doing something on his phone. Her curtains were drawn shut and the room was still dark, but the the tv was on. She could hear the putter patter of rain on her window and could see the dark clouds through a sliver of window not covered by the curtain. He looked down when she stirred and smiled.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a train. She rolled over to face him, head still on her pillow.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll stay for a while.”

She nodded and yawned snuggling in closer to him. He reached a tentative hand up and let his fingers run through her hair. She was asleep within a few minutes, her head resting on her pillow by his hip. She didn’t remember last night and he wouldn’t tell her about it. It was a secret he would keep, and kiss he would try to forget.

Nolan never spoke of it to anyone, not his friends, family no one. It was a secret he would take with him not only for his own sake but for hers as well. He didn’t know what she was going through but what had happened last night could have changed everything. He had thankfully not been drinking at that point, because if he had he wasn’t so sure he would have stopped her. The way she had kissed him had sent a chill up his spine. He buried it, and things between them went back to normal, but sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep it floated into his mind, and though he would never admit it to anyone but his own conscience, he wanted to do it again.

*******

“Nolan James you are cutting this hair whether you like it or not.” His mom said as she shoved him out the door and into the car. Sawyer was chuckling as she buckled herself in the backseat. He threw his head against the passenger seat. He had worked so hard to grow it out.

“I will not have you looking like a homeless child when you get drafted.”

“Everyone wears it this way now mom-“

“Well you don’t.” Nolan grumbled, and bitched and moaned through the whole thing. His mom made him take it short, shorter than it had been in a long time. He looked clean cut and presentable, but she liked it long.

“You look SO handsome.” She said smiling at him through the mirror. He looked sadly at the long pieces that littered the floor.

“I better get drafted really high for this.”

*******

“Philadelphia selects from the Western Hockey League’s Brandon Wheat Kings, Nolan Patrick.”

Sawyer covered her mouth, blinking away the tears in her eyes. She watched as Nolan stood, and hugged his parents and sisters before turning to her and pulling her into a very long hug.

“I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” He whispered, before releasing her and walked up to the stage, and pulled on the orange sweater.

He had made it. And she was so proud of him. His mom gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s so important to him that your here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She swiped at a tear, and clapped along with the rest of the crowd as Nolan stood on the stage and officially became a Philadelphia Flyer. She knew this meant she was going to lose him, that he would be far away and make new friends, and maybe even meet the girl he would spend the rest of his life with. But he had made it and that was all that mattered. When everything was all said and done, interviews completed and photos taken, it was just them alone in her hotel room. They had broken into the mini bar, and were laying on their back in the bed. The orange jersey hung on the back of a chair, and her black dress was hung on a hanger, shoes on the floor.

“How does it feel?” She asked quietly. The sun had just started to go down, the tv was on and she was sleepy from the long day and the alcohol. He shrugged.

“Nols you got drafted today. That’s a big thing.”

“Yeah. But it means I’m going to have to leave you.”

He turned his head to look at her. He was happy about the draft, but his whole life was in Winnipeg, with his family, his friends, and her. And he would leave all that at the end of the summer.

“I’m not going anywhere Nols. I’ll be here when you leave, and I’ll be here when you get back.”

There wasn’t much talking the rest of the night. They chose to sit in comfortable silence till they both fell asleep. They spent as much time together that summer as they could, clinging on to the last moments together for dear life. They were both absolutely terrified of being without each other for the first time in almost 19 years. She would have to re adjust her life at home without him, and he would have to start over somewhere new without her.

The night before he was due to leave they hiked up to the top of that hill they had sat on the day her sister disappeared. It was dark by the time they reached the top, the sounds of nightfall echoing through the trees. The moon was high in the sky, casting a pale milky glow over the trees and hills. The light sod town seemed so far away as they sat neither one saying a word.

“Will you come visit?” He asked quietly. She nodded.

“Of course. As soon as I can. Your gonna have so much fun in Philly Nolan.”

“I guess.”

It was quiet for a while before Nolan couldn’t take it anymore. He had been dying the last few months, each day getting shorter and shorter as it passed. His time with her seemed like it was being robbed from him. He went over it a million times in his head. And he always came back to the night she kissed him. A night she didn’t even remember and he would never forget.

“Sawyer.” He said suddenly, startling her. She was so used to him mumbling his way through life it took her aback how deep his voice was when he spoke clearly.

“What?”

“Can I- I just. Maybe this is just me being…whatever about leaving tomorrow but, can I…can I kiss you?”

She sucked in a breath, feeling like her chest was constricting. They had not spoken of their almost kiss the day he took her home when she was drunk, and she had pushed it out of her mind as a pity kiss for what had happened at the school the day prior. She didn’t remember the other one, and here he was asking her to do it again. He stared at her for a long time waiting for an answer. She didn’t know why she did it, she couldn’t think of a reason, she could barely even formulate words, but somehow she managed to say.

“Yes.”

He rose to his feet and extended a hand pulling her up with him. Her heart was clocking around in her chest, as she watched his hand moved forward and came to rest on her cheek. He stepped forward, pulling her against him very gently before he leaned down and brushed her nose with his own, before he pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn’t a heavy make out like in a movie. It was soft and slow, and shorter than she wanted it to be. When they broke apart, he sighed and let his forehead fall against her own.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

******

She watched with tears in her eyes as Nolan hugged his parents, various aunts uncles and friends at the airport. There had been no more talking, or kissing the night before. She didn’t know why he had done it, but it felt like it was okay. He finally turned to her, eyes sad and took a deep breath.

“Don’t cry.” He said as she fell slowly into him, arms coming around his midsection. A series of silent tears fell from her eyes as he rubbed a hand up her back. She knew this moment was coming, but she wasn’t ready for it. He pulled back to look at her, hands resting on her shoulders. She had her head bowed, two fistfuls of the material of his sweatshirt. His mom motioned for the rest of the group to turn around, and give them some privacy.

“Nolan.” Her voice caught in her throat. He reached forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear for what felt like the last time.

“I’ll see you soon.” He gave her a small smile, and let go of her still grasping her hand as he walked away towards the gate until they both let go. She wrapped her arms around her middle. She watched until he disappeared through security before she let out a choked sob. Bo, Jessi, And Chase immediately pulled her into a three way hug, and allowed her to cry on their shoulders right there in the airport.

*******

I hope you like this! It was both funny and sad and special to write! Let me know what you think💕

[sometimes-petty]

I’ve been thinking...

There's so much to extrapolate from the conceptualization of the Maralto and the Process. When I first watched 3%, I've noticed that the system was further explained and explored every season, each time showing a different layer.

First of all, it starts as being cartoonishly and sickly unjust.

However, for the entirety of Season 1, we only see the Process itself, and only a fraction of the actual life on the Inland. Although unjust, the whole trial feels functional to the plot. The Inland is shown as a grey and awful place where to live, so of course, we only root for the characters to pass all of the tests, or at least not to die trying.

It reminds me of certain criticisms aimed at stereotypical YA dystopian novels/movies, where the worldbuilding displays the society in it as generically unjust, but the characters are never shown truly struggling under the system.

Like in The Hunger Games, during the first season of 3%, the emphasis is less on fighting the system and more on getting out alive from the Process. It's a necessary step, being that it's the first season.

Secondly, in Season 2 the system starts becoming unfair.

It's slightly different than in the previous season, however, it's the first crack in the façade of the Maralto and starts showing how deeply human the system truly is.

Like I said in another post, Marcela considered giving Marco a second chance in passing the Process, because he's her son and she loves him, despite changing her mind in the end and prioritizing the Maralto's laws over him - after he failed another task. The OG Rafael tried to participate in the Process the same way his brother did one year earlier. André outright murdered his own mentor rather than losing the privilege he received in passing the Process. Not to mention the Founding Couple, who overthrew the entire society, causing countless people to die, to prevent their work from being stolen.

To sum up, in season 1 the Maralto can be reached only by one's own abilities and skills; in season 2, we're shown the collateral effects caused by this rule. The only point is not passing the Process, as much as getting to the Maralto, with any possible shortcut. Season 2 is all about the core of the selfishness that comes with the existence of the Maralto.

Thirdly, during season 3 the Maralto is shown in all of its ineffectiveness.

It all revolves around the Concha, of course, and all of the changes that it brings.

We know from season 2 that the Maralto guarantees regular vaccinations to anyone under 20 years old, as usual because they're the only ones who still matter. Nothing is done, nevertheless, to truly help them out of the horrible circumstances they grow up in. The most we see is in season 1 when Ezequiel goes (mostly) out of his way to take care of Augusto (Julia's son; she said that she chose that name for him as soon as he was born), though until it puts at risk his place at the Maralto and as the head of the Process.

Otherwise, kids on the Inland grow up poor, abused, and helpless, with the only actual support coming from the Church, that indoctrinates into worshipping the Maralto. As long as everyone lives like this, they'll all want nothing more than passing the Process and leaving that hellhole. We see it with Joana in season 1 and with Glòria throughout all the series. Thinking about it, the vaccinations are probably only there to make sure no highly contagious illness arrives on the Maralto through the Process' candidates. Elìsa herself never cared that much about the Maralto, on the contrary she didn't see the point in such a stark division, but she too was given the choice to either live in misery or well enough.

Then Michele and Fernando found the Concha. As it's shown at the front door and in practice, everyone is welcome there, and people start having a second chance. Of course it threatens the Maralto's position at the top of society.

It reminds me of the workers' struggles in various countries. I don't remember where I read it, but it was someone joking that, in the 60s, once people started having a TV at home and eating meat more than once a week, the Communist Party started having fewer militants. This is what happens when people's demands and needs are actually met. The point was never the revolution itself; it's only a necessary step after the government refuses for so long to act to improve people's living conditions.

Similarly, on 3%, once people weren't starving or getting murdered and finally had the chance to live a fulfilling life, they wouldn't turn anymore towards the Process for it. Even the Causa disappeared, since the reason for its existence became less relevant.

Finally, in the last season, the Maralto has long been stripped of any greatness it could represent for viewers, and all that's left to see is an illusion.

Once again, Joana face-plants into this new trial when she meets Veronica, and all her resolution starts faltering. Rafael and Cassia find a common ground in the way either the Causa or the Maralto's military gave them both a purpose when passing the Process wasn't an option anymore. André believes himself as the right heir of the Founding Couple and kills himself rather than living without this idea, even when the Maralto itself is gone forever. The same happens to Marco, Leonardo, and Naìr when it's time to flee. Even Natalia, the most determined militant of the Cause, ready to give her life for it, momentarily opposes destroying the Maralto when she sees how much knowledge is stored in their archives.

All in all, everyone is offered their greatest desire when coming to the Maralto - a mother, a purpose, happiness, culture - and only finds lies when they get closer.

The Maralto never worked. Laìs and Vitòr themselves had miserable lives when they'd rather choose the system they created over their only daughter.

The point is, the system was human-made, with all of the faults that come with it, and just as readily could be unmade.

To conclude:

"We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine rights of the kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings." - Ursula K. Le Guin

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 8: Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back

summary: finding shelter in an abandoned home, you try to keep your wits about you and care for the still unconscious Joel until some trouble comes knocking

word count: 3,792

content warnings: mention of gore and impromptu medical care, more canon-typical violence, death, murder, arrival of.... cannibals, y'know the deal hurt/comfort

notes: i didn't mention it last time but yeah, your shit really can kill you if you get your lower intestines punctured lol it's a real thing and gnarly af

read on ao3 / masterlist

You woke up in a start. Heavy breaths taking hold in your lungs. The small, barely considerable amounts of sleep were getting to you as they had been for the last month as more and more night terrors racked your brain. Rubbing at your eyes, you pushed yourself up to begin your usual routine.

It had been a couple weeks since your little group found yet another abandoned home and it took some hell of maneuvering to get Joel into the basement but it worked. The winter snow was coming in full force and it was peritive you all kept Joel as warm as possible, there were too many odds stacked against him.

Walking over to his prone body, you checked on his wounds once more as you did practically every couple of hours. He was looking worse for wear, even changing out the gauze could only do so much. Whatever small amounts of clean water the three of you had went to cleaning it out, hoping to stave off the infection.

Joel was, by all means, not doing well.

To top it off, even with your meager amount of medic training from your days with FEDRA could never prepare you for the long-term haul you were in with Joel, he was dying. The bastard was dying and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

Night after night you were haunted by the image of him falling off that balcony, the sounds of his groans of pain still lingered in your head even when you were awake. It fucking sucked.

He was asleep now, he barely woke up since everything went to shit at the university then at the mall. That in and of itself felt like a lifetime ago. You put a hand against his forehead, feeling how his fever still hadn’t broken. With the chill in the air as winter was fully settling in making your fingers cold as ice, he didn’t even flinch away. You closed your eyes and sighed, still not wanting to give up. Not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not even for the grumpy man himself.

A quick glance out the small basement window told you it was nearing dusk which startled you. Ellie had left when the sun was at its peak, sometime around noon, surely. She had been gone much much longer than she normally would have.

Usually it was you who left to go hunting for food once your supplies dwindled but Ellie wanted to help relieve the burden from your shoulders and you reluctantly agreed. Yo hated to admit you needed a break. She had argued she wanted to get better with her bow and arrow and she certainly did, often bringing back animals of various sizes. It was her way of coping with potentially losing Joel, something she confided in you that was one of her biggest fears.

Thoughts of Ellie swirled your mind and you paced back and forth, chewing at your fingernails. A nasty habit you suppressed most days. A part of you wanted to go find the girl, follow Callus’ tracks in the snow. Another part of you didn’t want to leave Joel by himself.

Fuck, you thought.

Compartmentalizing you figured if she didn’t return within an hour, you’d go looking for her. If you couldn’t locate her within a mile radius, a strict rule you enforced her limited hunting zone to, you’d hunker down with Joel and wait until morning to find her and scold her for being irresponsible.

You stopped your pacing to look at Joel’s face, seeing how his face was still warped in the painful scowl he hadn’t let go of. His features were beginning to slowly become gaunt as the small amounts of food you’d been able to get him to eat the rare times a day he’d wake were coming far and few in between. Even his usual tan skin was slowly softening to a cooler shade of bronze. He looked like death.

Joel, by all means, was a handsome cowboy. Even with his patchy beard that was littered with grey hair in a few spots. Now he just looked like a ghost of himself.

Okay, fine, you admit to yourself. With Joel down, you’ve kind of missed the fool. You missed the banter and arguing with him about stupid shit. He irritated the daylights out of you because he always wanted to jump headfirst into things without a care for his safety clearly but dammit, the lack of his presence was palpable. You hated it.

You sat beside Joel, removing one of his hands from under the blanket to hold. His hands still rough and calloused, mirrors of yours if you weren’t missing a finger. Once upon a time, you remembered hearing that coma patients could sometimes hear what people said to them, that it helped. Maybe talking to him now would help not just him but you as well, to keep your mind occupied. Maybe pass the time a little. Maybe.

“Hey, it’s me, you grumpy bastard,” you started off lightly. “I don’t know if you can tell but you’ve been puttin’ that girl and I through hell and back trying to keep your ass alive.”

A hollow laugh escapes you, feeling a little more choked up than you’d ever dare to admit. Composing yourself you tried to use playful banter. “How do you do it, cowboy? Ellie is a goddamned handful. Shit, I thought I was bad when I was a teenager,” you sniff, feeling your voice waver.

“When I first laid eyes on you two, I think it would have saved me a whole lotta trouble and pain if Maria let me shoot you,” you sigh dramatically. Even though there was a smile on your lips, it didn’t reach your eyes. What did were the tears that were slowly forming. The added stress of Ellie being missing was really wearing you thin.

Amongst other things.

“Y’know,” you sniffled, “you really hurt my feelings back at the university. When you thought I led the two of you into a trap.” You took a sharp inhale. “As much shit as you and I put each other through, that was the one thing that stung. More than anything.”

You squeezed his hand and sighed, closing your eyes. Admitting that was hard, stars know you’d never say that to Joel while he was conscious nor in front of Ellie.

“Don’t die, you asshole,” you begged softly, wiping away the light tears that coated your lashes, reluctantly letting go of Joel’s hand as you tucked the blanket around him tightly.

After you said your piece, your mind became overrun with the little turd you grew fond of. The more you began to worry about Ellie, the more your thoughts swirled rapidly into worst case scenarios.

Before you worked yourself into a much deeper frenzy, a loud metallic bang echoed from upstairs. You ran up the steps and came face to face with Ellie, looking just as frantic. She raised her hand and in it, a tied white rabbit, so white it was nearly silver in the dim lighting. “I got food,” she said breathlessly.

“And,” she shoved you aside and took off to the basement, “I got this. Can it help?”

Ellie reached into her pocket and pulled out a syringe and orange bottle, she handed it to you while kneeling next to Joel as he shifted in his sleep. You were still rather shocked to see Ellie who looked faintly bloodied and tired, before you could comment on the new rifle on her shoulder, you took the bottle and were damn near milliseconds from riding into her until you read the faded label of the glass container.

Penicillin.

“Where the fuck did you get this, Ellie?”

Without waiting for her to answer, you dug in your pack and pulled out some disinfectant alcohol and a gauze pad to clean the syringe and a spot on Joel’s arm. Ellie refused to look up from where she kept her gaze focused on Joel’s face, “‘s not important.”

“If I wasn’t so mad at you right now, I’d kiss you.”

Throwing away all the questions you had for her, you administered the antibiotic as quickly as you could, he sighed as the medicine entered his body. Although, it was likely you were giving him too much, truthfully, you didn’t think it would hurt him worse than he already was.

As he relaxed underneath your hands, you looked down at his wound one last time for the evening. The haphazard stitches were taut on his stomach where the swelling was, hopefully by morning, he’d be better.

You didn’t look up from Joel as you laid into Ellie, “I don’t want excuses about where you were, only that you promise me to be more careful in the future, please.”

“Ye- yeah, I promise.”

“Good,” you covered Joel back up, “Now go get some rest. I’ll take care of the rabbit and wake you when it’s done.”

You turned your back to Ellie, it wasn’t that you wanted her to feel bad for her little disappearing act. You just needed some space to gather your thoughts. Between being Joel’s caretaker, Ellie’s temporary guardian, and keeping yourself sane, you were a wreck. You needed a moment.

Before you took a step on the stairs you paused. “Good work on getting the medicine, kiddo. Joel would be proud of you too.”

She didn’t respond as you walked away, the implication that although you were upset with her, you were still proud lingered in the air. Mindlessly, you focused on the rabbit, doing what needs to be done to cook it for dinner, pushing away those lingering worries. Ellie was safe, you reminded yourself, she came back.

It didn’t take you long to finish with your meager dinner, still pretty damn proud of Ellie’s evolving hunting skills. Maybe you’d offer to teach her a couple snares in the morning to leave out overnight. Although they tended not to gain anything bigger than a rabbit or a squirrel, something was better than nothing and you’d figure it would help Ellie focus on something other than Joel’s condition.

You bounded down the stairs, bringing the freshly cooked meat with you. A small shake to her shoulder and she was awake, “Dinner’s ready.”

Ellie didn’t bring her gaze up to look you in the eye, likely still ashamed. The two of you still sat in silence eating, occasionally looking to Joel for any changes or whenever he shifted in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding small.

“I know, Ellie. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just worried.”

Once again, the silence encompassed you both like a blanket, warmer now than it was before. You broke it first, “I was thinking about teaching you a couple snares in the morning. How does that sound?”

Ellie wiped the grease from her fingers on her jeans and looked up, “I think I’d like that.”

Just like that, the two of you were on even footing. It didn’t feel right to be mad at each other, not when Joel wasn’t there to diffuse. Either way, it was much like when you were the one in between their own fight that day you’d met them, it wasn’t healthy when you all had to rely on each other for survival. At least with Ellie, she was quick to forgive and forget in the face of the larger picture. A quality you kind of admired in the young woman.

Both of you finished with your portions of the meat, saving the rest for the morning or for Joel if he wakes in the night. Simultaneously you shuffled through the remaining ammo together, doling out some spare bullets to Ellie for her shiny new rifle, still not going to ask how she acquired it. Let her have her space.

