#even though i do get it and i do get angry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xoxojisu · 3 days ago

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"DON'T STOP LOVING ME."

synopsis: things were always easy between you and katsuki. until suddenly, they weren't. (aka you pull back and katsuki notices and hates it)

notes: ALWAYS w the unofficialbf!katsuki agenda. wc ~5k. childhood bffs bc duh. barely proofread sorry

ever since you were three years old with your scraped knees and sticky fingers to now, where teenage life could not be more confusing, there has always been one, unwavering, constant fact.

you're absolutely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with bakugo katsuki.

and you've never been afraid to show it! backhugs, tackling him to the floor, jumping on top of him and climbing him like a jungle gym, telling him you love him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. (it is)

he always scoffs and grumbles, but you'd never take it personally, because when he tells you to get off, he pulls you close. when he complains that you're annoying when you're sick, he brings you soup and medicine and cuddles you to sleep. when he blushes and tells you he hates you, his eyes tell a different story.

so what if he doesn't express it the same way you do? everyone has different ways of showing they care. even if he doesn't say it much, you know katsuki loves you.

right?

it was late when you accidentally overheard it. when you froze up and felt your heart drop to the floor. when you started shaking and sweating, eyes darting around for a trash can in case you threw up.

"bakugo, bro, when are you and y/n gonna make it official?" kirishima had teased, throwing an arm around katsuki.

katsuki scoffed and shoved him off. "tch. it's not like that."

"you suuure?" sero questioned. "you two seem awfully close for just friends."

"mannn, if i was bakugo, i'd be all over that. y/n is such a pretty girl!" kaminari chimed in, clearly jealous over his lack of love life.

the teasing continued. you couldn't see him from your angle, but you knew that katsuki definitely had a vein on his forehead that was getting larger by the second.

"you're always carrying her bag, walking her to class.."

"cuddling with her during movie nights, scratching her back.."

"oh! and don't forget how she never forgets to tell him she loooves him whenever they say goodbye!"

"c'mon, bakubro, just spit it out! you two are practically married already!"

the three laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the rise they were getting out of katsuki.

"all of you, shut the hell up!"

"just admit it. you're in love."

he gritted his teeth.

"i'm not in love." he grimaced, venomous anger bubbling to the surface.

"she's just there all the fucking time! always fucking doing girlfriend-y shit when she knows damn well she's not! always clinging and trying to cuddle and all that stupid sappy shit. she's just an annoying fuckin' habit ive learned to tolerate." he spat.

you froze.

what?

was he serious? like, really, truly, deadass serious? you knew he wasn't exactly the super affectionate type, but even still! you thought he really cared about you! clingy? annoying? tolerated?

your head spun as you broke out into a cold sweat. you could've sworn that that wasn't true. you and katsuki have been friends forever. surely he wouldve gotten rid of you by now if he hated you that much, right? and he cuddles you! and hangs out with you! he takes care of you when you're sick! there's just no way, right? he's just angry because he's being teased, right?

..right?

"damn, dude, that's pretty harsh," sero snickered. "you always take care of her, though, no?"

you held your breath.

"tch. doesn't fuckin' mean shit. just gotten used to her because she's been around so long."

your stomach dropped to the basement. he tolerated you. he thought of you as nothing more than an annoying habit.

insecurity pooled inside of you. now that you think about it, was he really cuddling you, or just not bothering to move you off when you laid on him? maybe he just thought you were too much of a hassle to get rid of when you came to hangout, so he just let you stay even thought he didn't want to. when he brought you medicine and stuff, maybe your sickness made you delirious and made you think he was being more affectionate and caring than he really was.

you felt nauseated. you recall all the times you threw a quick "i love you!" over your shoulder or while you clung to him. had he ever once said it back? ever? the room started spinning as you realized you couldn't think of a single time. he'd always deflected. gave you a classic "tch." rolled his eyes. messed up your hair. you dont think you'd ever even heard the word "love" from his lips.

had you just been deluding yourself all this time?

you couldn't take it anymore. sweating, you sprinted out before you could be spotted.

it's been two days since you overheard that conversation, and you'd been avoiding katsuki ever since. or rather, not quite avoiding completely, but there was an undeniable shift in your behavior. you stopped trying to cuddle with him. you stopped showing up to his dorm room to hangout. you especially stopped saying "i love you," even though it killed you every time.

katsuki hadn't shown much of a reaction to your change in behavior. he'd raise an eyebrow when your usual daily hugs disappeared or ask a gruff, "where were you?" when you didn't show up to your unofficial but completely established after school hangouts, but he had otherwise put up no protest.

