#chapter 6 just fuckin hurt

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 4 ] || [ Chapter 6 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.3K~ tags: a little bit of angst in this one, mentions of infidelity, also, Price is divorced. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 5: GET LAID?

[The scolding Price gives is fully inspired by Captain Holt from B99]

“YOU. DID. WHAT?!” Price’s voice was so loud it bounced off the walls and Soap could swear the door was rattling.

The environment inside of Price’s tiny little office was beyond tense. Gaz sat across from Price on the arm chair, with his hands clasped over his lap. Soap stood beside him, hands on the back of the other chair, constantly shuffling and readjusting. And Ghost was all the way in the back of the room, arms crossed and one foot scuffing up the wall he was leaning against.

They looked like a group of kids at the headmaster’s office, getting the reaming of a century and waiting for their parents to come get them, only to get reamed out some more by them. Except they’re grown adults and Price is, in a way, both the headmaster and their father.

Granted, they probably should’ve waited until tomorrow morning when they’re not all a bit buzzed from one too many beers…  It seemed tonight was just one of those nights where they have little to no restraint… and are incapable to be reasoned with.

“If it’s any consolation, I told them you wouldn’t be too keen on 'em buttin' in your life.” Ghost spoke up while dipping his head to the side in a lazy shrug.

This earned him a sharp look from Price, who swivelled on his executive chair, turning a bit to properly face Ghost. The man looked seconds away from blowing up, eyes widened and wild.

“And yet you still HELPED 'EM?!” The Captain scolded him, to which Simon replied with a full shrug.

“They made a compelling case. You’ve been insufferable, boss.” He remarked, causing Price to sputter a bit.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, but it’s true, Captain. You need to get laid.” Soap jumped in.

His hackles raised and he stood up, slamming his hands on the desk, causing a rattling in the white mug he used as a pen holder. Gaz couldn’t help but wonder if the Captain didn’t hurt his palms.

“GET LAID?!” Price shouted in a tone almost akin to panic. “MY LOVE LIFE IS NONE OF YOUR CONCERN!” Price scolded them all, rausing a hand and pointing his finger at no one in particular. 

“AND I WOULDN’T BE SO INSUFFERABLE IF YOU LOT DID YOUR JOBS. BUT NO, I’M HAVING TO FIX YOUR MESSES AND DEAL WITH ALL THIS BULLSHIT!” He shouted as he ran his hand over a pile of documents on the edge of his desk, sending them all flying to the floor.

None of the lads shook in the face of the Captain’s shouts. They were all used to it, having heard enough of them from other C.O.s in their careers and, especially, more than enough from John in the last year.

Price huffed through his nose and hung his head for a moment. Then, he tossed himself back in his chair, leaning it back and grumbling under his breath.

He sat with his legs parted, left arm over the desk top, the right one hanging limply over his lap. He grumbled under his breath, his mustache scrunching a bit as he raised his right hand to rub his eyes.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell…” Price grumbled and swiveled his chair back toward the desk, inadvertently toward Soap and Gaz as well, setting his elbows on either side of the black desk mat.

He held his head up with both hands, his blue eyes sliding downward to the phone they had set in front of him when explaining what they did, which now sat between his elbows. 

In it was the Tinder profile they had created, the gimmicky, silly little shite that includes grainy photos of him and a bio written in the 3rd person. What impressed him was the fact that somehow, despite only having been active for an hour, according to them, the account had already seen about 35 likes and a handful of DMs from people.

Most of them were curious about the bio, some of them asking a variation of ‘Does John know you made this account?’, etc.

However, it bothered him that they did this behind his back, never once stopping to ask if he needed or wanted their help (AND HE DIDN’T). “You need to delete this.” He ended up saying after a moment of silence.

He grabbed the phone and set it on the edge of his desk to be taken by either Gaz or Soap, with a bit more aggression than he meant to. “Deactivate it, whatever.” He added.

“But, sir-” Soap tried to say, being shushed by Price raising a hand to signal him to quiet down.

“No buts.” He said directly as he raised his head and glared right at Soap. “And you need to tell that person that you already promised a date to that I’m not interested and APOLOGIZE for leading them on.” He ordered.

“Boss… C’mon.” Ghost called for him from his corner, causing John’s head to slowly turn to face him, eyebrows scrunched when he noticed the gaze Simon was sending him.

Cursed be Simon Riley, the only tosser in the entire SAS other than MacMillan, who can read John like the open book that he prides himself in not being.

But of course Simon knows why he’s so reluctant. He was there 5 years ago… when Price called him from his car in a side road somewhere, so drunk that his words were more so obscene slurs than words themselves, spewing mentions of loss and betrayal and a visceral need to cave a man’s face in, of emptying magazine after magazine on his wife’s lover’s body.

Simon went to get him, took the man home to his own shitty little flat, let him sleep off the inebriation in his bed, looked after him just in case he’d choke on his own drunken vomit, and the next afternoon, when Price was more himself, he drove Price to his marital home and helped him pack his bags.

Price stayed at his apartment for almost 6 months before getting his own place. Not that Ghost minded. Returning to the barracks was embarrassing for the Captain… And getting his own place required time and patience, which Price was lacking. 

Eventually, Price signed the divorce papers, the matter was settled, and Price went on leave. Ghost took his as well and helped him settle into a flat, helped him assemble furniture, brought him meals.

Then started Price’s fuckboy era. Which is how Gaz and Soap heard of his proclivity to hook up with people. Gender didn’t matter, so much as getting momentary satisfaction and some of the shadows out of his bones. 

Then, Graves and Shepherd happened… And Price cut it cold turkey. He was pent up. Point blank. Went from getting regular satisfaction to getting nothing and burying himself in his work. Blaming himself for not noticing the signs earlier.

Sometimes Ghost wondered if the man was going through a mid-life crisis.

“You could use it, boss.” Ghost added as he looked Price right in the eyes. “What’s one night, huh? Just going for a drink with them?”

“Simon-” Price tried arguing.

“Please, sir. We promise you’ll like ‘em.” Gaz pleaded. 

“Yeah, sir, we all talked with ‘em and they’re a right laugh.” Soap added.

Taking a deep breath, John leaned back on his chair again and threw his hands in the air again.

“Alright.” He conceded. “BUT!” He interrupted them before they got too giddy. “None of this… Tinder shite.” He gestured vaguely to the phone at the edge of the desk.

“You set up a meet-up this Friday at a pub nearby. No more after that.” He ordered.

“On it!” Gaz said as he snatched the phone from the desk to dm you.

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[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 8 - Catharsis

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word count: 4,900

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, thoughts of death, heavy drinking, use of alcohol and sexual behavior as coping mechanisms. you know it's what you can expect from a blitzo-centered chapter. this happens right after the ozzie's chapter.

Blitzø is going to die alone. 

He’s going to die alone and no one will attend his funeral or even visit his grave other than to spit on it and his gravestone will read ‘Here Lies Blitzo Buckzo’ and nothing more because no one will be there to tell them to cross out the O and he most certainly won’t be a beloved anything. He'll just stay Blitzo Buckzo, forever.

And Blitzo Buckzo fucking sucks. 

Sometimes he wishes he was able to think before he spoke. He never does much of that and he’s aware he’d probably have refrained from hurting half the people he’s hurt if he could just keep his damn mouth shut. He didn’t think about this all that much… except for when he did. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Her voice rings in his head non-stop, like one of those annoying fucking church bells he’d come across once in the living world that ring every single hour, making it unable for its existence to be forgotten.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

It rings over and over again, stubborn, and it just won’t fucking go away.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Blitzø drives home on his own, but not in silence. He turns the radio on and the volume up until he figures it must be loud enough that he’ll have trouble hearing his own thoughts. It doesn’t work. The shit thing about thoughts is that they’re not something you can just turn off when you get sick of them. They follow you everywhere, all the time, inconvenient and impossible to get rid of. He proceeds to ignore the songs that come on in favor of mumbling incoherent things under his breath in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that he’s not bothered by everything that just happened.  Things like I can think about people’s fuckin’ feelings and think you’re so much better than me, well fuck you and rich fuckin’ asshole thinks he’s hot shit and probably suckin’ face right now. 

You know, things that prove he doesn’t care one bit. 

Whatever.

He parks the van without a care, still too busy mumbling to himself, leaving it askew, taking up almost half of the parking spot next to his own. The old lady from 22 is gonna be pissed at the inconvenience. Well fuck her too. He doesn’t spare another thought on that. 

He dreads the walk up the stairs to the apartment, wishing he lived somewhere with an elevator, or in a house, or in a super sick fancy mansion where he used money as toilet paper when he took a shit because he was just that rich. Actually, scratch that, that sounds uncomfortable. At least his shitty apartment with limited hot water and four flights of stairs before it had real toilet paper, and it was the nice kind even, he always made sure of it even if it was a little more expensive. 

His little luxuries start to sound stupid when he’s been spending so much time around Stolas and all his fancy stuff.

When he opens the door and enters the apartment, his first immediate thought is to knock on Loona’s door. He groans once as he walks towards it and then once again when he spots the note she left taped to it. ‘Tex invited me to a party. Don’t wait up.’ Yeah of course he fucking did.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Does he? 

He does. He thinks he does, at least. Maybe not all the time, but why else would he have said those things to her other than to protect her feelings? It’s not his fault if she was setting herself up for heartbreak. She needed to kill those feelings and if she wouldn’t then he would, fuck being the bad guy. In fact, fuck her too! He could so think about other people’s feelings.

He groans a third time at the thought of spending the night all alone, because he already knows what being alone makes out of him, and he doesn't like it one bit. If he could, he’d never be alone, not even for a single second, ever. Maybe that way he wouldn’t be so pathetic and so sad, because that’s what being alone made of him: pathetic and sad. 

It’s why Blitzø used to hate weekends. 

Satan, he fucking hated them. Why couldn’t every day be a work day? Why would they need a break? If it were up to him, there would be no such thing as a weekend. Because on weekends he had nothing to distract him from the ever-growing nothing in the pit of his chest and that wasn’t much fun at all.

Until Y/N accepted the job at I.M.P.

Before that, they used to speak almost exclusively through text, extremely inconsistently. He’s never really been the greatest at texting, but he could spam her with stupid memes and pictures of him doing random things throughout his day and horse doodles that she didn’t seem mad about receiving. They spent a whole year like that, only meeting in person a few times here and there.

When he offered her the job he promised himself not to have any expectations because, well shit, why would she trade in an obviously well-paying job, with her best friend as her boss, where she’d been working for years on end without having to hurt or kill anybody, for whatever it was he was asking her to do? 

But then she said yes.

It wasn’t long until he figured out they weren’t all that different from each other. Apparently, as much as she liked to complain about needing a break, just to annoy him, she dreaded weekends too. Not that she’d just admit that point-blank, but they did go out on on a Friday night after work and she did drink one too many and she sighed and complained about having to go home and it was all so much like him. ‘I don’t wanna be alone, Blitz,’ she’d told him. 

He didn't wanna be alone either.

And so he took her back home and he slept on her couch and he stayed there the next day, keeping her company and, honestly, enjoying hers. 

That’s how their tradition started. Almost every single weekend, the two will find themselves in either of their apartments, in the ugliest clothes they own, to cook or order something extremely greasy and unhealthy and marathon a shit-ton of movies, staying in on Saturday after going out somewhere on Friday. Loona would routinely call it ‘patheticville’ and ‘loser day’ and things like that. 

He doesn't hate weekends anymore. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

And now he’d fucking gone and done this. 

He still wanted to fight, then. To argue, to scream, to yell. He wanted them to do it too. To get down and dirty and scream back at him. He wanted a reason to react.

Blitzø has always been very good at reacting. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than you own?

But how was he supposed to react to that? The thought of grabbing his phone and texting her something along the lines of ‘fuck you and your pet bird too’ crosses his mind for a moment and, shit, maybe he is a prick, and he was gonna die alone wasn’t he? He was sure to if he kept doing this kind of thing. 

And maybe he fucking deserves it. 

Sometimes he wonders just how he’s going to die. Will it be peaceful? He hopes not. He sure as shit does not deserve peaceful. Maybe it could at least be cool. Maybe he could go down in a super badass shootout in the human world or a cool-as-fuck sword fight or something. Or maybe he’ll die in some dumbass way like tripping on the sidewalk and cracking his head open on the pavement. Maybe it’ll be in one of those days when he’ll be climbing up Stolas’ balcony and then he’ll slip and fall and break all his bones only to be found dead on the grass surrounded by ball gags and anal plugs. A stupid send-off for a stupid motherfucker. 

He throws himself on the couch instead and curls up into a ball, wishing he had a big royal-size bed with soft sheets and like three or four fluffy pillows, or even a simple twin-sized one, or at least that the couch was a pull-out. 

He grabs his phone and inevitably goes where he always goes when he feels like this- his ‘people I care about’ folder. He swipes through the various pictures. The ones of himself with I.M.P. in the living world, the one he made Moxxie pose with him for with them pointing their guns at each other, the one with Millie when she still had her long hair. The one from the day of Loona’s adoption, the one he took of Stolas sleeping next to him. The selfie with Verosika, the one he secretly took of Y/N watching the screen when he first showed ‘Spirit’ to her. 

And then he lands on the one. The one with Barbie and his mom. 

Blitzø is a 35 years old single father who kills people for a living. He’s been handling his own shit for almost two decades now. But in this moment… he just wants his mama.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

What would she have thought of that?

Yeah, he should have known it would be a ‘cry himself to sleep’ kind of night.

Blitzø doesn’t know for how long he’s been passed out when he wakes up disoriented. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and that probably explains why his body ached so much with how uncomfortable the position he’d slept in was. He wakes up with the barking sounds of Loona’s special ringtone and scrambles to pick it up. 

“Loonie baby? You alright? Did something happen to you, are you hurt?”

“No, Blitz. I just- can you just come pick me up?” She sounds like she’s been crying. Fuck, no, his baby needs him. No time to be sad.

He’s up in a second. “On my way. Send me the address.” He hangs up, searching for his car keys (which he found between the couch seats) and running down the stairs.

Loona went two rings down to Gluttony for this party. It makes sense, he supposes. He’s more of a Lust Ring party kind of guy himself, but he’s heard Gluttony parties got crazy. He accelerates as fast as the shitty van will let him and gets there pretty quickly, only to find her outside, still crying.

He rolls down the window before he even stops the car completely. “Hey, Loonie. How ya doin’, you alright?”

She wipes a tear with the back of her hand and enters the car with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine! I just wanna go.” She sounds anything but fine.

He’s about to ask her what happened when some fuckface he definitely doesn’t remember calls him by name. The wrong one. “Hey! That sounds like Blitzo!”

“The ‘O’ is silent, asshole!”

“Hey, I knew it was you! Fuck, man, where you been? You here for the party?”

“No, I’m just here picking up my daughter.”

The guy walks up to Loona’s window, and she hides her face from him with her hands, embarrassed. “Oh, shit, you have a daughter now?”

“Adopted!” She yells out, and it stings a bit, regardless of being objectively true. 

“Oh, man, you’re already leaving? Things just got started! Come in and show us all up again.”

Blitzø groans, annoyed by the insistence. “No, no, thank you, but I think Loonie wants to head back now.” 

Some other weirdo approaches the van, leaning on the passenger’s window. “Huh, the hottie wants to leave?” Come on, right in front of him? 

He instinctively starts to growl. “Watch it.”

“I mean, we could stay a little longer,” Loona tells him.

He sighs. He’s not normally one to turn down a party, especially one with free booze, but he feels that’s probably what he should do.. “I think we need to go, ‘kay? I think it’s been a long night.”

“Well, these people seem to know you. Come on! I think I wanna give this another try. Pleeeeaaase?” She gives him the goddamn puppy dog eyes and she knows he can already hardly resist fulfilling her requests.

Well, if she insists. He could definitely use a drink…

“Okay, fine. Maybe one drink.”

… Or a good old night of drinking to forget.

Blitzø downs two tequila shots before he’s even made it into the house. He downs four beers at rapid speed as soon as he does manage to get inside, crushing the cans and cheering loudly when he was done, and then suddenly he finds himself saying yes to a keg stand. It’s so easy he can do it in his sleep. Fuck being too old for this, he’d never be too old to have fun. And he can handle so much more than a keg stand. “Ha-ha! That was nothing, bitch! Give me a real challenge!”

Beelzebub herself appears in front of him, seemingly materializing out of nowhere (or maybe he’s just drunk), all cheers and neon colors and psychedelic paraphernalia floating around her, and she does challenge him. “Oh yeah? Wanna fucks with the big bitch, imp boy? I got a challenge for ya.” 

Someone somewhere murmurs “He’s gonna die.”

Now that sounds like a challenge he can get behind.

Vortex walks up to them, carrying two huge gallons of something and placing them on the floor between him and the Sin. “Aaaaight, let’s do this! From Bee’s personal supply, the hardest shit there is.” He crouches down to Blitzø’s height. “You ready, my man?” 

Fuck, this better fucking kill him alright. “Bring it, barky! I will drink you under this fucking table, you have no idea what kind of night I’ve had.” He struggles trying to pry the gallon open, and Bee uses her magic or whatever to make them levitate, extending a straw from it. Of course she’d flaunt her magical powers and her easy fucking life to him.

“Alright, shit-talker, but there hasn’t been a soul yet who can beat me at my own game, so you better bring the fire, baby!.” 

“Ohh, is Queen Bee too scawed to lose to a widdle imp like me?” He bets she is. And he bets she’ll be embarrassed when she loses to him (because she is going to lose). Fucking big names like her always are. 

“Oh, okay. Let’s get it on, you little bastard!”

Vortex signs for them to begin and it takes about two seconds for Blitzø to have downed about a fourth of it already, but why stop there? He pulls the straw out and pours the drink straight into his mouth, downing the entirety of it at light speed. He’s so quick Beelzebub even stops chugging her own, amused… Concerned? Noo, no way. Amused. 

He climbs on top of the huge gallon to be at face level with her and properly rub it on her face, high on the adrenaline of it all (and perhaps a little bit on the buzz from the extremely strong drink too). “Yeah, who’s the queen now?”

Loona cheers for him loudly, and it fills him with joy when she proudly yells out “yeah! That’s my dad!” Yeah. That’s damn right. 

Bee lets her own unfinished gallon fall down to the floor and crosses her arms over her chest. Yeah, definitely impressed. “Well, fuck me. That’s a first. I haven’t had a first in a while. That was magical, seriously. Impressive. I tip my crown to you, imp boy. Respect.” Fuck her still calling him imp boy, but she’s actually admitting his victory and shes bowing to him, as she fucking should. 

She howls, every hellhound around following suit, and Blitzø feels on top of the world. 

Why does the world start spinning when you get yourself on top of it? 

He almost falls to the ground, but then he’s getting held up by a bunch of strangers like a cool-as-fuck goddamn rockstar and, shit, why had he stopped getting wasted and doing this kind of thing every night again?

He doesn’t exactly remember when people started doing body shots off of him but he does remember getting freaky with a few of them, which did very little to make him feel good and honestly felt a little gross with the amounts of drinks getting spilled all over and making things rather… sticky, but it was doing wonders to his thought problem. 

Who would have known having four strangers’ tongues inside of you at once could be a great way to muffle the unsolicited thoughts in his head?

The second those people fuck off somewhere else the thoughts come in again, though. Stolas hiding his face in shame behind the menu. Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? Y/n unable to look him in the eye. Are you worried someday I may have enough of it as well? Fizz is gonna hate him forever. You’re not my real dad! Verosika will always regret him. We could just… talk. Or… watch a movie? Or maybe… cuddle? Y/n’s crying face, Stolas’ disappointed one. Oh, they both had such fuckable faces didn’t they? Which reminded him: he really wanted to fuck someone.

He’s making out with a guy whose name he doesn’t know and whose face he doesn’t even remember when Loona pulls him off of him. “Oh, piss on a dick! What the fuck are you doing, Blitz?”

“This guy,” he grins, pointing to the unnamed man, who now stands still behind him. Wasn’t it obvious?

“It looks like you’re in the middle of a goddamn orgy. Stop!” Oh shit. Loona saw all that? An orgy does sound like some real fucking fun right now. Wait, focus, Loona. Fuck.

“Look, I didn’t expect you to come here and see any of this, Loonie, I’m so sorry, but it’s a party! I’m just having fun with uh… uh…” he turns back around to the man Loona pulled him off of. “The fuck is your name again?”

“Dennis.”

Ew. “Christ on a stick, you would be a Dennis. Get the fuck away from me! I’m not fucking a Dennis tonight. I need a Monica or an Alejandro here, stat.” He’s genuinely surprised that works when some hunky dude pulls him into his huuuge chest. Fuck yeah. “Better.”

Loona punches his Alejandro in the face, and he sincerely doesn’t give a fuck about it, because the world is spinning again, which is weird because this time he does not feel like he’s on top of it at all. In fact, it feels like the world is the meanest dom top ever and he’s a whiny, whiny bottom just sore all over from getting spanked ‘till his ass hurt. Not in a good way.

He falls back on Loona, and she catches him. “You don’t need anyone else sucking your face, freaky weirdo.” She throws him over her shoulder. “You need to drink something other than beelzejuice.”

She pulls him into the van, and she doesn’t rush to get home, because, according to her, she can see he’s already about to throw up. No he’s not, no sir! Ma’am. Loonie. 

Whatever. 

His mind clears a little as they make their way back home, and he pulls out his phone from his back pocket. Thankfully it’s still there.

“The fuck are you doing, dumbass? That’s gonna make you dizzy.”

“Gotta… gotta draw a thing.”

“You gotta draw a thing?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, as if that was enough information for everything to be self-explanatory, even nodding his head yes for emphasis. He surprisingly manages to take his time and put real effort into doodling it, showing it to Loona before sending it.

“Does it look like I did it drunk?” He slurs, letting out an unintentional burp.

“It actually looks pretty good, Blitz.”

“Okay.” 

“So. Who’d you call stupid?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me dad again?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

He presses send and clicks on Stolas’ contact next, only to see there’s an unread message in their chat.

Stols:  I’m sorry if anything I said or did offended you tonight. 

Ha. Bet you really fucking are. 

Still, he’s not Stolas’ fucking boyfriend. What was there to expect from him? Why would he expect anything? 

Blitzy: ITZ WUTEVS

To Blitzø’s surprise, Stolas begins typing immediately, as if he’d been waiting obsessively for his reply.

Stols: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie’s?

Talk about it? What was there to talk about? Blitzø wanted nothing more than to bury the memories of tonight the deepest under the ground he possibly could. But of course Stolas would want to talk about it.

He always wants to fucking talk about shit.

Blitzy: Y?

Stolas types for what feels like forever, and it must have been, seen that they’re now only one street from the apartment complex, before he sends in a huge-ass paragraph. 

Stols: I’m sorry! Nevermind, it’s not a big deal. I was just worried about you. You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sure things will be fine with Y/N, she likes you very much, I can see it. Maybe I read too much into everything, though. Not everything is about me, haha. I’m  glad that’s not the case. I wasn’t upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren’t and obviously you can handle a stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, and Y/N says she’ll talk to him about it, but I thought it was funny myself. What he said about me at least. I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over. 

Now that is too much to fucking deal with right now. Which means he won’t. 

Blitzy: SHUR.

He clicks out of Stolas’ chat, taking one last glance at Y/N’s before turning his phone off. She hasn’t seen what he sent yet, and that’s actually okay. 

Loona parks the van messily, doing the same thing he’d done earlier and letting the car occupy some space from the neighbour’s spot. He doesn’t even think before asking her to fix it.  “Sweetie, could you just park it a little more to the right?”

“Why?”

Yeah, Blitzø, why do you even care? “Well I don’t want that freaky cat lady to be up my ass about it tomorrow.” Yeah, that. Sure.

She doesn’t seem to find it in her to argue or even as much as groan, simply readjusting the car. She has to carry him over her shoulder again and all he wishes on the way up this time around is that he were a little more sober. She plops him down on the couch and he curls into himself once again while she grabs him a glass of water. 

Nothing to distract him from his thoughts now. 

“I had a really shitty day,” he tells her.

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you drank like five gallons of who-knows-what?”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“The person you called stupid?” 

He nods, hiding his face from her when the tears start coming in. “Fuck, Fizz was right. I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered waste. Will you be there, Loonie?” Blitzø feels whatever consciousness he’d gained back slipping away again by the second, this time from the need to sleep rather than the alcohol. At what point did he get so tired?

“Be where?” Loona asks, and he’s too out of it to respond properly, only mumbling half-coherent things like lonely and die alone over and over. “I’ll be there, dad," she tells him anyway, and covers him with a blanket, the softest one they own. “Now go the fuck to sleep,” she orders, and he does hear it, he just doesn’t have the strength to say anything in response as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, his last thoughts being that at least he can’t think about anything while asleep and that… 

He vomits all over the living room floor. 

“Oh, fuck, I did need to throw up.”

[. . .]

You feel stupid when it’s Fizzarolli who finds you crying in Ozzie’s waiting area. He skips his way to the room, humming along to some song you can’t quite make out, and he almost doesn’t see you on his way into the office. He hears you sniffling, though, and turns to face you. It takes him a couple seconds to process that it’s you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Um. You okay there?”

You look up at him, but it doesn’t feel like you can say anything yet. 

“I-” He motions behind him with his thumb. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna get Ozzie. Stay here, yeah?”

You don’t even know why exactly you’d asked Stolas to send you here when you were still mad at Ozzie. Or maybe not mad. Just… sad about everything that spiraled out of what he did. 