She took the bullets graciously, reloading her sidearm and long range weapons and placing them in her backpack before getting ready for sleep. You stayed fiddling with your own weapons for a few moments longer before calling it quits too.

You laid down on the opposite side of Joel, biting your lip and hoping for the best. You tossed and turned, not knowing if you could take facing Joel’s sickly frame but you also couldn’t turn your back on him and Ellie who laid on her backpack on his other side.

Please, you wished, let the medicine take.

These kinds of wishes filled your mind until you slowly drifted to a fitful night’s sleep.

By morning, you happened to find yourself shaken awake with Ellie’s face close to yours, “Wake up, I need you awake!”

You jumped up, onto your knees. “What is it,” you ask startled, afraid Joel was worse than he was when you fell asleep. Looking at Joel, he didn’t look like he deteriorated in the night, but he also didn’t look like he improved any.

“I was tracked,” she says as if that explains anything. Both of you have your hands on each other's arms in a failed attempt at communicating the other’s panic.

“What do you mean ‘tracked’, Ellie?”

“Those people I got the medicine from, David and-and James, they fucking tracked me!”

“Ellie, what the fu-.”

“Look, listen, I’m gonna draw them away. Keep an eye on Joel,” she tells you in a rush, letting go of you and bolting up the stairs, grabbing her backpack on the way out.

“Fuck,” you practically shout while getting up and looking out the window. Outside you see silhouettes of a few men, searching the nearby area. Frustrated, you kick the washing machine.

Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t know what to do, you feel tied down once again because of Joel’s condition and Ellie’s neverending saviour complex. You mumble out a few more expletives at this situation just as you see the girl bound down the street on Callus shouting for the intruder’s attention. As she rides away, you hear bullets being shot at her, getting further and further away from you.

You carelessly threw your denim coat on and opted to grab your knives instead of guns, hoping to kill anybody who came close without alerting the others. Out the basement window, you could see a few of the men still lurking about, choosing not to follow Ellie.

Just before you followed Ellie out of the house, you doubled back to Joel, kneeling forward and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll come back, I promise you Joel. Just please, don’t die on me now.” Another kiss on his warm skin and you left without stopping, barricading the basement door as if it was left unoccupied.

Everything in you wanted to panic, your muscles were screaming to fold in on yourself and heave what little food remained in your stomach but you couldn’t give in. Not when Ellie was in danger. She may have been a pain in the ass, but she was your pain in the ass.

After your conversation last night, you’d be damned if anybody hurts your girl.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your worries free and cleared your mind. Although you were a field medic by title with FEDRA back in the day, working with them turned you into a killer. It was a toxic mindset for you, even when you had joined the Fireflies, they took advantage of your ability to focus on one thing and one thing only, turning it into their own game - death.

It took years to shake off that blank emotionless part of you, even Tommy was afraid of it when he saw the horrendous things you were capable of, what the Fireflies exploited from you, but Tommy wasn’t here and the people you loved were hanging on by a thread.

It was easy to see the outlines of the few straggling men who searched the nearby homes, whatever Ellie did really pissed them off. Now, these people only pissed you off.

You stayed lurking within the shadows of the homes, even with the sun just getting ready to set, it wasn’t too difficult to stay hidden. Especially to those who weren’t familiar with the layout. It was easy to spot how the few men tended to remain within a handful of yards together, opting not to venture out into the buildings alone. Alert and yet unorganized as you could see how they would often turn their backs on each other, giving you such a delicious opportunity to sneak in and out, weaving through them and taking them down one by one.

Was it absolutely horrible this was your instinct? Maybe. But you had two people you wanted to protect, two absolutely annoying yet selfless humans who gave you hope. You did love Joel and Ellie, even if you hadn’t admitted to it yet. Besides, you had a whole lot of stress burdening your shoulders and you wanna hit something.

You watched as the small group approached one of the homes off to the left, allowing you ample room to get close without having to cross the street in the open. You took off running, not bothering to try and conceal your footprints in the snow as you got to the house besides the targets. You entered through a broken window - a common for every single house on this block. Taking lighter footsteps, you ducked by the windows and reached the second floor landing.

The homes in this area were built within close proximity to the others, making it easy for, say, somebody needing to jump between windows without being seen. Perfect.

You listened hard and close as the men shuffled and tossed things around the first floor, looking for any sign of Ellie and ‘those two people she was with’. You growled lowly, really hating the implication that these people knew about the three of you.

Taking another assessment, you noticed there were two men standing guard out the front of the house, idly walking to-and-fro, their conversation remaining on wishing they were chasing Ellie instead.

A deep breath in and you jumped with an ‘oof’, trying to make as little as noise as possible, aiming for a wide open window with a snow covered bed on the other side. Between the snow and the mattress, the noise was cushioned to only a small thud, thankfully concealed by the thuds of the men downstairs shuffling through rooms. You quickly got up and went to the doorframe and saw there was only a hallway and stairs leading down.

You took deeper breaths again, trying to center yourself for what you were about to do as you heard one person come up the stairs - alone.

Placing your body flush against the wall, you waited in stark concentration, drawing your knife from its sheath. The footsteps came close, nearing the room you were hiding in and just as an armed gunman came in, you rushed him. Putting one hand against their forehead, you pulled the other hand and dragged the knife into their throat, essentially cutting off the person from making a noise and ending their life. You pulled and lowered their body as they began to choke out, laying them on the floor gently against the wall, carelessly hiding the body.

Downstairs you could still hear shuffling of the other invader and you made your way to them, silently assessing.

From what you could tell, the other person was banging around in the basement. So you rounded a nearby corner to where the open basement door was until finally, finally, somebody came through. You took him down just the same as his buddy.

So unorganized, you thought. If they were really looking for you and Joel, they were doing a piss poor job of it.

You swiped a bottle from the kitchen as you strolled past, taking aim out a broken window. Giving it a nice little toss, it shattered against the other house and without fail, you heard the tell-tale signs of one of the other men asking ‘what was that’. You ducked behind the faded curtain until one of the targets came into view, watching how he was pensive and alert, fortunately he was by himself which made the next part just as easy.

As soon as the man walked by the window, you jumped out from your hiding spot and jabbed your hunting knife straight into the soft squishy part of his eye, surprisingly facing little to no resistance.

You pulled it back and repeated the motion again once the man made an audible noise, probably alerting his friend. In only a slight rush now, you jumped out the window and removed your blade, now stalking towards the front when you could hear the other man yell the other’s names.

Wrapping around the corner of a house in a whirlwind, you surprised the last one when you stood face-to-face with him. He looked at you, astounded, mouth agape and dropped his weapon - a handgun. Looking down at his body, he whimpered as he took in the sight of your knife now buried deep in his stomach as you yanked them up into his chest piercing his heart.

Copper scent filled the air as the hunter’s body gave out. His blood spilling down your front. Under normal circumstances you would’ve likely vomited all over yourself but considering the innate need to protect Ellie and Joel, all that shit is blown out the window.

All in all, maybe thirty minutes have passed, you wanted to check on Joel but the distant gunshots were making you worried. At the very least, the longer they went off, the longer you knew your little fighter was alive.

Okay, think, you tried to get yourself to focus. You came up with a rapid-fire plan and before you could second guess yourself, you ran. Refusing to stop. Each step in the plush snow found you closer and closer to your hideout.

Entering the home through the garage, you gave Whiskey a pat as you walked on by and headed straight for the basement. You pushed the undisturbed barricade from the door, grateful it signaled that Joel was safe. Entering the downtrodden room you grabbed your holsters, strapping them maybe a little more tightly than you should’ve and throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You double-checked your weapons, making sure they were fully loaded.

Once again, you kneeled next to Joel as he laid on the dirty mattress, huffing from the rising pain from the stitch in your side. “Joel? I’m gonna go back out and find Ellie. I’m gonna go get our girl,” you said.

You hoped you were telling the truth.

[cheri-translates]

Lighthouse (A translated one-shot)

I translated this masterpiece originally written by 白飞飞是我宝贝 on Weibo (with permission)

It’s rare to find a piece of writing that is so immersive and makes the deepest parts of your soul ache. I knew it’d be a tragedy if it isn’t accessible to anyone who doesn’t read Chinese T^T

I’ll be keeping the original writer updated on comments left on this work because she’s the one who deserves all the credit 💕

[1]

Morning sunlight filters in through the curtains and fall on my eyelids, leaving a reddish shadow. I frown slightly, struggling to open my eyes. 

Before me are grey curtains and white walls. The familiar yet foreign decor leave me unable to react. I turn over. 

My head feels like it's filled with water, and the pain sobers me up a little. 

I look at the grey-blue quilt, the grey-blue pillows, and the clean outershirt and T-shirt in the closet...

I shoot up from the bed, ignoring my severe headache. After a quick glance around my surroundings, I finally look down at myself - I’m still in the same outfit as yesterday. Other than it being slightly wrinkled from sleep, not a single button is loose.  

Even so... why am I in Gavin’s house?

I get up with some effort, pressing a hand to my head while the other is against the wall, supporting me as I walk out of the room. On the table sits a glass of soy milk, a glass of fresh milk, steam buns, but no Gavin. 

Sitting at the dining table, I stare dazedly at the warm milk in front of me.

Maybe my body isn’t fully conscious yet, or maybe yesterday’s hangover has left me a little numb. Today, I don’t feel the irritability and gloom that has been torturing me for almost half a month. 

--

Half a month ago, I broke up with Gavin. I initiated it. To my utmost surprise, he didn't refuse. He simply hesitated for a while, and said “okay” in a hoarse voice.

I take a sip of the milk, suddenly recalling the way a coquettish smile had hung on my lips when I was still with him. 

“Gavin, I want to drink the milk you’re holding. Is that okay?”

“It’s not that I dislike soy milk. I like both, so I want to drink it too.”

“But I can’t finish two cups by myself, and I simply enjoy... snatching. Food. From. The. Wolf.”

The tips of Gavin’s ears turn red. With one hand, he grabs me off his body and wraps my entire self into a hug. 

Since then, we would always have a cup of soy milk and a cup of milk for breakfast, with both cups placed in front of me.

He would always wait for me to finish my meal before helping himself to the “leftovers”. I would blush and watch as his thin lips casually stick to the cup where my traces still remain. An inexplicable sweetness would fill me, occupying the entire atrium of my heart. 

The sudden memories are overwhelming. The knuckles gripping the cup have gone white. After taking a deep breath, I feel the first sting in my heart. I resign myself to my fate, forcing my eyes shut, and let the delayed pain and torment swallow me up whole.

[2]

The phone rings, and I pick it up without checking who the caller is.

"This is Gavin."

In my trance, his classic greeting makes me think we are still together.

“Are you awake? If... you are, there’s breakfast on the table.”

"Why am I in your house?" 

My voice sounds strangely hoarse and terrible, like a broken bellow.

"You drank too much yesterday. Minor called me. Your doors and windows were shut, ahem, so...”

"Oh,” my voice is a little dry. “I see, thank you.”

We’re already adults, and even used to be lovers who were attached at the hip. Simply spending a night at his house doesn't warrant me to cause a scene.

What’s more, he is Gavin - the Gavin who has never made things difficult for others.

After finishing breakfast hastily, I tidy the table. I pretend not to see the matching teacups on cabinet. My eyes tremble slightly when they sweep past by the photos we took together. 

Before leaving, I walk to the shelf behind the door to retrieve the key out of sheer habit. When my finger touches the ginkgo leaf pendant, I shirk backwards. 

When I spot the two pairs of cotton slippers - one large and one small - in the shoe cabinet, I feel my heartstring finally snap, and I collapse against the wall. 

The memories in these details are truly terrifying. Donning a harmless appearance, they slowly tear down the defences I had constructed with great difficulty.

These two pairs of cotton slippers were purchased during our early days as a couple. I still remember that it was the first time I saw a sick Gavin. He was leaning against the wall of the hallway - just as I am doing now - his soft bangs covering his tired eyes. 

Trying a new menu in the kitchen, I suddenly feel a searing chest pressed against my back. His chin rests lazily in the crook of my neck, and the warm breath exhaled from his nose reddens my cheeks. 

"Gavin? Why are you back so early today?" I try to ignore my rapid heartbeat, and my speed of cutting the vegetables slows down significantly.

He rubs his head against my shoulder and responds in a muffled voice:

“Dizzy.”

Only then do I notice his abnormally high body temperature. After hastily washing my hands and wiping my apron twice, I place my hand on his forehead.  

He lowers his head obediently and lifts up his bangs, revealing delicate eyebrows. The amber eyes underneath are unnaturally moist, and remind me of a deer in a forest - pure and gentle.

“What happened? Why are you burning up so badly?”

I frown and pull him out of the kitchen, then press him onto the bed without giving him a chance to refuse. 

When I was sick as a child, my dad would always tuck me in tightly. Although it was very hot, I would feel much better after sweating it out. So I also tuck the white quilt around Gavin’s neck. He is very cooperative, but his bright eyes remain wide open and he stares at me without blinking.

"What are you looking at? Close your eyes and go to sleep!" I pretend to be angry. However, upon seeing the abnormal flush on his face and the obvious tiredness between his eyebrows, my heart softens. "Well, you should have a good rest if you’re sick. I'll cook some porridge for you. Take your medicine after eating it, okay?" 

My tone sounds as though I’m pacifying a child. After hearing this, a bright smile appears in his eyes. After a long time, he responds lazily with an “okay”.

But his actions are not as obedient as his words. While I’m busy cooking porridge, he walks out of the bedroom again and hugs me from behind without saying a word, like a huge koala.  

Clearly, a sick Gavin and a normal Gavin are two completely different people. For the first time, I realise that this man, who is unafraid of dying in a shower of bullets, can actually be coquettish to such a degree.

I shake his hand away angrily, but he responds by lifting me up and striding over to the sofa.  

"Gavin! What are you doing!" I instinctively want to pound on his shoulder, but when I think about how he’s still sick, I stop myself. The only thing I can do is raise my voice to sound agitated. 

He places me on the sofa, then leans against me lazily, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, breathing in the scent of my hair.  

"Can you keep me company?" The cold has made his voice deeper, as if a handful of sand has been sprinkled into his voice. "I feel terrible.”

With these few words, the anger that was about to flare vanishes. My heart softens and feels numb, as though there are ants crawling through it. 

“...okay, I'll stay with you." 

He falls asleep on my shoulder in under five minutes. He must have been really tired. I lay him down carefully on the sofa and pull a blanket over him.

At this moment, Gavin, who is more than 1.8 meters tall, is curled up on the sofa looking aggrieved and haggard. The blanket isn’t large enough to cover his feet, and I realise that he has been walking around barefoot.

Although the weather has begun to warm up during this time of year, it’s easy to fall sick between spring and summer. He once dragged me home because I didn’t wear a jacket. But when it comes to himself, he isn’t as meticulous. 

Treading quietly, I leave the house to buy food items from the supermarket downstairs. I also stop by the living area to pick out two pairs of slippers - one big and one small, one blue and one pink, with a wolf and a bunny printed on them. 

They feel soft and warm, and are very comfortable.  

When I reach home, I’m wrapped in a familiar embrace as soon as I open the door. I hear a voice filled with grievances from above my head.

“Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me?"

I break free from his embrace. Lowering my head, I see that he’s still barefoot.

"I went out to get groceries. I’ll make you porridge with preserved eggs and lean meat tonight." 

I kneel down, retrieve the newly bought slippers from the bag. Without looking up, I command:

“Lift your feet.”

Gavin puts them on obediently. I stand up and look at him. “How are they? Do they fit?”

His ears are ridiculously red. He blinks gently. 

“Are these for me?”

"Yes, my Mr Wolf." 

I reply casually, carrying the ingredients into the kitchen.  

Gavin finally settles down peacefully, sitting on the sofa obediently and waiting for my food. Most of the porridge that day ends up in his stomach. After taking the anti-fever medicine, he encases me in his arms and turns the lights off early.

His breathing is especially clear in the dark, and is tainted with scorching heat, ironing the back of my neck in a regular pattern. I can’t bear the numbness and move slightly, but the man behind me holds me even more tightly. I can’t fathom where this sick person derives his strength from. I can't break away at all.  

"Thank you for today," I hear him say suddenly, with a slightly hoarse voice that sounds particularly sultry in the quiet night. "I liked the preserved egg and lean meat porridge you made, I liked the slippers you gave me, and... ahem, anyway, thank you."

I chuckle, rolling over in his arms. I raise my head to meet his crystal-clear eyes in the dim night.

"No need to thank me, Mr Gavin. Because I like you the most."

[3]

When I awake from the memory, I hear the rattle of a key coming from outside the door. Feeling flustered, I have no idea where to put my hands and feet. In the next second, I meet the bright amber eyes from my memory once again.  

Holding a bag of vegetables in his hand, he stands quietly at the door, looking at me silently. When his eyes trail to the high heels on my feet, his brows furrow slightly. 

I bite my lip and break the awkward silence. "Thank you for yesterday. I won’t bother you further. Goodbye.”

I give him a nod. Before I can step outside, he blocks the way. 

Lifting my head, I look at him with a puzzled expression. His neck muscles are tense, and his lips are pressed into a line. The morning light falls on his handsome side profile, softening his sharp features.

"Your complexion looks bad. Rest for a while, and don't force yourself.”

Perhaps I have yet to sober up completely, because I find myself agreeing awkwardly. I change my shoes again and sit down on the sofa. Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore the faint pain from my temples.  

Gavin pours me a cup of hot water. I hold it in my palm and say mindlessly, "I didn't expect that I would be a guest here one day." 

Gavin pauses, and he says nothing.

After retrieving two tomatoes and a piece of tofu from the bag, he walks into the kitchen, which is pretty much a decorative piece to him. 

I arch my eyebrows in surprise. When I hear the stove turning on, I walk over with curiosity.

Gavin has his back towards me, surrounded by sliced ​​tomatoes and tofu, and a bowl of beaten eggs. At a glance, there are no eggshells in it. He flips through a booklet and follows the steps in it meticulously.

I probably guessed what he wanted to do. When he finally stretches out his hand to take the sugar, I stop him in the nick of time. "Gavin, that’s white sugar. The salt is over there. 

His stiffens, the tips of his ears turning redder than the tomatoes in the pot.

Once the soup is prepared, he ladles it into a bowl and brings it to me. 

"Drink a bowl. It’d help you sober up.” His voice is a little soft and obviously lacking in confidence. "I tried it just now... ahem, it's not bad...” 

I smile and take the egg drop soup from his hand. Stirring the soup with a spoon causes bright red tomatoes to bob around. The aroma of green onions instantly dispels the smell of alcohol stuffing my nose.

I take a sip. It really doesn’t taste bad. 

But I can’t understand why such a delicious soup makes me feel as though I’m drinking something bitter.

I stand at the door of the kitchen, taking slow sips. When I can almost see the bottom of the bowl, I force myself to laugh.

"Is this the former police officer who only knew takeaway food and instant noodles? This cooking is a great leap forward." 

The brightness in his eyes dims for a moment, and he responds with a hint of self-mockery. "I’m used to your cooking, so I can no longer eat takeaway food or instant noodles. The only thing I can do now is learn to make it myself.”

I’m left stunned, not expecting that he would say this. He turns back to the kitchen to wash the pots and bowls. I watch his tall figure in a daze, and am suddenly swept up into a whirlpool of memories. 

While heading to the supermarket, I turn my head to Gavin and ask him a question.

“Gavin, what do you like to eat?”

He responds with a faint smile. “Anything. As long as you make it, I will love it.”

I know Gavin always puts me first, and that I would get nowhere if I continued down this line of questioning. I simply change my approach.

“What do you usually eat then?”

After thinking about it carefully, he says, “STF doesn’t have a canteen. I usually eat at a restaurant outside, or have instant noodles. I'm not a picky eater, so it’s fine as long as I can fill my stomach.”

I know that he works hard, but I’m still a little angry at his living habits.

“Without me around, would you be eating instant noodles your entire life?”

When he sees me suddenly frowning, his tone gets slightly flustered.

“I...”

“Hmph, in order to punish you, I’ve decided that..." I reach out angrily and pick out a Chinese cabbage from the freezer. "You have to clear the entire plate tonight, and my boxed lunches in future! Eat well, sleep well, and take care of yourself. Do you understand!”