you didn't know whether to be relieved or heartbroken.

on one hand, katsuki's kind of scary when he's confrontational. also, you don't know how you would be able to talk to him. "i overheard a conversation where you said you hate me but im madly in love with you and want to marry you and have your kids?" yeah right. you were sort of glad to be getting off easy.

but on the other hand, you were devastated. his apathy served as further confirmation that he meant every word he said. he really didn't mind that you were pulling back, and seemed perfectly content not being nearly as close as before.

you really had been deluding yourself. secretly, you had been hoping that he was just saying stuff in the heat of the moment and would actually be upset if you pulled back. because that would mean he cared. but he didn't give two shits about you. you really were just some stupid childhood habit he'd learned to tolerate.

you became less energetic as a person. not just with katsuki, but simply in general. your days seemed unbearably longer and darker without him. you had a hard time engaging and staying in the present, your mind wandering to katsuki again and again. it was pathetic, really. you two had never even dated. why were you so hung up about it? you two were just friends, and in fact, it seemed like he never even liked you in the first place. you were just stupidly hopeful and naive.

katsuki was dying.

two days. it had been two fucking days since you'd touched him or even just been remotely affectionate with him and he was going crazy. hell, he'd give the whole damn world even for just a smile at this point. he was desperate.

he didnt understand why you were being like this. it was like everything he knew about you had shifted, and he was just standing there, waiting for some kind of sign or something like an idiot.

katsuki had noticed the shift in your behavior immediately. of course he did. he knows you better than he knows himself, after all. at first, he thought you were just playing some dumb game or pulling some stunt to get his attention, but that wasn’t it. you waved instead of hugging. said a simple "bye" instead of "love you, bye bye!" it's not like you were completely avoiding him. you still talked. you still laughed. only now, it didn't quite reach your eyes.

and it was fucking killing him.

he hated that you were pulling back. he hated how off everything felt. he hated how fucking empty his dorm room felt when you weren't there to pester him. but most of all, he hated how he couldn’t even figure out what he'd done wrong. he couldn't think of any fights or reasons to be angry, but if that wasn't it, what was it? why were you suddenly just.. leaving?

he wanted to confront you. he wanted to pull you aside and demand to know where the fuck you went. but for the first time in his entire life, he didn't know how. because this wasn't like confronting stupid deku about his new powers. it wasn't about asking icyhot what his fuckin' deal was. it was you. his whole fucking world, even if he never said it out loud. he was nothing short of terrified to ask, because he feared it would drive you away even further, and he couldn't think of any alternate universe where he'd be able to handle that.

he found himself looking for excuses to be near you, to talk to you, to just be around you in any way possible. the last two days had been a torture of silence, of missed chances to sit next to you or casually reach out and tug you into his space like he used to. the times when he’d shove his arm around your shoulders or playfully mess with your hair, it had all stopped. he didn't feel like he could anymore. like he'd somehow lost the privilege. and now, all he was left with was this gnawing feeling in his gut that something was horribly wrong.

he had finally worked up the courage and tried asking you once, but you had shut him down with that all-too-familiar "nothing, just tired" bullshit and that damn closed-off look on your face that made him feel completely hollowed out.

he was desperate. he needed to feel you. needed to hear your bright laughter and see your stupid smile. it was so fucking stupid and sappy and so unlike him, but he couldn't even bring himself to care about that. he needed to cuddle with you until you fell asleep. have you curl up on his chest and get swallowed up by his much larger frame and watch you as your breathing quickly evened out from his touch. you could never stay awake long when cuddling with him. he found himself smiling at the thought.

he scowled. this is so fucking stupid. he thought to himself.

it all came to a bubbling point for him on friday. 5 whole days of "hi's" and a half-smile instead of "KATSUKIIIII's," and a running hug. he was losing his fucking mind.

usually, you convinced him to join the weekly 1a movie night by taking his hand and dragging him out of his room. he'd grumble about it, but he'd never refuse. he'd sit on the corner of the couch and you'd sit close to him before gradually inching closer, the night ending with you two cuddling. now, he willingly trudges to movie night of his own free will and sits in the same corner of the couch, but this time alone.

the room buzzed with quiet chatter and the flicker of the TV as the opening credits rolled and iida turned the lights off. it was some dumb romcom movie katsuki couldn't bring himself to care about in the slightest. you would definitely like it, though. kirishima passed around popcorn, sero argued with kaminari over which movie was the best, deku was doing his stupid nerd rambling as todoroki and hagakure gawked at him. and you? you sat on the other end of the couch.