Then again, did you even have anywhere else to go? You could absolutely not make the night worse for Millie and Moxxie by showing up at their place, thinking of Blitzø made you sad and Stolas was not an option. You had Ozzie, though. And you know you always will, despite whatever stupid shit one of you might do. 

And it honestly beats going home to a big pile of nothing. 

Ozzie appears shortly, Fizz having done as promised and fetched him. Fizz doesn’t come back, though, letting you and Ozzie have a moment to talk on your own, which is nice of him.  

“Hey, pretty babe. Fizz said you were here.” He looks you up and down, worried. “Are you crying?”

“Why did you do that?” 

“What?”

“Why did you fucking sing about all that, why did you- it was so humiliating, Oz, fuck!”

“Oh. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It got out of control. I didn’t even know you would be here tonight. You didn’t call me.”

“I didn’t know I was coming either.”

“You wanna tell me what that means?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Alright. That’s okay. I am sorry, though. We took the joke too far and I realized too late that it wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t. So please don’t fucking do that again. It’s humiliating enough to… fuck... and everybody saw it, and- I…” You groan in frustration, struggling to get your words out. 

“No more about Stolas or any of you. Okay? Promise.” He sits down next to you on the fancy couch and he lets you lean on him. “Did something happen between you?”

You hesitate before speaking. “I didn’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I am stupid. Of course he’s ashamed to be seen with us.”

“Stolas?”

You nod. 

“Did he… tell you that?”

“Well he didn’t deny it.”

“Okay." He takes a deep breath, probably trying to think of how to handle the situation. "You’ll have time to think about all of this. Alright? Now you’re coming with me, you’re taking a bath and you’re sleeping over, and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. There’s no need to hurt yourself more thinking about it right now.”

He stands up and turns to leave the room, but looks back when he doesn’t hear you do the same. You’re still sat sit still on the couch.

You look up at him. “Oz?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You repeat yourself.

“What- of course not. Did somebody say that to you?”

You don’t reply. 

He purses his lips together, thinking. “Are they worth feeling stupid for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve gone through this before.”

“It’s different, you know that.”

“Yeah, it’s worse. They’re not hurting you back this time around, they’re just hurting you.”

You decide he was right. You don't want to talk about this right now. “Can we please not talk about it?”

He hesitates before nodding in agreement. “Yeah. ‘Course, babe.” He grabs your hands and pulls you up. “Come on.”

All the crying makes you so tired you’re almost passed out the second you lie down on the soft, silky bedsheets of Ozzie's guest room bed. Taking a look through your texts before you let yourself fall asleep, you click on Stolas’ contact once you see a notification for an unread text. 

Stolas: I am truly sorry if I did something to hurt you or make you uncomfortable with me tonight. It’s not your obligation to talk Asmodeus  out of doing anything and I did not feel embarrassed because of you or Blitz. If you need space from me I will understand, but I want you to know that is not how I feel. And, for the record, I don’t care what that Verosika person said about you. I hope you’re alright. 

It is way too late and you are way too tired to process or deal with all of that, and honestly? You still do feel stupid, and don’t want to further that feeling by replying to him immediately. That feels too pathetic- it feels like proving Blitzø right.

You’ll reply tomorrow.

You click on Blitzø’s contact next, which also had a notification signaling an unseen message, and you brace yourself for a 'fuck you’ text or something of the sorts. 

You can't keep yourself from smiling when you open the text, turning the phone off and just waiting for sleep come to you, and things feel a lot less shitty than just a second before.

Having friends is pretty fucking okay.

A/N: everybody say thank you @sweetadonisbutbetter and also wish them a happy birthday!! the adorable little doodle blitzo drew is theirs and they did it especially so i could put it in this chapter which is so nice of them and so fucking cool!!

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 7 ⬅ch.6

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. nightmares. wc 3.2k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter got me feelin some typa way

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ghost struggled to come to terms with his feelings towards you. he knew he had grown to like you, but what did that entail exactly? was he interested beyond friendship? and even if he was, he couldn’t act on his desires – a lieutenant can't get himself involved with a subordinate medic. and the fact that you were often on his team meant he was your direct superior half of the time… things could get messy extremely fast. 

he also liked to tell himself that you wanted something he couldn’t offer. a relationship – romantic or platonic – he had an unrelenting habit of closing people out.

so ghost decided he should avoid you. not entirely, that would be impossible , but he had to shake you from his thoughts. he needed time to wipe out the memory of you pressed against him in that closet. of the way your hands felt wrapped around him on his motorcycle. the fear that coursed through him as he watched you run into that burning house. 

he thought of you often, and he fucking hated it . 

he thought back to the day he spoke to you before thinking: “ you’re the one who told me to let people in. ” you had properly scared him when you ran into that flaming building. that’s when he knew he had let you slip into the cracks of his shell without even realizing it. 

i’d sooner kick your ass off my fuckin’ team if it meant keepin’ you safe. from leavin’ me. 

he had immediately regretted the words. he told you he’d kick you off the team if it meant keeping you from getting yourself killed – aka – leaving him. 

he ran a hand down his scarred face as he looked in the bathroom mirror and sighed. he was worried you’d get the wrong idea. granted, he meant exactly what he said, but admitting that to you was a new level of danger simon wasn’t accustomed to. becoming acquainted with his teammates was one thing, but letting you in was a whole different story and he didn’t know why. he didn’t know why he started to crave your presence, ever since he had you bandaging him up after he was shot weeks ago. you had been different… you were still radiating hope. this shithole hadn’t crushed your soul yet. you reminded him a bit of soap. 

he grabbed the sides of the sink and stared at his reflection, disgust rising in his throat. why, of all people, did it have to be you? why couldn’t his cold, dead heart beat for someone outside of this line of work? or even better, for no one at all . 

i’ve neva had a lil’ crush on my lieutenant, actin’ like this is all a big fuckin’ game.

his own words clogged his brain. god, there was no way you’d forgive him for being such an ass. and maybe that was for the best. 

he went over all the reasons he needed to pry you from his thoughts: your relationship would be forbidden; he’d hurt you; you’d probably hurt him; you’re too young for him; he has no fucking idea how to navigate a romantic relationship. all solid reasons to him.

then a stupid, careless thought popped into his head. maybe…maybe he could just get you out of his system… but were you the type of girl who could do sex with no strings attached? simon didn’t want to admit that he’d certainly be the one who’d get attached, so he scratched that off his – lacking – list of options with the rationale being that you’d probably get hung up over him.

all these logical reasons, and he still couldn’t shake you. he was fucked . 

it was late and simon had a meeting with price, a quick debrief on the whole hassan situation. he kept his outfit light, sporting just a long-sleeved black shirt, black sweats, his combat boots, mask, and gun strapped to his hip. most of the barracks would be asleep by now unless soap had somehow convinced gaz to play another round of poker. 

ghost walked the halls, stealthy in the shadows of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. it was a natural part of his gait now: to blend in and be silent. 

he stretched his arms over his head as he sauntered down the corridors. he heard a strange noise echo down one of the halls and he halted. curious, he changed direction and started to walk down the right corridor towards the sound, hearing the noise more clearly now. it was coming from one of the rooms. 

it sounded like… crying. someone was sobbing and whimpering in distress. 

ghost’s first reaction was that someone was hurt, in trouble, but as he edged towards the door, he realized it sounded more like someone having a night terror. 

he slowly pushed open the door that had already been left slightly ajar, letting the faded light slip into the room, and spotted you on your tiny, smaller-than-a-twin sized bed. he cursed at himself when he realized it was your room he was walking into uninvited.

but that moment of doubt slipped when he heard you begin to cry, whining in your sleep. he made it over to the side of your bed and said your name softly, not sure what else to do. 

when you didn’t respond, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried again. “ come on. wake up .” he attempted to be quiet, he didn’t want anyone to hear him and come snooping about, finding him in your room… at night… in the dark. wanting to prevent that, he quickly went to your bedroom door and shut it before going back to your side whilst muttering curses. his hand came out, softly resting on your shoulder, and he gently shook you. “wake up,” he tried again. 

he clicked on the light by your bedside and felt his heart twinge when he looked back at you. the lamp created a terrible yellow glow, but that didn’t disguise the tears you had streaming down your cheeks. 

he leaned over you, his body getting precariously close to yours, and he gave you a harder nudge. this time,  you finally opened your eyes. the tears continued to pour down your face and you hiccuped a tired sob out. ghost tucked some of your disheveled hair behind your ear on instinct. “ you’re okay ,” he said faintly. 

“ghost…?” he saw your lips quiver as you sat up, realizing you weren't alone in the room, and you reached for him, almost colliding with ghost’s head, wrapping your arms around his neck. he jolted upright a bit in surprise, pulling you with him. his arms hesitated, but after a few moments, they found a spot around your waist like his body was familiar with this. 

he could feel you crying into his neck and his hand on you tightened, pulling you flesh against him. 

“please don’t tell anyone,” you mumbled against him. 

ghost was oblivious to his hands as they began to rub circles on your back. “why would i tell anyone?”

you pulled away, your hands still clasped around his neck, and looked at him. ghost gulped. your eyes were red and teary but that just made them that much more vibrant. you had tear marks down your cheeks and your hair was all over the place. his chest tightened momentarily. he desperately wanted to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but he refrained by tightening his grip on you instead.

your eyes shifted down in embarrassment. “just… will you keep this between us? please.”

it hurt him to think that you either thought so lowly of him to worry that he might use this against you, or because of the fact that you didn’t want anyone to know you were struggling. 

a pang of hurt spread through ghost before quickly subsiding. did you think he was the type of person who would casually gossip? fuck , of course you did. you were probably worried he’d throw this back in your face in the future. he had done nothing but diss out insults and begruding remarks at you since day one. has he ever said a kind word to you? he was trying to remember, but your face so close to him made it hard. 

ghost thought about his own nightmares that plagued him and how he hadn’t told anyone either. he kept it to himself. knowing that feeling, he nodded at you in an unspoken promise: this was between the two of you, and the two of you only. 

you released your arms awkwardly and ghost set you back down so you were sitting on your bed. that's when he realized you were only in a tank top and sleep shorts – skimpy ones at that. he averted his eyes quickly, though he desperately wanted to linger on you. 

“sorry,” you said. ghost couldn’t see, but he figured you’d be blushing. “this is so embarrassing.” you buried your face in your hands. 

“it’s not,” he said finally. 

you looked up at him and gave him a mirthless smile. “it is. i can’t believe i still get nightmares like a kid.”

ghost’s hands slipped into his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them. “i get 'em too.”

you shied away from his gaze. “you don’t have to say that.”

“i wouldn’t lie jus’ t’make you feel better.” he didn’t know why he had to say it like that, but he was relieved when you gave a small laugh, even if it was breathless. 

“yeah, well it seems more appropriate for you.”

he tilted his head in a quizzical manner. 

“ i just mean that you have been in combat… i can’t imagine the horrors you’ve seen… things you’ve done…”

“jus’ cause you haven’t killed people with your own hands, doesn’t mean you can’t have things that haunt you.”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. your intention wasn’t to get ghost to comfort you – he was probably wishing he had never walked into your room right about now – you were simply embarrassed and wanted to gloss over the situation, but it came off as self-deprecating. it figures he wouldn’t let that slide. 

ghost shifted between his feet. you felt your face warm as he stared down at you sitting cross-legged on your bed. 

ghost opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “would you stay with me?”

oh my god. you waved your hands in front of you frantically. “no, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. i–i’ll just go bother soap. don’t worry about me,” you said all at once as one long slur of words. you can’t believe you just asked your lieutenant that, especially now that he knows about your ‘lil crush’, as he called it. he’d certainly think you were obsessed or reading things wrong. 

to much of your astonishment, ghost gestured his head forward, indicating he wanted you to scoot over. you clumsily did, your shoulder now against the wall. 

the room was small, just one bed with a mattress – the other cot was barren, your roommate situation up in the air at the moment – and there was no chair. he only had one option if he was to stay with you.

a pang of annoyance coursed through ghost. what could johnny do that he couldn’t? he thought to himself in challenge. and so he settled in beside you, his legs stretching across your bed. it was a tight squeeze with his formidable frame and your tiny ass bed.

you felt your whole body heat up, his shoulder against yours as he squeezed into the small space. 

ghost was doing precisely the opposite of what he had just lectured himself on. 

“you don’t have to…i didn’t mean to–”

“jus’ close that mouth of yours and go t’sleep,” he said coolly, though his skin was burning where you leaned against him. 

you were propped up on your pillow and you both laid there in silence. ghost wanted to say something – to tell you he was sorry. to tell you that he is only an ass because he doesn’t know how to control his emotions. but the words evaded him. and that was probably for the best. 

you weren’t sure how you were going to fall asleep with ghost now at your side, keeping you on edge. but after only a few minutes, your eyes grew heavier and fluttered shut against your will, your head lulled against him as sleep overtook you. his presence reminded you that you were safe. 

he felt safe . 

simon cursed under his breath as he felt himself smile when you leaned into him, your body falling into a slumber. he knew better than to allow this. he pushed his mask up slightly to rub his mouth and chin, itching to get away from you, and touch you, all at the same time. 

you woke in the morning, alone in your bed, your blanket tucked around you, and the smell of ghost lingering on your sheets. 

days had gone by and you and ghost had been successful in ignoring one another. 

you stood in the training room, plenty of other soldiers around you, either working out on a machine alone or in pairs. you stood on a training mat and huffed. you had decided to keep practicing your combat skills for the chance that another mission would pop up. you wanted to be prepared. only having the skillset of a medic wasn’t cutting it for you anymore. not after what you went through. what if one of the other men hadn’t been there to save you – i.e. ghost.

you were stretching your arm across your chest when hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you up off the ground. a burst of giggles left you as soap spun you around before plopping you back down. you turned to face him. “can i help you?” you teased. 

“actually, thought maybe i’d help ya train for a lil bit. if ya wanted,” he offered. he wore leisure workout clothes and had already set his water bottle down beside the mat. 

“you don’t have to. i’m sure you’d rather–”

“let me stop you right there, lass. i'm offerin’ because i want to. quit second guessin’ yourself.”

you gave him a faint smile. he was right. soap was always right – but you would never tell him that. it would just get to his head. 

“alright. fine, then.”

he grinned and began to stretch. 

thirty minutes must have gone by and you were drenched in sweat as soap pinned you to the mat time and time again. 

“i thought you woulda improved since last time,” soap teased. 

you playfully rolled your eyes and brushed your hands against your sweats, getting ready to go again. “it’s not my fault! i’m trying!”

“well, whatever percent you’re givin’ it, double that.”

you scoffed but smiled brightly at him. you had been so caught up in the moment, you never noticed when ghost had came into the training room. there were multiple soldiers scattered around, so even if you had been paying attention, you still might not have seen him.

he wore gray sweats today and a tight black shirt. a sight you would have got choked up over.

“arms up,” johnny commanded. 

you listened, setting your hands and arms in the correct position that he had shown you earlier. then soap launched at you, and you tried to dodge his attack, side-stepping swiftly. but soap was lithe and nimble. he hooked his arm around you and pulled you to the ground and you let out a yelp. 

you landed on your back and looked up at soap breathlessly. he was nestled between your legs that were bent at the knee. his hands were on either side of your shoulders. 

“now what’re you gonna do, lass?” he teased. 

you smirked and attempted a move he had demonstrated earlier and that you had used when ghost pinned you in this position. you squeezed your thighs around soap’s waist and tried to roll your body. you felt soap go limp, allowing you to more easily roll him underneath you – if he hadn’t, you likely wouldn’t have had the strength to maneuver him. 

soap smirked as you landed on top of him, straddling his hips and giving him a self-assured, satisfied look. 

“don’t look too cocky. i let you move me.”

you rolled your eyes and huffed. “soap,” you whined. “how am i gonna learn if you do that?”

soap’s hands lingered on your hips, both of you blatantly unaware of how intimate you may have looked right then. 

“you’re half my size, lass. so unless you wanna bulk up, yer never gonna be able to move me.”

you shook your head. he was right. 

“i jus’ want you t’know how to execute the basics for now. know t’motions. don’t worry bout anything else.”

“ugh,” you sighed. “you really had me thinking i could best you.”

soap chuckled, and in a lazy motion, he pushed you off of him so you fell to your side on the mat. “never gonna happen, love.”

you pursed your lips and begrudgingly accepted his hand as he hoisted you up. 

ghost was sat across the gym, leaning on his spread-out knees, twirling a knife in his hand as he watched you and soap. you hadn’t felt it, but his eyes were on the two of you the entire time he was in the training room. there was fire blazing inside ghost as he watched you and soap all over each other.

soap was squeezing his water bottle into his mouth, walking towards ghost. “hey, l.t.” he called. ghost’s eyes flickered away from you – who was currently collecting your things to leave – and looked up at soap. he gave him a grunt as a greeting, but that was all. 

“what’s got your panties in a knot?” johnny asked, scratching his scruff as he eyed which machine to work out on next. 

ghost’s hand clenched his knife, his eyes tracing your figure as you left the gym, completely unaware of his presence. he should talk to you , he thought. things had been left… uncomfortable between the two of you. were you friends? did you still think he hated you? were you actually interested in him? could you forgive him for being a jerk? did he even want you to forgive him? were you still embarrassed about him finding you crying in your room?

ghost stood against his better judgment, wanting to follow you out of the gym, but before he could take his first step, gaz appeared beside you, draping an arm across your shoulders, and walking with you out the door, both of you laughing at something he said. 

“fuckin’ hell,” ghost muttered to himself. he slid his knife aggressively into it’s sheath above his sweats and decided to take his frustration out the only way he knew how: overworking his body. 

johnny watched as simon approached some equipment and jumped up to the pull-up bar and began heaving himself up and down with what looked like he was exerting no effort at all. the way he was going at it so hard made johnny wonder if he was okay. 

“ghost,” soap called.

“leave it, soap,” simon replied with a grunt, wanting to drown his inability to digest his own emotions in a workout. he’d rather clear his mind with needless violence, but this would have to do for now.

chapter 8 ➡

[luvyeni]

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE — chapter 6. dates and apologies !

word count. 0.8k+ content warning. none just angst and fluff

You clutched the stuffed animal in your hand that heeseung had won for you as you walked through the park per his request. “You’re really happy about that stuffed toy.” He said. “Be careful people might think you’re crazy and on a date with that thing instead of me.” You rolled your eyes pouting. “don’t call my child a thing, he has a name.” You said, the boy laughed. “yeah, what is it?” you thought for a while, before shrugging. “well I won him, why can’t he be named after me?”

You shook your head no, smirking menacingly, looking back at him. “I like the name sunghoon.” His face dropped. “That’s not funny.” He said flatly. “It’s a little funny.” You said. “not even remotely.” He tried to walk a head of you. “yah! Don’t leave me.”

“Stop walking so fast.” You grabbed his arm. “say your sorry and i'll slow down.” You whined, and he started speeding up again. “okay! Okay.” You shouted. “im sorry.” You said , and he stopped turning to you. “I won’t name him after sunghoon.” You said. “and?”

“And we can name him heeseung.” He smiled. “thank you,  that’s all I ask.” You rolled your eyes. “can we sit, I tired from chasing after you?” he nodded , finding a bench to sit on near the water. “here lets sit here.”

“did you have fun.” He asked — his eyes filled with so much nerves. “i won’t give you so much credit.” He frowned. “but I had a lot of fun.” You said, lightly punching his shoulder. “you remembered how much I love amusement parks.”

“of course! We used to go all the time after classes.” He said — remembering how you’d drag him whenever you had the chance, riding all the rides you could and eating the food until it was time to go home. “we had so much fun back then.”

You smiled — quickly frowning, it was fun hanging out with heeseung — but you couldn’t help but remembered why you stopped doing those things in the first place. “we did have fun back then didn’t we?”

He saw the change in your mood. “you okay?” you nodded, he kissed the back of his teeth. “it’s been 5 years since we hung out , not 50, I can still tell when you’re upset and lying about it.”

“Why are you doing this?” you said. “doing what?” He questioned. “this ,being nice to me, wanting to go on a date — I mean even as high schoolers you didn’t want to be anything more than friends, now all of a sudden you want to flirt and date me, even after that situation.”

He knew this was gonna come up and he thought he was ready , but he suddenly couldn’t speak. “I want to forgive you, I really do, but I need at least an explanation, is this just a joke between your friends because — it’s not I promise.”

“Then tell me what it is.” You said. “I’ve always liked you yn, even when were in high school.” He said. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d like me back , I mean we both what I looked in 9th grade.” You dry laughed. “but then things changed, I didn’t mean for them to, they just got out of hand.”

“you really hurt me heeseung, you were my only friend, I stood by you for everything.” You felt tears welding in your eyes. “and for you to say all those horrible things, and that our friendship meant nothing.” He wrapped his arms around your body. “im sorry.”

It was silent — both of you didn’t say anything as you say on the bench. He finally spoke up. “im so sorry I hurt you.” He whispered into your hair. “I'm so fuckin stupid yn.” He wiped your wet cheeks. “I’ve been waiting for the longest time to tell you that.” He said. “for the past 5 years that’s all I wanted to tell you.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. “please forgive me.” He said , squeezing your hand. “I’ll try my best to quit, I swear.” You wanted to believe him — it was only 5 days, but it was longer than you’ve ever seen him in 5 years. “you’d really quit?” you asked. “for you? Of course I would.”

You both began to get cold , so you found your way back to his car — making your way back to your dorm. He parked outside your building, not really wanting to let you out. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you to school.” He said , you nodded. “good night heeseung.”

You undid your seat belt opening the door. “Let’s go baby heeseung.” He laughed. “are you really gonna call it that?” you nodded. “of course , he’s our child.” You said , quickly reaching over to kiss his cheek his eyes widening. “wh-what—” before he fully say something you got out of the car.

“yah! You can’t just run away after doing that.” you turned waving. “goodnight!” you shouted, he watched you go into the building , before driving off a big dopey smile plastered on his face.

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©️LUVYENI

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 6 ~

Rennick's Comeuppance:

And here we are. The last chapter to wrap up this 'Lifting the Fog' Arc. Yes, I'll keep writing more in the future but I have art to post and I want to focus on my own writing. Thank you to everyone who's continued to read these chapters, and I hope you enjoy!

TW: Blood.

Part 7:

'Oi, McLeary!' Muir called. 'Give Rennick a good kick up the arse.'

Caz wasn't going to give Rennick a good kick up the arse.

Along with Brodie, he hid behind a filing cabinet and waited for Rennick to pass. When they arrived into Administration, Caz could feel something. It didn't cause a splitting headache or his vision to blur, but he assumed it to be The Shape trying its best to tempt him. Neither saw Rennick turn. As far as they were concerned, the old fud was happily tucked away in his office before trying to get to the helipad. That must have been his point of infection. They had noticed The Shape reaching over the handrail, but not much. Rennick must have touched it by accident then fell when the rig began to shake. In a twisted way, turning saved his life, and that wasn't in Caz and Brodie's plan.

They just wanted to find Rennick, drag him to Accommodation and get a verbal beat down by everyone there. Gregor was gone, Davros was missing and even if they didn't like Rennick, they had to try. Caz had brought Trots back from the brink. Douglas found Gibbo and Innes with Muir. Unknown to them, O'Connor had a role to play with Addair. Now, it was Rennick's turn. There was just one problem. No one knew anything about him, nor did anyone like him. Could the reflection trick be enough? Apparently not, because they either heard a mirror or a glass door shatter and Rennick scream in frustration which bled into disgust. He gagged and began to hyperventilate. The pair almost felt bad for him, until he turned back to blind rage and broke into the wall.

They left their hiding spots, awkwardly clambered over the collapsed door that kept them safe and followed the destruction Rennick left in his wake. The further apart they were, the less Caz could sense him.

'The state of this place...'

The men's eyes constantly moved in all directions. Caz looked over his shoulders at the slightest noise. Brodie stared at the floor for any glass they could avoid. Both awkwardly shuffled pass a piece of the discoloured Shape in single-file. It was eerily quiet. Had Rennick gone into the under rig? Or was he lying in wait?

Caz turned his head. He could sense Rennick to the left. Looking through a giant hole in the wall revealed the site manager, standing in a crumbling office, where its outerwall had been bulldozed, allowing the cold yet crisp air in. He grabbed Brodie's shoulder and nodded in the direction. A shiver ran up their spines. They watched Rennick stare out to the sea with a distant look in his eyes. Seemed he's tired himself out.

'Stay here.' It was no secret that Brodie was someone Rennick respected to some degree. He never had been called to the office in the six years he's been stationed at The Beria for the insults. The only time he has was to introduce Raffs and make sure he signed the correct paperwork. If anyone had a chance to talk to him how Douglas did for Gibbo, it was Brodie. Or Finlay, but she wasn't here.

'Rennick?' The older man instantly turned and stared at the diver who held his hands up to show he wasn't going to hurt him. Not like he could. 'It's okay. But, can you move away from the edge? This place is falling apart.' Right on cue, a piece of the ceiling landed between them. Rennick stared. 'It's me. It's Brodie.'

'Yes, I know it's you, you pillock. Stop talking me to like I'm some fuckin' wild animal!'

Well, that was unexpected. The fog had already been lifted from Rennick. His voice hadn't been tainted by The Shape trying to copy him. He showed chronic pain, but all of the infected did during and after being brought back from the brink. Brodie began to relax, or as best as he could when your boss could literally eat you alive.