There is a smile in his amber eyes, and the corners of his mouth rise a little. In the end, he rubs my hair with some helplessness, and obediently says, "okay.” 

Bang.

The sound of the cabinet door closing shut pulls me back to reality. When I meet his eyes, I hurriedly conceal my dazed expression.

“Thank you. I just remembered that I still have things to do at the company, so I’ll make a move.”

I walk towards the entrance, slightly embarrassed. 

When I hear him call my name, I stop.

"Can we talk?”

I stand frozen in place, all the blood draining away the warmth from my heart. It isn’t until I’m surrounded by a broad embrace that I can eventually hear my heart beating again.

Gavin always liked hugging me from behind the most, hanging his head by the side of my ears, his soft sideburns on my face. I would hear his unhurried, gentle breathing.

Just like right now. My back leans against his hard chest, his body temperature wrapping me in a thin cloak. The arms on my waist are strong, and there’s a new scar on it.

The familiar heartache sweeps across me again, unbridled. Before I can react, I hear a breath near my ears.

"If Minor didn’t call me, would I have had no chance to see you again?"

[4] 

I ruminated over why Gavin and I broke up. It always came back to a cliche term - unsuitable.

I’m the boss of a small company, living a standard 9 to 5 life. Although I sometimes work overtime, my life has a fairly regular pattern.

Gavin is a special officer who has no fixed working hours. He runs off whenever there’s danger, and we often lose contact. The longest time we’ve been apart was for nearly a month, and the only communication we had spanned only ten minutes. Most of the time, I was asking, “Is there a signal? Can you hear me?”

But I never felt that our professional life was an obstacle in our love. On the contrary, it was precisely because of our intersecting schedules that I cherished the time with him even more. 

It's just...

When I learned that he had a vacation on the 520 during our early days together as a couple, I excitedly made a travel plan for an overnight stay at the beach.

There was a filming site of a movie that I particularly liked. I lay in his arms enthusiastically and described the reeds, the lighthouse, and the ocean where the first light of day could be seen. Gavin had smiled and listened to me, then dropped a kiss on my forehead.  

But when the time came, I went there alone. 

He had received an urgent task suddenly. After hesitating for a while, he wanted to call and decline. However, I held his phone and shook my head at him. "It's okay, go.”

Then, it was the first Qixi Festival we celebrated together. Gavin had specially adjusted his schedule to keep me company. That day, we walked through the ancient streets lined with lanterns while holding hands. We released a small paper boat by the river together. We also watched a sweet and romantic movie. He watched me smile, our fingers clasped together, warm and powerful.

But when I got up in the morning the very next day, I saw Gavin seated on the sofa with his head down. I whispered his name, and he raised his head to look at me. His eyes were moist and red, and his usually clear voice was hoarse. 

"The teammate who swapped shifts with me yesterday met with an accident during the mission... if it weren’t for me, he would have been fine now...”

I held his hand distressedly and comforted him. It wasn’t his fault. But when I saw the pain in his eyes, I knew that he would shoulder everything himself, and that he would carry on with this self-blame and guilt. 

After that, Gavin became more frequently tasked with missions, and became more frequently injured. In addition to distress, I also felt helpless.  

Then came the Spring Festival. He had accompanied me to my aunt’s house. He wasn’t very good with talking, and his body had unconcealed wounds. My aunt’s expression gradually morphed from enthusiasm to politeness. 

My aunt dragged me to the kitchen and asked me solemnly, in a low voice.

"What does he do? Special police? You know this kind of work is dangerous! Should you marry him in the future, what if... and I’m saying ‘what if’... what if something goes wrong? What would you do?”

I tightened my cuffs, took a deep breath, and said, "Aunt, no matter how dangerous his work is, or how dissatisfied you are with him, he is the person I’ve decided on, and I love him very much.”

My aunt frowned and looked at me. She sighed slowly. "Silly child, you’ll understand later on that the most important thing in marriage is not love, but suitability. Love is just one condiment in life, and life is a big dish. It needs the right dishes to match, supplemented by condiments, in order to have an excellent and delicious presentation."

“I’m not trying to nag at you. I just want you to think this through carefully. I know that Gavin is a good boy, and I can see how much he cares for you. But I can also see that you don’t look as happy as before. I just hope you young ones can live happily.”

After returning home that day, my aunt’s words continued echoing in my ears. I didn’t want to accept my somewhat shaky reality.

In countless nights without Gavin, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling in a daze. What flashed before my eyes were Gavin’s scars. He never took the initiative to tell me about his injuries, and never mentioned the danger of his missions. 

His solemn and stern eyes told me that every “I’m fine” from his lips had no credibility.

With time after time of heartaches and disappointments, I seemed to suddenly understand what my aunt said.

When he flips through the medicine cabinet in the living room again in the middle of the night, I walk out of the bedroom and turn the lights on with a “click”. 

At first, he’s surprised. Then, he starts panicking as he tries to hide the scar on his left shoulder. Without a word, I take out the hard iodine and gauze from the medicine box, carefully remove the his bloodstained clothes, and gently clean up the wound little by little. 

This time, the wound isn’t deep, but there is a lot of bleeding. I squat down in front of him, the hand holding the tweezers trembling slightly. In contrast, my words are calm. 

"Gavin. Do you know that if I were your teammate, I definitely wouldn't want to see you in this sorry state? It’s only when you take care of yourself that you can protect even more people.”

I throw the napkin away and wrap the gauze around his arm. His muscles are smooth and tight. Even though I’ve seen it so many times, it still gives me heart palpitations. 

"In the future, you have to protect yourself well, understand? Don't let the people who love you feel scared all day. This kind of torture is even more unbearable than physical injuries.”

I tie a neat knot, then sit beside him, hugging him gently. His amber eyes flicker, and within them are waves of pain and struggle.

"Gavin.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and memorising the warmth of his body.

"Let’s break up.”

[5]

I break free from Gavin’s embrace and leave his house in a hurry after leaving him with a sentence:

“Don't follow me.”

I run in a hurry, because I know that if I hesitate for a second longer, I will fall into his arms completely and become unable to extricate myself.

It's ridiculous.

Even though I keep reminding myself that we have already broken up, I still love his warmth.

The drinks were really worthless. If it weren't for this hangover, I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed, and I wouldn’t have been so easily defeated by mere memories and a hug.

I take a taxi and return home.

The moment I close the door, I finally remove all my forbearances. I throw myself onto the sofa and raise an arm to cover my eyes. Tears trickle down the corners of my eyes, silent and endless. 

[6] 

I must have been crazy to agree to Minor’s invitation to attend the high school reunion. When I see the tall figure walking into the banquet hall, my instinctive reaction is to flee. 

But standing next to me is an old friend. He’s chatting about the past enthusiastically, and I have no choice but to remain still and nod along in agreement.

Gavin’s appearance is akin to throwing a boulder on calm water, and the ripples caused by the waves spread through the entire banquet hall, including my heart.

Although he should have already spotted me, he doesn't talk to me. Instead, he sits two spaces away. His expression is cold and fierce, as though he has come to participate in a serious operation.

No one dared to approach him in high school, and this has remained true even now. To outsiders, he is a lone wolf - indifferent and arrogant, causing everyone to retreat from him. 

I used to see him in the same light, but everything that occurred later overthrew these myopic impressions. I discovered the softness and delicateness hiding under his hard shell.

“Hey, what's the matter with you? Why are you distracted all the time?" 

My old friend waves his hand in front of me, and I apologise with a bit of embarrassment.

After saying a few more words, he suddenly asks, "Do you have a boyfriend now?" 

Hearing this, I choke on my red wine. In the corner, Gavin seems to be frowning at me, his amber eyes bright and scorching, making me subconsciously want to escape.

I avert my eyes and shake my head. "No." 

He becomes a little more interested then, changing the topic from high school to the present.

"Let me tell you - I’m working at LFG now and have bought a car and paid the down payment for a house. Also, my parents don’t live with me, so if you’re...”

"Are you done?” A cold voice interrupts him. My heart trembles and I raise my head, only to see Gavin's cold glare. 

At this moment, nearly half of the eyes in the hall are focused on our conversation. Looking like he doesn’t care about anything, Gavin grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room. I can’t escape from his grasp, and feel frustrated by his inexplicable behaviour. 

He takes me to a small balcony outside the hall, then imprisons me between the wall and his chest. He looks down at me, brows furrowed deeply. There’s an unconcealed anger in his eyes. 

"What are you doing?” I question, unwilling to look at him directly.

The reply I get is a kiss that plunders everything.

His lips press against mine roughly, and his unique scent overwhelms me. There is a collision and friction between our lips and teeth, and there is pain. 

It’s an uncontrolled plunder and invasion. 

He doesn’t let me go until my last breath is violently swept away. I pant heavily, but he embraces me in the next second. 

This time, his embrace is gentle. 

It’s careful, as if he’s protecting a fragile glass flower. His heavy breath brushes my neck, mingling with his low and trembling voice.

"I'm sorry."

[7] 

I don’t deny that I lived a terrible life in the half month after separating from him.

I worked overtime every day, letting work fill all the gaps in my life. I didn’t give myself a chance to relax at all, because it only takes a second for pain and regret to gnaw away at me. 

Minor has been secretly reporting my life to Gavin. I knew that. But I never thought of stopping him, and a ridiculous expectation even started brimming in my heart. 

I wondered if there would be a night, when the lights of the city begin to fade, when he would appear in front of me as he used to. He would wrinkle his beautiful eyebrows and gently bring me into his arms. With a slight touch of reproach, he would ask resignedly, “Why are you working overtime again?”

I also wondered if he would push the office door open anxiously when I’m stricken with another stomach ailment, picking me up sideways without a word. The expression on his face back then was full of anger, but the stream of light in his eyes magnified his distress and tenderness infinitely.

I also wondered, when I have finished my work for the day and am leaning against the wall of the elevator and staring at the changing floors, whether I’d see him as soon as I open the door.

If he did show up, I would put everything down and leap into his arms, and tell him over and over again that I love him. 

But in the half month since our break up, he never appeared once. 

This city is so large that even if two people were once intimate, they may miss each other for a lifetime if they don’t stay in touch. 

So I started to waver again. Why did I live even more unhappily after listening to what my aunt said? 

Why is it that once the seasoning of love is no longer part of this big dish of life, the entire thing tastes like wax?

I don't understand - would I be happier finding someone I’m suitable with but do not love, or consume each other’s love and embrace the friction?

Deep down, I know that if I could abandon everything and make a choice, I would choose the latter without hesitation.  

At least, my life as of now tells me very clearly that the decision I made was wrong.

And this mistake has tortured the both of us beyond recognition.  

[8]

My back is extremely tense and feels like a fully stretched bow. 

The hands around my waist move slightly, and Gavin’s voice falls on my ears, drawing intense pain from my heart. 

With every breath, I can only smell the scent of his body and the sweet aroma of red wine from just now. 

Over his shoulders, I see the bright, brilliant, erosive, and prosperous city. Trapped inside are people all sentenced to life.  

I know that I’m one of them.

Without warning, tears trickle from the corners of my eyes, leaving streaks of cold water on my face.

In my increasingly fuzzy and hot vision, I see Gavin’s somewhat flustered expression. He gently wipes away my tears with his rough finger pads. 

Those eyes, full of anxiety, become the only lighthouse within reach.  

It seems that as long as I look at him, I will never lose my way.  

After a few small sobs, I rush into his arms without a care. I pull at the corners of his clothes and cry until his white T-shirt becomes damp.

He comforts me clumsily, his hands caressing my hair in exchange for the string of muffled "sorry"s flowing from my mouth.

[9] 

I called my aunt.

"Aunt, is suitability really that important in life?" 

"Silly child, suitability is very important. But more importantly, are you happy?"  

“What if I’m with someone who I’m not suitable with, but I feel happy?”

"Then he might be the most suitable person for you.”

[10] 

I stand at the door of the STF office, holding a boxed lunch and looking outside. 

An officer who recognises me greets me with a smile. "Is sister-in-law giving Gavin food again? Just go in and wait. The team is already on their way back. 

I smile and nod. “It doesn't matter. Waiting over here is the same thing.”

Another colleague pats him on the shoulder, as if laughing at his stupidity. "What would you know, you single loner? Sister-in-law wants to see Gavin sooner!" 

I blush, and suddenly see a familiar profile coming in through the door. 

The faint light of dusk outlines his wide shoulders and narrow waist, depicting his side profile clearly. Seeing me, the solemnity and coldness on his face melts into a pool of spring water.

"What are you doing here? Didn't I say you should wait for me at home?" 

He walks up to me and takes what’s in my hand, his tone brisk and clear. 

I crinkle my eyes and smile, saying, "I’m off work early today, and came over since I have nothing to do.” 

We walk all the way to his office. Opening the boxed lunch, he sees that it contains his favourite dishes. 

Gavin takes a whiff in a slightly exaggerated manner, then smiles. "Mm, smells good.”

I quickly hand him the chopsticks. He picks up a piece of beef and brings it into his mouth. After swallowing it, he lowers his eyes and smiles. "I get to eat the food you cook after my mission. I suddenly don't feel tired at all.”

I feel a twinge in my heart. I huff nonchalantly and respond. "If you like it, I’ll prepare and bring you boxed lunches in the future.” 

"No need." He reaches out and tousles my hair. "Be good and wait for me at home. Just knowing that you’re at home makes me feel very contented.”

After work, we walk home together hand in hand. The setting sun filters through the uneven skyline of the city, elongating our shadows.

The summer evening breeze carries the scent of camphor trees across my face, and the temperature of the day finally reveals a tired and lazy side. Dim light reaches the world through the clouds drifting in the sky, bringing a certain tenderness to this steely city.

"Gavin?" I turn my head to look at the man wearing a smile on his mouth, and happen to meet his clear eyes. 

"What's the matter?"

"Your birthday is coming soon. Are there any gifts you want?”

"Anyth-"

“You’re not allowed to say ‘anything’!" I interrupt him with a glare, giving his palm a forceful squeeze.

He smiles compromisingly, and his eyes seem to be filled with scattered gold. 

"Then teach me how to cook a meal. I hope one day in the future, you can return home from work and eat a meal I’ve prepared.”

I’m momentarily startled, and suddenly remember what my aunt said - 

"Then he might be the most suitable person for you.”

I have thought about this question of suitability many, many times. Just like the “unity of opposites” in philosophy, I simply can’t make sense of it. But no one has ever told me that this question doesn’t require thinking. The answer has always been in my heart, and the clues to finding the answer have been scattered throughout my life.

Even the most trivial things in life carries memories belonging only to us. And these small and plain memories will gather into a surging tide when you least expect it, washing away the dust covering the answer in one’s heart. 

Perhaps there has never been such a thing as “unsuitable” to begin with. This so-called “unsuitable” is just used by people looking for an excuse to part ways.

A breeze blows past, and ripples appear on the lake in my heart. When I look at him again, I suddenly feel light and happy both physically and mentally, and that nothing could come between the both of us.

With a big smile, I say, "Okay! I’ll leave the birthday party to you then, Mr Gavin.”

He chuckles softly, his bangs a little messy from the evening breeze. "I will learn properly, and won’t disappoint you.”  

The sunset finally sinks behind the tall buildings. Neon lights and vehicle headlights begin to flicker, and the dim yellow streetlights on the side of the road replace the sunset, continuing to illuminate the long road.

I know that he will hold my hand as we walk, step by step, slowly and steadily, along this path home. 

[springsteenicious]

WRITING PLAYLIST #2 of 5

This one is for @those70scomics‘ fic, Jackie Stargazer (ao3 / ffnet). Keep in mind, I put this together. None of these songs are approved by MistyMountainHop, I just think they fit the vibe of her excellent fic. And I would like her to know that she has veto power over this playlist, meaning that if there is a song she feels does not fit on this playlist, she can tell me to take it off :D 

I will also be adding to this as more of the story is published. Each time I add to it, I’ll make a post with the tag ‘Jackie Stargazer Playlist,’ so if you don’t want to see these, block that tag. 

Listen to the playlist on Spotify! (Let me know if that link doesn't work, Spotify was being weird.)

Number of songs on the playlist (currently): 24 songs

Bands/artists: Cheap Trick, Deep Purple, Ezra Furman, The Kinks, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Pink Floyd, Rainbow, Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow, The Dead Daisies, Black Sabbath 

Significant Songs: All. So, under the cut is my explanation for each song, or just the important lyrics. 

Downed by Cheap Trick - I’m gonna live on a mountain / way down under in Australia / it’s either that or suicide / its such a strange strain on you / Ooh, I got a mind / Over you it's not the first time / Ooh, I got a mind

Mean Streak by Deep Purple - This song is about Ro. It’s a kickass song and the lyrics fit her (and Hyde) very well. --- She drive me crazy gets inside my brain / She spun my money down the drain, ohh / So I roll over for my reward / How much can I afford? / She says, "Just a little more" --- I can't take this no more / Tried so hard but I can't get through the door / Because one smile from those eyes / And I stand there paralyzed / And she says, "You better beg for more I mean / Get down sucker you know what I like"

Perfect Strangers by Deep Purple - I am returning / The echo of a point in time / A distant face that shines --- I am the echo of your past

Black Night by Deep Purple - The whole song is relevant to Jackie. 

The Queen Of Hearts by Ezra Furman - See this post. 

Destroyer by The Kinks - Again, relevant to Jackie. --- She said, man, there's really something wrong with you / One day you’re gonna self-destruct / You're up, you're down, I cant work you out / You get a good thing going then you blow yourself out / Silly boy, ya self-destroyer / Silly boy, ya self-destroyer / Silly boy, you got so much to live for / So much to aim for, so much to try for / You blowing it all with paranoia / You're so insecure, you self-destroyer

Serve The Servants by Nirvana - Teenage angst has paid off well / Now I'm bored and old / Self-appointed judges judge / More than they have sold --- Serve the servants / That legendary divorce is such a bore / As my bones grew they did hurt / They hurt really bad / I tried hard to have a father / But instead I had a dad / I just want you to know that I / Don't hate you anymore / There is nothing I could say / That I haven't thought before

Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana - Just. This song is so good. And can be very easily applied to JS. --- She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak / I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks / I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap / I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black --- Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet / Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath / Broken hymen of Your Highness, I'm left black / Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back --- I got a new complaint / Forever in debt to your priceless advice

Rape Me by Nirvana - Self-explanatory. 

All Apologies by Nirvana - What else should I write? / I don't have the right / What else should I be? / All apologies --- I wish I was like you / Easily amused / Find my nest of salt / Everything is my fault / I'll take all the blame / Aqua Sea Foam shame / Sunburn freezer burn / Choking on the ashes of her enemy

Corduroy by Pearl Jam - This song is amazing and I could write so much about this and how it fits not just Jackie but Hyde too. If you listen to the song and follow along with the lyrics, you’ll see what I mean. 

State Of Love And Trust by Pearl Jam - State of love and trust as I busted down the pretext / Sin still plays and preaches, but to have an empty court, uh huh / And the signs are passin', grip the wheel, can't read it / Sacrifice receiving the smell that's on my hands, hands, yeah / And I listen for the voice inside my head / Nothin', I'll do this one myself

Once by Pearl Jam - I admit it / What's to say / I'll relive it / Without pain / Backstreet lover on the side of the road / I got a bomb in my temple that is gonna explode --- Once upon a time / I could control myself / Ooh, once upon a time / I could lose myself, yeah / Oh, try and mimic / What's insane / I am in it / Where do I stand? --- Ooh, once upon a time / I could love myself, yeah / Once upon a time / I could love you

Release by Pearl Jam - Again, relevant to Jackie. Just look at the lyrics. 

Black by Pearl Jam - Like Corduroy, if you follow the lyrics while listening you’ll see why I put this on the playlist. 

Paranoid Eyes by Pink Floyd - You believed in their stories of fame, fortune and glory / Now you're lost in a haze of alcohol soft middle age / The pie in the sky turned out to be miles too high / And you hide, hide, hide / Behind brown and mild eyes

The Thin Ice by Pink Floyd - Again, Jackie. And again, just pay attention to the lyrics. 