not just away, but away from him.

the usual spot right beside katsuki, practically in his lap, head on his shoulder, knees draped over his thighs sat empty. you sat next to mina instead, curling into the armrest and pulling your legs up to your chest. you offered sweet smiles to everyone, laughed when something was funny, made conversation when prompted. but katsuki saw it. he saw you.

and he saw that you weren’t you.

he stared.

throughout the entire first half of the movie, he barely processed a single second of it. he kept looking over, waiting for you to glance at him, to shift closer, to give him a sign, anything, but you stayed curled in on yourself, legs angled away from him. he hated it. he hated how you looked like you were trying to make yourself smaller. like you were trying to disappear.

katsuki’s heart thundered. his leg bounced impatiently. his jaw was tight. he couldn’t take this shit anymore.

he stood up abruptly, catching your attention. he stalked straight over to you, jaw clenched and shoulders tense. he hovered over you, looking down and saying nothing.

you blinked up at him. "...what?"

his eyes were sharp and unreadable to most. but to you, who knew him better than he knew himself, you could see the anxiety and desperation swimming in his eyes.

no, no, no. remember, don't delude yourself. he doesn't like you, not even as a friend.

"are you okay..?"

"no." he snapped, his tone making you flinch. he softened at your reaction. "i just.. you've been.." he started, but his tone cracked, eyes flashing, and something in him snapped. "fuckin’ hell, just—"

he reached down and grabbed you.

gently, but with zero room for argument. strong arms slid under your knees and behind your back like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you barely had time to yelp before he was sitting down again, with you in his lap, pulled tight into his chest like you were his lifeline. (you are)

you froze, wide-eyed and stiff, but he just held you. his arms locked around you. he didn’t look at anyone else, didn’t give a shit about the stares or the knowing grins. he buried his face in your shoulder, muttering low and rough into your neck.

"i don't know what the fuck i did," he said. "but you don't get to just... take all that away. not from me."

you blinked, suddenly breathless.

he held you tighter. his voice cracked again, this time softer. "whatever i did, 'm sorry. i'll make it up t'ya, i swear. but don't just.." his voice trailed off. "dont stop loving me." he wanted to scream.

you felt your heart stutter, but you didn't say anything.

not at first, anyway.

because what is there to say when your heart is lodged in your throat and your body is caged in the arms of the person you swore you were going to get over?

you just sat there, crumpled in his lap like some lost puppy that finally found its way home again. your face is pressed into his shoulder, and you think if you speak, you’ll cry. so you don't. you just let yourself relax and melt into him.

he doesn’t say anything else either. his grip doesn’t loosen, not even a little. his fingers press into your back, not hard, just steady. grounding. enough to keep you pressed firmly against him. like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real.

the room’s still noisy with all the side conversations, but it's all background noise now with you two just in your little bubble away from the rest of the world. you feel safe and like you’re about to fall apart at the same time.

you shift a little in his lap and glance up at him.

“…you didn’t have to drag me across the room, you know,” you finally mutter, voice hoarse.

he scoffs, eyes flicking down to meet yours. “yeah, well. you weren’t comin’ on your own.”

you wrinkle your nose at him. “you could’ve asked.”

“whatever." he grumbles. "this is more efficient."

you snort. "the hell?"

he shrugs, completely unapologetic. “worked, didn’t it?”

you don’t answer. because yeah. it did.

instead, you rest your head back on his chest, and he immediately shifts to accommodate you. your legs drape over the couch, his arm hooked under your knees to keep you anchored, and his other hand settled at the base of your spine. he starts tracing slow, absentminded circles there, hand slipped under your hoodie to rub at the bare skin like nothing had ever changed. like you hadn’t just gone five whole days without touching him. like you hadn’t spent those five days trying to unravel every version of reality where he didn’t love you back.

you sit like that for a long time.

finally, he speaks up, his voice low.

"what did i do?" he asked, his voice oddly shy. "why'd ya stop.. you know..?"

your breath hitches. because you do know. but you don't know what to say or how to say it. "i thought you completely hated me" doesn't quite seem like an appropriate response.

"nothing," you settle with.

he gives you a look.

you sigh. you never could lie to katsuki. he's known you for too long and too well to fall for them.

"i just.. got insecure. overheard some conversation where you said i was, um, clingy and annoying." you murmur, your voice small. if katsuki wasn't pressed up against you and hanging on to your every word, he wouldn't have been able to catch it.

but he did.

and you swore you saw complete heartbreak in his eyes.

you let out a small gasp of surprise when he pulls you flush against him, arms tight around your body and face nuzzled deep into your neck. he holds you with such a gentle intensity you think you might cry. he holds you in a way that makes you feel loved and safe.