'Okay, that's good. Look, everyone's meeting up in Accommodation. Archie and Roper are taking care of the rescue.'

'As they fucking well should.' He huffed and noticed Caz poking his head around the corner. Anger quickly boiled to the surface as Rennick pushed pass Brodie in the most gentle way he could. 'You have some fuckin' nerve still being here, McLeary.'

'Well, I wasn't gonna swim back to Scotland now, was I?'

Brodie game him a look. It basically said 'Please shut up and let me handle this,' but Caz didn't notice.

'I still expect you to fuck off when we get back to shore. Do you underst-'

'What the fuck is your problem?!' And there goes any little progress Brodie made. 'We practically keep this rig afloat day and night, whilst you stay nice and cosy in your little cabin. The only time you see us is to give us lip. And look us now. Even after we hit whatever the fuck that is out there, you're still hiding away whilst we do all the work. You told me you had more hairs on your fat crack that can bring more positive contributions, so fuckin' prove it!'

Silence.

All the colour in Brodie's face vanished. Rennick glared. Caz glared back. Even the sea fell quiet.

'...I told you to go, McLeary.' Rennick's voice twisted. He began to snarl between his words and contorted his face.

'Rennick, don't!' Brodie's words fell on deaf ears.

Caz took a quick glance in the direction of the door. If this was going to get Rennick outside, then so be it.

'I'LL MAKE YOU FUCKIN' GO!'

Caz didn't wait to hear the end of Rennick's sentence. He turned and ran. With a roar, Rennick followed. Brodie ducked and held his head as more ceiling tiles fell around him. He watched the pair leave. 'Rennick, stop. Rennick!'

You could say this was a bad idea. Why bring Caz along when Rennick was rightfully pissed he had used The Beria to hide from the police since August? Well, in all honesty, no one wanted to go. Plus, Caz had hoped whatever was happening would be enough of a distraction. What Caz didn't take into consideration was the fact he used The Beria to hide from the police since August.

Rennick followed Caz with little thought. He didn't stop to think that he was luring him outside. He crashed into walls at tight turns, smashed the interior windows and trampled chairs. A tendril set off the fire extinguisher that bounced off the walls and nearly hit Brodie, who was falling behind as he had to navigate the floors to not fall through.

The double doors were in view. Caz picked up the pace. Rennick's screams of frustration could be heard outside. Archie and his crew, Roper and the rest of Marine Control and Engineering, everyone on Deck and some in Accommodation turned in the general direction. They all knew and nearly everyone's face turned as white as a ghost. The last thing they needed was for Rennick to be infected. They screamed for Caz as he appeared, nearly falling as he made a sharp turn along the catwalk to his right. His body got low as he turned with a slide. Rennick, still with tunnel vision, smashed into the railing that caused his infection. The railing bent under his weight and he nearly fell with it, but he regained hit 'footing' and followed. Brodie still had the long corridor to get through. Every step had to be perfectly calculated.

Caz could feel Rennick practically breathing down his neck. He was too close. The old man was fast. Getting down the ladder, let alone to it impossible. In a sudden act of desperation, he grabbed the railing and jumped. He didn't think how high the fall would be, just as long as he gained some distance. A tendril from Rennick reached out to pull Caz back, but another caught him first. A tendril from Muir wrapped around Caz's waist and pulled him to safety, landing between the group. It all happened so fast, when he touched the ground, the leccy fell to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 'Let's not do that again,' he told himself.

Innes patted his shoulder and with O'Connor, pulled the man up.

There wasn't anytime to talk. Caz didn't have time to register Addair before they all felt a bang. Rennick jumped onto the Deck and stared at Caz with a wild look in his eyes, also catching his breath. He didn't show it, but he realised how he'd been tricked to come out of hiding. He glanced at everyone he could see. A part of him was relieved he wasn't the only infected. Compared to Addair and Muir, he started to feel less disguisted with himself. At least he still had his head and his organs weren't exposed.

'Not bad, McLeary.' Brodie watched from the catwalk. 'Not bad.' He felt all eyes on him. There was no reaction. No one going to comfort him or even ask if he was alright. Just staring with empty or angry eyes. Rennick remained strong, but he could tell this was a losing battle. 'What?!' He snapped and turned to his left where O'Connor and his group stood with Roper above. He turned to the right. 'Don't you dare look at me like that. I'm not the one who got us into this shit. I'm not the one who activated the drill. If you want someone to blame, then you should all be looking at Gibbo, or Roper. They're the ones who decided to drill through this stuff.' Everyone stared. They could tell Rennick was grasping at straws. Anger bubbled. Trots and Gibbo made their way down to the Deck. 'I'm the one giving you all a roof over your heads. The one who makes sure you have money to pay your bills or send back to your families. And this is how you thank me? By turning me into this thing?! I should fire each and every one of you-'

A tendril slapped Rennick across the face, with such force his head jerked to the side, leaving a deep cut. With one of his 'arms' he touched it and noticed his blood dripping. He turned. It was Gibbo. The man had a both a hurt and angered look in his eye. He was trying to hold back his tears.

'Because of you...' He tried to be strong, but he began to cry. The chain was still wrapped around a tendril. 'My boy has to see his father look like this for the rest of his life!' Rennick gritted his teeth.

'Get to fuck, Gibson! It's your fault that oil got on y-' Another slap from Gibbo. This time, it cut above Rennick's eyebrow and this time Rennick didn't fight back. He felt everyone's eyes on him. His usual tactics of verbally abusing his crew into making themselves carry the blame wasn't working. A sense of anxiety spread across his body. It tensed and Rennick couldn't bring himself to look away from the floor. He kept one eye covered from Gibbo's cut. His lips tightened and turned in on themselves. His breath became shaky. Rennick wanted to be sick. There was no convincing. The King had lost his followers and his Empire was in ruins.

'Stop looking at me! Stop it. Don't you dare look at me like that. Go away. Go away!' The words flooded his mind. He didn't know who it was, but hearing footsteps was enough. He turned and dashed across the Deck, before climbing back to Administration, nearly hitting Brodie as he vanished over the building.

Silence.

There was no cheers. No one said anything. To answers your question, it was Roper's footstep that caused Rennick to leave. Trots placed a hand on Gibbo, who didn't feel guilty at all for slapping his boss twice. In fact, he felt relieved. It felt good. Still didn't stop his tears. Caz shared a glance up to Brodie who gave a thumbs up before climbing down the ladder. Archie and Roper exchanged a look. The pilot nodded and moved back to the helipad, ready to fly back to the mainland to enforce an emergency rescue. Finlay turned and noticed.

'Oi, you lot. Is it supposed to be doing that?'

The Shape had now gone completely grey. It's pulse stopped. Then it began to crumble. Slowly flakes chipped away, before pieces no bigger than a finger nail followed at a much faster pace. Everyone on The Beria. D Oil Rig watched The Shape disintegrate into a dust cloud. The wind carried it back to sea, leaving only the dust inside to be swept up by someone later.

A sensation came over Caz. He held his head, but passed it off as him removing his hard-hat to run a hand through his hair. Since being rescued by Brodie and Douglas, he had a splitting headache and blurred vision whenever he got close to The Shape and the infected. He could faintly hear Suze calling for him like a song, but since the rig began to shake, it all seemed to stop. All he could feel was the presence of the infected. What he just felt was The Shape finally being put to rest. He was free from its grasp.

'It's...dead.'

For a brief moment, the infected waited to be turned back into their human form, but to no avail. A crushing blow. On the bright side, seeing whatever The Shape was dissappear was a huge weight off everyone's shoulder.

'...What now?' Trots asked. Caz shrugged and put his hard-hat back on.

'Well, we do have a darts tournament to finish.'

[mockerycrow]

Undercover V (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover series masterlist - previous | next

Summary: Your stress is staying at it’s peak for the time being as you come to terms that you’re staying under a secure watch until you’re properly evaluated, under the wise eyes of John “Soap” MacTavish. Chapter five, otherwise known as “babysitting duty”.

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking literally a month for this chapter. I’m so glad you guys are still loving this series. This a bit of a humorous filler, so I apologize. Next chapter will have more story!! <3

[WARNINGS: Mentions of genocide and human trafficking, inaccurate medical stuff.]

“Truth has many shades; it is not a matter of black and white, but grey.” -Morgan Freeman.

AFTER MY WHOLE failed evaluation, they allowed me to rest again, which I’m half thankful for, half not. I got a few hours of sleep in, but not enough to feel good about. The ache of sitting in a bed for a couple days is finally beginning to kick in so much so that I can’t sleep. I woke up really early in the morning, around 3 AM. I wasn’t surprised to see the lights in my room to be off, but I was surprised to vaguely see a figure in my room which at first freaked me the fuck out, but I quickly realized was Soap. I can’t make his features out enough to see if he’s awake or not, but I don’t care.

I need to get out of this damn bed.

I move my handcuffed hand a bit to grasp onto the hospital bed railing and I begin to slowly pull myself from my bed, hissing as new aches bloom across my healing wounds. Especially my damn stomach area, fuck. I ignore the pain blooming underneath my skin and I manage to get myself into a sitting position, and I can already feel some relief hitting me once I’m not laying back against a surface. I slowly curl one of my legs up, a soft noise leaving my lips as I feel my muscles in my leg thank me for bending my leg. I hear Soap stir, but I don’t pay him any mind. He makes a “hmm?” sound as I take a slow deep breath, allowing the aches in my wounds to subside.

“What’re you doin’?” Soap grumbles out, voice thick and heavy with sleep, making him a bit hard to understand when combined with his accent. He inhales loudly as he stretches and I glance at my handcuffs. “Sitting up.” I reply curtly. Can he not fucking see??

..I forgot it’s dark in here. Anyway..

“Ya need to lay back down and rest—“ I groan. “All I’ve been doing is laying down! My back fuckin’ hurts, man! I’m tired of sitting here like a wet noodle.” Soap gets up from his seat and walks closer to me—which isn’t that far of a distance, honestly, since Soap’s chair is considerably close to my bed. I notice his gloves are still on as he puts a hand on my shoulder, which he must’ve chosen the sore shoulder because I since and shy away from his touch. “Ow.”

Soap quickly retracts his hand, wincing himself in sympathy. “Look, it’s late, aye? Why don’t ya lay down fer now, have tha’ doctors help you in the mornin’?” His eyes glance up at the clock up on the wall, squinting his eyes to look as it’s dark in here. I groan and bite my lip, silently licking and choosing my battles. He is right, it’s much better for me to wait until the doctors or nurses come and help me. I sigh and make a motion with my free hand. “Alright.”

I manage to get myself laid back onto the bed, and I keep looking at my handcuffs. I move my cuffed hand around as I look at Mohawk, gesturing to my cuffed wrist now. “Okay, tell me how truly necessary this is. It’s getting a bit tiring.” My tone is a bit.. curt, and I don’t mean it, but I’m getting antsy in this room and I fucking hate just laying here. I’m uses to being out on the field, so sitting in one place doesn’t do me much good. Soap snorts as he sits himself back in his chair and without looking, grabs his sketchbook notebook thing from where he stuffed it between my mattress and the frame of the hospital type bed. “I dinnae ken how i can say this in a nicer way but, you’re.. considered a risk of some sort by the dafties overseein’ ya.”

I blink at him for a moment and he has a sheepish look on his face, his free hand coming up behind his head and scratching it. I pretend that I know one hundred of what he said—look, sometimes Scottish accents are hard to understand. “You’re one of the ‘dafties’ overseeing me.”

“You know what I mean!” Soap grumbles. I pause for a moment and keep my eyes on him, my fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns into the fabric of my blanket. “Do you think I’m a risk, Soap?”

Soap takes a moment to look back at me, and I mean really look back at me. His eyes pierce through mine again, taking in every detail of my face—and that causes me to look away again, because it makes me feel weird. “I mean.. Maybe. If I had ta’make the final decision, I’d let ya roam, but with someone to watch over ya.” His voice is serious as he seemingly tells me the truth about what he thinks. In a way, I find comfort in his words but I also.. don’t.

It hurts to know that they consider me so unstable.

“You should go back ta’sleep.”

I don’t answer and I look down at my fingers as my index finger scratches at the corner of my thumbnail. It feels like my damn nerves are on fire. “Can’t.” I mutter, and I curse myself when my voice is barely audible. Soap seems to catch what I said, though, because his eyebrow raises in an questioning manner. “Ya haven’t even tried,” He retorts, nearly snorting. Soap wipes his eyes as I huff—he’s right, I haven’t, but I know I won’t be able to. I look over at the clock on the wall, as if I could will time to go by faster. I let out a quiet noise as I shift myself a bit, a subtle painful ache settling back into my jaw and my abdomen. Oh yeah—I’m injured. It’s not like I forgot but, I’ve been so pumped of drugs this entire time, so I haven’t felt much since waking up the first time in this bed. I try to cross my arms, but my damn hand is still handcuffed!

Oh, god fucking dammit, I wanna get out of this bed!

“Stop actin’ like a wee bairn.” Soap snorts as he glances over at me again, then back down at his sketchbook notebook thing. I should probably ask what it is. “I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” I hiss with as much venom as I can muster, which isn’t much because I’m… cuffed to a bed. God. I hate this.

“Oh, lemme translate for ya.. Stop actin’ like a baby. Better?” He questions, pencil in hand. “Sure.” I mutter. I eye the pencil. “What is that?” I ask, pointing over to his general direction. “What is what?” Soap murmurs before holding up the notebook sketchbook thing. “This? It’s a sketchbook.” Ah, okay. I don’t have to call it that super long name now. Sketchbook, it is. I nod quietly as I glance around the room, trying to find something to focus on. It’s not like they could give me my phone. I wouldn’t be surprised if Makarov took it, destroyed it maybe.

….

Makarov.

I feel my heart suddenly drop into my gut and dig deep to stay there. Makarov.. He’s one hell of a man, that’s for sure. Can I even call him a man? He’s not a human being by my standards, anyway. The things I’ve seen him do, the things I’ve seen him order others to do—me to do.. He’s the worlds single largest threat and he’s in the wind. My fingers grasp at my blanket. He is not loyal to any country, he’s not loyal to any creed—he slaughters for his own gain, he doesn’t flinch at anything. Not human trafficking, genocide, fucking hell, what am I saying?? He’s the one doing the genocide! Just the simple thought of him makes my hair stand up and I hate that. I’m going to have to expose myself to these people, what I did to seem loyal—no, I’m not going to excuse it. Yeah, sure, I did it under the guise of loyalty, but I hurt a lot of fucking people. Any regular civilian would call for my death, but what they don’t understand is that when you’re fighting a war and trying to prevent a bigger one, one that will end in M.A.D? You do what you have to do. You turn your brain off, you pull the trigger.

I don’t know what to think anymore.

Something nudges my leg which snaps me out of my daze—it’s Soap’s boot. He puts his foot back on the ground when he has my attention. His eyebrow is slightly pulled in, the outer edge of his lip is pulled tight for a moment. “Get out of yer head there, mm? Look, let’s play a little game, shall we?”

I groan and I look up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m being babysat when you say that.” Soap grins. “Ya are. Anyway—give me a, uh.. give me a thing to draw.” I blink at his words and I decide to not point out what he just said. I grumble and shrug. “I don’t know,” I began, glancing around the room at the different medical posters plastered on the walls—one of them on a program offered to help others to quit smoking. Bet that hasn’t helped too many. “A dog.”

Soap shakes his head as I began to say those words. “No, pick somethin’ else.” I raise an eyebrow at how quick he denied my request. “No, I want you to draw a dog.” I challenge, watching the way he twirls the pencil between his fingers. “Choose somethin’ else, I’m not drawin’ a dog.” My heart monitor begins to beep faster and Soap puts his hands up defensively. “Steamin’ Jesus, gettin’ worked up over the drawing? I’ll draw ya a cat instead, calm ya tits.”

I try to cover my snort of amusement because that wasn’t even on purpose. Soap is hunched over his sketchbook and I watch his pencil wisp across the paper, and I notice an indent on Soap’s cheek, almost like he bites the inside of it or sucks on the inside as he focuses. Huh. Makes me wonder if he does that on missions, too. I turn my head again and read the clock—it’s 3:30ish, maybe 3:40 AM. I only glanced at it before looking back at Soap.

I think I’ll actually break these handcuffs and end my life by breaking off pieces of the drywall and consuming it if this is how the next few hours will be spent.

“Y’know, my L.T. told me a joke concernin’ a dog.”

L.T.? Lieutenant, I’m assuming. I don’t say anything, but I look at him. Soap looks up from his sketchbook with a grin on his face again. “Wha’has two legs and bleeds?”

“A dog,” I respond.

“Half a dog.” He corrects me.

I blink at him slowly before trying to subdue the smile appearing on my face. I’m smiling because it’s stupid. “That’s dumb.” Soap inhales through his teeth as his pencil strokes across the paper. “Oooh, don’t let my L.T. hear that, yeah? The man loves his jokes.” My eyes watch his hand holding the pencil as I speak. “So,” I begin. “Your team is.. who exactly, again? You, Price, who else?” Soap hums. “Well, there’s me—I’m a sergeant. There’s Gaz, who’s also a sergeant. You’ve met Price, he’s my cap’n, and then there’s ‘The Ghost’.” He chuckles, glancing at me for a moment. “He’s my L.T.”

“‘The Ghost’?” I question, raising an eyebrow. Sounds like a name a middle schooler puts down for their kahoot game. Soap looks back at his sketchbook. “Well, it’s just Ghost. That’s just what he goes by.”

Edgy, damn…

“Hm. That’s the 141, then?” I bite back saying something about how they waterboarded me, because I know deep down that won’t help anyone. I’m trying to not think about all the damn torture I’ve endured this year because I find it quite annoying when my chest tightens so harshly—to the point where I can’t fucking breathe. Damn panic attacks.

Soap clears his throat and grins, erasing something before swiping the eraser shavings to the side. “All done. Wanna see?” He looks at me expectantly and I motion for him to show me. Soap turns his sketchbook towards me and he’s sketched out a messy, yet well put together drawing of a cat. He drew it in just a few minutes so it isn’t the most detailed, but it’s quite amazing for the time span he drew it in. “Oh, damn,” I say in quiet awe. “I thought you were just going to.. draw a little fella, I dunno.” I wince as my jaw pulses sharp pain through my nerves and my hand instinctively shoot’s up to cup my jaw. Soap’s sharp gaze lingers where my hand is for a moment before he shuts his sketchbook and stuffs it back between the mattress and the hospital bed frame. He grunts as he stands up and leans over me, his finger pressing the red call button on the remote near my pillow. He probably noticed my pain. “Thanks,” I mumble, my hand remaining on my cheek. My eyes flutter shut as the pain begins to intensify, so much so that I don’t notice another presence beside me until they utter my name. I eyes shoot open quickly, my body tense, but I quickly relax when I see it’s a nurse. “The Sergeant here told me you’re feeling some pain. Do you mind rating it on a scale of one to ten?” The nurse murmurs. The nurse is a man with long brown hair that’s tied up neatly into a bun. He has a darker colored beard with red hairs around his mustache and lower lip, dawning square-ish glasses.

“It’s at a four right now,” I respond, glancing at my IV lines before looking at the nurse’s gloves. “It’s climbing, though.”

The nurse hums and writes down my symptoms on a sticky note. “I’m going to go get you a small dose of a narcotic for you, alright? Usually I would give you some tylenol, but you’ve had some extensive medical care.”

I blink. Oh wow. A narcotic?

Soap grins and pokes me with the eraser of his pencil. “Looks like I’ll be babysittin’ ya fer a while more, yeah?”

Fuck.

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[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 6

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 5.8K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 5 | Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 6

Drew’s hands gripped Julie’s waist as she straddled him on the couch, his hips lifting and grinding deliciously against her. 

“Just go out and have fun. Hot, sexy, sweaty fun with the fuckin’ fire captain.”

Lucy’s words echoed through her head as he drove Julie home from Mikey’s, continuing to feel the eyes of the town on her. And if they wanted a show, she would give them a damn show. For two years, she’s been the dedicated daughter - sweet Julie, who had to move back from the city to take care of her daddy. Poor, sweet Julie, who was orphaned so young.

Poor, sweet, naive Julie who thought that she could keep Jake Seresin.

But no. Tonight, Magnolia got to see exactly who Julie was when she wanted to be. They got to see her flirt with a man and take him home. And she… she got to feel desired and free and sexy enough to sleep with the fire captain. So when he walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight, an offer to go up to Oklahoma to his folks for Christmas of his lips, she pulled him inside.  

Smiling against his mouth, she felt his hands slide down her body to her thighs, then slowly make their way back up under her dress. His warm fingers curled into the top of her tights, dipping inside to stroke her skin. She could feel his hard cock, the fly of his jeans rubbing just - 

“Fuck,” he gasped, startled at the sudden pounding on the front door. “Who - ”

“Ignore it,” Julie ordered, trailing kisses down his throat. But when it continued, his hands slid from under her dress and back to her hips, lifting her off his lap. Gently depositing her onto the cushions, he stood and adjusted himself. “Drew - ”

“Wait there, honey.” Groaning, she let her head fall back against the couch and put a hand over her eyes. The first time she was even close to having sex since coming back, and it was interrupted by some inconsiderate asshole. It was like a giant cosmic joke. Hopefully, Drew could turn away whoever it was fast, and they could pick up - “Seresin? What happened?” 

The concern in his voice catapulted Julie off the couch and across the living room. Putting one hand on Drew’s back, she nudged him aside to see Jake on her front porch. Her heart plummeted at the sight of his tear-stained face, bloodshot green eyes shifting from Drew to her. He looked so… devastated. “Jake? What happened? Is everyone okay?” Her mind went to Ally and the baby. If Will was hurt. Were his parents okay?

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “This was a mistake.” Turning to go, he hung his head, raising a bloody hand to brush the snow from his hair, fingers curling and tugging hard.  

“Jake!” Pushing past Drew, Julie stepped onto the porch and grabbed Jake’s arm. The cold hit her, and she shivered, damp soaked into her tight-clad feet and goosebumps erupting on her bare arms. “Is everyone okay?”

“They’re fine, Cece.” 

“Are you okay?” He was silent for a long moment, eyes trained on the ground.

“Go back inside. It’s cold. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She glanced at Drew, who was frowning at Jake’s back. His gaze shifted to her, and he raised an eyebrow. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, watching it mist before her. And, against her better judgment, she slid her hand down his arm to take his wrist. 

“Come inside, Jake.” 

“‘M fine.”

“I’m not asking.” It only took a light tug to have Jake turn, eyes still on the ground, as he walked the few steps back to the house. Drew stepped back to let them in, and the three stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Take off your jacket and boots, and I’ll be there in a second.” Wordlessly, Jake did as he was told and retreated to the living room. Julie watched him collapse onto the couch, head in his hands. 

“Cece?” Drew sighed, glancing at the other man and then back at her. The nickname sounded wrong when he said it. Only one person ever called her that. 

“It’s… it doesn’t matter,” she replied, rubbing her forehead. Shaking his head, Drew wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a hug, kissing her temple.

“I know you don’t like people talkin’ about the two of you, but this… stuff like this doesn’t help.” 

“So what, I’m supposed to just let him leave?” she asked, pushing away from him.

“Yes.” Julie could hear the kindness and attempt at the reasoning behind Drew’s tone, but it raised her hackles. “Honey, he - ”

“Please don’t,” she cut him off, lifting her chin and crossing her arms. “I understand where you’re coming from, but even before Jake and I were anything, we were friends. And I can’t in good conscience let him get back on the road when he’s like that.” 

“I’ll leave,” Jake said, pushing to his feet. “I don’t want - ”

“Sit your ass back down, Jacob Thomas,” Julie snapped. “You and I will talk in a minute.” Turning her gaze back to Drew, she let out a slow breath. “Drew, I - ”

“I get it, Jules. Just… Merry Christmas.” Without another word, he reached past her to grab his coat and slipped on his shoes. There was a blast of cold when he opened the door, and she tensed, waiting for the slam that never came. Instead, Drew quietly closed the door, and once she heard his truck start, she let her shoulders fall. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them away. 

Whatever was going on with Jake was temporary. Ally told her he was planning on leaving the day after Christmas, so she only had two more days to deal with him being in Magnolia before he disappeared from her life again. And then she could fix things with Drew. 

With a steeling breath, she turned toward Jake and scrunched her nose at the feeling of melted snow on her feet. Reaching under the back of her skirt, she shimmied the tights down her legs, rolling them into a ball and tossing the black material onto the coffee table before sitting beside him on the couch. Jake’s wet pant leg brushed her skin, making goosebumps rise on her leg as she shivered. Cold radiated off of him when he turned to look at him, tears in his eyes. “‘M sorry, Cece. I shouldn’ta come here. I-I hope I didn’t screw things up with you and the firefighter.” 

“I’ll deal with that later,” she sighed, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over his shoulders. When he lifted a hand to tug the blanket closer, she caught it, intending to examine his bloody knuckles, and hissed at how cold his skin was. “What happened?” she asked, lightly probing his skin. She could see bits of bark embedded and sighed. It had to be bad if he went out and punched a tree - many a night growing up, he’d gotten mad at one thing or another and turned up back at school with a bandage wrapped around a busted hand. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, she caught the way his chin wobbled before he looked down at the floor again. “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.” She stayed silent when Jake sniffled. “Shayla’s not pregnant.” 

“Oh,” Cece breathed, feeling her heart break for him. “I’m so sorry. She…?”