Stargazer by Rainbow - I will be completely honest with you, I chose this mostly for the title. The song is kind of a stretch, but if you look at the lyrics a certain way, the wizard is kind of Hyde. Anyway, I kept it on the list for the chorus(es): Where is your star? / Is it far, is it far, is it far? / When do we leave? / I believe, yes, I believe

Still I’m Sad by Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow - See the stars come fallin down the sky / Gently passing, they kiss your tear drops dry / See the wind come, softly blow / Your hair from your face --- For myself my tears just fall in the dust / As I search in the night and find they're lost / See the wind come gently blow / Time into my heart / And the rain comes falling down / While were apart / Still I'm sad

Unspoken by The Dead Daisies - Mostly because the lyrics fit, also there is a Degenerate Matter song with this same title --- In the oneness now you realize / Lost your compass and I sympathize / In the darkness now you fade to grey / In the stillness you will make your way / Oh, I can hear you breathe / Unspoken, you gotta let go / Unspoken, you're out in the glow / Unbroken, you let it all flow

Like No Other (Bassline) by The Dead Daisies - Don't breathe in the air on the dark side / It's a lie, you will go insane / You fall down, down deep in the landslide / Who am I, who am I? / You lose your head in the music / Move up and kiss the sky / You slip away and refuse it / Do or die, do or die

Come Alive by The Dead Daisies - Come alive / You can start over / Now take me by the hand and come alive / Gotta break your malady / You got to live your life free / So come alive

Resurrected by The Dead Daisies - Stare in the mirror, lines on my face, yeah / I wonder where the time has gone / It's been a long hard road out from the grave / But I keep a moving on / I been up, down, turned around / Kicked hard to the ground / Keep a coming back again / From the ashes, from the flame / I'm here to light the fire again / I'm back, resurrected

Paranoid by Black Sabbath - Sadly, this is yet another Jackie song. --- I need someone to show me / The things in life that I can't find / I can't see the things that make / True happiness, I must be blindMake a joke and I will sigh / And you will laugh and I will cry / Happiness I cannot feel / And love to me is so unreal

If you have questions about the songs or don't get why I put them on, feel free to ask!

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 14

Buster caught it good from Natalie at breakfast the following morning. As soon as Connie collected the kids to wash them up and the room was empty, she let him have it.

He was made to understand that just before he reappeared inside the house after seeing off Nelly, Louise Brooks had exited the rear loggia, hair and dress rumpled and a nipple exposed, and dashed toward the bathroom. Natalie saw the whole spectacle and saw Buster too, strolling through the front door a minute later with a telltale smear of lipstick on his face. There wasn’t anything he could do to defend himself when she snapped, “I suppose you weren’t thinking about me at all when you went off with Louise last night? What everyone there would think?”

Oh, actually it wasn’t Louise, Nate, that was a crazy coincidence. It was this other girl, you see. Yeah, that’d go over like a lead balloon. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, after giving his answer some thought. “I really am. I had too much to drink. I didn’t know what I was doing.” There was nothing else he could say. Whoever had been out there with Louise, whether George or another lucky man, had either slipped back in unnoticed or left unnoticed, leaving good old Buster to take the fall. He wasn’t convinced that anyone had put two and two together concerning Louise and him, but that hardly mattered to Nate. All the elements to humiliate her had been in place.

“You say you care about me, but that isn’t true at all. Otherwise you wouldn’t be two-timing me every time my back is turned,” she said. Her beautiful eyes were shimmering with unshed tears and he did feel terrible looking at her. He wanted to comfort her, this woman he’d loved since the day he’d stepped off that train in New York and gone to seal their engagement, but he knew it wouldn’t do a lick of good, even if she had allowed him to gather her into his arms and hold her close, which he knew she wouldn’t. 

“You know about the two-timing,” he said. “I never lied about it.” He felt the futility of the argument as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“Yes, but you said it wouldn’t be public,” she said, breaking into a sob.

“Nate, I fucked up, alright!” he said. “I don’t know what you want. What do you want me to do, put on the hair shirt and get out the cat o’ nine tails? Jesus, I’m sorry.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. Now he was angry and couldn’t quite grasp why. Something to do with his stupidity and carelessness but also Natalie’s long-standing refusal to engage in the normal rules of marriage as he understood them. He was angry at everything. He shoved the chair so the arms struck the edge of the table, hoping they’d dented the table’s pristine finish, and stormed out. Eleanor was mopping the checkerboard floor and he ignored her meek hello as he jogged up the stairs and stalked into his bedroom. 

He yanked open his closet, pulled out a jacket, shrugged it on, and laced up his shoes. Before leaving, he collected his fishing poles and tackle box. 

He ended up driving out to Franklin Canyon Lake where he could be alone with his thoughts. He found an isolated spot and parked the Duesenberg, then set up. The absurdity of it didn’t escape him, sitting on the grassy edge of the lake getting the seat of his pants wet and dirtying up a $200 pair of leather shoes with a $9,500 car behind him.

He had been pretty drunk last night, but not so drunk he hadn’t known what he was doing when Nelly kissed him. She’d made the first move, but he’d been getting ready to beat her there. His thoughts had been returning to her all morning. He’d grown to like her and there wasn’t much question as to why. She was pretty for starters and she had a backbone, which he’d always liked in a girl. He was amused by her sense of pride. Her stakes also seemed very low. She didn’t want to be the leading lady in a romance or even the leading lady in one of his comedies, for that matter. No, it was fusty old Shakespeare she had her hopes pinned on. His first thought upon waking up, apart from lamenting how ferociously his head hurt, was that he wanted to see her again.

Nate’s sad, pretty little face at the breakfast table rose up in his mind and guilt gnawed. She deserved a husband who would be faithful to her; he did believe that with his whole heart, even though he couldn’t (Couldn’t or wouldn’t? hissed a part of him) make that sacrifice. It wasn’t fair of him to treat her the way he did, to be thinking of Nelly and how much he’d wanted her last night. Still, the selfish part of him objected stridently. He had needs too and didn’t he deserve to get them met? Hadn’t he tried his best to make things better before going outside of his marriage? Didn’t he still do his damndest to make Nate happy, what with the Villa and parties and letting her control the purse-strings?

The fishing was good as morning wore into afternoon and afternoon wore into evening, but he threw everything back. Gone were the days in Muskegon where Myra cooked everything he caught, frying the fish up in butter and cornmeal. Caruthers bought the fish and other meat fresh every day and it was usually exotic, skate fillets and swordfish and the like, not the humble trout and largemouth bass his line was currently fetching. When he tired of fishing, he got back in the car and drove home. He would miss dinner, but he wasn’t hungry. He parked in the garage and headed to the east wing, where he climbed the stairs to his balcony and let himself into his room, not wanting to come through the main entrance and risk encountering Natalie. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket and trousers on the floor, and crawled into bed. The hangover had caught up to him and he fell fast asleep. 

When he woke up, he had no idea where he was or what time it was. It took him a few seconds to remember the fishing trip, the fight, and the party. He grabbed the alarm clock on his bedside table and brought it up to his face. Almost nine o’clock. He’d slept for over two hours. He sat up, feeling groggy and hungry, and pulled his trousers back on. He padded into the hall. The house was dim, Caruthers having turned down the lights for the evening, and no trace of the previous evening’s festivities remained. He wondered if Nate had decided to go ahead with the barbecue tomorrow in spite of the fight. Even though he would have rather inspected the kitchen for leftovers, he passed the stairs and went on to the west wing. The door to Natalie’s bedroom was closed and he tapped on the door to announce himself before pushing quietly inside. 

Natalie was sitting up in bed in a blue satin nightgown and a matching translucent wrap reading an issue of Colliers. She didn’t look at him as he sat at the foot of the bed. “Hi,” he said, giving her toe beneath the covers a friendly tweak. She withdrew her foot and turned the page of her magazine. The cover advertised the new Zane Grey novel and was subtitled A Story of Love and Adventure in Arizona. 

He knit his hands in his lap. “I know you’re angry.”

No response. 

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I love you.”

Only then did Natalie put down the magazine and look at him. “A fine way you’ve got of showing it.” The expression on her face was cold.

He stood up and climbed into the bed with her, making himself comfortable against the mound of pillows on the vacant side. It was a risky move, but she didn’t object. “I wanna make things work.”

Natalie scoffed. 

Her king bed felt as big as a steamliner compared to his double. Even if he had been permitted to sleep in the same bed with her, with its size there would have been no danger of them ever touching.

“You know I still care for you. I’ve never stopped.” Cautiously, he stroked her arm.

“You humiliated me,” she said, not looking at him. 

“I know. I deserve to be castrated.” He didn’t think he deserved any such thing, but she was letting him stroke her arm, so he went on.

“Does the whole world know you’re stepping out on me? That I’m not enough for you?” Her voice was trembly. 

He sighed. “I don’t think anyone noticed last night. We came from opposite ends of the house.”

“Yes,” she said tearily. “It was very clever of you. But I noticed.”

“Because you’re my wife. My wife who I love very much.” He threw caution to the wind and moved into her space, putting his arms around her and laying his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you.” She was rigid, but didn’t attempt to pull away.

“What will it take for you to treat me with respect then?” she said, reaching up to dash away a tear. 

Buster sighed again and nuzzled her shoulder. She smelled of flowers and baby powder. “I do respect you. You know what the problem is.”

The silence between them was heavy. After a while, Natalie said, “I could try again to like it, I guess.” She sniffled.

He looked at her, surprised. “Do you really mean that?”

She nodded. “I want us to be happy. I want Bobby and Jimmy to have a mother and a father. Under the same roof, that is.”

Apparently he hadn’t been the only one with the D word on his mind. “Okay,” he said, not quite believing she’d just said what she had. “Well, you know that would make me very happy.”

Natalie laid her hand on his forearm. “And you’d stay faithful to me, if …” She was so delicate, she trailed off instead of naming the unseemly act to which they both referred.

“Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

“I don’t want to tonight,” she said, sounding almost frightened.

“I don’t expect you to.” He leaned up and kissed her cheek. “We can take things at your pace.”

“Okay,” she said. He felt her relax in his arms.

She permitted him to linger cuddling her a while longer, and when she kicked him out so she could sleep it was with a kiss.

Standing in the kitchen eating a shaved-beef sandwich a few minutes later, he felt like the tide was turning just a little. The cutting of Steamboat was going well. The barbecue was still on for tomorrow and those always cheered him up. Natalie had done better than just forgiven him for his indiscretion, she told him she was willing to resume their marital relations. Even so, once he’d taken a bath and was lying between his sheets in his silk pajamas, he couldn’t sleep. He was thinking about the night before and the girl who had attended in her rented dress and had thrown away his flask of whiskey. He remembered too that she’d cried when he filmed the facade scene Notes: Thank you for your patience, Buster kittens, as I adjusted to some big life changes the past week. My therapy is this story, though, so I’m back at it again! A couple notes: Buster and Natalie had servants called Connie and Eleanor, which is a little confusing given that Natalie’s sister Constance was sometimes called Connie and Buster found his happily ever after with an Eleanor. According to Myra Keaton, Buster never stopped loving Natalie, and I do think that he genuinely wanted their marriage to work. What do you think?

[lia-writes]

interlude

pairing: jaskier x reader

summary: based on the prompt: “that’s a lot of blood” 

a/n: i love him, okayyy - but something for geralt next because yowza - also titles are hard. 

;

The late Summer air lingers as you ride across the open field, eyeing the cover of trees ahead in desperation. You’ve been sweating since dawn; your horse has been spooking at shadows all day and Jaskier, seated behind you won’t stop singing.  

His arms, wrapped around your waist tighten suddenly as again, your horse stops dead in her tracks with an indignant snort and pricked ears. You snatch at the reins and growl under your breath at the mare.  

“Why’d y’ stop?” He asks, peering over your shoulder at the nothing you’d been trying to find all day.

Your gaze snaps back to meet his, and he pulls a face, “yikes, okay.” his grip on you doesn’t loosen until you bring a hand down to pinch at his arm.  

“We need to make camp for the night,” you sigh, both exhausted and filled to the brim with annoyance.  

“But we...” He begins until you cut him off with a glare.

“Need to get there as soon as possible. You think I don’t know?”  

Honestly, you’re not really sure why he sticks with you. Most of the time, you’re badly tempered and impatient, but neither of you really have anyone else. Plus, you’re the one with the horse.  

He calls you feisty. Once or twice you’ve admitted that he’s good company, both times at the mercy of beer and spirits.  

Your nostrils flare as you wait for him to get off and then you dismount too, albeit a little less nimbly than usual. He glances away when you stumble, only because he knows you’ll snap at him if you catch him staring.  

The line of trees ahead, calls your name. Following your lead, the grey mare walks forward and Jaskier half walks / half jogs to keep up with your long bad mood strides.  

It’s when you reach the edge of the field that you hear the voices, jarring against the near silence that has fallen between you and the bard.

“y/n?” He asks, bumping into you when you stop suddenly.

“For fucks sake,” you mutter, feeling his breath on the back of your neck. “Shut up – there are people ahead.”  

“Ohh-”  

Before he can say anymore, you step back onto his toes, effectively keeping him quiet.

“We should keep moving,” one voice says and another yells maybe-drunk obscenities in protest. “we’ll eat, and then we’ll leave. your chosen ‘state’ is not my fault.”

Bandits. Fuck. With one hand you thrust the reins into Jaskier’s hands and the other draws your sword.  

“Wait here,” you hiss and before you can listen to his protests, you move forward lightly, palms sweaty against the swords handle.

Crouching behind an old tree stump, you catch sight of them – both tall and on the skinny side. In the light of their small fire, you notice the shiner that one of them sports on their cheek. Quickly you realize that this is the drunk one. The other one sits next to the fire, tending to their food. The smell makes you feel weak, the only thing you’d eaten all day was some slightly stale bread.  

You’re hardly able to stop yourself as you burst from your hiding spot, partly due to your awful mood needing to swing your sword. The drunk goes down with only a couple of lazy swipes of their own sword, unable to make it connect with you or your blade. He drops heavily at your feet, and you huff in satisfaction.  

The other one, however, is less predictable and the sound of clanging metal has Jaskier dashing forward, your mare trotting alongside him without argument. He pulls to a stop at the edge of the clearing, just in time for your blade to catch the man’s bicep in a pirouette, and then with a second swing, his neck.  

The second man’s body crumples, blood spurting from his neck and before you turn to face your companion, you let the pain wash over you. His blade had caught the outside of your thigh, lightly before you’d danced back out of reach. The silence between you is stifling as you return your sword to its place at your shoulder.

Refusing to look down at your leg, or even accept that you’re now injured you move toward Jaskier and your horse, focused on hiding your limp. The lack of lighting allows cover for the rip in your trousers, and the blood that wets the dark fabric.  

“Always something to prove, huh?” 

He winces when you take the reins from him, hands brushing against his for a moment more than you’d usually allow. When his hand raises to wipe the specks of blood from your face, you sigh, letting your eyes shut against his touch.

As you drag your mare toward a nearby tree to tie her up for the night, he notices the slowness in your movements. Nothing about you is ever slow. He helps unsaddle the horse, propping the saddle against the tree and keeping hold of the heavyweight blanket that rested underneath it.  

“Wait, you’re not okay,” he states when you stumble, grimace and curse under your breath. The genuine concern in his voice makes you pause.

“I’m fine. We’ll stay here, not waste their food and leave at dawn,” you order, always so bossy.

Both of you move back towards the small fire that gives off light but not much heat. The sweat that covered your skin only minutes ago has cooled. He sits next to you, so close that your shoulders bump and a little heat returns to your body. When he’s occupied with trying to guess what kind of meat is cooking over the fire, you catch a glance at your leg.  

The tear in your pants shows a short, sharp slice. Still aching and wet with blood.  

“Yeah, you’re fine,” he leans over and scoffs when you pull back with blood on your fingers.

“Fuck,” you hiss and he offers a smile, “I did this, to protect you.” your voice reaches a near yell and he pulls back, looking hurt for naught but a second.

“Well, we could have gone around them,” he gestures toward the bodies and you’re fuming as he continues, “My healing skills may be limited, but I think it’s me that can help you and your ‘predicament’ right now,” he gestures at your thigh and if it had been any other situation, you may have blushed.  

Swallowing your words instead, you glare at him for a moment, in embarrassment because usually, it’s you helping him and then motion for him to go collect the saddlebag that contains all your vials. 

Eventually, you lie back, legs falling to the side, injury face up. “Sometimes I don’t think you realize how much you like me,” he says lightly as he brings back the leather bag.  

“Careful,” you snap and ignore his words when he sits down next to you and fumbles through it, glass clinking together. “It should be white,” you add when he pulls one out, holding it up to the light of the fire, “so not that one.”  

Sighing, you push yourself up on your elbows, to watch as he holds up yet another wrong vial - “no,” the pain keeps you snappy and on edge.

“Doing my best,” he quips and produces two more. Finally, you nod.

“That one,” when he puts the right one back down, your annoyance only builds. “Jaskier,” you exclaim, pitch heightening as you jab your finger in the direction of the glass bottle, filled as described, with some kind of white substance.

He chuckles almost nervously, “Now, who’s this going to hurt more?”

Despite the pain, you take a moment to tilt your head to the side slightly, “Me-” he unscrews the lid and brings it up to sniff. You almost laugh when he dry heaves. It’s not a salve best known for its smell, but it’s effective and created exactly as you were taught when you were younger.

“Okay, now I’m really sorry,” he holds it at a distance before realizing he’s committed to the point of actually having to use it.  

His touch is ginger against your wound and you hiss through clenched teeth.  

“I don't want to hurt you; I mean that does seem like a lot of blood”  

You take a breath, “It’s fine, just do it quickly.”

“I can’t really get the angle right, to be fair,”  

“I thought... You were doing your best,” he looks offended for a split second before his voices gains a sense of authority that makes you choke.  

“Well, maybe if you pull your trousers down a little,”

“Fuck off.” You snarl and his hand presses against the side of your thigh, making you whimper and shut up at the same time.

Keeping an eye on where his gaze remains, you eventually oblige. The bleeding has slowed, and with a quick distraction of “who’s that over there?” it’s over, your hand moving to grip his arm, nails digging in until he actually yelps.  

As you begin to regain a little of your dignity, you recognize the look on his face, giddy at feeling like he was your protector. Honestly, it was hard not to appreciate the small feeling of safety you’d been given, even if it were only for the night.

“Go to sleep, I’ll keep watch tonight,” he tells you after the both of you have eaten your fill, the fire providing little warmth. 

His intentions are in the right place, but in a night of fitful sleep, every time your eyes flicker open, you catch him asleep next to you. For once you don’t really care, even when his arm drapes over you, his light snores warm on the back of your neck.  

The pain leaves you in a state of comfortable you thought you’d never truly feel. That concept had plagued you since meeting the bard. Would you ever lose the constantly watching your back state of mind?

The slight smile is still on your face when he wakes before you, morning sun filtering through the trees. Despite all the strong feelings you’d shared and you had promptly chosen to ignore, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on the Continent.  

[kiintsugi]

Vagrant's Rhapsody

“You can't change the wind but you can set your sails.”   ― Billie Joe Armstrong 

“Sometimes the world decides it doesn’t need you. Sometimes you decide you don’t need the world. But, you... fuck, I need you.”

+

Drink because you’ve got nothing better to do than wallow in self-pity on a Saturday night. Drink because you’re letting the straights play jump rope with your nerves. Fling your glass across the bar so you have to watch the whiskey run down your distorted, cracked reflection.  

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

+ 

Train hopper modern au. aka the road trip quarter-life crisis au no one asked for but i’m writing anyway

EXCERPT:

“Shit. What’s the order again?”

“Me. Nyko. Lexa. You.”

“See. This is why you should have done a rehearsal.”

“Rehearsals cost money, Anya.”

“So do weddings, asshole.”

Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose and gave Anya a shove through the open door. “I think you just proved his point.”  

“Shut up, Lexa,” Anya sneered as they filed through the door and down the hall. “Who’s on Octavia's side?”

“You’re walking with Raven.” Lincoln pulled at his tie. He had adjusted it at least a dozen times in the past ten minutes.

“Linc, you gotta stop doing that.” Lexa reached over Anya’s shoulder and grabbed Lincoln by his jacket to restraighten his tie.