“Lied. 

“What?” He shifted, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve his phone. His lip curled at something on the screen before he tapped it, handing it to her. With elbows on his knees, he hung his head and buried his bloody hands in his hair. Cece read the text screenshots, a hand rising to cover her mouth at the wave of nausea that hit her. “Jake…I…”

“I’m such an idiot.” The couch dipped, and Jake saw Cece setting the phone on the coffee table before shifting closer. Their eyes met briefly before she swept her fingers through his hair, damp with melting snow, nails lightly teasing his scalp and neck in a way he hadn’t felt in so long. Leaning into her touch, his tired eyes drifted closed. 

“You’re not an idiot,” she said softly. 

“I took her at her word when I knew her word wasn’t shit.” At that, she was silent. 

“That’s not…something… people lie about. And if you were…sleeping together, it could have been true,” Cece said after a long moment. “You weren’t an idiot for wanting to do the right thing.” 

“I didn’t want to marry her,” he confessed. “But she told me she’d make it hard for me to see my baby if I didn’t.” His tone turned bitter when he scoffed, “And there was never a baby.” 

His voice broke on the last word, and Jake cleared his throat. Cece let out a soft hum, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. His reddened eyes watched as she laid back, an unspoken invitation in her soft gaze. Turning slightly, he followed her, lying on his stomach with his head resting on her chest. The chill from his jeans made goosebumps rise on her legs when he settled between them, unintentionally pulling her dress higher. His fingers slipped under the sleeve of her dress as he inhaled the lingering remnants of her perfume, his body relaxing against her at the familiar scent.  

Cece’s words of comfort died on her tongue when Jake tucked his head under her chin, and she felt him shaking with suppressed tears. So she stayed quiet, carding her fingers through his hair.  His eyes fluttered closed when she held him, silent tears slipping down his face. 

“I wanted the baby,” Jake said so softly she almost missed it. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, kissing the crown of his head as her heart shattered for him. His arm slid under her, and he held her so tightly it was hard to breathe, but she didn’t say a word.

Time seemed to slow and narrow to that moment. Jake’s breath on her skin and his weight soothed her. The feeling of Cece’s fingers in his hair and her steady heartbeat calmed him. The click of the heating turning on was the only indication of time slipping past them. 

And then there was a buzzing sound, interrupting their peaceful bubble.

“Your mama’s calling,” Cece said softly, her voice rough with fatigue as she forced an eye open. 

“Ignore it,” Jake replied, tightening his hold on her and burying his face into her breasts. 

“She’ll be worried.” When he made no move to get the phone, she sighed and stretched for it, her fingertips making it spin. Jake huffed when she jostled him, holding tight to the cushion to pin her in place. “Jacob.” 

“I…I can’t…” Shaking her head, she ignored his muffled groan of protest when she stretched for it again, hand closing over the rectangle as the screen dimmed. Tapping it, she saw that he’d set the device to silent, the screen covered with notifications. Cece suppressed an angry sound at seeing how many times Shayla had called and texted him, begging him to call her back. Will and Ally had also tried to reach him, and so had his father. Apparently, his mama had called enough times to bypass the setting. 

The phone lit up again with another incoming call. 

“Jake?” Mama Serein’s voice was frantic when she answered. Cece knew that he heard it from how he nuzzled into her chest.

“No, it’s me - Julie.” There was a moment of silence before the older woman let out a heavy breath. 

“Is Jake there with you? Is he okay?” 

“He got here a little while ago. He’s…” she looked down at the man lying on her, tears drying on his cheeks and brows furrowed, “upset, to put it lightly.” His hands flexed around her, and she traced the shape of his ear, feeling him relax again. After a long beat, the older woman sighed. 

“Did he tell you what happened?” When she hummed, Mama sighed again. “Bill didn’t want to kick the… woman out in the snow since she doesn’t know how to drive in it. She’s leaving at first light. Will and Ally said that Jake’s welcome to stay with them tonight.”

“I’ll let him know,” Cece said, glancing down at him. “I don’t… if he wants to go there, I’ll drive him. I don’t think he’s safe on the road.” 

Mama Seresin’s voice was sad when she said, “We can come get him.” Jake’s head lifted, eyes meeting hers with a wordless plea. They stared at one another for a long moment before she shook her head. 

“No, it’s fine,” she said, cupping his cheek and brushing away a tear. He turned, his lips caressing the inside of her wrist. “I…he’s…fine to stay here. If he wants some distance.” There was silence on the other side of the line and a cautious ‘Julie.’ “It’s just one night,” she added quickly as Jake resettled on her chest. 

I can survive one night, she told herself. 

He was such an idiot. A fucking, stupid, trusting idiot. 

He should have pushed harder to go to the doctor’s appointments. Should have paid more attention to the fact that Shayla never felt sick. Shouldn’t have accepted her word that she was pregnant when her word meant shit. But he’d always wanted to be a dad, and who the fuck would lie about that? 

And now…tonight, Jake had come to the one place in town where he felt safe - other than his own home - and ruined Cece’s night. He shouldn’t have come here. Shouldn’t have dragged her into this.

“I know. I’ll…yes, ma’am. I understand.” Cece’s voice was soft, and he heard his mama’s worried tone. “I will.” The call ended, and she set the phone on the back of the couch, taking as deep a breath as possible with him on top of her. Her fingers lightly traced the length of his neck and slipped under the collar of his shirt. “Your mama wanted me to tell you that she loves you.” He grunted, eyes closing again. “Come on, Farm Boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched at the nickname he hadn’t heard in forever. Cece had hated it when he started calling her Cupcake in eighth grade and had started calling him that in retaliation. And, while he’d persisted in calling her Cece until she grew to tolerate and then embrace the nickname, his had fallen away to moments she was especially annoyed or quiet moments just for the two of them. “Don’t wanna move. ‘M comfortable.”

“Too bad.” Lightly pushing at his shoulders, she tried to wiggle out from under him. Jake had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound as she sat up, his head falling into her lap and his nose brushing her upper thigh as her dress rode up more. Pink tinged her cheeks when he finally moved enough for her to stand. After tugging her dress down, she walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, glancing over her shoulder at him and raising an eyebrow. 

Groaning, he stood and followed when she stopped outside of the bathroom. She pointed to the sink wordlessly before continuing down the hall to her bedroom. Blood and bits of bark swirled in the sink as he scrubbed away his stupidity, the hot water making his hands throb with pain. He’d just reached for a towel to dry them when Cece stopped him. 

“Here,” she said, pulling a rag from over her shoulder. After depositing clothes onto the toilet tank, she set a first aid kit on the counter and nudged him out of the way. Bracing her hands on the counter, she lifted herself up and put on a pair of latex gloves before holding out her hands. “Lemme see.” 

“I can - ”

“Let me see.” Biting back a sigh, he held them out. Cece let out a soft tutting sound, taking his right hand and gently probing his knuckles. With his nerves finally thawing, he could feel the throbbing of his broken skin and the pain of embedded splinters. He hissed through his teeth, left hand falling to her knee and squeezing lightly. Her eyes darted down to it, and he quickly moved it away. “Does it feel broken?” 

“No.” She nodded, guiding his hand to her knee before opening the first aid kit and rummaging through it. After retrieving a pair of tweezers and cleaning them with an antiseptic wipe, she took his hand again and lifted it to her eyeline. 

“I thought you would have learned your lesson about punching trees by now,” Cece said, using her thumb to manipulate his bloody hand before teasing out a splinter.

“I - ow - don’t do it that often.” These days, punching the weight bag was more his speed. 

“Good. Wouldn’t want any more reasons for you to go to the hospital again.” Her eyes darted up to meet his before refocusing on her work. Jake’s stomach swooped as he shifted, wondering if she’d heard about his trip to the emergency room for an x-ray the last time he was home. Pops hadn’t been thrilled, filling out his paperwork while Jake iced his hand after taking his anger and frustration at Cece ignoring him in the grocery store out on a tree on the far end of the property. 

The fractured knuckles had been a pain in the ass to deal with when he was on the ground and even worse in the air. His XO had debated grounding him, but thankfully, Jake got one of the flight surgeons to clear him to fly. After it healed, his buddy had taken him to a boxing gym and told him to work out on one of the bags. There, he finally learned how to throw a punch and not break a finger and worked out his frustration. After moving to Lemoore, he'd continued that but hadn’t found a gym in San Diego yet.

“You, uh… heard about that?” Jake asked, grimacing when she wiped an antiseptic pad over his hand. 

“Hard not to when everyone said I was the reason for it,” she shrugged. Her eyes darted up to meet his, seeing the unspoken confirmation in his expression. 

“I forgot how much everyone talks here.” A wry smile crossed her lips.

“You should have seen it when I first got home. Couldn’t go anywhere without people asking why I was back.” Jake could see right through her forced nonchalance and felt a surge of guilt. He’d had some questions from his buddies on base when she left, but Cece… fuck, she faced all of Magnolia’s busybodies. 

“Cece…I…” She shrugged.

“Maybe if we give it another decade, they’ll stop talking about us.” There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he forced away the image of Cece in the firefighter’s arms. The kids he’d imagined looking like her running to another man. 

“A lot can happen in a decade,” he said softly. When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, his eyes dropped to her lips before darting away. They were silent as she started to work on his other hand, her touch gentle as she cleaned him up. “I’m…uh… the firefighter - ”

“Drew.”

“Drew,” he nodded, “said people will talk about me being here. I… I can leave.” Cece didn’t meet his gaze when she nodded. 

“Did you hear what your mama said about your daddy letting… her… stay at the house tonight?” He nodded, and she paused long enough to look up at him. “Do you want me to take you to Will’s?” 

“Won’t people talk if I stay? I don’t want to make it harder for you here.” Cece was quiet momentarily before setting his hand down on the counter and stripping off her gloves. Tipping her chin up, he could see the conflict in her eyes.

“I don’t care. People are going to talk no matter what. And I… no matter what happened between us, I’m always gonna care about you. So I’m glad that you came here. And if you want to stay, I wouldn’t be upset about the company.” 

Jake studied her for a long moment before asking, “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Gently, she pushed against his shoulders until he took a step back, and she hopped off the sink. “Take a shower and warm up. I’ll bandage your hands after and drive you to Will’s if that’s where you want to go.” 

When she turned to leave, Jake caught her hand. “Thank you, Cupcake.”

The corner of her mouth lifted as she lightly squeezed his fingers. “You’re welcome, Farm Boy.” 

YOU WENT HOME WITH HOT AS FUCK DREW PINE?! I need details. All the details.

Julie stared at her phone, debating whether to answer Lucy’s text. An ‘it’s complicated’ could lead to a phone call, and leaving it unanswered would make her think that they were doing… well, precisely what she’d intended when she brought him home.

After liking the message - a happy medium - and glancing at the red notification bubble on TikTok showing that she had over 2,000 interactions with the video she’d posted about the clusterfuck of getting the Mayor’s order together, she plucked the tea bag from the steaming mug. She tossed it into the trash, adding a drizzle of honey to the tea. Turning around and pressing her back against the counter, she stared at her broken oven and tried not to feel a crush of sadness. 

She could almost hear her daddy’s voice encouraging her to write her letter to Santa. Hear his laugh when her childish attempts at cookie decorating resulted in her and Mama being covered in frosting. Mama loved baking and made her infamous rum cake and egg nog bread pudding on Christmas Eve. After she passed, Julie did her best to make the orange cranberry scones they’d always had Christmas morning, her parents savoring the biscuits with coffee while she quickly ate it, eyeing her stocking and the pile of presents Santa left. 

It was the one recipe she’d never mastered. When she’d decided not to make them last year, too tired from another day of helping Daddy with getting around the house, he’d pushed himself out of the recliner and shuffled to the front door. Only after she agreed to run to the store while he took a nap did he agree to sit back down. 

With the perspective of time, Julie appreciated what Daddy was trying to do. Still, at that moment, she’d been so angry. She was tired and hurting, and the last thing she wanted to do was spend more time baking her mother’s specialty in the kitchen, which she had always failed to perfect. But now… now she appreciated him trying to maintain some sense of normalcy for her. He wanted to ensure that the Ryan family traditions continued, even in the hard times. Julie had ducked into the bathroom when she’d woken on Christmas morning to see presents under the tree and her stocking full. She cried in the shower, wondering how Daddy had managed to do it when he had trouble getting out of bed by himself. 

And, as much as it hurt to think about doing it now, all the things she needed to make those damn scones were in her pantry. She’d planned on keeping up with the traditions tonight, but life had other plans. Between her broken oven, nearly sleeping with Drew, and her ex-fiancé showing up, Julie’s night certainly hadn’t gone according to plan. 

“Hey.” Julie turned to see Jake standing in the doorway, blonde hair damp and sticking up in all different directions. His expression shifted to one of concern when he saw her blink away tears. “You okay?” 

“Fine. How’s your hands?” 

“I can feel them now,” he shrugged, setting the first aid kit on the counter and holding them up for her inspection. The t-shirt she’d given him was stretched tight across his chest, and the baggy sweats she’d pulled from the back of her drawers stopped at his ankles. “Not sure if that’s good or not.”

“I’ll wrap them, and then you can ice them.” He nodded when she set her mug down and walked closer. She made quick work of it, spreading an antibiotic ointment over his knuckles before quickly looping the bandages over his hands. Jake clocked the familiar t-shirt she’d changed into - a threadbare one she’d bought on one of their Spring Break trips - and shoved away the urge to say something about it. 

After declining a cup of tea and grabbing a glass of water, they retreated to the couch. Cece claimed the corner, tugging the blanket over her lap. Jake watched, unsure if she’d welcome him into her arms again, then sat beside her and pulled the blanket over his lap. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked softly.

“No. You?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied, picking up the remote and turning on the television. Jake recognized the walls she’d put back up and hated them. After flipping through the channels, she found one playing the original Miracle on 34th Street. She rolled her lips together while tossing the remote onto the coffee table. Her eyes strayed from the screen to her daddy’s recliner, picturing him there. This was her mama’s favorite Christmas movie, and he would try to hide his tears from her every time they watched it. 

This year, it was her turn. For all her planning, she’d never expected to spend Christmas Eve with anyone else. Her plan to distract herself throughout Christmas had always ended with spending the evening drunk and lying under the tree. Alone. Allowing herself to think about Mama and Daddy and all those years she’d taken their presence for granted, always assuming that they had more time. 

The distraction of the mayor’s party, a night at the bar, Drew’s touch, and Jake’s… being there had forced her into the present, but now, as she watched the movie, those thoughts of how much she missed her parents crept in. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as she sipped her tea. This was one of the worst things about grief, she’d realized over the last year - how quickly it could sneak up on you. How you could go from feeling fine one moment to wanting to rage and cry about how unfair life - and death - was the next. 

Unable to stop herself, Cece sniffled, drawing Jake’s attention. “Hey - ” he said but stopped when she shoved the blanket off her lap and stood. Without another word, she retreated to the kitchen, pouring the rest of her tea down the drain, rinsing the mug, and setting it in the sink. Her shoulders tensed when she heard Jake’s footsteps follow her. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

Jake sighed heavily. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” She turned, startled to see him standing so close. Concern was etched on his face as he looked down at her. Forcing her chin up, she leaned back onto the sink counter and crossed her arms. 

“This. What you always do - pretend there’s nothing wrong until it’s too late, and then blow up or walk away.” When she opened her mouth to say something, he raised an eyebrow. Taking a step closer, he settled his hands on the counter, boxing her in. “Talk to me. Please.” 

“You’ve already had a rough night. Losing a fiancée and a baby isn’t - ” Pain flashed in his sad eyes, but he shook his head. 

“Don’t do that, Julie. Don’t… just talk to me.” His hands slid closer until his thumbs brushed her sides. He watched a tear slip down her cheek and fall to her shirt, chest rising and falling with the effort to contain her sobs. His right thumb rose to gently stroke the soft fabric he’d peeled from her body numerous times. “Please, baby.”

Cece gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her face, and shook her head. “I m-miss my parents,” she whispered. 

Hell was seeing her cry and knowing he couldn’t do anything to fix it. Jake felt his heart breaking as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her temple. “‘M sorry,” he murmured. “‘M so sorry, sweetheart.” He could feel her trembling and held her tighter, lips pressed to the crown of her head. When she dropped her hands and buried her face in his chest, Cece’s fingers dug into his back. “I’ve gotcha, honey.”

Jake knew he should have been here sooner. Shouldn’t have waited so long to return home and do this. As soon as he stepped foot back in the US, he should have asked for leave to come back to Magnolia. He shouldn’t have let his hurt feelings get in the way of being there for her when she lost the last of her family. 

He should have been there for the girl he’d been in love with since he understood what the word meant. 

If he’d done that, who knew what would have happened. Maybe Cece would have ignored him or told him to leave. Or maybe… maybe they would have ended up like this, where she finally let down her guard enough to allow him to take care of her. To be the man he’d promised to be all those years ago when Jake thought girls were gross, but Julie was the exception. When they were naive kids, best friends, pinky-promising to always be there for each other. 

And above all, Jake hated that it took them both being in pain to be able to touch her like this. To be able to hold her and be held by her. Because once upon a time, being with Cece had been as easy as breathing, and it had been so long since he’d felt that with anyone. 

When she started to pull away, Jake reluctantly loosened his hold. A shaking hand rose to wipe at the wet spot on his shirt, unwilling to look at him while mumbling an apology. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. With a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up and sighed at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. Reaching behind her for a paper towel, he held it up for her. Cece ducked her head again while blowing her nose, forehead resting on his chest. “Better?” he asked. 

“Not really,” she shrugged, crumpling the makeshift tissue and looking up at him through tear-spiked lashes. He raised a bandaged hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead as his fingers trailed down to cup her cheek. When he pulled away, Cece swayed into him, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. They stared at one another for a long moment. “Thank you, Farm Boy.” 

“You’re welcome, Cupcake. And thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Jake watched her eyes dip to his lips, lowering his head almost automatically. He caught himself as his nose brushed hers, her soft inhale making him pause. Neither moved, waiting for the other to make the first move or pull away. 

Heart pounding, Cece rose onto her toes and kissed him. A soft, closed-mouth kiss that conveyed comfort rather than lust. When their eyes met again, hundreds of unspoken words and feelings passed between them. 

Jake tasted the cinnamon and honey from her tea and the salty remnants of her tears when he kissed her. His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, but he resisted the urge to remap her curves, content to feel the heat of her skin against his palms. Her body pressed to his when she stepped closer. 

Cece smiled against his slightly chapped lips, feeling the scratch of his stubble against her skin. His heart beat against her palm when her hands rose to his chest. No matter how much time passed, that was one thing that never changed. She knew she held a special piece of his heart and had staked her claim decades ago, just as he’d done with her own. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Jake whispered against her lips. “Shoulda come home when you needed me.” 

“I’m glad you came here tonight,” she breathed. “I hate why, but I’m glad you’re not stuck with that - ” He cut her off with a kiss, not wanting to ruin this moment by thinking about his ex. 

Those three words were on the tip of his tongue when Cece’s hand trailed down to catch his own. After tossing her tissue in the trash, she led him to her childhood bedroom, pausing long enough to turn off the television and Christmas tree lights. “Baby,” he sighed as she pulled back the covers. “I don’t think…”

“No,” she agreed, sitting in the middle of the bed. “Just to sleep.” Their eyes met for a long moment before he reached for the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, dropping it onto the floor. She scooted closer to the wall, giving him plenty of space as he sat beside her and pulled the covers up to his chest. 

Jake reached for her, his hand sliding over her hip as he shifted closer. In the darkness, time seemed to slow as they traded unhurried kisses. For a moment, Jake felt like he was thirteen again, stealing kisses and keeping an ear out for one of their parents to appear. Back when kissing was new, and every time, it felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Cece felt like she was eighteen again, finding pieces of the boy she’d sent to the Naval Academy in the man who had returned, but secure in the knowledge that he was her Farm Boy.

“Goodnight, Jake,” she said softly, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers slipped under her shirt and drew on her lower back.

“Night, Cece.” He kept tracing those eight letters, his unspoken promise, onto Cece’s skin until she fell asleep. 

And, as much as his heart was shattered for the future he’d lost, Jake couldn’t help but feel as though a corner of it was already rebuilding. 

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

Author's Note: I'm very torn on how I feel about this chapter, but I can't look at it anymore. I had a hard time balancing them both experiencing their grief and wanting to comfort one another, and pushing their relationship forward. Them kissing and sleeping together was more about comforting one another rather than sex, if that makes sense?

Anyway, thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me vent to her about it!

Read Chapter 7

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[tightjeansjavi]

In the Warmth of Your Love

part II of Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Chapter one | “can’t quit you, baby”

A/N: to kick off my 1 year celebration of writing fic…we’re going right back to my roots! 🤭 to my devoted Gwen & Joel fans, this one is for y’all! I wrote this back in October after taking a looong hiatus from the series. The original path was to pick up on chapter 17 and continue to follow the path of the show. I decided that trying to essentially rewrite the events that take place after Bill & Franks episode was just too much for me to handle. I knew I wanted to continue Joel & Gwen’s story, but I didn’t know what that would end up looking like!

In the Warmth of Your Love takes place after the events in the hospital.

~word count: 3.1k~

Summary: a glimpse into your new life in Jackson with Joel.

Pairing | joel miller x f!oc

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, established relationship, found family, age gap, (oc is in her early 30’s and Joel is in his 50’s) unprotected piv, pining, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, domestic intimacy, they’re so in love it hurts, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

“Swear to me.”

“Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true, Joel.”

“I swear.”

_

6 months had passed since you and Joel murdered every single Firefly in the Salt Lake City hospital. 6 months since Joel swore to Ellie that everything he told her about the Fireflies was true. That they had stopped looking for a cure, and raiders attacked the hospital. That there were more people like Ellie that were immune.

It was all a lie. One that you and Joel carried on your shoulders everyday. As Ellie’s guardians, you and Joel made the decision that you both felt was the right one.

“Jesus fuck, Joel. What the hell did you do?” Tommy asked his brother the day after the three of you showed back up on Jackson’s doorstep.

“I did what I had to do. I protected her. I saved her. I killed every last person that stood in the way of me getting to Ellie. They were going to kill her, Tommy. They were going to kill her and I—we couldn’t let that happen. Ellie didn’t want to die. I know she didn’t because she fuckin’ told me before we were ambushed. I killed Marlene. I killed the doctor who was going to perform the surgery. I killed them all.” Joel admitted.

Tommy scrubbed a hand down his face with a heavy sigh as he sank back against the chair. “And Gwen? What was her role in all of this?”

“She killed them too. We did it together.”

“Does..Ellie know the truth?” Tommy already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from Joel’s mouth first.

“No, she doesn’t. And she never will know what happened in that hospital. She can live her life the way she deserves to. She can make friends and be happy for once in her fuckin’ life.”

“Joel, I can’t have two murders livin’ in town. Maria won’t stand for it, and you know that brother.”

“Tommy, please. I’m your brother, for fuck’s sake. Gwen and I only did what we felt was right. Wouldn’t you do the same if it was your kid? You don’t have to tell Maria the truth. Don’t we deserve a second chance at peace too?”

“It doesn’t matter what the fuck I would have done in that situation Joel! You—you fucking murdered an entire hospital of Fireflies! This town doesn’t condone violence, and if anyone were to ever find out—”

Joel was leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped together as he looked at his brother, right in his eyes with pure desperation in his deep brown irises. “I’ll be carryin’ that burden for the rest of my fuckin’ days. You’ve killed people too, Tommy. Just because you’ve been living here with a loving wife, and a baby on the way, doesn’t mean that the blood on your own goddamn hands gets erased. Listen to me, okay? Gwen is a good fucking person. She’s got a huge heart and she deserves a second chance too. She’s good with horses, and I can help you with any of the heavy lifting shit that gets done around here. Please, Tommy. Please let us stay.”

Tommy stared right back at his brother and deep down he knew he couldn’t turn him away, no matter how hard he tried.

“Okay. All three of you can stay, under one condition. You never, and I mean never speak about what happened at that hospital to anyone. You hear me Joel? Never.”

“I swear on my life that I will never speak about it again. You have my word Tommy.”

_

Maria was no idiot and Tommy knew this all too well about his wife. “They’ll stay in the house they were in the last time they came through here. Joel said that Gwen has worked with horses before and can help out around the stables, and Joel can help me with fixin’ things ‘round here. He’s really good with that stuff.”

“We have enough mouths to feed as it is Tommy. I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Maria, Joel is my brother. He’s been through hell, all three of them have. I’m not going to turn them away so can we please come up with a compromise here?”

“Fine. I just don’t want Joel or Gwen near any weapons. If they’re going to live here, then they’re going to abide by our rules. Ellie will go to school with the rest of the kids and I expect Gwen to also help out with food prep and the Tipsy Bison. Joel can help you with the handiwork projects, and in time he can help out on patrol.”

“Ellie will probably end up fighting tooth and nail to not go back to school, but I’m sure we can work that out.”

-

In the early mornings you were helping out in the stables. Feeding the horses, mucking stalls, and grooming. It was easy enough to fall back into a routine that you had known so well from your teen years. You knew horses better than anyone in Jackson did, and you were beyond grateful at being given a fresh start. Your afternoons were spent in the mess hall kitchen. Prepping vegetables and breaking down chickens for dinner. Food was abundant in a place like this, and you weren’t sure if you would ever grow used to the feeling of no longer having to starve.

Your evenings after dinner were spent at the Tipsy Bison, working behind the bartop with Tommy. If there was one thing the men in Jackson loved, it was a pretty woman serving them whiskey after a long day out on patrol. At the end of each day there was only one man you wanted to see in your bed, and that man was Joel; your Joel.

These days you hardly saw him or Ellie. Your schedules were different. With Ellie at school and working at the stables in the afternoon, and Joel helping Tommy in the mornings, and then patrolling through the evening, there was barely any time for you to spend together. He still held you at night through his exhaustion, but he too missed the way things used to be.

The days flew by, summer had come and gone. The seasons changed and the air grew colder, and the nights grew longer.

You had just finished wiping down the bartop after the last of the stragglers headed home for the night. You carefully placed every bottle of liquor back onto the shelf before scrubbing the glasses clean. The record player crackled in the background, Led Zeppelin's ‘I Can’t Quit You Baby’ a rock n’roll classic. You hummed the tune, swaying your hips subconsciously to the low beat.

The door to the Tipsy Bison swung open on the hinges as you let out a sigh, not looking up from the table you were wiping down. “We’re closed for the evening. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t wanna anythin’ to drink.” Joel rasped as he closed the door behind him.

“Joel? What are you doing here?..it’s late, shouldn’t you be at home?” You looked up at him through thick lashes.

“Couldn’t sleep. Decided to go for a walk, n’ended up here. I miss you..so much. Hardly get to see much of ya at all. Jus’ thought we could spend some time together, even if it’s gotta be in a place like this.”

“I miss you too, Joel. You know I do.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He paused as his gaze fell upon your exhausted face, and tired eyes. “S’that Zeppelin playin?’” He rested his elbow along the high top you had just wiped down.

“Yeah, one of the patrol guys found it for me in an abandoned house a few miles west. It’s got a few scratches but is otherwise in fair shape.”

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath. “S’you got admirers then? Can’t say I blame ‘em. Pretty thing like you servin’ them whiskey all night? How do ya keep ‘em at bay?” His brow raised in curiosity.

“With this.” You slipped your knife from the holster hidden under your shirt with ease. “Tommy keeps them on a tight leash anyway. They know not to try anything funny.”

“Breakin’ the rules already? Maria said no weapons, sweetheart.” He leaned forward along his elbow as his fingers reached out and brushed against the worn hilt of your knife. He could just barely make out your carved initials through the thick wood. “You tell ‘em that you're mine? That you’re Joel’s girl, and that if any of ‘em ever were to—”

“Joel, relax. No one has tried anything past harmless flirting. Everyone knows that you and I..we’re an item. What Maria doesn’t know won’t kill her. My knife is a safety net that I’m just not ready, nor willing to give up right now.”

“We’re more than an item, Gwen. We’re partners for life. I know your knife is your safety net. I know it is, baby. S’why I still sleep with a gun under my pillow. Knowin’ it’s there helps calm me, but the one person that keeps my nightmares at bay ain’t home. She’s not in bed with me cus’ she’s here servin’ whiskey all night to men that probably fantasize about what it’s like to be with a woman like you.” He breathed out and you could taste his warm breath along your unkissed lips.

“Of course we are Joel. I got you, you got me. That hasn’t changed, and it never will. We’re both in this adjustment period and it’s tough. I’d much rather be at home with you and Ellie, but Maria said I had to ‘pay’ my dues.” You gently placed your knife along the smooth wooden surface of the table. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you to drink, Mr. Miller?”

“If you’re on the menu for tonight, then that’s what I’ll be havin.’”

“I believe we might be all sold out of that for tonight. Let me go check in the back just to be sure.” You were already turning on your heel to walk away before you felt his warm and calloused palm wrap around your wrist, halting you from taking another step.

“Ain’t you got a little love left for me? When’s the last time I’ve tasted those lips, hm?” He gently coaxed you to step towards him, and once you were close enough, his hand released your wrist and found purchase around your hip through muscle memory. His fingers flexed as his thumb slipped through the belt loop on your jeans. “Y’remember that night after teachin’ Robert a lesson? When we fucked in that back alley without a care in the goddamn world if FEDRA would catch us or not? Remember when we would..have fun? Don’tcha miss that?”

“I’ve always got love left for you Joel. I can’t remember the last time we kissed without us thinking it would be the last time. I do remember that night, just as if it had happened yesterday.” Your hands found themselves resting along his shoulders, squeezing them gently through the material of his worn jacket. In the low lighting your eyes discerned the speckled gray in his beard, and the salt and pepper silver strands of hair. His chapped lips, his inviting eyes that always softened their hardness around you. “We had fun, Joel but between all of that there was so much—”

“No. Don’t say another word. Y’hear me? We don’t have to run. We don’t have to hide. We don’t have to fight. We’re safe here. You, me and Ellie. I won’t deny that you and I—we’ve suffered, but in that suffering we have loved goddammit. We have loved so fuckin’ hard. You're the breath in my lungs, n’you’re the soft breeze kissin’ on my skin. You’re the sun risin n’settin’ everyday. You’re the moonlight guidin’ me home. Your eyes twinkle brighter than any goddamn star in that sky. You’re my—” his words were stolen from his lips as you yanked on the collar of his jacket and pulled him down to your awaiting lips. You kissed him so deeply it felt like both the air from yours and his lungs was being knocked from your bodies. A cataclysmic wave of emotions washed through your veins as you pulled him as close as physically possible. Tongues tangled as you stumbled back against the nearest stable surface; the bartop counter.

“When did you become such a fuckin’ poet, Joel?” You asked breathlessly between kisses as your fingers tangled recklessly through his hair.

“Started readin’ more. Shakespeare mostly.” He mumbled against your lips as he stepped between your thighs, pressing your back firmly against the counter.

“You hate Shakespeare.” You retorted, gripping his hair tighter as your free hand started to desperately tug and push the fabric of his jacket down from his broad shoulders.

“You love Shakespeare.” He countered.

“Less talking, more kissing please. I gotta say it’s fucking hot that you are reading more. I find that so fucking sexy Joel.”

“Yeah? Think it’s sexy when a rugged old man like me reads Shakespeare?” He helped you remove his jacket completely as he threw it to the floor in a haste.

“You’re not that old, baby. Besides, I like your salt and pepper hair and little gray patches in your beard. You’re so fucking beautiful Joel.”

“I’m pretty fuckin’ old, baby. Old and a little gray, but I still got it n’me to fuck you stupid. Jus’ the way that my girl likes it. Them dogs out there don’t know how to handle a woman of your caliber. Now, hop up that pretty lil’ ass up on that counter f’me.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice Mr. Miller.” You detached your lips from his momentarily as you hoisted yourself up onto the edge of the countertop. You wasted no time to grasp the end of your t-shirt and yank it over your head.

“Someone is fuckin’ eager.” He chuckled as he pulled his sweater and Henley long sleeve over his head. He was feeling like the man he once was again; you were feeling like a woman reborn as he popped the button of your jeans and tugged the zipper down as you reached for his belt in a haste, listening to the familiar metal clanking sound.

“Only ever eager for you Joel. You gonna touch me or just ogle?” You teased with a light giggle as your arms draped around his neck. Your bodies were littered with scars, old and new. Two torn canvases splattered with remnants of a life once solely based upon survival.

Joel tugged your jeans down over your hips before his movements paused as his eyes flitted down to the long scar across your lower abdomen. His fingers brushed across the raised skin before he leaned down and pressed his lips to it. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Gwen.” His lips ghosted across your hip bone.

“I love you so fucking much too, Joel. I need you so bad. Please, baby. Don’t make me beg for it. It’s been too fucking long, and I think I’ll pass out if I don’t have your cock inside of me in the next five minutes.”

“Baby, you’re so generous...givin’ me five minutes to give it to ya?” He looked up at you, grinning like a devil as he slowly peeled your panties down your thighs and past your ankles. “What about your pussy? Think she’s missed me a lot too? Cus’ I’ve missed her so fuckin’ much.” He dragged his fingers southward across your pubic bone, dipping into the sweet sticky slick between your folds. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d say she missed me too. This all f’me?”

Your back instinctively arched towards his touch as your thighs spread open the slightest. Between the cool surface of the countertop, and Joel’s warm touch you were positively dripping for him. “Mhmm..she’s missed you too. So fucking much.” You mewled and slowly reached your hand between your bodies as you palmed him through his briefs. “Give. It. To. Me. Now.”

You nearly growled the words out.

“There she is. There’s my fuckin’ girl. Always know how to get your man goin’ huh? You ain’t even gotta try sweetheart. M’always fuckin’ ready for you.” His lips were on yours once more. Kissing you with the same amount of fervency as he always did. His mouth claimed yours as he freed himself from his briefs. You felt his tip notch between your folds as you took a synchronized broken gasp.

Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, nails scraping at his skin as he slowly sunk himself to the hilt. Joel always had this way of making you feel impossibly filled with him. It was as if your bodies were in fact made for one another, fitting like two puzzle pieces as his forehead pressed lightly against yours. “Fuckin’ Christ. Missed this feelin’ of your pussy huggin’ me like this baby. Always so fuckin’ tight.”

He jutted his hips forward with one harsh thrust that had you both shuddering from the intense pleasurable feeling of being connected once more.

“I’ll—I’ll never get tired of this feeling.” You moaned his name, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

“What feelin?’” He rasped.

“Feeling so fucking filled by you. So complete. So warm.”

“S’like you and I were made for each other. All mine, all yours.” His free hand that wasn’t wrapped around your hip drifted down to where your bodies were connected. His thumb easily found your clit as he rubbed it expertly in tight circles.

“Fuck! Yes, keep—keep doing that baby. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, Joel.” You begged him.

“Ain’t gonna stop. I can’t quit you baby. Can’t quit ya. Never can. Never will. I got you, you got me.” He used what was left of his energy to fuck into you the way that you deserved so that feeling that only he could give you would reside deep within your veins even after your body’s were spent, and he had grown soft in your comforting warmth around him.

He kissed your skin delicately as your sweat slicked bodies stayed pressed together. He kissed your forehead, your cheekbones, your eyelids. Your chin, the tip of your nose and your lips. He cleaned the evidence of yours and his releases from between your thighs before you helped one another redress.

He walked you home, arm draped over your shoulders as your slap-happy giggles and enthusiastic chatter filled the chilled night air with domestic warmth.

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[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 6

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 2.1k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

Nine appears to be the magic number. Nine days since they stumbled into the Fireflies’ domain and got flash-bombed for their trouble. Ellie must be considered well-rested, because that morning, the doctor himself makes an appearance alongside Marlene, the older nurse, and two soldiers. Marlene introduces him as Dr. Anderson.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected when the man walks into the room. He just knows he doesn’t like him.

He’s slight and pale, tired eyes sunken into his head. His clothes are clean but threadbare and ill-fitting, and something about that sets Joel’s teeth on edge. They haven’t even started yet and the man looks weary, plainly put. Haggard and exhausted, instilling no confidence.

Worse, he doesn’t bother acknowledging Ellie. He’s frowning at something on a clipboard as he talks in clipped tones with Marlene and the nurse, something about samples and a schedule and lab assistance.

“Think you should at least explain what’s gonna happen to her,” Joel cuts in when he can’t hold his tongue any more.

The doctor looks up as if surprised to see him, frowns at the interruption.

“We need to establish a baseline now that she’s had some time to settle in. We’ll want to measure other things, of course, but for now, it’s the routine stuff. Cell counts, blood sugar, iron levels. We might test her plasma, and eventually we’ll want a bone marrow sample. Nothing nefarious.”

Strange choice of words.

The man doesn’t offer further explanation, doesn’t wait to see if either of them has questions. Finished with his business, secure in the knowledge that his staff has their orders, he turns away and leaves the room as if he has somewhere more important to be.

Yeah, Joel really doesn’t like this guy.

And then the nurse is putting a tourniquet around Ellie’s upper arm. Joel can’t help but think it’s all for show. Flanked by her guards, Marlene is hardly there in a medical capacity. So the first blood draw happens under the watchful eye of one nurse and a small militia. As though Ellie’s blood needs a fuckin’ police escort.

And who’s protecting Ellie?

He is, he realizes with a twist in his gut. Like Marlene said, he’s on the payroll, complicit in what happens over the next however many weeks and he’s supposed to just…let it happen. 

Ellie peers over her shoulder at him then, something questioning, almost pleading in her eyes. The look is so unfamiliar, it takes him a long moment to place it.

Is this okay?

He remembers that look on Sarah’s face, always a cautious kid, always looking over her shoulder at him and waiting a beat before throwing herself headlong into the thing. That pause said “This is good, right Dad?” and Joel always marveled at how she trusted him so completely, the twenty-something dumbfuck from Nowhere, Texas who got his girlfriend knocked up when she was nineteen.

Ellie was nothing like Sarah that way. She’d had no one to look back to and therefore no reason to ask for reassurance. She’d forged ahead on her own power, knowing the only one who’d be looking out for her was her. He saw it time and time again on the road, every time he pulled her back from a ledge or stopped her from running into a building they hadn’t cleared. She had a fierce and foolish bravery and never once had she let Joel’s worrying and fretting for her safety slow her down.

But today, she pauses. She asks him with her eyes, asks the same dumbfuck from Nowhere, Texas who managed to lose the most precious thing he’d ever known, a broken man given a second chance in the form of a silent question.

This is good, right?

Joel makes the decision. He can’t tell her no, he can’t deny her anything as much as his instincts are screaming for this to stop.

I’ll follow you wherever you go.

She was wrong. He was always the one following her.

He gives her a subtle nod, meets her eyes. I’m with you.

She turns back, squares her shoulders, and sticks out her arm.

“I’m ready.”

Ellie watches in fascination as the needle pierces her skin, seems almost thrilled when the nurse has to try again because her veins are so small. There’s a tiny, delighted gasp when the vein is found and blood spurts into the vial, a soft so cool whispered under her breath. Joel isn’t normally queasy around needles, but Ellie’s lack of self preservation borders on obscene.

It’s over in less than two minutes; there’s a bandage at the crook of her arm and the nurse turns the vial a few times before sticking it in a little tray.

“That’s done,” she chirps, and then the team is gone, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

Joel knows this won’t be the vial that makes the cure, but there’s still a weight to the moment. Ellie stares at her bandaged arm, draws her fingers over the gauze lightly, thoughtfully, as though the fate of the world hinges on this moment. Maybe it does.

He watches as she seems to come back to herself, turning to him with an expression that’s all teenage bravado.

“Dude, look,” she says, grinning, holding out her arm. “Dinosaur band-aid.”

Ellie

So far, being the world’s only immune person is about what Ellie expected. They take a lot of blood, and she likes watching the red liquid spurt into the little tubes–it’s kinda like Joel’s gas siphon, but cooler. The nice nurse, Nurse Joanna, is gentler about it, and always prefaces the draw with just a little pinch in warning. Nurse Cooke goes rough with the tourniquet and doesn’t say anything, just jabs her until she finds a vein.

Plus, they have fancy dinosaur band-aids. Fuck yeah.

She imagines them putting all her blood into a magic machine that spins it around and takes out the immune parts and stuffs them into vaccine shots. It’s a silly thought, she knows, but she doesn’t have much basis for comparison…and she has way too much time on her hands to dream up stupid shit.

They do more tests–Marlene calls them neurological evaluations and cognitive screenings . They’re boring as fuck, but less boring than sitting around in her room and reading dumb magazines, so she cooperates and counts to ten and answers the same questions over and over again.

At least Marlene humors her when she has time. Occasionally Ellie walks down the hall to her office, usually when Joel is otherwise occupied–so, sleeping. He said he trusts her, but that frustrating need for his approval has her sneaking out of their room regardless.

Today she leaves him snoring in the chair by her bed with his chin tucked to his chest and wanders Marlene’s way, bypassing the guards to knock at the threshold of her office.

“Come in.”

She pokes her head in the door as Marlene looks up from her paperwork, arching a brow. “Does your guard dog know you’re here?”

Ellie shrugs.

Marlene snorts, but she nods to the chair across from her desk. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could…talk. About my mom.”

“What did you want to know?”

Everything , Ellie thinks, but she looks at her fingers, picking at her cuticles.

“I dunno. You were her best friend, right? So I figure if anyone can tell me stuff…”

She trails off.

Marlene sighs and sits back in her chair, abandoning her papers for the time being. “Anna and I were…very good friends even before the outbreak. We grew up together.”

“And she was a Firefly, too?”

Marlene nods. “We were both from Boston, so when everything went to shit and FEDRA took over, it was…personal. It was our home. We wanted to protect it.”

“Was I born in Boston?”

“No, you were born outside the QZ, in a safe house.”

“Can’t have been very safe if my mom got bit.”

Marlene smirks. “There aren’t many safe places left in this world…you know that. This hospital is probably one of the most well-protected compounds in the country, and we’re still at risk every day.”

Ellie thinks of Jackson and bites her tongue. “Why was she out there in the first place?”

“Well…you know how things are in the QZ. When you were born, the situation was particularly unstable. And as a Firefly, Anna was considered a criminal. She couldn’t give birth at a FEDRA hospital or she would have gone to prison, and we needed time to obtain forged identity papers for you. The plan was for her to stay at one of the safe houses for a few months after you were born, then we’d find a way to smuggle you back in.”

“What, like…supplies? Like chicken and pills and–”

The stuff Joel used to do , she stops herself from saying.

“Everyone has a price. FEDRA will look the other way if you can get what they want, and we had connections throughout the QZ on both sides. It’s never black-and-white, Ellie.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap, thinks of Riley. It’s okay that you don’t know everything.

“The night you were born, our group was delayed getting out, so Anna had to make the trip alone. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem…but she was already in labor when she left, which slowed her down. We think she came across a runner,” Marlene’s voice drops, sadness creeping in. “Wrong place, wrong time. By the time we found her, she’d already been bit.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, some distant understanding beginning to click into place. “Wait…was she bit before or…or…”

“We don’t know for sure, but…we think before. Dr. Anderson thinks the cordyceps has been with you since birth.”

“So she turned?”

“No,” Marlene says softly. “We found her before it happened.”

Ellie swallows hard, unsure if she wants the answer to the question she’s about to ask. “Were you the one who…y’know…”

“Yes. We have that in common, Ellie,” Marlene murmurs. “I’m sorry it happened that way. Riley was a good kid. I’m sure she was…grateful to have you with her at the end. You did her a kindness.”

Ellie thinks of her best friend, of the cold metal weight of the gun in her trembling hand and the sound of–

She shakes herself out of the memory before it can consume her, clears her throat and schools her face into an expressionless mask. She’s not having this fucking conversation. They wouldn’t have been in that stupid mall in the first place if Riley hadn’t…if Marlene hadn’t… fuck .

“But you can do what I couldn’t,” Marlene says, eyes shining. “You can make their deaths…mean something. Anna’s…and Riley’s.”

Ellie looks down, feels the pressure like an ache in her chest.

“What was she like? My mom, I mean.” 

Marlene softens, genuine sorrow in her voice. “She had a great sense of humor. We laughed a lot…especially in the early days. Before the outbreak, she was…light. Pure light. She’d do just about anything to make someone smile.

“And after the outbreak…she was badass,” she says, smiling a little. “She was quick with a knife. Always preferred them to guns if she had a choice…I used to give her shit for her aim, but she wasn’t that bad. I think it was a matter of principle. She treated enough gunshot wounds, lost enough friends to bullets…she didn’t like the damage they could do.”

“So she…killed people?”

Marlene arches an eyebrow.

“You said she was a criminal, so–”

“I said she was considered a criminal, by FEDRA. Your mom was a nurse, Ellie. She was a healer.”

“Oh…”

“In FEDRA’s eyes, she helped the wrong people and that made her a terrorist. She killed to defend herself. She killed to protect her friends, her family. Same as you.”

Ellie sucks in a breath, blows it out again.

“Like I said…nothing in this world is black-and-white,” Marlene murmurs. “We’re all just trying to survive. But I hope…with the work we’re doing here…we can make that a little easier for everyone.”

Ellie creeps back to their room after their conversation, finds Joel still snoring. She crawls into her bed and curls into a ball and pulls the covers over her head, even though it’s barely dinnertime. She doesn’t think she can eat, anyway; thinking about Riley has curdled her stomach. When Joel stirs, whispering her name with a tentative hand to her shoulder, she pretends to be asleep.

It’s so little, but it feels like so much. She thinks of all the things that happened to bring her to this point; her mom and Riley and Marlene and Joel and her immunity, everything irrevocably entwined, knotted together.

It can’t be for nothing.

Ellie lays awake that night thinking of her mother, picking apart each new fact, turning them over and over in her mind, trying to imagine this stranger who brought her into the world. She falls asleep looking for herself in the pieces.

[dipplinduo]

Dang it!! I just read chapter 6, and while my heart broke at the end, I loved that Kieran was fighting that thing's hold over him! And the part that said he'd love and protect Juliana until the end of his days, it got me so hard that I'm still reeling in from it!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!!!!

THANK YOU THIS IS HOW I WRITE KIERAN!!! I SNEAK HIS BIG REALIZATIONS IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS THOUGHT PROCESSES BECAUSE HES USUALLY TOO STUPID/STRAINED/STUBBORN TO FULLY FEEL HIS FEELINGS BUT THEY'VE BEEN THERE AND THEY'VE BEEN FELT ALL ALONG

No seriously though, this was legit a deliberate approach from the beginning. These are just some of my favorite moments I've written that communicate his feelings in this way:

[Cafeteria re-encounter scene, after temporarily breaking his gaze on Juliana & snapping at Drayton]: His eyes moved back to where they should be.

[When grabbing Juliana in his room per Drayton]: "He was as swift as his temper, pulling what he wanted toward him with the claw of his dominant grip."

[Yearning for Juliana after hugging her]: She felt like glass, so easy to shatter and in need of protection.

[When Juliana's crying after finding him in the cavern]: He had endured so much anger, so much burning fire and so much pain. But nothing hurt more than making her cry...He was holding a breaking girl, and he didn’t know how to fix her. 

[When overhearing students gossip about him & Juliana]: He heard them whispering about Juliana, wondering who she was. He also heard them debating if they were an item. It unnerved him, but in another sense, he felt pride.

[When Kieran is threatened by Sour Applin gaurding Juliana LMAO]: The pathetically hued, rusty-looking thing didn’t intimidate him. He’s had all sorts of pokemon and people test his patience - test to see if he deserves to have what truly belongs to him -

YOUR HONOR,,, THEY BOTH HAVE FEELINGS FOR THE OTHER AND THEY BOTH FINALLY FUCKIN' KNOW IT (NOW IMAGINE IF THEY KNEW THE FEELINGS WERE RECIPROCATED-) ALSO: I WILL PLAY WITH YOUR FEELS WITH THIS FIC BUT YOU WILL GET A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE TYSM <3 <3 <3 LOL

[onsunnyside]

Here it is !! Flamingo King snippet for part 7, originally from part 6 but moved to the epilogue/bonus chapter 🦩❤️‍🔥 I’ve never loved a fic this much and am so thankful for all of your support !! I hope you all enjoy 🥰🫶

“Hey, sugar, you know you don’t gotta knock.”

“I just thought it would only be fair for tonight.” You shyly hold out a bouquet of flowers, vibrant red and yellow tulips from the best florist in the city. “These are for you. I was thinkin’ we could stop by the bakery after dinner? They brought back your favourite pie and I told them to save us a good one.”

Ari stands there for a moment, looking between you and the flowers. Then, he slaps the door, “awh shit, that was today? I thought—” he groans, “I thought it was tomorrow, Friday right?”

“Today is Friday.”

“Shit.” He curses, “The Den has been a fuckin’ zoo with all the college kids being back in town, my brain is fried and my eyes fuckin’ hurt from staring at a screen all day. Aside from bartending, Curtis has us doing all this paperwork and—” he shoulders sag, “nevermind. No need to be standing out there, come in, baby.”

The light flickers on and you can finally see him properly.

Eyeglasses are on the tip of his nose, his hair is messy and pulled out of his face with a small clip, one you recognize from your small vanity at home. His normally glowy skin is dull and tired, and dark bags make his eyes appear sunken into his face.

You’ve seen him dishevelled, but nothing this exhausted.

He’s still as pretty as ever, but just so terribly tired.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll get ready quickly.” Then he’s off to his bedroom, abandoning his laptop and coffee table cluttered with dirty dishes, and plenty of papers.

A blanket and pillow that used to occupy his big, comfy bed are on the couch, along with a spare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His record player is off, no slow rock song filling his trailer like usually.

You hear several slams and bangs before peeking into his bedroom and it’s a mess, far worse than the living room. Clothes skewed over his bed, the laundry bin overflowing and more stacks of empty dishes on his nightstands, although outnumbered by takeout containers.

Ever since you met Ari, he took pride in his spotless home and kept his things organized. He was diligent with weekly cleans, and often reminded you of laundry day so you could do your chores together.

It’s been quite wild for you too from sports season and the rush of people coming in after school or work. Even Andy had to hire new staff just to keep up with the hoard of customers.

Despite being busy, you’ve still made time for each other, going out for late night ice cream, or hanging out in your trailer watching movies on the laptop that you got for a massive discount (from a particular blond cutie with a goatee). But you haven’t been over in a few days, a week at most, and you didn’t know it was this bad.

“Ari.”

“Hold on!” he calls out, digging through his dressers as clothes fall to the floor.

“Ari.”

“Where the fuck are my jeans?” He sweeps through the hangers again, squinting behind his glasses, “Why do I have so many flannels?”