“Who the fuck is Raven?”  

“Don’t worry. You’ll like her,” Lincoln assured. “And thanks.”

Nyko was waiting for them, already standing in position with Octavia’s brother as the first pair to walk. They wore the same matching black slim fit suits as Lexa and Anya with a pink collared shirt and matching tie under a gray waistcoat that was accented with a pink pocket square and matching boutonnière. But where Bellamy was clean shaven with hair styled in a short, curling curtain fringe, Nyko’s had a long beard and equally long hair tied back with braids.

He waved to them, and Lexa’s chin bobbed in response. She was supposed to be next but there was no one standing beside Octavia’s brother to indicate themselves as her other half.

“What about me?” She asked, looking around for someone else who might be marked with a pink boutonnière.

“You’re with Clarke.”

Anya slumped, pouting. “Can we switch? I love emasculating men.”

“No, you can’t.” Lincoln pressed his palms into their backs and marched them forward. “And Clarke’s not a guy.”

“What?” It was rhetorical, but she knew Lincoln would answer her regardless. She wished he wouldn’t.  

“Clarke,” he told her. “She’s right over there. Go get into position. Both of you.”

Anya clapped a hand on her shoulder. She felt it, so it must have happened. Just like she knew Anya shoved her forward. She felt herself moving, felt someone’s hands in her back, marching her down the hall. She could feel it. She could see it.

So why was her brain screaming at her to wake up?

The room was spinning, the world moving around her at a hundred miles an hour. Everything was a twisting blur that made her stomach flip and her head spin and she could hear Anya trying to get her attention through it all but, all Lexa could do was blink.  

Waiting for them were two women in silvery grey dresses with their hair drawn up into similarly styled loopy buns. They had their backs turned, heads bobbing with happy chatter as they shared something between them on their phones. One of them had a black and silver walking cane and dark hair, the other was blonde; not the pale sort of blonde or the dishwater sort of blonde, the golden kind.

“Oh, no.” The word escaped her like a whisper, as if saying it would change the truth; change gold into lead. She stepped back, her shoulder hitting something – Anya probably – sending them both stumbling.

“Watch where you’re going, Lexa. Shit.”  

Clarke’s phone hit the floor; her hand suspended – frozen – in time as the blues of her eyes are blown away. Clarke refused to budge; Lexa couldn’t. Blue eyes now black as night, staring.  

Something clicked in her head, time started to move again, Lexa’s lips slipped apart and before she could even think about what she was doing the halls echoed with her voice saying “Hello, Clarke.”

And then Clarke was cursing.  

“Fuck,” she spat, her body surging into a shaking frenzy as she snatched her phone from the ground and tried to do anything that didn’t involve looking at Lexa.  

Anya slung her arm around Lexa’s shoulders, squinting at the women as she gave them one of her infamous once overs and then looked at Lexa with those same judging eyes. “I expect an explanation later,” she said and then she unhooked herself from Lexa and strolled forward to meet Raven.  

Clarke was still cursing, still fumbling with her phone, still avoiding looking at her. 

Lexa swallowed. She deserved that.

“Clarke! Lexa!” Nyko’s voice hissed. “Get into position. We gotta go!”

Everything moved in a blur. Her feet were moving, music playing, but all she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her chest. There were lights, doors swinging open and music blasting even louder into her ears and then...

Clarke was touching her arm.

Lexa sucked in a breath, her spine going stiff and the room began to swirl around her. Nyko was gone. A push from behind. Clarke wasn’t touching her anymore. Octavia was there. Across from her was Lincoln, tears rolling down his cheeks. More music. Applause.  

The whole wedding done and over and all Lexa could remember was the sound of her heartbeat.

She came too sometime between the end of the ceremony and the reception, around the time that Anya had decidedly abandoned her in favor of the woman named “Raven”.

“Sorry,” she offered.

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

Anya blew a kiss turned one finger salute and sauntered off to the buffet of food where Raven was standing in line and Lexa was left sitting alone at the table, watching as people she didn’t know gathered in celebration.

Lincoln and Octavia had their own table, as per some wedding tradition Lexa didn’t understand and everyone else had been assigned a table number that Lexa had no memory of reading. Still, she had the place card, “Lexa Woods, Table 3” clasp between her fingers, running her fingertips over the embossed lettering as she tried grasp the missing memories from her mind. But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was waves of gold, and the fury of winter.

She opened her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath when something clapped against her shoulder. She whipped herself around, tearing herself free from the unwanted touch, looked up... “Lincoln,” she breathed, relieved. “Congratulations.”

“Are you okay, Lexa?” Lincoln pulled out a chair next to her and sat himself down. He had two plates piled in one of his massive hands, one he set down in front of him and the other he placed before her. “You’ve been acting weird for hours.”

Lexa shook her head, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah,” she lied. “Im fine. Just... Coming back here is harder than I thought it would be.”

Lincoln smiled softly. “I know,” he said. “I it’s a rough transition. I shouldn’t have asked you to be a part of the wedding knowing how jarring all this can be.”

“No,” Lexa rushed to correct. “It’s not that. It’s... I know Clarke.”

“You do?” he asked, stabbing at a piece of steak and shoving it into his mouth. “How? She’s hardly ever around.”

“Northfield. Minneapolis. Boston.” Lexa shrugged. “Around.”

“Small world.” Lincoln said between bites. “Octavia thought you two would hit it off.”

Lexa poked at her food. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“For real?” Lincoln leaned over the table to try and force Lexa to look at him.  

Lexa waved a hand and pushed Lincoln away. “It’s fucking nothing. Alright? Don’t worry about it.”

Lincoln sighed as he grabbed his plate and pushed away from the table. “Alright,” he said. “But try to eat something, okay? A lot of something. We got a buffet and an open bar for a reason so, make it worth it.”

Lexa grumbled and shoveled a fork full of food into her mouth. She had forgotten how good food could taste, her eyes rolling to the back of her head with delight.

Anya plopped down in the seat next to her with three piled plates of meat, sides and bread ready to be devoured. She glowered at Lexa, sizing her up as she hunched over her food. “I’m not sharing,” she announced.  

“I’m not asking,” Lexa said, taking another bite of her own food.

With a mouth full of bread, Anya sneered. “Good.”

Raven pulled out the chair next to Anya and dropped a single, mountain piled plate onto the table. “Table three,” she endorsed with a smile before her eyes trailed from Anya to Lexa. Her opened her mouth sucked in a breath.  

“Sit down, Raven,” came another voice; husky and familiar.  

Clarke sat down across from Lexa; her eyes glued to her phone and Lexa was sure she was avoiding eye contact until Clarke dared to stare directly at her from across the table. She had a small plate by comparison to everyone one else and a glass of either really flat beer, or an impressive amount of scotch that she was drinking with more than a hint of rage.

Lexa suppressed the urge to shudder from the bite of the icy blues across from her. “So, you’re friends with Octavia,” she said to no one in particular in a half assed attempt to steer the conversation away from the tension between her and Clarke.

“Not for long,” Raven said in a sing song voice.  

“What do you mean?” Anya asked.

“We sort of have this thing,” Raven started, her arms drawing a scene as she explained. “Like a box of long-term bets that we only open up on really big occasions when we’re all together. We take it really seriously and some of us are two hundred percent fucked.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and dived deeper into her glass of alcohol. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Lexa leaned her elbows onto the table. “Oh really,” she toyed. “Tell us more.”

Raven wrapped her arm around the back of her chair and pointed to a rusty red toolbox with a small rectangular slit cut near the top and a combination lock dangling from the latch that sat on Lincoln and Octavia’s table. Atop the worn red paint, the words “long term bets” were painted on in a glittery blue and there were several band stickers that were slapped onto the sides. “Normally, I'm the appointed commissioner. But my gift to Octavia was to let her be the judge of all that tonight.”

“You have a long-term bet box and an official commissioner?” Anya asked.

“Yeah.” Raven said flatly.

Octavia noticed them eyeing the box and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and gave the box and excited rattle.  

Anya smiled. “I’m liking this Octavia person more and more by the minute.”

[jeminy3]

The Things We Carry.

One of many old drabbles I’m finally getting around to finishing. Expect more Blind!Roy in the future.

In this one, Roy visits the Hughes house a few months after the Promised Day. He refused Marcoh’s offer to heal his eyes.

Features: Blind Character PoV, implied self-loathing, depression, character death and the repercussions on their spouse and child, discussions of death and violence with a child.

Read on AO3

Read on Google Docs

Twitter Post

Cool art by Manalfedz

–

"Can you see this, Mister Mustang?"

Roy stares, aiming slightly down and to his side where Elicia's voice is coming from, but he sees nothing besides the usual darkness.

"No, I can't," he says.

He hears the girl huff softly, then the clicking and clacking of plastic as she retrieves another toy.

"What about this? The light's really bright, can you see?"

Roy knows it's pointless, but he strains his eyes anyway. He thinks he can see the tiniest spot of grey flickering in the darkness of his vision,  maybe, but it's so faint he can hardly tell.

Well, he can't bear to dash the girl's hopes. So he says, "Just a little bit."

Elicia gasps softly. "Really? Yay!" Her little voice beams with excitement, and she claps her hands vigorously. It warms him, and Roy can't help smiling.

Suddenly there's the sound of her mother, Gracia, entering the room, telegraphed by footsteps on the dining room carpet and the shifting of her clothes.

"Look, mommy! It's so bright, even Mister Mustang can see it!" Elicia says, probably waving the light-up toy around for her mother to see.

"That's nice dear, but I think Mustang's had enough for now," her mother replies, somewhat curtly. There's the soft 'thunk' of dinner plates, heavy with food, being laid upon the table Roy's currently sitting at.

"Can you pick up your toys and play in the living room? We're having dinner now."

"Okay..." Elicia says, not hiding her dejection.

There's more click-clacking as she retrieves her toys, and the sound comes and goes as Gracia joins him at the table and begins to speak. Roy can imagine her carting her toys to the other room one armful at a time - she must have brought more toys than he first thought.

"I'm so sorry if she bothered you, Mustang," Gracia says quietly, slightly strained.

Roy lightens his voice, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh no, no, it's fine. She's just curious is all. Perfectly natural at her age."

Gracia sighs, a bit long-sufferingly. "I suppose. I can't imagine what it's like myself."

"Not many can," Roy says casually.

By now he's felt around for his fork on the table, which he uses to explore his dinner via holding it by the base of its tines instead of the handle, using his fingertips to discreetly touch at the food. Feels like meatloaf slices, with sides of peas and mashed potatoes. Very humble, as Gracia had warned him before he came over, but nonetheless appetizing as the smell wafts up to his nose. It's warm, homely, like the Hughes' household always is. Thank God that hasn't changed.

Roy tries the peas first, enjoying the way the soft seeds gently burst into mush between his teeth, tasting mildly sweet and buttery.

Gracia speaks up again after a soft clinking of metal-on-dinnerware from her direction. "I don't mean to pry, but- how are you, lately? I'm sure it hasn't been easy, at work or otherwise."

Roy pauses to swallow the peas. "...Like I've said, we have a system now, and it works. I should be asking how you've been, Gracia. It's been a while."

Gracia stutters a bit. "Oh- Me? There's not much to tell, really. Just more of the same."

Roy blinks uselessly in her direction, halfway though lifting a piece of meatloaf to his lips. "...Even after the eclipse?"

Gracia laughs uncomfortably. "Ah- Well yes, that was quite the scare, but we're alright now. And very glad that we are!"

His guilt stings at him again at the word, the memory of that day. In all his nerve-fraying preparation for that event, he'd arranged safe passage for his own family out of Central, but not the family of his closest friend. Another wound to pick at himself with until the end of his days.

...And by now Roy thinks he's hearing a pause in Elicia's toy-handling that line up perfectly with every other line of their conversation, but... Eh. He elects to ignore it. Not like she'll understand what they're talking about anyway

Roy clears his throat lightly. "...I'm happy to hear that, but- I worry about you, Gracia. You know I do. And I'm sorry again that I couldn't visit sooner."

He can hear the shifting of Gracia shaking her head. "Roy, please. I'm alright, really! Major Armstrong has been kind enough with electing to watch Elicia for me when I'm out. He's such a great help, you know."

Roy smiles around his mouthful of meatloaf, both at her statement and the juicy texture of the meat. Gracia always was a great cook.

After swallowing, he says, "So I've heard. Working out well, I imagine?"

"Oh yes, Elicia adores him. Says she talks his ear off all the time."

She chuckles lightly. Roy can’t help laughing as well, imagining the tiny girl pestering the relatively massive Strong Arm Alchemist with a deluge of comments and questions, not unlike what she was doing earlier with Roy himself.

But the lightness is short-lasting, falling into an uncomfortable silence as they returned to their food. Roy fills his mouth with a spoonful of mashed potatoes, doing his best to ignore the emptiness that occupies the third seat at the table now - even without eyes, he can still feel it there.

Gracia gives a small sigh, suddenly. "...Still...."

"Mm?" Roy grunts through his mouthful of potatoes.

"...Are... Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, in this strange, almost desperate tone of voice. "I know at work you are, but- what about your personal life?"

Roy swallows thickly, partly because of the potatoes, partly because this conversation was making him uncomfortable now. He clears his throat and forces a chuckle.

"What personal life? I practically live at the office, you know this, Gracia," he says, half-laughing.

Gracia doesn't lighten her tone, though, cutting deeper instead. "...I'm serious, Roy. After what you've gone through, what happened in-"

"The explosion, yes. It was terrible," Roy cuts in, more curtly than intended.

He jerks his head in the direction of the living room, because by now he's confident that Elicia is quietly listening in on them. An explosion had taken his sight - that's the public statement they'd released, among many, many others, to explain what'd happened on the Promised Day.

Gracia catches his hint with a small cough. "Ah- of course. Sorry..."

Roy straightens, clears his throat again. "...It's fine. I'm coping as best I can, like I always do." His tone leaves another sentence hanging between them, unspoken - So please, don't worry about me.

"...That's what I'm afraid of," Gracia says quietly, more to herself, really

Roy can't think of a response - and soon silence falls again, this time pressing down like a great, crushing weight, a sensation of drowning.

There's another clinking of dinnerware - Gracia seems to have stopped eating. She sighs again, this time with an air of finality. "Just... don't run yourself too hard, Roy. You've been through a lot."

"I'm-"

"I would know," she adds quietly, cutting off Roy's response. This time, he swallows nothing. Or perhaps the sentence he attempted to say.

He's not liking this trend of everyone around him worrying excessively for his personal well-being, lately. But it can't be helped, he supposes, with the severity of his condition and the position he's still holding despite it. It's been nearly two months now, and his superiors are still shocked that he's refusing to retire, but at least Grumman's been willing to work with him. He'll admit that it's been anything but easy, but he'll be damned if he stops pursuing his goal and lets himself become a burden to everyone. He simply can't give up now - he's done too much, come too far, and couldn't live with himself if he did.

...Besides, he can hardly live with himself as it is.

He hears Gracia shift, and suddenly feels a warm hand grasping his own from across the table, gentle but firm.

"If you ever need to talk, I'm right here" she says, full of warmth and sincerity like she always is.

...Like Maes was, too.

Roy swallows at nothing again. "...Thank you," he whispers, trying his best to sound sincere.

Because to be brutally honest, he can't see himself taking up that offer very often, if at all.

---

The tension at dinner never quite went away, even into dessert. Sweet slices of pumpkin pie gained a bitter aftertaste on Roy's tongue, and he decided to take this as his cue to take his leave and head back home to his apartment.

“Thank you for the food, Gracia,” he says, somewhat tersely, rising from his chair. “Delicious as always.”

“Thank you, Roy,” she responds, a little stiffly. She shifts and takes his hand to shake it - hangs there for a few moments, awkward, leans closer as if wanting to offer him a hug instead. But she doesn’t, probably sensing Roy’s tension at the idea.

Still, he bows politely, retrieves his cane and makes his way to the living room and the front door beyond it – then finds himself stopped by a small hand tugging on his pant leg.

“Mister Mustang! You’re not leaving, are you?” Elicia chirps at his side.

Roy lowers his head in the direction her voice is coming from (or as best as he can guess). “I’m afraid so, dear. I’m sorry, but it’s getting late-”

“But I wanted to show you somethin’!”

“Ah- Oh. You did?”

“Mommy, can I take Mister Mustang to my room before he goes? Pleeeease?”

“Yes dear, but don’t keep him long,” Gracia calls out from the kitchen over the soft sound of running water, probably starting to wash the dishes.

“Okay!” Elicia bounces against him, and he feels her small fingers reaching up to grasp his own. Roy flusters slightly, caught between his own awkwardness and the whims of this precocious little girl. The girl, of course, wins out, and he submits to being tugged along by the arm across the house and into a bedroom down the hall.

Roy feels for obstacles with his cane instinctively as Elicia leads him inside, helping him around her furniture and scattered toys on the floor. He finds himself lead to her bed near the back.

“You can sit on my bed, Mister Mustang,” she says. Strangely, it sounds more like a command than an offer.

Roy ponders this as he seats himself on the little bed’s soft comforter, along with the silence that’s suddenly settled around him. Elicia doesn’t say a word as he hears her walk across the room, close her bedroom door, then return to the bed. Neither does she stop to retrieve a toy, or a book, or anything.

Roy feels the mattress sink and rise as her small form takes a seat next to him, still saying nothing. He feels very nervous, suddenly.

After a beat, she finally speaks, and in this strange, solemn sort of way. "Mister Mustang, can I ask you something?"

Roy turns in her direction, not sure what she's implying... but he gives her a smile anyway. "Of course, dear. Ask me anything."

"Who really took your eyes?"

Roy is... caught off-guard, to say the least. His smile vanishes in an instant, and he stammers out his response, his eyes blinking uselessly. "My... W- What?"

Elicia pauses for a moment, then speaks again, still in that odd tone of voice. "...It was the monsters, wasn't it. The ones who killed my daddy."

She knows. And she sounds far, far too serious about it. It's frightening.

...But then, Roy thinks, should he really be surprised? This poor girl lost her father when she'd barely turned three years old. She's been living with a grieving mother ever since, and the entirety of her short life in a violent, war-mongering country that's just gone through an earth-shattering upheaval within the past few months. He can't imagine what she's gone through, at such a tender age.

Obviously quite a bit, as she already has the presence of mind to keep up appearances in front of him and her mother while they discuss sensitive topics, and the intelligence to corner him for sensitive information in privacy.

Ah... she's already so much like her father, Roy realizes. Too stubborn to accept anything but the truth. He sees no point in not being honest with her.

He clears his throat to compose himself. "...Yes, it was them."

Elicia grunts. "I knew it."

Now, Roy could ask a sensitive question. "And how did you know, Elicia? Who told you about the monsters? Not your mother, I hope."

Elicia shifts, her hair-ties clinking softly as she shakes her head. "No, not mommy. She gets too sad. Mister Armstrong told me. I asked him over and over and over, 'till he told me all about the monsters living under the ground, hurting people and making them die. They made all that bad stuff happen during the ee-clips."

Oh, Alex... His heart is so soft. And Elicia is so cunning, now.

"They're all gone now, right Mister Mustang? You guys killed them all?" she asks expectantly.

"...Yes, we did. Even the one who killed your daddy. I fought him myself," Roy says, but not with any air of triumph.

Elicia doesn't seem to notice that, though. She gasps with excitement. "You did?! You used your fire, right?"

Roy nods, the memory not being pleasant. "Yes... I burned him a hundred times. Maybe more."

Elicia's hair-ties clink again, nodding her head. "That's good. I hope he hurt before he died."

This voice of cruelty and vengeance has no place coming from the mouth of a four-year-old. Roy frowns, poised to nip it in the bud here and now.

"Well, I don't, Elicia. Not anymore."

"Huh?" Her hair-ties clink again as she turns to face him, probably wearing a puzzled look on her little face.

Roy takes a deep breath, releases it. "Elicia, listen... I know how you must feel about this. I felt it too, when I was burning that monster. But it's not a good thing. I almost lost myself back there."

Elicia makes an odd, confused little sound. "Lost...? Like a maze? Mazes are easy, you just follow the walls 'till you find the way out."

Roy can only chuckle. She's thinking of her puzzle books... Perhaps her innocence isn't completely lost after all. But ah, how to explain this...