You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Pressing your cheek against his bare back, you can feel his rigid muscles under his skin. Poor baby, he’s so overworked and drained, yet he was still trying to put you first.

“We don’t have to go tonight.”

“We do. You got all dolled up and bought me flowers. You were gonna wine and dine me, and you can’t do that if we’re stuck in this pigsty.”

You squeeze him tighter, refusing to let go. You know he could easily overpower you, throw you on the bed and continue getting ready. But instead, he just sinks into your touch, slumping over and bracing himself on the dresser.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sugar.”

“Don’t be.”

He always took care of you. Making sure you ate during the day, stayed hydrated and out of the harsh sun. He wouldn’t eat until you took a first bite, and always put snacks and water in your bag before you went to work. Sometimes on his days off, he’d get into your trailer by using the key you gave him and tidy up, wanting you to come home and be able to relax.

Ari has done so much for you.

It takes a few more kisses, some affectionate squeezing and running your hands up and down his chest for him to turn around.

His eyebrows are knotted tight, and a deep solemn frown plays on his lips. You notice his beard is thicker too, a smidge longer than his usual trim.

“I’m so tired—I don’t know what the hell is happening.” He sags forward, slinging his arms over your shoulders and tugging you closer.

You turn your head, kissing his bicep. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shrugs. “It’s work, work and work. That’s all I fuckin’ do now. I love The Den and working with my friends, and it always gets busy this time of year but shit…” he huffs, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was fine before because I had nothin’ else to do but now I have you.” He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, “You're my girl—how the hell can I give you the attention, time and love that you deserve if I can’t even remember what day it is?”

Your heart aches as you stare into his disappointed blue eyes. Framed by thick lashes, they blink so slowly and sleepily.

“I don’t—I refuse to lose you because of something stupid like this.”

“You’re not going to lose me over one missed date.” You promise, meaning every word.

He chuckles dryly and turns back around to search through the closet again. “It starts like that. Then it’s another and another, and soon we aren’t even seeing each other for days at a time and resort to texts and five minute calls.” He rambles, “And then we’re just two strangers who had something great and you’re gonna get swept off your feet by some douchebag who can’t even remember your favourite colour. While you’re off with him in a big and bright city, I’m gonna be an old man still at The Den, talking about how I lost the girl of my dreams to drunk guys who have a million better things to do—”

“—would you be quiet!”

He looks over his shoulder with wide eyes.

“We aren’t going, so put down those jeans and sit on your bed.” You cross your arms.

Ari doesn’t move, his long fingers still clutching the denim. “Uh—”

“Shush.” You snatch the jeans from his hands and toss it on the dresser, and point to the unmade bed. “Go. Now.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters under his breath, cautiously walking around you to his bedroom. With a heavy breath, he plops on the mattress, leaning back with his legs spread wide.

His thin shorts ride up his thick thighs, displaying the built muscle and coarse hair. Quickly glancing over his shameless bulge, you admire his cute tummy and the chain dangling between his pecs.

You step towards him, cupping his bearded face in your hands and squishing his cheeks, making his lips pucker. “You have to take a break or else you’re gonna burn out.”

His eyes close peacefully, your touch silencing all of those pesky worries and looming fears. He was normally very reflective about his thoughts, and kept those stupid, useless, noisy ones to himself.

One of your hands moves to his hair, taking out the clip and running your fingers through the dark strands. “You always take care of me. You’re always so sweet and attentive, the best daddy I could’ve ever asked for.” You say softly and lean down, gently pulling his head back to kiss his cheek, trailing closer to his pink, plump lips. “Now I wanna take care of you.”

A low groan rumbles from his chest, “yeah, baby? You gonna take care of daddy tonight?”

“Mhm.” You hum with a chaste kiss. “Work out all those knots in your back, clear your head…” Your hands fall to his shoulders, tenderly pressing into the tense muscles. “Tonight is all about you, daddy. You deserve it.”

It’s about time we get back to the hot and steamy Flamingo Trailer Park !! The posting date would be earlier but your girl has exams 🥸 I hope you’re all as excited as me 🤩 pls feel free to share your thoughts !!

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 6.5; Frankie's POV

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 9,152

Rating: M - both in terms of content and overall subject matter.

Summary: Frankie is sick of lying to you, and as more time passes, it's becoming a larger issue.

When the truth is forced to light, he finds out whether or not the growing feelings for you are all for nothing ... or a chance to be everything

Author’s note:

I've been looking forward to getting into Frankie's head for a LONG TIME, and this chapter seemed like the right place to start with that. A few of you have asked what his take on this whole thing is - so here you go.

This takes place alongside chapter 6. Thank you for reading. PLEASE feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments or concerns.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

“I need to tell you somethin’, ‘Fish.” 

He made his way through the bushes and toward the clearing, keeping his eyes on Pope’s face. Frankie was exhausted - like always - but the set of his friend’s shoulders and the downward turn of the other man’s lips brought him back to full alert, even as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. “What happened?” 

“Benny called last night.” Pope sighed, gesturing to the open door of the RV. Despite being on edge at the few words - and tone - Frankie walked past him, immediately heading for the bathroom, Pope only a few steps behind. Gripping the edge of the counter with one hand while he brushed his teeth, Frankie waited, trying not to let his imagination run wild. He was with her last night. He was with her and … “Benny called last night,” Pope spoke up once he finished, stepping out of the way and following as Frankie walked the short distance to the refrigerator, pulling a bottle of water out and lifting it to his lips before tilting his head back to drain most of it in one go. “They heard fuckin’ wolves, Frankie.” 

He crushed the bottle between his fingers and spun to face his friend, eyes wide. “What?” But I was here. I … I didn’t… that means… “Fuck.” 

“Fuck is right.” Pope sighed, holding up his hand. “They didn’t see anything, but they were on the boat when it happened. All three of ‘em heard it, though.” Pope paused and Frankie just stared, his heartbeat pounding behind his ribs. “Benny called me on their way home to make sure everything was OK here, and -”

“To make sure it wasn’t me.” He curled his lip, narrowing his eye. “He called to make sure I -”

“He called to see where you were, yes.” Pope reached up, scratching his head and then pointed at the outline of the chain around Frankie’s neck. “I checked the AirTag. You were over by Little River. Nowhere near far enough south that they would have heard you. And they said wolves, Frankie. That means that there’s not just another one, but -”

“But there might be more.” For the first time since he was bitten, Frankie felt a spark of hope in his chest. Maybe another one figured out what was going on here and came to intervene. Maybe it means I won’t have to take care of it myself. Maybe … He shook his head to clear it, groaning as he reached up with one hand to drag his fingers through his hair. It doesn’t matter right now. “Is she… did she freak out?”

“He got her home safe. He called me again after he left her place. You’ve got a couple messages from them, ‘Fish. She texted you while he was on the phone with me, and then Benny sent the picture of her going inside like you asked for, but …” Pope shook his head. “Benny said she wasn’t scared. She looked … relieved when she heard the howling.” 

“What? Why would -”

“I don’t know. He also told me that she jokingly said that maybe it was a werewolf.” Frankie sucked in a breath a that, moving to cross his arms but wincing at the way the muscles in his shoulder pulled with the motion. That’s gonna hurt like a bitch for a couple more days. “He said it didn’t seem like she was serious, but it threw him, because …”

“Because he knows that that’s all it could be. Fuck.” Frankie swore again, tossing the mostly empty bottle across the room. “What the fuck am I going to do, Pope? I’m already in over my head with one other wolf, and now there’s….” 

“There’s somethin’ else, Fish.” Pope took another breath and met Frankie’s eyes, unblinking. “There was another attack. Happened at Hillsborough and came through on the scanner pretty much first thing this morning. Male. Mid 30’s. Reported by his girlfriend, and he was still alive when the call came through.” 

He deflated at the news, scrubbing at his face with one hand. Another attack meant another month that he’d been unable to figure out who was responsible, and another person that would likely suffer the same way he had after getting attacked. “Any way we can figure out who it is?” 

“I can see if Benny and Ironhead hear anything at the bar, but aside from that… no. Not really.” It was likely another dead end and Frankie knew it, but asking had helped a little. “You gonna call your girl?” 

“She’s not my girl, Pope.” The answer was immediate, but Frankie felt a pang in his chest as he said it. “She’s only here for a couple months, and I’ve been lying to her since the second I met her, so…”

“D’you really believe that?” Pope chewed on his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes. “Not the lying part, because yeah, you’ve been doing that - we all have - but the part about her not bein’ yours?” He stepped closer, reaching out to settle a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen you like this with a woman before, even with Becca in the beginning.” 

“Doesn’t matter, Santiago. She’s leaving. And I could never … never tell her the …” Even as he spoke, though, he let himself entertain the thought of spilling his secret to you. 

He hadn’t ever truly wanted to reveal that part of himself to anyone new before you in the years since South America. He hadn’t even considered it, despite the fact that one of the relationships he’d had had lasted longer than all of the others put together, to the point where he’d started thinking about what it could be like to have someone around on a more consistent basis again. 

He’d never made that leap, instead breaking things off before they could progress further. But now? After a month? With her? 

“I’d lose her if I told her, and you know it.” 

Pope was silent for a few seconds and then sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Whatever you say.” Frankie knew that he wouldn’t keep pushing it, and when his friend continued, he was ready for it. “I’ve gotta get home. Yova’s waiting for me, and …” He sighed again. “You need to get some sleep.” 

I do. Frankie reached down and pulled the chain from around his neck, hanging the AirTag on the small hook next to the door. “I’m ready. I need a shower and to get some ice on this shoulder.” 

Frankie locked the door as Pope headed toward the car. When he took a seat, using one foot to push his bag out of the way, he finally reached for his phone and thumbed it unlocked. He saw your messages, the corners of his lips turning upward briefly at the way you went from fear about hearing wolves to excitement about the gators, though Pope’s comment about your lack of reaction to the howling was still on his mind. 

And when he saw the picture of you by your front door, a sarcastic smile on your face and one hand raised in a wave, Frankie realized  that he wanted to call you, if only to hear your voice. It was early, but he’d messaged you before heading to the airport previously, and you’d answered almost every time. So today won’t be different. 

But you didn’t reply to his first text, the message unread for more than a few minutes. And you didn’t reply to the next one, either - or the first phone call he made to you, his voice steady though there was worry in his tone as he told you he’d seen your messages and couldn’t wait for you to tell him about the boat. 

Pope didn’t say anything when he hung up, but Frankie had known him long enough to register the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. There was no reason for him to be concerned, because you were probably just sleeping - it was early, and you’d been out sort of late the previous night. 

So he sent another few messages, fingers flying over the keys. 

Hey. Is everything alright? I’ve got a weird feeling, especially after talking to Benny. 

Give me a call when you get this, please. 

“‘Fish?” Pope glanced over, two hands on the wheel. “What’s going on?”

“I donno. I don’t like it, though. She always answers me in the morning.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head and staring down at the screen - and your unanswered messages. “You said the attack was -”

“Benny dropped her off. You saw the picture. They said it was some guy that was hurt. I don’t -”

“Something’s wrong, Santiago.” He tightened his hold on the phone. “I don’t know what, but… something’s wrong.” 

He tried calling you a few more times, dialing and letting it go to voicemail before he hung up, fatigue replaced with frustration. 

It was borderline obsessive behavior, and he didn’t know how he was going to explain it when he talked to you. Maybe I can just say I heard about the attack. Say that even though I knew she was home, I didn’t know if she’d go back, and… It was a thin excuse and he knew it… but that didn’t matter as Frankie dialed again and again, the sound of your line ringing endlessly almost taunting him. 

Pope hugged him tightly when they pulled into Frankie’s driveway, the smaller man telling him to get some rest and that if he wanted to meet and have a beer later, to let him know. 

Frankie assured him that he would, but instead of heading inside the moment his friend pulled away, he turned toward his truck and unlocked the door, climbing in. 

It was reckless - and when his adrenaline wore off, he knew there was going to be a monumental crash. But it doesn’t matter, I need to know … I need to know she’s alright. He tried calling you again, and when all he got was the sound of you inviting him to leave a message, he threw the phone to the side and started the ignition. 

— 

Your car wasn’t in the driveway, and even though the early morning sun was shining brightly, he was chilled to the bone. 

He peeked in the front windows and then tried the doorknob, feeling a tiny rush of relief at the fact that it was secured. Maybe you’d gotten an early start and headed to the beach. Maybe you’d gone out for breakfast or coffee and forgotten to turn your phone’s ringer back on. There were plenty of maybes, and though it was common for Frankie to skip ahead to the worst case scenario, he was hopeful that it didn’t need to be that way with you. 

He’d just turned to go back to his truck when his phone rang, your picture on the screen. Thank fuck. 

But the relief was short lived, because Frankie heard distress in your voice, along with concern. He could almost feel it seeping through the phone, and that fact scared him, even as you questioned why he wasn’t at the airport and he snapped back at you, wincing at the harsh tone of his voice. 

And when you told him you were at the hospital, he shivered, his breath coming in short bursts as his fingers tightened around the phone. For her cousin. 

He wondered if it was the same one that you’d mentioned the afternoon of your first flight, but as you told him you were on your way back, that thought slipped his mind, Frankie’s only concern figuring out exactly what was going on with you and trying to understand why he cared so much. 

The half hour he waited for you was spent sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck, searching for more information on that morning’s attack. There was very little, aside from what Pope had already told him - and that frustrated Frankie to no end. Who the fuck is doing this and why are they doing it here? Why now?

When it was close to the time you’d said you’d be there, he got out and paced back and forth behind the truck for a few minutes before leaning against it, arms crossed. It hurt - his shoulder had been giving him trouble since the previous day, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure what he hoped for with your arrival, but Frankie figured he’d know when he saw you, and that assumption proved to be true. 

His mood lightened considerably when you pulled in, Frankie’s posture relaxing as some of the tightness in his chest disappeared. You looked tired and concerned, and if he had to guess, you’d gotten only marginally more sleep than him. But he was snapping at you before he could stop himself, trying to talk you out of what he knew was the truth. And she’ll believe it was wolves even more when she hears about the attack. 

Nothing could have prepared him, though, for what he found when he followed you into your apartment and his eyes landed on the papers and pictures scattered around the living room. He saw it immediately, his heart sinking like a lead weight to settle in his belly, heart rate spiking. She wasn’t joking about it being a werewolf. She was looking for one. She knows … does she know about me? Is that why she’s been so … interested?

You didn’t want to tell him the truth, but you did, and he caught the look of anguish in your eyes as you spoke, almost like you were afraid to say the words. He was immediately defensive, crossing his arms as he shook his head and continued to question you, but the truth was that Frankie didn’t know what to think. If she knows there’s a wolf here, she knows what’s attacking people. But how? Why? 

He caught the spark of fear in you as you inhaled sharply when he moved, though without skipping a beat, you continued to talk to him and even made a joke as he followed you toward the kitchen. 

But he was familiar was behavior like yours and knew that you were going to bolt. Frankie could sense it in the way you carried yourself, and he didn’t even need the heightened wolf-senses to know that it was only a matter of when. 

You broke for the bedroom and he followed you. Frankie moved slowly, not wanting to scare you any more than you already were. But if she’s running then she thinks I could … fuck, she must know. 

He wasn’t expecting the gun. 

He also wasn’t expecting the way you met his eyes as you questioned him and he questioned you back, Frankie’s hands rising, palms out in an attempt to placate you. He could feel it - the emotion inside of him, building up in a way that he was familiar with. Even though he’d just changed back hours ago, and had never turned wolf without a full moon, Frankie wondered if that would be the day it happened. No. It can’t. Not now. She’ll shoot me. She’ll shoot me, and … 

When you mentioned the scar on his arm, he knew you knew, even if you didn’t want to believe it. His answer wasn’t a lie, but it bought him a few extra seconds of time, his mind going back to the day he’d been bitten and the rage he’d felt rolling off the teenager that had done it. “What are you really asking me?” 

He saw you recoil - saw your grip on the gun waver, watched wordlessly as you winced at his words and tone, but then Frankie saw you steady yourself, shoulders going back as you stared straight into his eyes and questioned him again, that time about his shoulder. Why is she so fucking concerned about my arm? 

He demonstrated that it was injured, watching as you blinked quickly at his movement, though you didn’t lower the gun, either, even as he explained what had happened and waited for your response. It was only one word - his name - and you sounded torn, the sound of it chilling him. But she hasn’t shot me. And she’s rational. And … 

He only had one option - and that was to keep you talking, to get you to explain what was going on, hopefully giving himself a chance to do the same. 

Your response wasn’t what he expected, though it explained a lot. 

She’s pointing a gun at me, which means that she must think … oh, fuck. She thinks it was me that’s doing all of this. He considered your words and the fact that you hadn’t stumbled on Florida by accident shocked him. She’s been looking for a wolf since she was 18? 

In that moment, he wished that he was the wolf you were looking for, because it meant that you could end it. You could end it, and you wouldn’t be in danger anymore. I won’t be a danger to anyone, and I won’t have to worry about … anything. He steadied himself with a breath, pushing the thoughts aside. But it’s not me. And that means she’s looking for … 

It scared him how much the thought of you seeking out something so dangerous bothered him. But when you continued to question him, your finger inching toward the trigger, Frankie understood that not only had the point of no return with you come and gone, there was a chance that he was approaching the final minutes of his life, too. 

Because even though it was his first instinct to lie to you, he couldn’t. 

He’d lose you either way, but there were only two options that came with telling the truth: you giving him a chance to explain his answer, or you pulling the trigger as soon as you heard his admission. And I just want someone to know. Even if it means … this is it. 

 “I wish I could.”

It happened just as he thought it would - you put your finger on the trigger and his years of military training kicked in. Despite his fatigue, he was faster than you, his fingers closing around your wrist and squeezing. Frankie was mindful of the fact that he didn’t want to hurt you, even though the difference of a few seconds meant that you might have killed him. 

But as soon as he had control of the gun, his grip on your wrist loosened enough that you could move it. He held you in place but didn’t restrain you entirely, even as you lashed out at him. It was more than that he didn’t want to hurt you. If he was being honest. Frankie wanted to console you, to make you understand and give you some peace of mind. I want her to know she doesn’t need to be afraid of me. 

You screamed at him, but Frankie held you gently, taking a deep breath and repeating that he wasn’t going to hurt you, that he didn’t want to hurt you. The truth was that the thought of anyone or anything hurting you filled him with a rage that he hadn’t felt in years. But in the semi-darkness of your bedroom, he knew that it wasn’t the right time or place to dwell on those thoughts. 

“Take off your shirt.” Your request astounded him, but when you continued, he started to understand, even though what you said made little sense to him. Attacked a wolf? What the fuck? He understood, though, and when you admitted that your cousin’s girlfriend was a wolf, too, he did as you asked, releasing you and ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he removed his shirt. If this is what she needs, she can have it. Because it wasn’t me and there won’t be anything to see. 

He watched as you stared at him, eyes raking over his skin as he spun slowly, and when he met your gaze again, he felt another flicker of hope in his chest at the confusion in your expression. This is good. This is better than good. He took a chance and gestured to the other room, and when you nodded back, the movement tiny but still certain, he finally took a breath. One more thing. 

Frankie reached for the gun then, slowly lifting it and holding it out to you, never looking away as he did it. He wanted you to feel safe - wanted you to understand that you were in control, and if it meant that it was going to happen with a gun in your hands and pointed at him, then he’d deal with it.  

You didn’t point it at him, though, and when you sat down on the couch, watching as Frankie put his shirt back on and tried not to wince, he tried to come up with something to say. But where to start? 

He decided to start at the beginning, and even though it was awkward, you made it less so when you leaned forward to listen, unblinking. You didn’t raise your voice or accuse him. You didn’t hold yourself like you were afraid of him, or position yourself defensively. You just waited, giving him a chance to speak…. And so he did. 

He didn’t just tell you about the teenager in the middle of the jungle. 

He didn’t just tell you about the aftermath of the bite. 

He started at the very beginning - with what had happened before Pope came to them with the job in Colombia and left little out. And when he confessed to his cocaine use and the problems that stemmed from that, he watched your eyes fill with sadness. 

He wanted to move - wanted to come and comfort you, to tell you that there was no reason for you to be upset about something that was so far in the past. But he stayed in place, taking a deep breath as he continued, needing you to hear it all. 

Frankie’s admission that they’d stolen the money shocked even him, because that part was something that he hadn’t intended to tell you. It felt right, though, because like every other part of the story, it was so out there that there was no way he could have made it up. Talking about Lorea and the money explained the crash, and the crash explained the village

And the village explains the kid… which explains all of this.

You believed him. He saw the expression in your eyes change as you processed what he was saying, and Frankie knew that telling you had been the right call. It was the first time he’d spoken the words out loud in three years, and as they rolled off of his tongue, he felt lighter. 

His friends knew what had happened, and had been dealing with it in their own ways ever since. But even though he had them, being able to tell someone new - someone that he cared about the way he cared about you - was a relief. And I didn’t think it would be. 

As he spoke, he thought back to the first time he’d changed over, and the fear he’d smelled on each of his friends, though they hadn’t acted on that fear. He knew that if they hadn’t been exhausted, one of them likely would have. And then I wouldn’t be here now. 

But his response to that night was proof that simple becoming a wolf wasn’t an immediate danger to the people around you. Because I didn’t want to hurt them. I knew them. 

When you invited him to sit next to you, your voice cautious but clear, Frankie felt the last knot in his chest loosen. You weren’t going to kill him. You weren’t going to attempt to trap him … and if you wanted him to sit next to you, it meant that you - in that moment - weren’t afraid of him, or of what he was. 

It was more than he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t something that he was going to take for granted. 

He continued - telling you about coming home and getting the money back safely. He admitted to keeping the secret of his bite to an even smaller group than knew about the money. And when he admitted that Carmen and Becca didn’t know about either, Frankie expected you to get angry, because it was one of the things that he was most upset about, too. 

But it was also proof of the fact that he trusted himself, because if at any point he’d thought he was going to be a danger to either of them, he would have removed himself from the situation, ensuring that the financial support never ended even if he wasn’t present. 

Even though he and Becca had been long over by the time he’d come home, they’d still tried, and every lie he told had been like a knife through his heart. Not because he still loved the woman, but because if there was one thing Frankie knew, it was that lies always came back around. And because me still using would have meant that she thinks she failed. And she didn’t. 

He couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in his eyes as he spoke. And he didn’t expect your response, either - the beginnings of an apology spilling from your lips until he stopped you, laying his hand atop yours cautiously as he continued his story. 

It finally came back to you - and to why you were in Florida. 

The first thing Frankie did was make it a point to tell you that he hadn’t been anywhere near where you were the previous night. He hoped you’d connect the dots between Benny’s phone call to Pope and Pope being with him, but Frankie still gave you more details. Because she needs to know more than the basics. She needs to understand that I’m doing my best. 

You seemed shocked that he hadn’t spoken to anyone about his condition, and that surprised him a little, as did your immediate line of questioning about the second wolf. Because it means that she accepts that I didn’t do this. That I haven’t been doing this. It means … it means she believes me even though she knows. 

It was you that closed the distance between the two of you, taking his hand and squeezing. He felt warmth in his chest then, the press of your palms together grounding him even as he thanked you for listening, through a tight throat. 

But before you could tell him more about exactly what brought you to Florida, your phone rang and you answered it, giving Frankie a chance to watch you silently. 

You did a lot of listening, chewing on your lower lip and tightening your hold on his hand before you pulled it free to rub your palm against your thigh. The loss of contact hurt, but it gave him a few seconds to collect his thoughts, the man’s heart pounding wildly. 

There was no going back. He’d always assumed that if he ever told anyone else, it would be because they were with him and planning on staying - and you weren’t. So that means she takes this with her.

Your voice cut in through his thoughts, and when he heard you mention him speaking to Ashley the following day, it floored him, Frankie sucking in a breath as his eyes widened. You reached out, your smile growing as you set your hand on his knee. Frankie broke eye contact and stared down at the way it looked against his leg, uncertainty his most prominent emotion. What? Me talking to her? Another wolf? Finally? 

He only looked at you again when you said his name, your apology sincere as was your admission that you needed sleep. Of course she does. And I do too. I need to go home. You didn’t let him get up, though, and at the implication, he froze. There’s no way she wants me to stay. There’s only one bed. 

You did, though, your touch shifting from a hand in place to the sweep of your thumb he’d started to grow used to while you watched TV together on the couch. Frankie finally let himself truly relax when you stood, holding out a hand. You held out a hand but instead of taking it, Frankie got up and reached for you with his good arm, urging you to lean in. 

It was a risk - but one that he was willing to take, and when you immediately moved to hug him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, Frankie’s eyes closed tightly, his fingers curling against the back of your head. There’s no way it’s this simple. But I’m going to enjoy this anyway,

It was him that broke the silence, and to his relief, you laughed, the sound echoing in his ears as he led you back toward your bedroom. It was only a few steps, but it felt like more, Frankie’s heart still pounding as he waited for the other shoe to drop when you finally realized that you didn’t want him to stay. 

It never happened. 

The interaction between you felt natural as you got ready for bed, and under any other circumstances, your admission that you were too tired to appreciate him pantsless would have wounded his pride. That day, though, he didn’t let it, eyeing you as you changed, too, before climbing into bed with him. 

The mattress was more comfortable than he remembered, and even though Frankie knew that it was mostly because he’d been up for more than 24 hours, he also knew that it was only such a relief because you were right there beside him.

He hadn’t lost you. He hadn’t frightened you away. He hadn’t let his emotions get the better of him, giving his anxiety over telling you the truth the opportunity to overwhelm the need to tell you everything. Everything about the wolf, anyway.

It was him that touched you first that time, Frankie opening his mouth and spilling more truths about how worried he’d been. Even though I don’t … I’m not sure I understand why. He thought you needed to know, and to his relief, you seemed to need him to know that you understood where he was coming from. 

He wanted to kiss you deeply, but settled for a brief touch of his lips to yours instead before settling back against the pillows and taking a deep breath. Can’t press my luck too far. 

He fell asleep moments later - and hoped that you weren’t far behind. 

—- 

When he woke up, it was to the sound of your rumbling stomach - but he didn’t mind, because it meant that you were still there. 

Frankie was immediately thankful that you hadn’t left him to wake up on his own, but he was even more excited that you were still close; close enough that when he cracked his eyes open and made a joke, your return smile was the first thing he saw. I could get used to this.

Your offer to make him breakfast brought up the first of what he assumed would be many unpleasant conversations. But you took it in stride, even though there were nights when Frankie himself was disgusted with his own actions. Even though he’d tried to go full moon nights without consuming anything, the hunger gnawed at him after only a few hours, which made eating something necessary. And it’s either eat some rabbits or… risk something else. 

That wasn’t even an option for him, and Frankie saw the understanding in your expression, followed by the comforting touch of your hand on his bare arm as you questioned him gently about the pain of changing from man to wolf and back. 

He’d never tell you the truth about that - that the entire time, it felt like something was ripping his body apart from the inside - because there was no reason to tell you. You’d never experience it, and though the memory of the pain lingered, the moment he’d completely turned, it didn’t actually hurt anymore in either case. And I’m thankful for that.

The reminder that he’d be getting answers from Ashley tightened his throat, and once again, Frankie spoke on instinct, talking around the lump there and hoping that his admission that he wanted to kiss you didn’t cross lines. Because I don’t know what this looks like between us moving forward. 

He didn’t have to worry though. You made a joke and then made the decision for both of you, and Frankie relaxed further when he felt your mouth against his. There was no hesitation on your part - no holding back because of what you knew to be true. 

If anything, you kissed him more solidly than you had before, and Frankie only waited moments to invite you to deepen it. She’s crying. Why is … oh, fuck. The tears began on his end, too, Frankie unwilling to pull away until you ended things, and he leaned into your touch as you wiped the moisture from his skin, staring at him. Why am I crying? 

It was the honesty aspect, like he told you. But it was also because it was you that he got to be honest with. It made no sense that he valued your response so much, and he didn’t know how to approach the topic, especially after such a short time of knowing each other. But he was crying because of you, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.  Especially because I get to know more about her, too. 

He learned more about your life while you cooked, Frankie flipping through your pictures and journals with a growing sense of understanding. It wasn’t just that he got to know you through your work; you were thorough enough that he was able to learn more about wolves in general, too. That came from your relatives’ entries and updates, because since you’d never actually met a wolf, you didn’t have firsthand experience. 

He wondered what you’d think when and if you were face to face with a wolf. More specifically, he wondered what you’d think if you ever saw him as a wolf - and as the minutes passed, he realized that he wanted you to. The guys had seen him out of necessity, but you … he wanted to show you, and that scared him more than anything else, because for three years, all he’d tried to do was hide.

As the two of you talked, Frankie felt things shifting again, the conversation between you never ebbing. You asked questions and so did he, Frankie finding that even though you didn’t know everything, you knew much more than he did - which was a relief in as many ways as it was concerning. 

He knew that one conversation with your cousin’s fiancee wouldn’t answer everything. He knew that he’d probably die before he knew all of the most important things about being a wolf. But knowing where you came from, and hearing your family’s history was enlightening in a way that he hadn’t expected. 

He understood the focus on the Chaos line. He understood why it was so important for you to feel like you were doing something to remove the wolves that were causing problems. And he was stunned that there was such a large community of people that knew of the existence of the wolves, especially since he and his friends hadn’t been able to find anything in the previous years. 

Frankie wondered if you would have taken his admission that he was a wolf so easily if you hadn’t also just learned about Ashley and Alec, but decided it didn’t matter as the conversation continued. The why wasn’t as important as the overall reality of the situation, and he was just happy that you accepted him for what he was - and what he’d done in his personal life.

But when the conversation circled back around to the lies you’d told each other, it got a little uncomfortable. Because we were both lying for different reasons, but they were still lies. And we were so convincing that neither of us had any idea.

You were truly uncomfortable, though, when you explained what you’d done and why you’d done it, and he didn’t miss the fact that you’d said you were interested in him… even though that was immediately followed by you mentioning how casual it always had been in the past for you. Me too. Because it has to be. But this is … are we… 

He didn’t know what to say, so he told you a half truth: that starting a casual sexual relationship with you had been the perfect plan…. in the beginning. It wasn’t supposed to be serious. It made sense. 

There was no way he could have been angry at you for keeping your identity and the truth of your time in Florida from him, because it hadn’t all been lies. You were honestly working on the book, and even though the people you’d talked to and the places you’d been had been chosen for multiple reasons, you’d mostly told him the truth. Unlike me. 

His admission that the police were getting suspicious was news to you. You weren’t able to hide your reaction to that, and he wondered how much that changed things for you. Because it changed ‘em for me. 

As you spoke in the small kitchen, a plan began to form in his mind. Frankie wondered if maybe the two of you could work together to find the wolf - to get rid of him and give both of you some peace of mind. You knew different things - you had more information about the history of the attacks, and Frankie had firsthand experience of what it was like to be be a wolf, which meant  that in only a few hours, you’d doubled your knowledge pool. I can help her. I want to help her. 

The more he told you, the more the urge to help you grew. 

And to help you, you needed to know exactly where he stood - and what he stood for. He’d made the others promise that if anyone ever got hurt because of him, that one of them would end his life by any means necessary, no questions asked. They hadn’t understood at first, because they’d all assumed that as the wolf, Frankie was no longer Frankie, which meant that he wasn’t responsible for his actions during the full moon. And that makes whatever this asshole’s doing so much worse, because he knows what he’s doing. 

There were things he couldn’t control in his life, but even before South America, Frankie had been trying to take responsibility for the things he could, starting with Carmen and Becca and the cocaine. His monthly struggle was something else that he’d learned to control, and Frankie was determined not to let being a wolf change his entire lifestyle any more than it already had - or derail him in his recovery from everything else.

As he spoke to you, he felt himself tensing up again, his emotions heightening. It scared him sometimes, but since he’d never outright snapped, Frankie wasn’t too worried about losing it in front of you. And even though he could sense that you knew he was on edge, you didn’t move away. Instead, you came closer, reaching out and flattening your palm against the center of his chest, never looking away. 

It was more than he’d ever hoped to find with someone again, and even if it was temporary, Frankie was thankful - and wanted to take advantage of every minute he got to spend with you. 

But your knowledge of what he was and his of who you were brought up additional problems. I’ve gotta tell Pope. I’ve gotta tell him something. 

He didn’t stop touching you, though his hand moved so that he could focus on your throat, his eyes dropping to the smooth skin there. It was the truth that he always tried to be careful when it came to teeth and biting, but with you, he’d immediately gone for your neck, testing his limits and nipping at it on more than one occasion, even though he wasn’t sure exactly what would have happened if he’d broken skin. 

And something that he didn’t want to admit to you was that he wanted to continue to behave the way he already had been - wanted to nuzzle against the column of your throat, wanted to lave his tongue over your skin and lose himself in the scent and taste of you. It was hard enough to ignore on a normal day, but as the days passed and the full moon had gotten closer, his senses had been heightened, and it had been a true struggle to keep himself in check in the ways that he’d forced himself to in the past. And that means something too, but I don’t fucking know what. 

He’d figured that some wolves could change at will, and there was no way Frankie was going to risk letting that happen while you were in bed with him. The confirmation that it could happen was enough to spook him slightly, especially when he thought back to his previous reactions to high-stress situations. Because if I hurt or scared her, I’d never forgive myself. 

You said goodbye soon after that, and though he’d extended the invitation for you to come over later that night, he hadn’t been surprised when you’d said no. She needs time to process this shit. And so do I. 

But neither of you had needed time or wanted space when the kiss you initiated before he walked out turned deeper. You’d pulled him closer as he crowded you up against the wall just to the left of your front door, his hands on your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair. You hadn’t wanted to let him go, and he’d been even less willing to walk out of your apartment. But eventually it happened, Frankie pressing his forehead against yours and telling you that he was excited for the following day - and you kissing the corner of his mouth and telling him to be safe in the air.

He left you in a much better mood than he’d anticipated, and despite the fact that he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, he was wide awake. Wide awake and … happy. 

He took a scalding hot shower once he got home, spending nearly twenty minutes under the steady spray and letting it soothe the muscles of his shoulder. And during that shower, he thought  - Frankie running over the information he’d learned from you throughout the previous hours as well as what it meant to him that he didn’t have to hide anything from you anymore.

“It’s fucking great.” He toweled off, pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and then grabbing a beer before heading out and onto his back deck, phone in his other hand as he typed a message out to Pope. 

If you wanna come over and have a beer I’m good. 

He received a thumbs up a few minutes later, and when Frankie set his phone down on the table in front of him, he dropped down onto one of the chairs with a sigh, leaning back and putting his feet up on the railing. For the next fifteen minutes, he spaced out, eyes on the slowly darkening sky and the passing clouds. 

The sound of Pope’s tires on the driveway brought him back to attention, but Frankie didn’t stand, waiting until Pope rounded the corner of the house to even turn his head. “Oye, idiota.” He raised his beer, giving his friend a half smile. “More of these inside. You know where to go.” 

Pope’s posture loosened and Frankie realized that he’d likely expected something very different than what he’d found. But the surprise only lasted a few seconds, Pope holding up a six pack and grinning. “Brought my own. You always drink that shit I don’t like, so…” 

Pope took a seat next to Frankie and propped his feet up too. But neither man spoke, the two of them sipping in silence. Where do I even start? He took another drink and then cleared his throat, saying Pope’s name. “It was her cousin that got attacked.” 

“What?” He sat up straight, spinning to face Frankie. “I thought she was just here to work. What are the fucking odds?” 

“I thought the same thing.” He sat up, too, finishing his beer and setting the bottle down onto the table between them. “But it’s…” Frankie shook his head slowly, lifting one hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You can’t tell anyone, Santiago. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be telling you this, but …” Pope’s eyes narrowed briefly but he nodded, scooting closer. “She’s not here by accident. She’s here … looking for werewolves.”

“What the fuck?” Pope looked angry, his lip curling into a snarl. “And she knew? She knew that you …. So -”

“No.” Frankie held up a hand. “Pope, she had no idea. She’s here looking for the other one. And when I couldn’t get ahold of her this morning it was because she was at the hospital with her cousin and his fiancee.” He was still breathing hard, but Pope relaxed slightly, leaning back in his chair and staring. “I was at her place when she got back, and …” 

He continued, telling Pope about walking into your apartment and seeing all of your research, about you holding him at gunpoint, about everything that came after. And to his credit, Santi stayed quiet and listened, the only sign of acknowledgement the tightening of his fingers around his bottle. 

It was a lot to take in, and Frankie understood that, because even as he repeated it, it sounded unbelievable. And I’m living it. I just … “So you mean to fuckin’ tell me…” Pope sighed, finishing his beer and then reaching for another one. He took a long swig before pointing one finger at Frankie and raising an eyebrow. “You mean to fucking tell me that this girl that you’re crazy about didn’t even need to be convinced that you’re a goddamn wolf? That she came here lookin’ for another wolf and found you instead, and the two of you just so happened to like each other, and -”

“Yes.” He swallowed hard, nodding. “She knows what I am, Pope. She believed me. She even told me a bunch of shit about myself that I didn’t know, and …” 

“How does it feel?” Pope repositioned himself in his chair, all traces of amusement gone. “After so many years, ‘Fish, how does it -”

“Feels like I won the goddamn lottery.” He spoke without thinking, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. “Just being able to be honest? To tell her about that part of me? Fuck, it felt … I never thought I’d get to tell someone. And she just … she accepted me, Santiago.” 

“I’m happy for you.” Pope reached over, squeezing his arm and then letting go, sitting back against the cushion. “Real happy. But …” Of course. “But what does this mean, ‘Fish? She’s gonna keep trying to find this wolf, and then what? Kill it? Move on? Take your secret with her?” He laughed, shaking his head back and forth. “You’re halfway in love with this woman, and she’s just going to … disappear?” 

“I… no.” He blinked slowly, jaw working as he tried to figure out what to say.  “I don’t know. I can’t leave Florida because of Carmen, but …” For the first time, he seriously considered what the future could look like - and whether or not there was a chance you would be a part of it. And as he thought, Pope’s last words finally hit - was he halfway in love with you? Had it really progressed from casual sex and mutual attraction to that on his part? Could that be it? “It makes sense.” He wet his lips and then covered his face with both hands, swearing. “Fuck, Pope. I don’t…” 

“I’m not the person you need to have this conversation with.” He sipped again, scoffing. “But I’d just like to point out that you went from tellin’ me that she wasn’t your girl twelve hours ago to having me over to tell me that you told her your biggest secret, which is something you haven’t told the mother of your child in three years.” Pope held up a hand. “Which I totally understand, by the way. I’m not giving you shit over that, I’m just saying. You were with Becca for years, and …” 

“I wanna protect her, Pope. The thought of her out there with something like me… something worse than me? Scares the fuck out of me.” He sat up, repositioning himself in the chair. “I don’t know how to explain what I feel for her. And I don’t understand how it’s possible I feel whatever the fuck this is after knowing her for -”

“When I met Yova,” Pope sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “I lied to myself for months. Said it was just sex. That it was just for information. That it wouldn’t mean a goddamn thing when I eventually left Colombia and came home. Never told her my real name or where I came from or anything even though there were times I wanted to.” Pope scooted closer, his eyes on Frankie’s face. “I loved that girl from pretty much the fucking second I laid eyes on her, and droppin’ her off and telling her to go to Australia and forget about me broke my heart.” 

“But -”

“I knew she loved me. Why else would she have done what she did?” He set his beer down and flattened his hands against the tabletop. “When you know, you know. Don’t do what I did. Because you and I both know that if you don’t say anything, and you just let this play out… and she does leave?” Pope tapped one fingertip against the wood. “You’re gonna convince yourself not to go after her. And if that happens? You’re going to be miserable.” 

“But what if … she’s got a plan. This is what she’s done since she turned 18, and it’s what she’s going to keep doing, especially with her cousin retiring. She’s not going to stop just because some guy she barely knows tells her that he wants…” Pope paused long enough to slide a beer toward Frankie, waiting to continue until he’d opened it and taken a long drink. What do I want? 

“She might not. But you don’t know that. And you can’t know that unless you say something.” Pope was right, and Frankie knew it, but somehow, telling you what he felt for you was more terrifying than telling you that he was a wolf. “I wouldn’t tell anyone about her, ‘Fish.”

“What? But Benny -”

“No. I don’t mean hiding the fact that she knows what happened to you. That’s going to come out no matter what happens if you keep hanging out with her around us. I mean telling the other guys what she’s doing here.” Why? “That comes out, the bigger this gets. I’d even keep the fact that it was her cousin that got attacked to yourselves for now.” He sighed. “Especially since there’s another wolf hanging around, and the more people that know …” 

“I got you.” Frankie nodded, a chill running through his body at the thought of the other wolf somehow finding out who you were and what you were doing. Because he has to be local. And that might mean he’s … here. “I’ll talk to her about that next time I see her.”

“Tomorrow.” Pope grinned. “When you get to go to your werewolf orientation.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Pope.” He groaned, but only moments later both of them were laughing, the tightness in Frankie’s chest almost entirely gone. “She’s never seen a wolf before.”

“Do you want her to see you?” He rolled his shoulders, turning his head toward Frankie. “I’ve seen you change, and that shit is unpleasant. But … you’re kind of impressive in wolf form, Morales. I won’t lie.”

“If she wants to.”  And I hope she does, because then…. I’ll really know. As a man, Frankie was good at reading body language and emotion, but as a wolf, it was impossible to get anything by him. If you were afraid of him, he’d know, no matter what you tried to convince him of. “But she’d need to ask. I won’t bring it up.” 

“Fair.” Pope groaned. “So she knows about the money? What did she say about that?”

“Nothing.” He hummed. “Well, that’s not true. She said she didn’t realize money was so heavy, but she didn’t ask what my cut was, or anything like that.” He figured it was because you were too shocked by everything else to focus on that detail, but he wasn’t surprised that Pope had mentioned it. Because it’s a valid question. “She’s not like that, Pope. She’s been buggin’ me about figuring out what she owes me for her flights, so -”

“I never said she was. I was just curious to know what she thought about her multi-millionaire werewolf boyfriend and his asshole friends.” 

“You can ask her yourself.” Frankie drank again, lips closing around the neck of the bottle. “And I’m not her boyfriend.”

“Ok, fine. Fuck buddy. Hook up. Booty call. Her gran lobo malo. Whatever you are, it -”

“If you call me that one more time I’m going to make sure biting you is the first thing I do next month.” Pope snorted back a laugh and moments later, Frankie joined him, the sound carrying away on the warm night breeze. “Thank you for coming, Pope.”

“Of course.” He tilted his head  to the side and looked over, meeting Frankie’s eyes. “You know all you gotta do is ask.” Frankie nodded, swallowing the last of his second beer and then putting the bottle down. “You flyin’ tomorrow?”

“I am. Can’t take another day off. I have three tours, and then we’re going to talk to her family.” 

“You know what you’re going to ask?”

“Not a goddamn clue.” He had some ideas, but it all depended on what the first meeting felt like. Don’t want to get my hopes up too high. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You always do, ‘Fish.” Pope laughed again, the sound turning into a groan. “Every goddamn time.” 

— 

Oye, idiota = hey, asshole 

 gran lobo malo = big bad wolf

---

Tag list reblog coming soon

[hsangel64]

bandmates pt. 6

pairings: bassist!ellie williams x lead singer!reader

summary: it’s been two weeks since you and ellie have talked you’ve been staying with your friend abby in her dorm

warnings: angst if you squint, cussing, fluffy!!!

a/n: i think i have two more chapters of this and it’ll be over ! don’t worry i have more things coming !

it’s been two weeks…two fucking weeks since you’ve spoken to ellie. part of you felt like it was wrong almost, like you shouldn’t have been so dramatic. i mean you guys aren’t dating why we’re you so hurt over the fact she kissed her ex? the other part is telling you that she was shitty for what she said and she deserves to be ignored. you needed your space to think about what even happened, you felt like you had blacked out during the whole argument. you’ve been going to all your classes and even managed to sit away from ellie every class you two had together.

it’s not like ellie even tried to talk to you either so you didn’t bother. this was difficult, you two have never gone this long without talking to each other. you definitely weren’t doing well, so you decided to stay with a friend you met your freshman year. her name was abby and she was so sweet you guys just instantly clicked and made friends with each other.

…

it was freshman year orientation and you, ellie, dina and jesse were sitting on the bleachers of the gym they had on campus.

“this shit is so stupid.” dina groaned and fell into jesse.

“i don’t understand the point of orientation it seems pointless when they already send every piece of info you need to know before even coming.” you all agreed and whipped your heads to the middle to see what you assumed to be a senior starting to talk. you pretty much just tuned it out until you all had to get up. you all got sent to different groups so you were alone and a little nervous knowing you didn’t know anyone.

they said this was one of those stupid ‘say your name and one fact about you’ to get you guys to make more friends. you hated doing this shit it was pointless because you always end up not even talking to these people ever again. you pretty much just twiddled your fingers and waited for your turn.

“hello my name is y/n , i’m 18 and a fun fact about me is that i’m in a band.”

“that’s hot.” someone guy responded and high fived his friend. you rolled your eyes and looked back down.

“you guys are fuckin idiots.” a blonde girl spoke up to the boys.

“shut up abby.”

“do you want me to beat your asses again?” they whimpered away and you giggled. everyone resumed back to saying their names. you all finished and you all stayed within your groups to walk around campus and get a small tour.

“hey so you’re in a band?” you turned your head around to abby.

“oh yeah with my best friends.” you send a quick smile to her.

“that’s really cool y/n. what’s your guys band name?”

“oh it’s coastals.”

“that’s really awesome.” there was a small silence between you and just the guide was speaking.

“i’m sorry about those guys by the way, they’re both fuckin idiots. don’t ever listen to anything jordan says he’s a dumbass.”

“noted.” you both laughed and smiled at each other. you both went on with the tour saying little silly things. you all came back to the gym and they all let you go you almost immediately went to go find your friends but abby stopped you.

“hey can we trade numbers? maybe you can meet some of the rest of my friends and my boyfriend. we can possibly get coffee?”

“oh! yeah of course!” you were not expecting her to say she had a boyfriend with the little flirty comments…but you didn’t pay any mind to it and gave her your number. as you guys were trading numbers ellie comes up behind you.

“hey dina and jesse wanted to go out to eat you wanna go?” you turned around and smiled at ellie.

“yeah yeah…oh! meet abby!”

“oh, hey.”

“yeah hi.” you looked between them and waved goodbye to abby as ellie pulled you away to your friends.

…

“hey so me and owen are going out if you need anything okay?” you groggily thanked abby and heard her walk away and the door closed. you groaned and sat up rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you looked around the room realizing how quiet it is. you groan again and throw yourself onto the pillow. having abby was great but you missed your dorm, your friends, ellie.

it’s not like ellie was doing good either. what you didn’t know was the fact that ellie barely slept, she barely ate, she was a mess. dina has been trying to get her to talk to you but she chickens out every time. she doesn’t want you to run away from her, she doesn’t want to lose you.

ellie found out after the first week that you were staying with abby. she was furious, her and abby weren’t the best of friends but they played nice when you were around. they just bump heads all the time and can never stop bickering at each other. ellie didn’t want to admit it but she was jealous that you went to abby and didn’t come back to her.

yeah she knows she fucked up but she wished you just came back to the dorm. the night it happened she didn’t sleep all night waiting in her bed for you to come through the bedroom door. she cried almost all night and even made a song. music was ellie’s outlet and she needed it the most during that night. after that night she started to make a plan to talk to you again and do something to majorly apologize for what she said. she was trying to think of a grand gesture.

ellie had been planning for days and scrapping ideas over and over again until she got the perfect thing to do. the exact moment she figured it out she had been watching some movies that had some grand gestures and one of them was ‘10 things i hate about you.’ she saw heath ledger sing on the steps of the stadium. she knew it would be perfect.

she was going to do it today it was perfect, you had to be out on the field setting up for an event so she was going to do it then.

…

you were walking around the field with your clipboard instructing people on how to decorate the field. this wasn’t your job but the head of the committee fell ill and of course she asked you to take her place.

“we need to put those posters up in the bleachers there.” you kept looking down at the checklist and sighed you really didn’t want to do this but you couldn’t say no. you walked to the middle of the field to take a look at the small drawing on the paper and at what you guys have done now. you nod and make some adjustments. you stop in your tracks when you hear the overhead speakers turn on and the mic feedback.

you looked around wondering what was going on and then heard soft singing….is that? you turn and see ellie coming down from the bleachers.

“you're just too good to be true

can't take my eyes off of you

you'd be like heaven to touch

i wanna hold you so much

at long last, love has arrived

and i thank god I'm alive

you're just too good to be true

can't take my eyes off of you”

you smiled softly, you giggled and rolled your eyes at ellie. she started making her way down the bleachers, there’s no way she’s actually doing this.

“pardon the way that I stare

there's nothin' else to compare

the sight of you leaves me weak

there are no words left to speak

but if you feel like I feel

please let me know that it's real

you're just too good to be true

can’t take my eyes off of you”

she stopped hallway down the bleachers while she sang the next part of the song. you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes a little at her antics. as she sang the chorus she started dancing around the bleachers and stared at you the whole time.

“i love you, baby

and if it's quite alright

i need you, baby

to warm the lonely night

i love you, baby

trust in me when I say

oh, pretty baby

don't bring me down, I pray

oh, pretty baby

now that I've found you, stay

and let me love you, baby

let me love you”

she danced down the bleachers until she was 5 ft away from you. the music stopped and everyone started to clap and she made her way to you.

“hi bee.”

“hi els.” you smiled at her and she smiled back. you both stayed that way for a little, feeling the pressure of everyone on the field staring. you’d think in the movies this would be a lot less awkward.

“i know how silly this might be for you, but i wanted to apologize and make it worth your while. a grand gesture because i truly am sorry y/n. i really didn’t mean to make you feel the way i did that night and i’m sorry for kissing cat. i know there’s no excuse so i won’t say any. you don’t have to forgive me but can we please go back to at least being best friends again? i’ll do anything to make it up to you till the end of time. i love you bee.” you stood there staring at her mannerisms for a moment. the seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours.

you felt so conflicted and confused, but at the end of the day you will always forgive her. besides being madly in love with her she’s your best friend and will always be your person. you didn’t say anything and stepped a little closer to her so you both were now completely face to face. you both stared at each other for a second longer until you took her face in your hands and smashed your lips against hers.

ellie was caught off guard, she almost blacked out she didn’t know what was going on until her body came back to reality and returned the kiss. you both were in a sort of trance together, the world was spinning around you but you both could care less. you both drowned out the claps and whistles coming from around you. it was just you two and you couldn’t want anything more.

you were the first to pull away and you smiled up at ellie.