"It's... a different kind of maze," Roy says, grasping for the words even as he speaks. "It's more like... a maze that's inside you. With no walls."

Elicia makes another confused sound,  shifting and scratching her head. He can imagine her small face scrunched up with exasperation.

"...You're weird, Mister Mustang," she says finally.

"Hah, I know," he chuckles. "But it is like a maze."

He reaches out to touch her little shoulder, patting lightly when he finds purchase. "Listen... have you ever felt so sad, or so angry, that you forgot about everything else? Even who you are?"

Elicia makes thoughtful sounds at that."Um... I dunno. Maybe when Daddy died. Mommy was so sad she forgot to eat sometimes."

"Mm..." Roy scoots closer to her on the bed, draws her in with the arm at her back, hugging her against his side as she leans into him.

"Well, that's how I felt," he continues. "When I found that monster, and he told me he killed your daddy... I was angry. So, so angry. Like it was filling me up, all the way from my feet to the top of my head."

Elicia hums sadly.

"I forgot about everything. I forgot who I was, who my friends were. All I wanted to do was just... be angry, forever, and burn that monster over and over for what he did to your daddy."

Elicia pulls away slightly. "But- you can't just be angry. Not for forever."

Good, she understands. "That's right," Roy nods, "I couldn't. I thought I could, but my friends knew better. They stopped me, before I was lost for good."

Elicia makes a sound like something between awe and sadness.

"It was like... Like I was a completely different person back there," Roy says, getting a bit lost in the memory himself, now. He could almost laugh at it now, in this terrible sort of way. "...Can you even imagine? Being so angry that you're not even yourself anymore?"

"No... That's scary," Elicia says, matter-of-fact.

"Yes, it was," Roy says thoughtfully. "I was pretty scared back then. And I don't scare easily."

Elicia sighs, then wraps her small arms around his waist in a hug. "It's okay, Mister Mustang," she says, as if he were still upset about it now.

...Well he does sound a bit watery in his voice, Roy realizes belatedly. Remembered too much of his emotions back then, perhaps. He chuckles again, but welcomes her comfort, wrapping his arm around her small shoulders.

"I'm fine now, dear, I just don't want that to happen to you."

"Mm..." Elicia hums, snuggling closer to him. Roy leans against her in turn, the warmth a small but welcome comfort.

There’s a beat of silence. Eventually, Roy breathes another long sigh. "Well... it's over now. Hopefully there won't be monsters like that ever again.”

"Yeah," Elicia mumbles, her face half-buried against his torso.

They stay like that, holding each other, for a long while. At least, long enough for Roy to fight back down the tears threatening to well up in his chest. No need for that, now.

Suddenly, Elicia leans away from him and speaks up again. "Mister Mustang... Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," he says.

"Don't tell Mommy. Promise."

"I promise."

"No, you gotta pinky promise. Like this."

She takes his hand in her two small ones and carefully splays out his fingers, then hooks one of her little pinky fingers with his own. Chuckling a little, he bends his finger, sealing the gesture.

"Alright, alright, I'm doing it. Will you tell me now?"

Elicia giggles slightly, and he can hear her smiling now. "Yeah, yeah! Um-"

She pauses for a moment, as if steeling herself.

Then she says, "I wanna be like you when I grow up. An Alchemist."

Roy's grip relaxes at the revelation, his breath escaping him slightly with bewilderment. An alchemist… like him? Despite the still-cynical part of his mind, he can feel his heart swell in his chest. He can only hope that by the time Elicia reaches adulthood, the State Alchemists will be reformed into something she can be proud to be a part of. Servants of the people and paragons of science, no longer living instruments of war and death. Hopefully...

Elicia releases his hand and makes a worried sound at his tension. "Um- Girls can be Alchemists too, right?"

"O- of course," Roy says, trying and failing to recover. "Just... do your studies and work hard. That's all you need to do, really." Setting aside everything else, he isn't wrong.

"Okay! I will, I promise!" she says, all but bouncing against him on the bed by now.

Roy tries to laugh through the tightness in his chest. "Hey now - I hope you don't want to burn things like me, too?"

She stops bouncing. "Huh? No, not that. I wanna help people. Make no more bad things happen."

And this… gives Roy great pause. Her desires are so pure, so simple - so much like his own, when he was young and innocent and only knew he wanted to learn, to fight, to protect people.

Yes, he definitely wants to cry now. "Oh- Oh?"

"I dunno what I'll do,” Elicia continues. “But- I just wanna help people. Like Daddy did, but with Alchemy. You can do that, right?"

Roy swallows, losing the battle with his emotions. "Of... of course you can. We're supposed to, in fact. It's one of our rules: 'Alchemist, be thou for the people.'“

God, let it be true when this girl grows up.

"'Alchemist, be thou for the people'..." she repeats, slowly. After a beat, she says, "...I like that."

"...I'm glad you do." Roy smiles, now feeling tears gathering in his blind eyes, spilling from their corners.

Elicia startles at him. "-You're crying! What's wrong, Mister Mustang?"

Roy wipes at his eyes with one hand, sniffling. "Sorry, Elicia, I... I-it's happy tears, really."

She throws her little arms around him in a desperate hug, burying her face in his chest. "Please don't cry Mister Mustang! You're gonna make me cry!"

He holds her against him, laughing and pressing small kisses into her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm so proud of you, dear.”

When he senses her lift her head to look at him, he adds, “...Your daddy would be, too."

He hears her start to sniffle, and she buries her head against him again, turning her head slightly.

"I hope he watches me,” she says softly. “I wanna be the best Alchemist ever."

"...And I'm sure you will," Roy whispers to her.

And he hopes Maes is watching him, too.

END.

[officialleehadan]

Deleted Scene - Goblin Armor

Hello darlings! Happy Monday! I hope you're all having a good one. I am! 

Today's story was brought to you by L, who is an absolute darling and who always has hilarious prompts for me. Thank you so much!

Prompt: A deleted scene from Goblin Armor, in which Resin does something stupid and gets yelled at by Snowbell and Belladonna.

+++  

“We hoped you had grown out of this.”

“I know.”

“We thought you were over your natural inclination to get eaten by things.”

“Bull.”

“You get to explain it to the Queen.”

“Damn you.”

Resin glared over his shoulder, but Bullsnake, his best friend and the Captain of his Kingsguard, was utterly unrepentant. 

In all honesty, he had perfectly good reason. They got word of a large swamp lizard who had learned that their Keeps and Holds were full of tasty snacks, and had taken to digging the goblins out whenever it got hungry. Resin, knowing too well how dangerous a big swamp lizard could be, had taken four troops including his Guard, and gone to deal with the beast. 

Unfortunately, due to a series of probably-avoidable events that had, nonetheless, happened, Resin ended up inside its mouth as it ducked underwater to escape the tolla and gobesh troops that swarmed it, a portable ballista ready and waiting to put the creature down. 

As it turned out, being trapped inside a swamp lizard’s mouth was a surprisingly good place to brace a spear, so that when the lizard brought its huge jaws crashing shut, the spear went right through bone and into the brain within. 

Getting out of the dead swamp lizard’s mouth was more complicated. Resin was now soaked, smelled like the foul inside of a swamp-lizard’s mouth, and had his entire Guard heckling him.

“She’s scarier than the lizards,” Aconite said cheerfully, the veteran of a terrifying wife himself, and far too smug now that Resin had been retrieved. Below them, the swamp lizard was being hauled out of the water as the residents of the Northern descended on it. Soon, it would be cut up, and the meat sent all over the Wold. The leather would be turned into armor and goods. The bones would make for support struts and tools.

Resin had already claimed one of the larger teeth for himself. 

“He keeps trophies of the things that eat him, have you noticed?” Mugwort contributed from Resin’s left hand. Resin seriously considered knocking him into a nearby tree. “He’s got the snake tooth too.”

“He doesn’t have one from the raven.”

“Well, that didn’t actually eat him, did it?”

“It tried.”

“Do you suppose the Queen counts as a trophy? I mean, she was the one who did the eating- I mean capturing, do excuse me,” Flicker joked. Resin did try to swipe at him, but Flicker would always be faster than him. “Although I suppose she captured all of us. Does it still count?”

“I dare you to call her a trophy to her face,” Bull snorted to a riot of laughter from the rest of the Kingsguard. Resin hid a smile. He was glad they liked Snowbell so much. He had always worried they wouldn’t care for whoever he married. “Outflew demons and fought two spiders all while wing-shot. She’s scarier than all of us, and she can’t even fight.”

Wold Palace came into view, a stately tree that housed thousands of Resin’s people. The leaves glowed with the light of hundreds of lamps, and the upper branches, armored in sheets of stone, housed the forges. It was a fortress, unassailable by any enemy short of a fire that consumed the forest.

More than that, it was home.

A bright gleam of white caught his eye, with a darker smudge of deep purple and ashy grey beside it. 

Belladonna had taken to dressing Snow in the same white as her wings whenever she got the chance. A n odd color for Goblins, but one that suited Resin’s beloved well. Beside her, Belladonna was her equal and opposite, regal in deep purple. Snow still couldn’t fly well, her wing healed but fragile after her journey from her castle to his, but she had taken to waiting for him every time he had to leave the palace to care for his kingdom.

It was still startling to see her, but startling in a way that sent sunlight through his heart every time he spotted her on the great landing pads of Wold Palace. 

“He got eaten by a swamp-lizard,” Bull called cheerfully just as they landed, and Resin fought the urge to murder the captain of his Guard on the spot. “Spear and all.”

“Thanks, ever so, brother,” Resin growled at him, and landed in front of Snow, who was now looking more worried than pleased. He took her hand and she looked over him with the experienced eye of one who had spent much of a vicious war under the tutelage of the healers. “Ignore him. I’m not hurt.”

“I’m sure it’s quite a story,” Snow said, completely reasonable in the way that meant she was holding her temper back with both hands.

“You got eaten by a swamp-lizard?” Belladonna, however, was perfectly content to let her brother get the sticky end of her temper without hesitation.

“I’m fine,” Resin hurried to reassure both of the women in his small family, all while glaring at his shieldbrothers, who didn’t hesitate to laugh at him. “It was an accident. Mostly.”

“How does one accidentally end up in the mouth of a swamp-lizard?” Snow asked with an arched brow that invited him to explain himself in a hurry. With her royal father so recently dead, she was as protective of her family as he was, and he was, apparently, now included in hers. “I was under the impression one could generally see them coming.”

“You can,” Needle said helpfully. He and Hornet stood at Snow’s back, assigned to her until there was a proper Queensguard to take their places. They, Resin thought bitterly, did not have to go out into the swamp. All the same, he would rather have them protecting his beloved than anywhere else in the world. “They’re big.”

“How did you get eaten by a swamp-lizard?” Belladonna demanded, never the face of reason or restraint. “Explain! I don’t care who talks first, but one of you ought to!”

“It jumped out of the water after three of our half-tolla flyers,” Resin explained, uncomfortably aware the filth on his skin and armor even as Snow and Belladonna ushered them inside. It was probably Snow’s mercy, not Belladonna’s, that they were headed for the bathhouses, not the royal chambers. “We were trying to bait it onto shore where the ballista could get a clean shot. I didn’t see it coming.”

“Still managed to push the tolla out of the way,” Aconite called. He paused to brush his hand over the cheek of his wife, who was part of Belladonna’s Shieldguard. Resin turned his glare on him, but Aconite was used to him, and completely immune. “If we didn’t know him so well, we’d have thought he was dead. But no, the lizard bit down and died on the spot.”

“My spear went into its brain when it closed its mouth,” Resin explained to the horrified Snowbell, and his outraged sister. “I’m not even bruised.”

“I think,” Snow said, voice utterly even, “That you may need to stay by my side for the foreseeable future. For my safety, you see.”

“Your safety?” Resin smelled a trap, but his concern for his Faerie Queen didn’t lead to the very best judgement. Hornet seemed to be choking on air behind her, which meant that he was missing something very obvious, and enjoying every minute at Resin’s expense. ”How so?”

“My betrothed seems determined to stop my heart before the demons ever get the chance,” she said, just the faintest threat of focused determination in her voice as she stared him down. “I charge you, Shadow King, to protect me from this danger. I am sure you will not fail me, and will stay by my side until he has learned better judgement.”

The Kingsguard erupted into hoots of laughter, and Resin himself couldn’t keep from jointing them before he bent to kiss her. She smiled up at him, but there was no mistaking the steely command in her eyes.

“I would never refuse a command of my Queen,” he promised, and kissed her once more because he could. “Let me bathe, my Moon-Wings, and I’ll tell you the tale properly.”

“Be careful not to drown in the bath,” she called after him when he finally parted from her and made for the promise of soap and hot water. “I don’t want to rule your Wold while my Realm is full of demons!”

+++

More Stories!

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[bedeliainwonderland]

I understand disliking a character..but you realize anything that happens to bedelia in context of the show is driven by hannibal, right? the man you ship her with? the stinger, her fear, all that necessitates her self preservation is instigated by hannibal. the show frequently did a disservice to its female chars, but hannibal was the tool they used to do it. denying that and then shipping him w/ your fav only to turn it around on another char seems...hypocritical.

Ahh yes, some good ol’ anon hate, I missed that. Honestly, perfect timing, I am having the worst of times and getting to talk about my favs literally saved my day. So thanks!

First of all, Bedelia and Hannibal are a canon ship, whether you like it or not, so let’s get that out of the way (as opposite to certain other ship but that is a whole other thing). I merely fill in the blanks of what the show failed to provide because, for some inexplicable reason, the show named “Hannibal” was centered on a character named Will and every other character (especially the female characters) served only to further his “man pain”. But I digress, that is surely not why you chose to hide behind that grey square.

I don’t know whether you follow me or just saw that one reblog (which ironically weren’t even my words but I stand fully behind everything said), but I have already spoken about this extensively. Every day, really. I find it hard to understand how something is hypocritical when it is based on canon information. I am not denying anything. So here we go, under the cut, because I have a LOT to say:

The stinger- oh god, you all know how much I hate it. First of all, there is no proof that Hannibal is involved, we don’t know who is involved, that is kinda the point of a cliff hanger. We don’t even know if it’s real. But it’s absolutely pointless and makes no sense! It was quite literally Fuller wanting to do something “shocking” to finish off the series without any regard to continuity or characterisation. It was supposed to be shocking and look aesthetically pleasing, that’s it, no logic. It is as if he looked at the character list and thought “hmm, which female character is yet to be hurt? Oh right, Bedelia!” The so called “punishing Bedelia” as the fandom loved so very much is mere misogyny. Why can’t a female character do something morally questionable or even plain evil and get away with it? Because Will didn’t that is why. If she were a man, no one would scream for “she has it coming”, no, he would be uwu baby.

Having Hannibal involved in that would be completely out of character and contradictory to all their previous interactions/ their relationship. So let’s expand, shall we?

When we first see Bedelia and Hannibal, it is mentioned that she has been his psychiatrist for 7 years. 7 YEARS, let that sink in. No one, NO ONE, has been in Hannibal’s life for such a long time. It is clear she means a lot to him. If she didn’t, he had plenty of chances to kill her. It is established she is a loner, so it would so easy for Hannibal to dispose of her and claim “she left to UK” or something, like he did with his secretary. But he didn’t because he cares for her and she is important to him. He literally says he feels protective of her. Every session, you can see how much he needs her approval and how he hangs on her every word. How hurt he was when she said she wasn’t his friend (and yet he did nothing). How enamoured he is with her. When he comes to bring her dinner in Savoureaux, the dish included roses! Such a romantic.

Hannibal knew Bedelia was similar to him that is why he set up the whole Neil incident; he wanted to make sure she is. Do note that Bedelia wasn’t ever in danger, since Hannibal was there to step in if needed. But here is what I’ve found interesting; Bedelia killed someone, proving Hannibal’s hunch right, but she refused to fully acknowledge that part of herself. And Hannibal let her withdraw, doing nothing (as in not killing her, as I’m sure he had done many times with unsuccessful “candidates”) merely securing her continuous therapy. Because she was more than just another experiment to him.

And Bedelia isn’t so innocent in other aspects as well. She knows, yet she purposely evades the truth while talking to the FBI (“Will could use friends like Hannibal” ha!) under the cover of patient/ doctor confidentiality and even warns Hannibal directly (“they are starting to see your pattern). I have had my fair share of “Bedelia doesn’t care for Hannibal” posts and nothing could be further from the truth. If she hadn’t cared, she would not have done any of that.

But then of course, Hannibal’s game goes one step too far and he gives her the written permission to discuss him with the FBI. This is bad for Bedelia because it puts her under the scrutiny as well and that is not where she wants to be. Bedelia’s self-preservation always comes first (both Bedelia and Hannibal are egocentric by nature). Yet, she still comes to say goodbye to him and he lets her go! The script described Hannibal’s reaction to her words as “imperceivable wound”. “But he then went to kill her!” I hear you say? *Thor’s gif* Did he though? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it then and there. No, he went to check if she were really gone (again, script) and whether she betrayed him. That was his only concern (betrayal is a big thing with Hannibal), but she didn’t. She even left him a memento. It said it was a memento of friendship, I think it was a “see you later” card.

This is getting super long, so let’s quickly skip to Florence. Bedelia left with Hannibal, knowing exactly who he was. Unlike other (all of them, actually) characters, she did not reject him/ was scared of him. “You let them see you/ I let them see enough” exchange says it all. She is not surprised by him or shocked by what he is; she is merely stating the facts. She has long accepted him in full. They lived together in Florence, openly behind the so called veil, as fake husband and wife, but the wedding rings remained intact even at home (showing how important it was to them, not just a front), displaying a ridiculous amount of domesticity and intimacy. This deserves a whole separate post but I am trying to be brief(er). “But she was scared!” you might shout again, except that she wasn’t. Even if Antipasto purposely played with the ambiguity of her situation for suspense purposes, the following episodes made it clear she was exactly where she wanted to be, from the very start, on her own terms as Hannibal’s equal. We were obviously misled by the promos, they promised us a Bedelia and Hannibal show and what we got was, well, you know… And that is yet another post altogether.

Now to the glorious farewell, boy, do I love to talk about that. Bedelia packs Hannibal’s bags and tells him to leave, and he does! What more, he promises to tell her story. HER STORY. Now, that is a major thing, because Hannibal has never ever done that for anyone. He always turns other people’s stories into his own, manipulating and adjusting accordingly. But with Bedelia, he simply agrees to do it, on her own terms. Not only that, he is visibly impressed and enamoured by her. Again, if he wanted to kill her, he could have just killed her then. He was going to get caught anyway, what is one more murder? All this “he waited until he could eat her” story makes no sense at all, since as it was already mentioned, he knew her for almost a decade, plenty of time to eat her if he wanted to. He lets her go because he wants to. Because he cares for her.

The point I have made several times is that Bedelia is the only person that Hannibal treats as, well, a person! Everyone else is beneath him, meat only if you will, but not her. Even the ever so special (apparently) Will and Abigail aren’t treated as “people”. Bedelia is the only person that Hannibal respects; that is what makes her so special. Not love (even though he obviously loves her), because respect is rarer for Hannibal than love. Sure, he “loves” Will, the same way you love your favourite book. You want to have it and you don’t want anyone else to have it, but you don’t expect the book to return your feelings. Bedelia is Hannibal’s only equal.

The Red Dragon arc was a mess of epic proportions so I don’t even want to get into that. But I do appreciate the acknowledgement of Bedelia’s darker side and now she has become comfortable with it since Florence. Let’s make a few notes so it doesn’t look as if I am purposely omitting things: Hannibal’s letters to Bedelia? Clearly a part of his “telling her story” and helping her cover, plus he was not able to send her proper letters, so that is his way of telling her he thinks of her. Sessions with Will? You can’t really take everything she told him at face value, she is obfuscating after all. Why would she be honest with Will? She wouldn’t be, she was just continuing what Hannibal has started with much better results (slightly too good actually, as proven by Will’s stupid plan). Bedelia wasn’t afraid Hannibal would come after her, because she had no reasons to be. NONE. She was protected by him.

So there you have it, the great many reasons why I am so unapologetic in my shipping. Because it is all there. Thank you for reminding me why I love these two so much! Have a great day, maybe next time you can message me off anon.

(And thanks to all who got to the end of this almost dissertation, this is my testament, I love you all fellow bedannibal fans!)

[frangipanidownunder]

Threads: fic

This is for my anon who asked for some season 11 hurt/comfort angst a while ago. And also for @reasonandfaithinharmony who wondered what went through Mulder’s head after he found out that Scully was in remission. The fic is long so it’s under a cut and it does cover a lot of ground, timewise. 

When Samantha broke her collarbone, Fox had done what his mother asked and grabbed the pale shawl draped over the high-back chair at her dressing table. In the light it seemed to glisten. It was silky soft between his fingers, sliding through his grasp until he felt the tassel strands. He threaded it back and forth through his closed fist, developing a comfortable rhythm as he walked back to the hallway where his sister was howling. Reluctant to part with it, he wondered why his mother felt the need to wear something so exquisitely beautiful just to ride to the hospital. It was only when she wrapped it around his crying sister’s shoulder to hold up her arm that he realised it was to be a sling. Under the red gaze of his father, he felt so dumb, blinked away the sharp stab of tears.

His gut iced with guilt. He’d helped Samantha up on to the rope swing. He’d teased her about not going high enough. Later, his mother gave him the shawl to hold while they went for x-rays and he scrunched it to his face, inhaling the smell of her perfume to cover the cloying taste of hospital antiseptic in his throat.

***

Scully had woken uncharacteristically late. She’d missed the first coffee of the morning. He’d checked on her a few times but she lay curled on her side with the covers hiding her face. When she did join him, she complained of feeling achy and cold.

              “Your face is a little flushed,” he said, buttering her toast.

              She pushed the plate away and sipped her coffee. “I’m not really hungry.”

              “I’ll grab the groceries. You go back to bed.”

              Her gentle snuff told him that she might just do that and he dropped a kiss on her head. She coughed quietly into her hand and he plucked a tissue from the box. She smiled up at him with red-rimmed eyes and pressed it to her nose. He thought of the shawl, something he hadn’t remembered in years, and as he drove down the gravelled path he wondered where it had ended up. He imagined it folded into a box along with his mother’s perfume dispensers and the ornate gold brush and mirror set. Items too personal to either sell or to keep on display. Those boxes were probably in the attic, decorated with cobwebs. He thought he should do something about that. Get up there with Scully one weekend and clear it out. Maybe, he mused as he pulled into the parking lot, the attic was like the mind. Too much clutter wasn’t any way to live.

              During the night, Scully’s coughing grew worse. She shivered next to him but her skin was on fire. Her breath was bitter as she struggled to breathe, rolling from side to side to get comfortable. Through chattering teeth, she self-diagnosed flu – the sudden onset, the fever, the muscle and joint pain. He wanted to take her to the emergency room but she shook her head before hacking into her pillow.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “Just let me sleep.”

In the morning, her chest rose and fell with each shallow inhalation and the rattling wheeze had him dismissing her weak protests in favour of driving her to the hospital right then. She sat in the passenger seat barking out coughs as the scenery passed in a blur as ghostly-grey as her skin.

The waiting room at the ER was stuffed with people. Vomiting babies and old men clutching their chests were promptly triaged. The drunk and drug-affected were left to yell and abuse. Middle-aged FBI agents sat on the floor.

“Scully, who do I need to arrest to get you seen?”

Her head sank further into the crook of his shoulder so that her chin dug into his collarbone. He pulled her hair away from her face and she coughed so hard that she couldn’t gulp in enough air between rounds. She slumped across his chest, letting out a soft gurgle.

“Nurse! Someone! My wife needs help.” He laid her across his thighs and thumped his fist against the wall behind him. “Now!”

***

He was allowed to visit Samantha after her surgery but there were no chairs to sit on. His mother was sleeping in the only one. His father had pushed him through the curtains and walked away, muttering about how he couldn’t stand hospitals. Just standing there, behind the curtain, made him feel powerless. There was a busyness to the place, a hum of activity outside, but inside the small patch that was his sister’s cubicle there was a muted stillness. It made his own body thrum with a need to move. Yet he was stuck to the floor, unable to work out what he should do. Talking seemed so fruitless.

              “Fox, did you bring me anything to eat?” He looked at his sister, pale against the starched pillow, her arm balanced in a fresh white sling. There was a tray across her lap containing the cold remnants of meat and vegetables. “The food here is disgusting. Mom said you’d bring me some Twinkies.”

              He shook his head and held out his hands. “Dad didn’t tell me.” Their mom twitched in her sleep, sending her purse falling to the floor. He picked out her wallet and took some coins. “I’ll go find something.” At least he could feel useful.

              When he came back with an armful of candy bars, Samantha was asleep and his mother was straightening the green blanket at the foot of the bed. She looked down at the packets in his hands and tutted.

              “She’ll be home tomorrow. But there’ll be no more horseplay, do you understand? Your father is very disappointed. We both expect more from you, Fox.”

***

The doctor glanced over Scully’s chart and hooked it back over the end of her bed. Skinner followed him out of the room and left Mulder in the weighty silence of a room where, once again, Scully’s life hung in the balance. Pneumonia.

              His nails dug into the sagging skin on his cheeks as he balanced his elbows on his knees. An all too familiar pose. Time passed in unrecognisable beats meted out with each pulse and bleep and wheeze from the equipment keeping her alive. Somewhere in his fatigued brain he figured she was owed a longer life, given all the air that had been pumped in to her lungs previously. He couldn’t muster up the energy to even snort out an ironic laugh. What he wouldn’t give for a roll of her eyes and an impatient, ‘it doesn’t work that way, Mulder.’

She told him once, with a flirty tap to his tie, that she was immortal. His willingness to believe in anything had long since departed. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to grab at that younger man, that over-confident fool who trusted no-one and everyone at the same time. All that he succeeded in doing was grasping hold of unwanted memories.

***

His rage when he saw her, uncovered on that gurney, eyes taped shut, was white-hot. It burnt through his veins so that he couldn’t process rational thought. Later, after the humiliation of being physically removed from the room, that rage pulsed through his blood dosing out a regular reminder of what he had to do. If she died, if Scully fucking died, because of his quest, he would go out all guns blazing, taking anyone and everyone with him.  

              He remembered that feeling being so powerful that he found it suffocating. It was a weight in his chest, pushing outwards and inwards with enough pressure to make him feel that exploding or imploding were equal possibilities. He could have ended Cancer Man’s life with single shot, but he’d prickled at Mulder’s gossamer conscience with his ‘you can kill me now but you’ll never know the truth.’ He could have turned that gun on himself.

He could have stayed in his apartment and delivered terminal intensity. Instead, he sat at Scully’s bedside and waited in the strange silence of her room. Sometime during the night, a nurse brought him a blanket. A heavy knitted one with a satin edge that he rubbed between his finger and thumb until morning.

The apartment was as wrecked as his soul. He sunk to the floor and wept like he hadn’t since the Christmas of Samantha’s disappearance, when her absence that day was louder than her presence had been.

He’d given up. He’d poured out his soul to Scully as she lay in there. He’d denied it for too long. Melissa at least had the grace to accept the obvious. She was dying. Scully was dying.

But that was too late, wasn’t it? Now, it was the safest thing to do. To admit to someone how you felt when they were never going to respond. Just like telling Samantha he loved her and missed her when she’d gone. Just like his father saying he still loved him as he was walking out the door.

When the phone rang, his heart flipped in his chest then plumbed to the depths of his guts. Even though clinically she might have been considered dead, until that moment, Scully was still that naïve, sceptical, eager young woman who’d crept into his heart and refused to move. Hearing the dreaded words meant she’d be locked there, forever young. In the microseconds it took for him to decide to answer the call, he’d mentally flicked through all the times he wished he’d just taken her in his arms and kissed her instead of debating with her, dismissing her or ditching her; he’d wished a thousand times over that he’d sent her away after that first case; he’d ploughed through the different hair styles, suits, smiles she’d worn. He’d wished he’d never met her.

“I’m here,” he said. But he wasn’t. He was already thinking of who he could take down with him. He was checking out. He was dying.

***

The thing about hospitals is that they hold in life and they let it out. Births, life-saving surgeries, miracle recoveries, code blues, morphine overdoses under the guise of keeping a patient comfortable, priests offering consolation through the last rites. They hold in grief and they let it out. Mulder was suspended in that dichotomy too. Holding in hope and letting it out in fearful fits of rage. There was no change in Scully’s condition. As grey dawn seeped through the grey window blinds, no change seemed good; as midnight crept past with the bleep and rush of the machines breathing for her, no change was untenable.

              Sometime during the third night a nurse covered him in a heavy warm blanket. The days were getting shorter, colder outside, he supposed. But time has a way of contracting around you, when your heart is being slowly crushed. He twisted on the seat and the blanket slipped. He brought it up under his chin, tried to find a position that didn’t cramp his back and neck, ran the ribboned edge between his fingers as he watched Scully’s face, looking for nuanced differences in her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. Her arms were untucked and it hit him that she might be cold too. He pulled himself out of the seat, let his blanket fall to the floor and called for the nurse. While he waited, he knelt next to her, holding her hand. The weight of it all, the constant dread, the lack of sleep, the helplessness, pushed his head down, and his hot tears flowed as his lips settled on the back of her hand.

              Skinner ordered him home. Drove him there.  

              “I’ll go back, you sleep. I’ll call you if there’s any change. If you don’t hear from me, I’ll pick you up at four.” He laid a hand on Mulder’s shoulder. “Eat something too.”

Mulder had long since come to recognise this as Skinner being caring. He showed his heart by being practical. He and Scully were quite similar in some ways. Scully would have done the same, the food, the rest, all the things the doctor orders. But he was not the one who’s sick. There was no way he was going to lie in their bed, their comfortable but empty bed, and sleep while his wife is on a hospital gurney.

              He climbed to the attic, rubbing the back of his neck as the dust motes danced in the slant of sunlight from the small, square window. On his ascent he was of a mind to tidy, throw away the mess, clean up his life. But sitting among the crates and piles and oddities he was in a mind to preserve. It was like the hospital, he thought. Holding in and letting go.

It took him a while to understand he was looking for his mother’s shawl. The human brain is undoubtedly a complex organ, but the human mind is unfathomable. Scully was suspended in some otherworld, so sick her body had shut down, but he was looking for his long-dead mother’s shawl. If he were to analyse his own psyche he would probably conclude that the item was a shield, a way to wrap something nostalgic and comfortable around his body to block out the fear of losing Scully. His fingernails were black with grit and dust, his muscles bunched in his shoulders sending a throbbing pulse down his spine. He opened crates and shoe boxes and plastic tubs. He found books and files and greetings cards and photos. He chuckled and he wept. But he didn’t find the shawl.

There were boxes high on a shelf. He moved the step ladder, disturbed a mouse that scurried into a shadowy corner. He checked his cell again. Nothing. The waiting was always the worst. Time, such a feature of his life, stretched out to fill dark places. When she had the seizure last year, he didn’t have to wait too long for her to wake, but there had been too many other hours wasted in that suspended, desperate place. He pulled down the first box and it tumbled out of his grip, landing with a dusty crash on the floor. The first item that spilled loose were medical records and X-rays. And just like that, he was back at her bedside, kneeling on that cold hospital floor, sobbing silently around her hand.

***

Her face was beyond pale, red-ringed eyes sunken into her head, cracked, dry lips. She looked like one of the creatures they’d spent years chasing only to have them disappear into the shadows. She could have been a phantom, a ghoul, a spirit. But she wasn’t. She was flesh and bones, stricken with a deadly disease and she was disappearing in front of his eyes. He was supposed to be dead. He was the one who had disappeared into the shadows, had slipped into her room to see her, to talk to her. To talk, once again, when it was too late. His habit of opening his heart when all was lost had struck again. He wept against her hand as though his tears could enter her body like a lifeforce. His teeth scraped her skin and it tasted papery, flaking against his lips. Peeling her life away.

              He didn’t know how long he’d been there, pressing her hand to his mouth, sobbing. But he knew his futile tears, hot rage and self-hatred needed to be channelled. Her death would invade his body like the cancer had hers, it would live in his veins and destroy him but it would also give him power to act. To end the blind quest he’d been on.

              As it turned out, all that incandescent anger seeped from his pores when he heard the news of her remission. The chip worked. He sat at her bedside as she told him how the doctors were mystified.

              “I can’t believe it,” he said.

              She wrapped a thin arm around his neck and pulled his head to the crook of her neck. Her bony frame dug into his face but he didn’t care. He felt instantly lighter, muscles unclenching, nerves flittering back to life. The numb edges of his being sharpened like her chi had flowed into his veins. They fused at that moment. She clung to him, clawing at his back as she sobbed. He clutched her body to his wondrous at the joint beating of their hearts. A miracle.

And it didn’t truly sink in for days. He walked around light-headed, repeating the mantra ‘she’s in remission’ over and over. It sounded surreal. His brain knocked against his skull when he repeated the words, causing him a fleeting lapse in consciousness. The very idea of her being healthy and whole felt like sighting a UFO or cryptid; it left you feeling buzzed, body pulsing with energy and yet there was that slight element of doubt. What if it were fake?

For nights, he slept with a tee-shirt of hers that he’d taken home with a bundle of other clothes to wash for her. He hadn’t washed it, instead slipping it under his pillow to inhale the scent of her, a reminder of her return to him.

 ***

The files and X-rays didn’t fit back into the box the way they had before. He struggled to slot the boxes back onto the shelf. He pushed and slid and rearranged but all he succeeded in doing was unsettling more thick and tangled cobwebs so they covered his hair and made him cough.

              He slumped to the floor and stretched his legs before him. He’d recovered nothing of value, nothing that he was looking for. He had simply accumulated a mountain of stuff to throw away. But he knew he wouldn’t. Holding on. That’s what he was impelled to do. He set his head against the wall desperate to sleep but resisting it for fear of slipping back into the miasma of memories that shadowed his mind. He reached his arm sideways, hairs sticking to the brickwork. He tapped against a box that was pushed against the wall. The lid slipped off and he walked his fingers up the cardboard and inside. Photo frames, something cold and metallic, intricately patterned, a trinket box maybe? A soft, cool padding at the very bottom, sleek to touch. He wrapped it around his hand. The shawl. He knew it before he saw it. It slithered out of the box and he pulled it to his lap, letting its heavy weight fall through his hands as his weeping echoed through the attic.

              His phone buzzed in his pocket, startled him. Skinner.

              Scully was sleeping again by the time he got there, but she’d woken briefly earlier.

              “She knew who I was,” Skinner said, patting Mulder on the shoulder as he sank into the chair next to her bed. “She’s going to be okay, Mulder.”

              Her hand fitted into his palm perfectly, made to measure. He nodded up at Skinner, watched him leave, listened to the sounds of the room. He watched the rise of her chest, stronger now. The way her mouth flickered at the edges, her eyes fluttered under her lids. She was dreaming. He hoped fervently that it was a happy dream, a safe dream.

The shawl rested on his lap and he looked down at it, silvery strands glittering in the soft light. He thought of his mother, his father, his sister. The way grief was woven through his life, like the threads in the shawl. But every now and again, there were brighter moments, the silvery strands that made life worthwhile.

Scully shifted, her head turning to face him. She opened her eyes, blinked slowly. She sniffed quietly as he moved forward, noses bumping. Her voice was stuck in her dried-out throat so he got her some water, held the paper cup to her lips, lifted her head from the pillow. She sipped and it looked like it hurt.

“I’ll get the nurse, Scully,” he said but she gripped his hand and pulled him back down. The shawl fell to the floor. She saw it, brows crinkling. He shifted the chair closer to her, scooping up the shawl and burying it in the gap between the bar of the bed and her body.

“It was my mother’s,” he said and she closed her eyes. Her arm moved slightly so that he was sure she could feel its softness. She strained to open her eyes again, move her mouth to respond. He laid two fingers over her lips and shushed her. A tear slipped from her eye, her fingers stroked the shawl, letting the fringing slip between them.

“Sleep now, Scully,” he said. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

I haven't seen an ED hc on here yet and I need to project a bit so here's this: at the begging all the queen boys were skinny as hell but as time went on the only one who remained that way was brian. and everyone assumed that it was all natural. what they didn't know was that brian consciously started eating less when he got to the age where people's metabolism usually slows down. he was well aware that his skinniness was part of his trademark look and decided he needed to keep it that way (1/3)

he started cutting down the amount and frequency of his meals but the others never noticed - brian had always been peculiar with food (not eating meat or unhealthy things etc.) so they assumed he ate at home whenever he refused the takeout they had in the studio. in the mid 80s they slowly start noticing that brian’s no longer just skinny, but also sickly looking but still don’t say anything, assuming he might have a stomach bug going on (touring can bring that on quite easily after all) (2/3)

then, a couple of months later, brian passes out in the studio and the boys finally connect the dots. they feel incredibly guilty for not noticing the signs and are determined to help brian recover. (3/3) //if you could please write something where the boys realise all this had been going on without them noticing and then try to figure out how to help brian out of this mess while he refuses to believe that he needs help at all (can be gen or you can add a ship if you’d like)

TW explicit mentions of Eating Disorders, Disordered Eating, Anorexia, Orthorexia, Hospitalization and excessive vulgar language. 

All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand…

For my life still ahead, pity me…

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Again.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

One more time. So you remember how you fucked up.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

24 ribs sticking out from grey ashen skin.

Brian’s bony finger traced over each one as he counted outloud, eyes focused on the full body mirror in front of him.

You remember how handsome you used to be? Remember when theyjutted out like a fucking Greek god? But you ruined it. You ate that chocolatecupcake like the pig you are and now you’re fat again. Fat and disgusting.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

It doesn’t matter if you cry about it. It won’t make you anyskinnier. Put on your running shoes, fat ass.

“Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

RUN!

Brian wiped his face free of the tears, eye’s falling downto his bare feet. Skeletal but most people’s standards but bloated looking tohim. He had blisters on his heels from running a mile every morning, but itdidn’t matter. Pain was beauty, right?

♚

Of all the numbers, zero is the most beautiful. Brianthought that to himself as he ran around his neighborhood, the sun dipping inthe sky, crickets already chirping.

His knees hurt so bad, his chest was on fire and he was surehis blisters had reopened, but he had done this to himself. If he only atethings that were good, he wouldn’t have to run this second mile. If he juststopped inhaling anything that came into sight, he could be home right now,settling into a night’s rest.

But he was out here. In the cold English sunset, wearinglayers of jogging clothes to try and keep warm. He deserved this. Briandeserved this.

The day he hit his goal weight, he’d never have to do thisagain. He’d be doing zero laps.

♚

It was nearly midnight before he tempted to step on thescale.

The bathroom was so dark. Only trickles of moonlight pouredin from the window. He refused to turn on the lights since he weighed himselfnaked. Having to see his bare body was revolting. There was so much wrong withit. His legs were too chubby. His stomach so round. His cheeks akin to a hamster.It was better in the dark.

The cold metal of the scale sent a shiver up his body as hestepped onto it. He had to squint to see the number, but he was sure it hadgone up since this morning. That fucking cupcake.

8 stone.

Tears pricked his eyes. The number had gone down. Why was hestill so big?

So big.

Who could like someone so grotesque as him? With so muchskin? With so much fat?

Brian hugged himself, elbows tucking into his concavestomach.

He was disgusting.

♚

“You’re drinking your coffee black, Bri?” Roger asked, nosescrunched up as he peered into Brian’s coffee mug. Brian pulled the mug closerto him defensively but smiled and lolled his head as if nothing was wrong.

“You know I don’t drink milk, mate,” Brian said, taking asip of the acrid brew, forcing his brow to stay unfurrowed.

“Since when? Thought you were vegetarian, not one of thoseweird animal hippies,” Roger said eyes narrowed.

“Well, I’ve decided through research that the milk industryexploits cows. Did you know that mother cows and their c-“

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You could at least put a sugar or twoin there, you mad man,” Roger said with the wave of his hand, Brian’s plan atboring him with animal ethics having worked.

Brian smiled to himself, taking another sip. Roger was outof his mind if he thought he’d ever put sugar in anything he ate. Might as welleat straight fat. At least his little plan worked.