“so you aren’t with anderson right…” you looked at her confused.

“why would you think that?” you laughed at her assumption.

“because you guys…”

“ellie she has a boyfriend.” her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp.

“she does?!”

“i know it’s a shocker-“

“you’re tellin me.” she scratched the back of her head before speaking again. “i meant every word i said, especially the i love you.”

“i know els i promise.” you smiled up at her once again and leaned in once more for another kiss. you ended the kiss with your foreheads together.

“move back in please?”

“as long as you get me dinner.”

“anything for you.”

…

oh my god !!! i’m so sorry for delaying this for so long i had just came back from a vacation today and was dealing with song things but i’m back i promise!! i had a love hate relationship with writing this and with how it came out but i hope you enjoy !! there’s only two more chapters !!!!!

@gold-dustwomxn

[monsteraddict1]

Chapter 6

Not me writing 3000 words…

  "Shit-!" Alejandro growled.

  "What is it?" Ghost asked with what could somewhat resemble worry.

  "Army." I answered but I don't think anyone heard me.

  "The Army." Alejandro responded much louder than I.

  "We got reinforcements." Soap said.

  "Negative. Cero-tres, ataca! Arréntate ahora!"

  I stood next to Soap and saw a picture of what looked to be a happy family.

  I hope they're okay. Away from all of this.

  I heard Rudy say something over the coms but wasn't paying much attention. I just watched as I saw trucks rolling in from the distance.

"What are we doin'?"

"Covering my men. once they clear, we fall back."

Soap and I mounted our guns on the same windowsill. I pushed the photo of the family out of the way. Ghost and Alejandro used the window to the left of us. we watched as men in riot shields started running closer.

"You want us to engage with the fuckin' Mexican army?!" Soap growled.

"No carnel, these troops are paid by cartel. They are helping the cartel hide Hassan." Alejandro educated the three of us. Ghost moved to my Right so yet again I was sandwiched between these men. "Hold your fire. we'll dig till my men are clear."

"multiple vehicles." Ghost informed. like we couldn't all see that. "Troop transport. Light-armor."

"Let them get close."

How about we don't do that! I yelled mentally.

I watched as the men got out of the trucks. Some with riot shields and the others behind the men with riot shields. Another group of men emerged from smoke. That's when we started to shoot.

"Weapons free!" Alejandro commanded.

"They're armored!" Soap growled and took a step back. Ghost and I kept shooting.

"Target the helmets! They are weak!" Alejandro clearly knew everything about the Mexican Army.

"They're using shields!" Ghost yelled over the gunfire.

"Use grenades!"

Soap already threw a few grenade and bodies and blood began to fly. I didn't have any on me. I didn't even really know how to use them. Not that I wanted to, that shit looked complicated.

"Comandante. Estamos claros!" Rudy informed through the coms.

I just stood there. Staring out the window at the bodies that lay below. Still shooting as more men came down.

"Entendido! Reúnete en la casa segura! Okay! My men are clear!"

"Then we need to move!" Soap shouted urgently.

"Fall back! This way!" Alejandro motioned behind us. Just as we tuned around a grenade was thrown in. Both Soap and I didn't get hurt but all the smoke and debris was in the air. We both began to cough. 

Soap pushed open the door and Alejandro jumped from the window. Then Soap, then me, and lastly Ghost.

We landed on a sheet of metal then we jumped down again onto the dirt. My eyes watering from the coughing. We began to walk swiftly down the mountain, rocks moving under my feet. 

"Army is right behind us!" Soap yelled but continued to cough. I turned around and Ghost was already knelt down ready to shoot.

"Entendido! En movimiento!" A man yelled over the coms but then I saw him run up behind us.

"Down the hill! We'll lose them in the mountains!" Alejandro instructed. "Fan out and stay close!"

"La antigua ruta?"

"Straight to the bridge."

We made it another five feet before the man was shot. A man on our team was shot. He immediately fell and I saw him smash into a bolder. He wasn't bleeding though.

I looked away as we continued to run.

"Rodriguez!" Alejandro yelled in pain.

"Army's on us!" Soap shouted. I turned my head and saw them coming down the mountain.

"Cover! Cover!"

"Get to cover and return fire!" Ghost instructs as he ran to a rock. I got behind the same one. I mounted my gun and began to shoot. "Don't shake so much private." He looked down at me. I didn't even know I was shaking. I took a deep breath to make a sad attempt of calming myself.

"Dónde te golpearon, hermano?"

"Placa trasera. Estoy bien." He sounded so calm. "Mierda! Sánchez is down!" He wasn't so calm anymore.

"Engaging!" Ghost shot a grenade. My eyes widened. I looked at him. "Grenade launcher." He huffed.

"I gathered that." I gave a small nod, looking back at the army. I started shooting again.

The bullets stopped and I saw Soap emerging from his rock. "Are we clear?"

"For now. We gotta move! Go!" And we began to run again.

"You know these trails?"

"Very well. But so does the army."

"We can't hold off an army. We need extraction." Ghost's voice was gruff as we walked down.

"Rodriguez. Call for extract."

"Sí, commander."

We continued down the steep cliff. Trees and rocks blocking the sun. I realized how tired I was.

Not exactly the best time to be jet lagged.

"Contact!" Ghost shouted and I turned around.

"All guns, hold here. Take cover." Alejandro commanded and we all hid behind more boulders. "Ghost, Soap, (Y/n)— Get behind the rocks!" He didn't have to tell us twice. We jumped behind another tan colored bolder. I looked over at Soap and Ghost. Their guns mounted on the rock. I did the same.

"We suppress by fire, then we advance." He spoke through the coms then I heard him yell. "Disparen! Light them up! Rodriguez. Get comms up!"

"Controla al victor uno. Solicite la extracción inmediata en el puente del río Soul. Cómo copiar. Control, copias?" I heard Rodriguez yell.

We continued shooting at the army. One by one they dropped dead.

"We clear?" Ghost asked. Soap popped his head fully over the rock. I stayed with my back pressed against the rock. I took a few deep breaths. We don't know how long this will take. The three of us not knowing how far we really are. 

"For now, they'll be more. Vamos." And with that we began to run again. "Any word from Rodolfo?" He asked Rodriguez.

"No- we lost comms."

"Puta... let's keep it moving. Through here." Alejandro jumped over a log and between the trees. We followed close behind. "The mountain's blocking comms."

"Your man get the call out?" Ghost asked.

"Let's hope so."

"What's the plan?" The Scot questioned the colonel.

"There's a bridge at the river. Extraction will be there."

"And if it isn't?" Ghost pressed.

"God help us." Alejandro muttered and my heart dropped.

The extraction team better fucking be here. I'm not dying like this.

We continued walking and an RPG landed right at my feet. I jumped back, my heart going a million miles a minute. I turned around and aimed my gun at the army.

"Contact! RPG!" Ghost announced.

"No shit." I whispered to myself.

"Army on the ridgeline!" Alejandro began to shoot. I ran behind a rock. After five minutes of shooting the bullets stopped flying past us. "We'll have to jump here." Alejandro turned as we looked down the cliff.

  No the fuck we don't.

  "Can we make that?" Soap asked the reasonable question.

  "Do or die brother."

  Die.

  Alejandro jumped down, then Soap, then Rodriguez. I froze when it was my turn.

  "Any day now, private." Ghost grumbled behind me.

  I wasn't always scared of heights. I actually used to pride myself on not being scared, but once I went cliff diving and ended up breaking my leg and foot. I never did it again. Never forgave my ex for that one. Never forgave him for a lot of things.

  "I can't." I whispered.

  "Oh for fucks sake." He pushed past me and jumped.

   "Lasswell wouldn't be to happy if we left you here!" Soap yelled from behind Ghost.

  I took a deep breath and looked up. I closed my eyes and took a step back. I ran forward and jumped. I closed my eyes as I braced for impact. As I landed I bent my knees And opened my eyes.

  "Holy shit." I muttered. Everyone continued running. I followed behind.

   "Pinche cabrones aren't far behind." Alejandro stated.

  "Where to, Alejandro?" Soap questioned quickly.

  "Soap push forward. Rodriguez, keep working the radio. Rest o' you watch for snipers."  I began looking around. Checking my back. Ghost let me go ahead of him and Soap ran up ahead.  "Use that ledge. There will be a way up the mountain. Rodriguez, any radio signal?"

  "Found it." I heard Soap call out. Then disappear behind a bush.

  "Escucha... you hear that?" Alejandro whispered.

  "Incoming heli..." Ghost grumbled.

  "Sí. Get into firing position. We'll take them by surprise." Alejandro climbed up the ledge of the mountain.

  "Which way to the bridge?"

  "Straight ahead. Past the helo." Soap climbed up. I made an attempt to climb but I was just barely tall enough to grab onto the ledge.

  "Fuck." I groaned under my breath.

  "Need help, private?" Soap looked down at me.

  "Please..." I looked up at him and he knelt down and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me up. "Thank you." I mumbled. My face heating up. Alejandro said something but I didn't hear. We began to stealthily move through the woods.

  "We'll have to go through them." Soap told Alejandro.

  I looked ahead and saw the helicopter. I watched as the colonel hid behind a tree and the Scottish Sargent hide behind a bolder. I went and hid behind Soap. A man came from in front of us and Soap shot him dead.

  "Weapons free!" Alejandro commanded. Suddenly there were a swarm of men. The helicopter must've dropped them off because then I saw it leave.

  "Secondaries!" Ghost called out. Though I could barely hear him as bullets wizzed past my ears.

"Clear!" Ghost and Rodriguez yelled at the same time.

"Up the hill! The bridge isn't far!" Alejandro motioned and we ran up the trail. "They may position shooters out here. Watch your backs." He instructed.

Soap and I ran next to each other while the others were up ahead.

"You alright, private?" Soap looked at me.

"I didn't participate in gym because it was too much for me." I grumbled. trying to make a joke out of the situation. 

"Well that's just sad." Soap laughed.

"I hated volleyball."

"You get hit a lot?"

"This kid purposely threw it at my head multiple times." I smiled at the memory.

"And that's funny?"

"Yeah cause my friend saw him do it and beat the shit out of him after school so he couldn't participate in soccer for the rest of the season." I explained. It was easy to talk to him one on one. "Sorry... football."

"Thank you for the correction." He mused.

"Top o' the hill, Sargent, private! We are moving!" The lieutenant yelled at us. I rolled my eyes and we picked up the pace.

"There's the bridge." Alejandro pointed down the massive cliff. Water at the bottom.

Shit.

The mountains were absolutely massive and if I wasn't worried about getting shot out I would've loved to take in their beauty.

"No visual on extraction." Soap looked around.

"Comms didn't get through." Rodriguez grumbled. "Hijo de puta."

"Well Radio when we're down there. This way." Alejandro continued to lead us. Soap ran up next to him as they stood at a ledge. Soap jumped down. I can only assume he fell by what Alejandro said. "Watch your footing there."

 

   "These cliffs are dangerous." Rodriguez added.  The rest of us jumped down. My heart racing at the hight.

  "You know your way." Ghost noted.

  "We used to cut school and play here." Alejandro explained. When I cut school me and Jackie would go to McDonalds and go to target. Maybe go to the river or beach. Not go cliff diving.

  "Until the cartels moved in?" Soap asked.

  "Exactly. The narcos changed everything."

  We began to walk sideways on the ledge. My hands were cold and clammy. I was shaking as I looked down. I quickly looked up. Telling myself it wasn't real. I was sandwiched between Rodriguez and Soap.

  A bullet wizzed past us and hit the cliff behind us. I jumped slightly and my breathing hitched before speeding up.

  "Sniper! Move!" The lieutenant yelled. Suddenly I was covered in blood. I looked to my left and saw Rodriguez fall from the ledge with a hole in his head.

  "Rodriguez!" Alejandro yelled with a painful emotion.

  "Oh my god.." I whispered. I wiped my eyes, ridding myself of his blood.

  Alejandro shot the sniper. "Sniper's down!"

  "Bloody good shot, mate!"

  The cliff thickened again and we were able to walk normally again. We could hear voices from behind us.

  "Army is trailing us." Soap announced.

  "We'll gain some ground!"

  "Move Sargent!" Ghost yelled. I was right behind him. Jumping from ledge to ledge. Suddenly there was no more cliff to go down. "You led us to a dead end, mate." Ghost glared at Alejandro.

  "We jump from here!" He fought back.  "Don't lose your weapon!" He instructed as he jumped. I took a step back. This was taller than the cliff I broke my leg on.

    Soap jumped next. No fear or hesitation. I was shaking more now than I was before.

  "Your turn, private." Ghost looked back at me.

  "I can't..."

  "What do you mean you can't?" He got up.

  "Don't push me!" I stepped away from him and he stopped walking towards me.

  "I'm not gonna push you."

   "I'm serious."

   "I can tell."

  I began walking to the ledge. And looked down. He got closer.

  "Any day now." He gruffed.

  "This is a mistake..." I whispered. I took a deep breath knowing there was no other way but before I could jump I felt him push me. "Fuck you!" I yelled before being submerged under water. Though this time the only pain was the sting from the water.

  I quickly swam up and took a breath of air. Coming up behind me was the bastard that pushed me.

  "You okay private?" There was a smirk under his mask. I was silently hoping he'd waterboard himself in it. I just turned away and began to swim. I was so angry I felt like if I looked at him I would drown him.

   "You good hermanos?"

  "Affirm."

  Speak for yourself. I groaned at the thought.

" Soap?" 

"Breathing." Soap huffed out. 

"Move down river to the bridge. Use the rocks for cover." we swam down the river, the water working against us. "All stations, this is Victor 0-1- How copy?"

A voice came over the coms. a man with a southern accent. "-dow 1! Do you--? -ay again, -o you're--?"

"Radio's picking up somethin'." Soap stated. we continued to swim.

"Sounds American." the brit grumbled.

The Mexican army started rolling in. they began to fire and the three of them fired back. I tried to get my breathing to steady and hold myself above water. i pride myself on being a good swimmer but with the current and the bullets I struggled to stay afloat.

"Here they come. Weapons free!" The colonel yelled. 

"Contact front! Use the rocks for cover!" we went under and swam up to a bolder.  the four of us shot back. A bullet grazed my right shoulder. 

"GAH! Fuck!" I yelled and used my left hand to apply pressure. moving my foot to get in a notch in the rock so the current didn't sweep me away. It didn't even hurt yet but I knew it was going to. it wasn't deep thanks to the clothes i was wearing but it got a few layers of skin. 

"Army reinforcements rolling in! Move up river! Go!" another truck came rolling in.

I could feel my shoulder throb. i looked down at it and it was only a graze but it was bleeding onto my uniform. 

"Enemy vehicles! Right bank!" Ghost began fire at the same time as we began to swim up stream. the bridge in the close distance. "The river's slowing us down, mate!"

"It gets shallow up ahead! Swim up! Keep moving!"

"Vehicles on the bridge!"

"They're not ours! Fuck-! It's the army!"

"Get to cover!"

"We have to hold here and get extraction."

"We can't do shite against that armor!" The sergeant yelled as we hid behind more rocks.

"This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!" The American voice came over the coms again. 

"Who the hell is that?" Alejandro questioned. 

"Commander Graves, Shadow Company. They're with us." Ghost answered. "Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7! Good shots! Fire for effect!" within seconds the bridge with the vehicles fell into the water.

"All stations, no enemy movement detected. You're clear. It's good to see you boys." I could here the smirk in Graves' voice. 

"Likewise, mate"

"This way!" Alejandro swam forward.

"Graves, we've located a vehicle for exfil."

"Roger that. Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two klicks north of your position." Graves informed us.

"That's cartel land. They have a compound there." Alejandro informed.

"Load in! Shadow-1, stand by..." Ghost spoke.

" Let's roll." Soap grumbled. we began to swim out of the river and made it to the armored car.

"You boys good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?" Graves asked and the three boys nodded to each other.

Soap spoke up. " Let's wrap this fucker up, Graves." 

Alejandro began to drive off.

"Solid copy. We are pushing to the target di-rectly. Shadow-1 out."

"You gonna bleed on me the whole time?" Ghost asked. I ignored him, in some twisted way i hoped my gash would go deeper just so my blood could completely ruin his clothes.

[sunnychuuya]

Sally face >:3

the cameras thar Addison installed have eyes on them on Larry's side mr Addison sus frrr /hj

me after looking up a tutorial and still being lost

How do I activate the runes on floor three raghhh

I DID KT

thank God for light bulbs existing I'm so much less scared rn

guys I don't like this ://

Sodas gonna be okay right ://

also where's uhhh I think her name is maple she's gone that's sus

HEYYY UHH SWITCHED TO LARRYS SIDE WHY ARE CHUG AND SODA ALL FADED

WAIT THAT MEANS THEIR NOT POSSED RIGHT ??

SO THEYLL BE FINE

RIGHT GYYS

oh 304 is just fucking gone on Larry's side

the mirror in Todd's bathroom where the red eyes demon appeared in chapter two is shattered

why dids Todd's parents toilet have the void

Why doesn't it let me access the full rooms I can't go into the bedrooms

I dislike that all kf the suspicious ppls houses r not able to be accessed (charley, packerton)

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE GOOP ITS POSSESION GOOP I KNOW IT

Nvm I gor into packertons place

Theres nothing here tho ??

What the florp

I got it to work at the last second bruh i suck at the guitar bits

Mm circles

all the mirrors are shattered actually

did Mrs Gibson die 💀

I'm pretending to understand what's happening

FUCK THE GUITAR BITS R SO HARS

I'm definitely missing stuff :/

-GUYS NO FUCKING WAY WAS I RIGHT ABOUT ADDISONCBEING SUS ??

Addison: a young boy stands at the threshold of oblivion

Unkoen green voice: MEXMERIZED BY THE ETERNAL ABYSS

-Ph what the fyck this is creepy

-UHHHHH

SO MR ADDISON IS SUS

"SO how long have you been like this"

*slowly slides away*

what the fuck

Litterally nothing could've prepared me for this

This reminds me of fullmetal alchemist bro

Goop

ADDISON IS THE POSSESSY DUDE I thought it was The red eyed demon is the red eyed demon possibly an extension?

Im

Having trouble processing this I seriously thought Mr Addison was not actually gonna be sus.

NO WHAT THE HELL

I HATE THIS GAME

DUDE I CAN BARELY DO THE FUCKING PILLAR THINGIES

FUCK SHIT BALLS ASS

I paused the game and forgot I was doing this lmao

THIS IS SI HARD

t h e r e s m o r e

Bruh I'm gonna larry

I did IT

hey guys wtf

MURDER EVERYONE IN THE APARTMENRS ??

OKAY BUT NOT SODA AND CHUG RIGJT CUZ THEY DONT HAVE THE POSSESY GOOP

"I don't think I can do this. Please don't make me do this terrence" guys what if I just delete the game

Omori core (white room with knife)

This isn't girlypop guys

"Goal: kill"

what if I'm crying

I HAVE TO KILL TODDS PAEENRS

I HAVE TO KILL MY DAD AND LISA

NO

Why do I feel so fuckijg guilty it's a video game

SAL NO CHUG AND SODA ARE INNOCENT THEY ARWNT POSSESED

The lack of music

Like complete silence except for footsteps

Makes this so much more painful

Killing soda is what opened the floodgates of tearss

"Youknow, I may not say this enough, but I'm proud of you, sal. You've come a long eay and I know it hasn't all been easy." Fuck. This hurts.

If Larry hadn't kms lsal would've had to kill him..

"I look at you now and I'm excited about the man you arebecoming. K think youve for a bright future ahead of yoj. I reallt do"

Haha funny joke I'm sobbing hea about to fucking kill you and then (prolly) get excuted. I hate this game.

Ih fuck not Todd

ASH I FUCKING WISH YOU WERE IN THOSE APARTMENTS YOU ARE THE FUCKING WORST I HATE YOJ

ENON DIED

FUCKING HELL

ThIS IS BECAUSE THE CULT RIGHT

TBATS A FAKE

SHIT

SHIT SHIT SHIT

FUCK

The music fading out

Fuck

ASH IDC UR STILL FUCKIJG WRONG

Wair no but I know her idea won't work bc like ik sal dies

Do NIT play memories and dreams rn

ASH NO SHUT THE FUCK UP- AHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOWBTHIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU HAD THREE YEARS YOU WAITED TILL THE LAST FUCKING SECOND

hey guys what the fuck

What the genuine fuck

Like okay I knew he died from before I started the game but

This still kinda hurts ngl

Fuck

Why couldn't they just like

Be happy

STOP ISBTHAT WHY I KEEP SEEING FANARTS WITH CLOCKS THAT SAY 6 33/18 33 ON CLOCKS YALL ARW DEVIOUS

Acheivment: suffer

Re you fuckin kidding me I mean I am suffering but God damn

Wait yea that's a good point wtf happened to Larry's body

Ash jm going to allow you go try to redeem herself but it's gonna be hard

NKO U HAVE TO PLAY AS HER :(

Travis is the cult member on the inside yea?

-"Oh gizmo is still alive, thats good at least!" [He hadn't left your room since the execution. It's like he knows] guys what the fuck

maple..

Pookies j do not remember the shed code

travis is still alive at least..

YALL I JUST REALIZED THE LIL PUZZLR BOX THING FROM THE TREE HOUSE A LONG TIME AGO ?? NEVER EXPLAIJED

great fucking job ash now Larry's gone bc of you too (actuslly I don't blame her for this one bc Larry wanted it yk)

girly just casually has a c4

Went into the temple

2nite wasn't great updates since I was just talkin eith the below user lmao

@mypinterestgotbannedsoimherenow

[thatpunkmaximoff]

Story: 5 out of 5 Smut: 4 out of 5

So originally, I was gonna rate this four stars, but after a few chapters I was fully invested. A “why choose”, fake dating, friends to lovers? Yeah, I knew this was gonna be a rollercoaster. And boy, I was NOT disappointed.

There’s the ex-rugby player who says the infamous “don’t fall in love with me” line, the sweet “boy next door” who’s secretly been in love with her for YEARS, and then the ex-teacher who’s ten years older than her. It shouldn’t work and for a few chapters everyone’s worst fears come to pass, but this foursome pulls themselves together to talk everything out.

Faking with Benefits is filled with humor, spice, and DRAMA! Seriously, don’t let the cover fool you. The spice is.. well, you’ll see.

* Wow. I totally don’t blame Layla’s date for bailing. lol. Too strong, girl. Too strong for a first date.

* Hottie Zach to the rescue 😍

* Zach and his pet names are kinda swoon-worthy, ngl.

* Lol she’s drunk and hitting on her old teacher. Nice.

* Oohhh. I was wondering why “sweet” Josh seemed kind of dick-ish to Layla when she drunkenly stated she’d pay them for relationship advice. He loves her.

* Aww. Luke doesn’t wanna fake date his ex-student. I like that he has boundaries, but I’m excited for those to vanish. He should totally take Layla on as his date to the wedding his ex keeps inviting him to 😂

* Goddamn. She’s so bad at dating 😬

* Oh la la. Layla’s got a sharing kink 😏

* Those kisses… 🥵 wtf haha. 6/10.

* Luke is starting to hurt MY feelings lol.

* Oh wow. Josh really went in while Zack and Layla were kissing. He found her weakness and totally doesn’t know 😂

* Oohhh. She bold now. She wants both of them to fuck her for practice 👀 Luke is gonna fly off the fuckin handle if he walks out and sees them.

* Goddamn. Josh CAN EAT 🤭

* And Zack… that dude really took her to pound town. Along with Josh. Those two would ruin me.

* Oh no. Finding out Zack had an ex who died when they were eighteen is so sad 😭

* C’mon, Luke. Just make a move, for fuck’s sake!

* Ugh. Luke and Layla’s outing was going so good! And then Donny, an ex-something, had to go and ruin it. Fuck that dude.

* I want Josh and Layla together so bad! And with Zack and Luke, but Josh! Oh my goodness.

* Luke finally snapped! Thank god haha.

* Goddamn. Luke is very… dominant. I did not expect this 😏

* “Okay, babe. I don’t know how strong the human head is, and I don’t think it matters. There’s no weight capacity. Just sit on his face, and if he dies, he dies.” // “Damn straight. Bury him alive. Lucky guy.”

* Ayyyy. She’s at the ex-wife’s wedding with the ex-husband. Be petty!!

* She has to move to America if everything with this collaboration works out? 😬 None of the boys are happy. They all caught feelings but no one wants to fess up.

* Fuckkkk. She leaves in a week. Just reluctantly says they’ll end their experiment before she has to leave and Zack is not happy. The one who didn’t want her to fall in love with him doesn’t want her to leave. Damn.

* Goddammit, Zack.

* Well this wedding reception is an absolute shit show. Josh desperately wants to tell Layla he loves her, Zack is intending to break things off, and Luke’s es-wife is telling him that Layla is a whore. wtf.

* Wow. Luke and Zack fucked up. Poor Josh. How’s that gonna go for him?

* The fucking drama. I can’t. My heart hurts.

* Well I’m happy they came to their senses, but fuck. Zack and Luke were kind of harsh. Zack especially. I don’t want her to give in and forgive, but I know she will.

* Oh wow. She lost the collaboration with the designer in New York because of the podcast. This sucks.

* So after crying and groveling, all is well!

* And now she’s taking them has her dates to the high school reunion. Oh fuck 😂

* Damn. Drama at the high school reunion. I totally saw that coming.

* Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. They GOT MARRIED!