♚

“Brian, sweetheart, you look absolutely pale! Have you caughta cold?” Freddie said, a hand pressing against Brian’s clammy forehead. Brianducked away from the touch, laughing nonchalantly as he did.

“Perhaps? I feel, uh, fine. Maybe I’m just low in something,”he said as convincingly as possible. His fingers started to twiddle with the sleevesof his shirt that was far too big.

Freddie gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but he nodded.

“Well, you better rest up. Can’t have our main guydeveloping an ailment before our show tomorrow, huh?” Freddie said, a handstraying onto Brian’s bony shoulder. The touch made him erupt into goosebumps.

Did he know?

Does it matter?

♚

“Brian, we need to talk,” John said, his grey eyes big andstormy.

His gut dropped to the floor, heart pounding so hard itechoed in his ears. Was the gig up?

Brian wouldn’t go without a fight.

“What about?” he said casually, crossing one leg over theother, leaning back on the couch backstage.

John sat down next to him, uncomfortably close. Brian didn’tlike people touching him. It made it all the harder to hide.

John looked around to see if anyone was around before heleaned and whispered, “The crowds really big tonight. I, um, I’m kinda nervous,”

Oh sweet jesus. Thank god. Thank god.

The anxiety melted from Brian, a small smile growing on hisface.

“John, how old are you? You silly man,” He said jokinglybefore pulling John in for a hug.

The bassist grew rigid, not reciprocating. It’d only been a second,but the atmosphere grew bleak and heavy. John pulled away, face tightened infear. He looked over Brian for a second before he left in a hurry without somuch as a word.

Did he feel how skinny fat Brian was?

Who cares?

♚

Just because you finished a successful tour does not meanyou get to pig out. Look at all this food. It’s disgusting. Unhealthy. Do youwant to be fat? Don’t you want to be the skinny boy everyone knows and loves?

But I’m so hungry…

Hunger is good. Hunger means you’re strong. Hunger means you’rebeautiful. Hunger means you’re worth something.

I don’t feel good.

You won’t feel good if you get fat. If you stay fat.

I really don’t feel good.

Put that carrot down. Do you know how much sugar carrotshave? Do you want to poison your body with junk?

I think I’m gonna…

The after party for The Game fell silent. They’d all beendrinking, laughing, eating and a few other illegal activities when they heard athud. Hundred of eyes searched the room for the source of the noise untilsomeone spotted a collapsed Brian by the single veggie plate in the corner ofthe room.

Flurries of bodies and voices, yells and whispers erupted,some rushing to the phone, some running over to Brian.

Roger, Freddie and John surrounded their guitarist, panicfueling their every move.

“He’s bloody cold! Has someone called 999?” Roger shouted,rolling Brian over so he was on his back. It was a frighteningly easy task todo, the guy being light as a feather.

“Brian, sweetie, wake up please. Help is on the way, love.Stay with us, please,” Freddie pleaded, eyes misty as he held Brian’s handbetween his own, hoping to warm it up some.

John just stood next to the three, mouth and tongue seized,body trembling uncontrollably.

This is good. This is really good. Maybe soon you’ll benothing. Zero. A beautiful number. A beautiful state to be in.

♚

“…He was in fucking heart failure…”

“…electrolytes too low…”

“…emaciated…”

“…bone’s of a 60 year old…”

“And if he had died?”

“…you never said anything!”

“…was I supposed to know what this was?”

“He’s alive no thanks to any of you…”

♚

Brian’s eyes opened sluggishly, theonly thing he could seeing being an intense white light.

Was this it? Was he in heaven? Was allof this finally over? The pain and the cold and the empty stomachs and the migraines?Was that all gone now?

“He’s awake,” a mousy voice said.

Brian’s vision cleared, revealing awhite ceiling.

So he wasn’t dead.

He looked in the direction the voicecame, shivering when he saw it was John. His face was so swollen and so redfrom crying. It looked like he’d done a week’s worth. When their eyes met, Johnlet out a heart shattering sob, burying his face into Brian’s bed sheets. Theywere soaked.

Why was John crying so hard? He justpassed out was all. Nothing to be bent over.

His eyes scanned the room for other faces.

He found Roger’s. His eye bags wereunprecedented. His hair mused like he’d been trying to pull it out. Rogershrunk back into his chair, looking down at his shoes instead.

He didn’t have to look for Freddie.

Freddie walked up to Brian’s bed, hisface untelling. He looked at Brian’s IV, which he just now noticed he hadbefore he opened his mouth to speak. He faltered for a moment but spoke.

“Brian, I am so, so sorry,” he said,voice cracking, throat dry. He reached for Brian’s hand, but Brian pulled away,shaking his head.

“For what, Fred? I just passed out! It’sno one’s fault,” he said incredulously. They all looked like train wrecks for asimple blackout?

Freddie recoiled at Brian’s wordsbefore he softened again. His eyes parted from Brian’s, licking his lips. Whydidn’t anyone want to look at him?

“Brian…you didn’t pass out. You wentinto heart failure. You were in the ICU for 3 weeks in a coma. It…they had touse the electric paddles on you on two separate occasions,” his voice grewthick, obviously trying to push away the urge to cry and scream.

“They thought you weren’t going to makeit,” Freddie mouthed, his shoulders caving in as a few tears escaped down hischeeks.

Brian blinked before finally look downat himself.

Various bruises on his arm fromdifferent IV’s and blood draws Burn marks on his chest. And a line running downhis chest, all stitched and taped up.

A number 1, almost.

Not a zero.

He looked up to Freddie, jaw hanging.

“You needed a bypass, Bri,” Freddiesaid, a nervous hand rubbing his neck.

“W-Why?” Brian choked out, his mindhaving gone blank.

Roger snorted from across the room. “Youknow why,” he said bitterly.

And it was true. Brian knew why.

The room was quiet except for Deacy’smuffled sobs.

“I…I…the…I..can’t bloody think withyour crying, John!” Brian snapped. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t.This..illness made him do horrible things. Nasty things.

John responded by growing smalleralthough his crying didn’t. Freddie wanted to bark back, but this wasn’t right.None of it was. Instead, he grabbed John and left the room. Roger was the onlyone who could talk to Brian about serious stuff anyways.

Brian gulped when the door slammedbehind the two. Now it was just him and R-

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rogerasked, playing with the hem of his shirt. There was no malice in his voice.Just a simple question.

“I..didn’t think anything was wrong,”Brian said, which was the truth.

This, whatever it was, made the worldsplit in two. Reality and what went on his brain both felt real. He knew he wassick, but he wasn’t. He knew he was skinny but he wasn’t. He knew he was dyingbut he wasn’t. It was hard to know the truth sometimes. All the times. It washard to reach out when everything felt both okay and crumbling. Which was thetrue one?

Roger let out a puff of air from hisnose, eyes fluttering shut, desperate for sleep. In times of crisis, he seemedto be the only one capable of keeping their wits about, so he’d been on babysittingduty for nearly a month. He wanted his bed so bad.

He wanted his best friend too.

“That’s fair,” he said with a sigh.There was another silence between them before Roger got up and padded over toBrian’s bed side. He plopped himself onto the uncomfortably wet sheets but paidthem no mind, instead looking at the skeleton before him.

“We’re all really sorry, Brian. None ofus knew you were fighting a battle alone. We just thought…I don’t know what wewere thinking. But we thought you had a handle on whatever you were doing and thatwas wrong of us to just assume,”

“You needed us and we weren’t there.There’s only so much we can do about the past though, right? But we’re gonna behere for you from now on. When they send you to the psych w-“

“Psych ward?” Brian spat out, sittingup straighter in bed.

That’s where crazy people go. I’m notcrazy. I’m fine. I’m fine. I don’t belong there. They’ll make me eat. They’llmake me gain weight.

Roger just took in Brian’s anxiety, an uncharacteristicallygentle hand laying onto Brian’s bandaged chest.

With the sincerity and sweetness of amother, Roger said, “We almost lost you Brian. We almost had to bury you. We’renot going to let that happen again. You’re not going to leave us like that,”

Brian laid back against the bed, hisonly veiny and pale hand going over Roger’s.

Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense.Nothing was good. But he knew he could trust Roger. That infernal voice buzzingin his head might have been his constant companion, but Roger was his bestfriend. And best friends don’t lie.

Brian blinked away a few tears, hiswhole body tired, in pain and in a mental tug of war, but he said, “Okay,”Roger collapsed for the first time in weeks.

♚

John held onto Brian so tight, his faceburied into his neck. He would prefer to never let go, but he knew he had tosoon.

“Brian, I lo- you’re my best friend,okay? Get better?” he said before letting go. Brian smiled, patting his back.

Freddie came in for a hug next, meltinginto Brian’s embrace.

“I need my guitarist back. My soul brother,”Freddie said, kissing Brian’s cheek.

Lastly was Roger who just held out hishand for a shake. A firm one.

“See you soon, mate.”

Brian looked at all of them, taking intheir faces before he had to go. Wheeled out from the hospital and into the vanthat’d be taking him to the psychiatric ward.

The future ahead was scary and unknown,but he wanted to charge ahead. He wanted to live. For his friends, his family andmost importantly, himself. He wanted to play guitar and sing and eat and neverworry again.

All he wanted was to be four again.

Not zero.

Never zero.

Take heart my friend we love you

Though it seems like you’re alone

A million light’s above you

Smile down upon your home

[kpop-forwhaat]

warm - hybrid! BTS au part 1

genre: hybrid! BTS, BTS AU, fluff, poly, (eventual) smut

Pairing: hybrid! BTS x hybrid! reader, poly

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of abuse, mentions of smut

Summary: you stumbled into the backyard of an entire house of humans and hybrids, what could go wrong?

Author’s Note: So this is literally the first hybrid fic I’ve ever written, so I’m sorry if the editing is bad!

part one part 2 part three part four part five

It had been a couple days since you had seen any roads. The only thing on your mind right now was finding food, and hopefully soon. You had managed to catch a couple of squirrels, but there’s only so much meat on one squirrel that can satisfy your malnourished hybrid body. 

You ran from your last owner, he wanted nothing more than to show you off as a prize. One of the only lynx hybrids left, you were definitely a prize sought after. You don’t remember how many times you were forgotten, just shoved back into the damp basement after each house party. The only person who would remember to feed you was the other hybrid living there, Jennie. But she was the prized favorite of your master, she was his mistress. She didn’t mind, she had the hybrid bond with him. She loved him; and he used her. You couldn’t get it through her head that all she was is something he could use. She would just smile and say, “I promise he loves me.” 

Then one day, she comes to the basement door. She says that the master has left, and he won’t be back for a few days, he’ll be gone on business. The babysitter will be over in the next 10 minutes. You looked at her in question, your eyes no longer having the spark they once had. But then you realized, she’s letting you go. 

You didn’t think twice to ask her to come along, but she refused. She was going to tell him that the baby sitter left the door open, and you ran. It was a smart plan, as you didn’t want her to get hurt. So you thanked her, and you told her you’d never forget her. And you ran.

That was nearly 3 weeks ago.

You were hardly fed as it is while in your master’s house, but now, finding anything was hard to find. Eating acorns and berries weren’t the best, but they held you over. But then the bushes ran dry and the acorns were buried. 

You’ve been walking with no specific direction, just trying to hunt for anything that moves. You had seen a deer a week ago, but your body couldn’t keep up for the chase. 

Suddenly, you spot it. A tiny rabbit, nibbling on some grass. Your mouth waters at the sight; food. 

You sneakily crouch down, eyeing the prey with new energy. Rabbits aren’t as fast as deer, you should be able to catch this one. 

You get into stance, wiggle your butt a little bit in preparation for the pounce. Your eyes are dead set on the little fluff grazing innocently on the path. It turns to get to a new patch of fresh grass, leaving its back defenseless. Now’s your chance. 

You leap. And miss. 

The rabbit scurries away with panic clear in it’s eyes. But this little guy isn’t getting away. No, you haven’t eaten in days, you will get this kill. You follow it closely, every now and then waiting for it to stop and then pounce (every time successful as the first). You don’t even notice that you’ve in view of a backyard until you see a shed that the rabbit dashes into because of your latest attempt at a pounce. 

You notice the mansion when you hear the sliding door open, and you dash behind the shed. You lay your body low on the ground and peer around the corner, hoping to not be seen. 

You see two humans, bundled up in soft scarves and thick hats to fight off the cold autumn day. Now that you think of it, the first snow will be upon us soon. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t smell the hybrid until you hear the growling. 

You turn around to see a wolf hybrid standing there, looking absolutely menacing. You wouldn’t be scared normally, you are a more ferocious predator than this wolf, but you both know that you can’t fight off an attack right now; your body won’t allow it. 

He has on boots, jeans, a simple sweater, a red scarf, and glasses on. His tail is stick straight in anticipation and grey fluffy ears are taunt and alert. “Who are you and what are you doing on our property?”

You whimper at the tone, he is not happy that you are here. 

“Namjoon, what is it?” You’re shaking so bad from fear, you don’t smell the other humans arriving. 

“She’s a hybrid!”

“No shit. But look at her, she’s terrified.” 

“Thank you. I didn’t notice that Yoongi.” 

You sneak a peek through your lashes at the bodies standing in front of you. You see a tall man with dark ebony hair and wide shoulders kneeling in front of you. The cap on top of his head looks like it’s about to slide off, and you have to stop yourself from fixing it. Why do you want to fix it? He’s human, he’s going to hurt you.

You can’t stop the hiss from escaping when you see how close he is. His eyes go wide and he stumbles back, and the Namjoon wolf catches him. 

“She’s a cat, lemme try.” 

The other man kneels down, trying to make sense of this hybrid curled in a ball trying to look mean, but just failing miserably. 

“Hi, my name is Yoongi. I’m a black panther hybrid. Can you tell us your name?” His eyes show warmth, and he has a small smile on his face. You feel you can trust him, you know hybrids. He’s a cat, he’s one of you. 

You’re still tense, but you decide that he’s okay so you uncurl a little bit, and your tail starts to sway slowly. “Y/N.”

Yoongi nods, holding out his hand. “Do you want to come inside, it’s really cold out here.” 

You look at the hand, and then back at the human standing next to Namjoon. “Will he be there?” 

Yoongi looks a little shocked, but the human steps forward immediately. His arms are out to show that he means no harm, “I will but I will be on the other side of the house. Myself and Hoesok will be in another room away, okay?” 

Namjoon still looks hesitant, but nods none the less. “I can make sure they stay there, so you can eat.”

You nod, finally accepting the waiting hand in front of your face. 

When you fully stand to your height, you notice how much shorter you are compared to these giants. It makes you want to shrink back, but you know that’s not who you are. Not what your parents taught you.

Namjoon leads Jin away, briskly walking away from you and Yoongi. He looks at you and sees your appearance. 

She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days, nor has she showered in months. He knows that she must be a stray, and she must be weak. Those lame attempts at pouncing alerted him to the fact that you are in your last few weeks.

He leads you up to the house wordlessly, and opens the sliding door that the other two people just entered through. You can feel the heat leaving the house, and you want to whimper. You haven’t felt warmth in so long, you can’t even remember. 

You look at his eyes and see he’s patiently waiting, knowing that you’re hesitant. You lean forward a bit to scent the house; 2 humans and 5 hybrids. You look back to Yoongi, and he offers his hand to you again. You don’t think before you put your freezing palm onto his soft skin, and he pulls you into the warmth of the house.

The sliding door soft shuts behind you as you take in the house. It’s nicely decorated with clean wooden floors, the living room off to the side and you’re standing in the kitchen; which is huge and amazing. You’ve never really seen the kitchen before, but you knew it housed huge amounts of food that you could never get to. You were fed the normal hybrid pellets, they weren’t filling nor very nutritious as food would be, but it was cheaper than to feed another mouth with steak and potatoes every night. 

Yoongi leads you to a stool seated at the counter, and lifts you up to seat you. His hands around your waist makes you blush, you’ve never been touched like that before. It was kind of, nice.

If he saw your pink cheeks, he didn’t comment on them. Instead he went straight to the straight to the stove and pulled out a pot. He poured chicken broth into the pot and started to heat it up, as well as adding in some pieces of cooked chicken and noodles. He got a glass of water for you, and set it in front of you. 

You looked at the glass and then back at him. His eyebrows raised in question, “aren’t you thirsty?”

You bow your head, “you have to give me permission.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, he’s never encountered a situation like this before. He sees how pale and skinny you are, how you have a few faint scares on your arms. He sees your ripped and dirty clothes, and he feels his face heat up in anger. “Listen to me Y/N, we are not your masters. We are all equals, you can do whatever you want in this house. You can eat and drink whenever you want, you never have to ask for permission,” his hand gently grazes your chin to lift it up, “you are not an animal, you’re a hybrid. You have rights.” 

His words brought about about a change in you. You don’t know exactly what it was, but something is happening in you. You can feel it. 

Yoongi’s breath caught in his through when he saw you smile at him. When you lifted the glass to your lips, he had to turn away and go back to the broth. The way you licked your lips before drinking the water had a heat treading through his body, going straight towards his dick. What was he thinking? How can he feel this way towards a girl that he just met? She needs help, and not that kind of help.

You finish the glass of water quickly, and take a deep breath. You smell the hybrid behind the door leading out of the kitchen, and you stiffen. He’s just standing there, and you can hear him pacing back and forth. A low warning whine leaves your through, causing the form to stop. Yoongi looks back at you and sees your ears back in warning and your tail lightly brushing back and forth behind you. You’re warning someone, but who?

He gets his answer when 3 other hybrids fall simultaneously into the kitchen from behind the swinging door. He sighs, looking at them. 

He looks at Taehyung, the German shepherd hybrid. He’s on top of Jimin, the calico cat hybrid, who is then on top of Jungkook, the bunny hybrid. 

You look at them with your head cocked, your ears forward in curiosity. You’re not as cautious of them, as they all look absolutely ridiculous in the entrance to the kitchen. 

“Yah! Why did you push?”

“I was trying to scent her! I wanted to know what hybrid she is!”

“You’re squishing my ears!” 

The three goofs then stand and try to straighten out their clothes. When they all finally get a look at you, they all unknowingly think together, she’s tiny. 

“Guys, don’t scare her. She’s still a little skittish about you guys, about me too.” Yoongi lazily says, but he shares a small wink with you, making your cheeks heat up again. You put your head down so your long hair goes in front of your face, giving them all a good view of your ears. 

“They’re so fluffy, can I pet them?” The calico cat hesitantly steps forward when you don’t immediately answer him. You cock your head again to the other side, debating on whether or not to let him touch you. He is a cat after all, and the pets that Jennie had given you after lights out were always nice and calming. 

He continues his way towards you, with all eyes are you two. When he reaches you, he looks in your eyes to silently ask one more time. When you blink, he knows that you won’t bite his hand off, but you’re still wary. He takes that as a sign to go slow, and when his hand grazes your ear, it flicks. 

Jimin closes his eyes and leans forward to finally place his hand behind your ear and begins to scratch. He sees your eyes close, and you try to hold back from leaning into his touch. You were about to start purring when a bowl of the soup is set in front of you, and Jimin’s hand leaves your head. 

“You should eat, and then we can get you into the bath.” You nod at Yoongi in thanks, your eyes already showing sparks of life. Yoongi has to tear his eyes away from your beautiful Y/E/C and looks at his donsaengs. “Let’s let her eat in peace guys.” Every nods to leave, but then your small voice makes them halt in their steps. 

“Wait! Can you stay with me?” Your eyes don’t leave Yoongi’s, and you also shift to Jimin asking him to stay. You feel at ease with these two cats, and if you were to be left alone in this big kitchen by yourself, you don’t know what you would do. 

They nod and pull up stools next to you while the other two sulk out of the kitchen. It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s that you don’t know them. You don’t know what kind of hybrids they were. Jennie was also a cat hybrid, a mountain lion. She was also a rare breed, but she was the first hybrid their master had gotten when he was a little boy. 

Yoongi’s warm brown eyes bore into you as you take the first sip of the soup. It explodes over your taste buds, and you perk in delight. You’ve never tasted something so delicious. You briefly feel a small hand going back over your ears and you lean into it. You’ve never felt so warm before.