"'m sorry." he mumbles into your neck, voice watery. "didn't mean it. i was just.. mad that they were makin' fun of me. none of it was true. at all."

your breath hitches.

"you're.. so fuckin' special to me. i mean it. these last few days without you have been hell."

you think you might cry.

"been missin' your fuckin' smile and your damn laugh. and your stupid hugs that make me almost topple over."

you hold back a giggle.

"i love you."

the world stills.

you don’t move.

you don’t speak.

hell, you're scared to breathe.

your heart is beating so loud you’re worried he might hear it. your face is burning, your lungs feel tight, and your throat’s a warzone of words you can’t quite say.

he said it.

and now he’s quiet. breathing you in. arms wrapped around you like you’re something precious. like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

you pull back just enough to look at him. your hand comes up to brush his bangs from his eyes, and your fingers linger at his temple, trailing down his cheek like you’re memorizing him.

his expression is soft in a way you rarely get to see. wide-eyed. hopeful. a little scared.

you offer him a tiny, quiet smile.

no teasing.

no trying to be brave or play it all off.

just soft. honest. the kind that only he gets to see.

you lift your hand and touch his face. not dramatic, not shaky, just steady. fingers brushing along his cheekbone, thumb ghosting over the edge of his jaw like you’re memorizing the shape of him again.

his eyes close for a second and you swear you see him leaning into it a little.

you say nothing.

you don’t need to.

because you’re here. because he’s holding you. because you’re not pulling away, and he's pulling you in.

you nuzzle your face into his neck, like it's right where you belong, and you breathe in.

he breathes in too.

slow. like the world’s stopped spinning for a second just so you can exist like this, tangled up in each other without saying anything. no talking about what's going on, no complications, just.. being.

you both don't notice how mina and kirishima are gossiping wildly about how you two are practically married and wondering how you still claim not to be dating. you don't notice the way that ochaco squeals after glancing over at your position, and you don't notice the way izuku looks fondly at you two with soft eyes. (he's been shipping the two of you since childhood)

you and katsuki are the only two people in the world who matter.

"i love you," you whisper as you feel yourself dozing off.

you think you feel his lips press gently against your forehead.

"i love you too."

masterlist

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adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction · 2 days ago

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I read a book called The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair for a book club once. As I was reading, I made notes of things about the book to discuss at the book club in a notebook and this turned into several pages just bullet-pointing all the stuff I hated about the book. It was awful.

Terrible premise made worse by terrible writing.

The characters were either horrible people I didn't want to spend pages reading about or 1 dimensional stereotypes or both.

The "love affair" between a man in his thirties and a teenage girl was constantly presented as though we, the audience, were expected to believe that it was actually love and not predation - and if it was real, the narrative gave absolutely no reason for the teenager to even like the guy let alone do everything she did for him. He treated her awfully and she waited on him hand and foot - and this was presented as though it was "true love".

The writing quality was atrocious and the dialogue painful.

There was nonsense about a writer being so famous he was recognised on the street for one book and being invited to all the glamorous parties because of his fame as an author (as an author, let me say, hah!).

Then we get to the twists, which were so absurd and only surprisingly because they were pulled out of the author's ass. They made no sense and were sometimes offensive and insulting.

There's a plot point about this teenage girl being forced to pose nude for painting, something which is portrayed as deeply upsetting to her, and it's dismissed by the characters and the narrative as a whole as fine because the artist "never touched her".

At one point, a gay character compares homosexuality to pedophilia. Um. You what?

I've probably forgotten half of the problems I had with it because it was almost a decade ago that I read it. I spent the first half of the book bored and the second half of the book increasingly annoyed or angry with the text.

And yet it is rated 4.2 stars on Goodreads currently, with about 100k 5 star ratings, and it won a bunch of prizes. People can have different tastes and opinions but my reaction to all the people who rated this 5 stars is, "Please read other books. If you think this is great, you're in for a delightful shock when you read any other book."

I love all books but sometimes you read a book and you’re like so were all 21 thousand of you blindfolded and at gun point when you rated it 5 stars

#rant #one of the worst books I've ever read

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farfromharry · 2 days ago

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back together and it feels so good

Summary: You and Lando broke up because of his gruelling schedule, but at a friend’s birthday one night the two of you are brought together again and feelings are spilled. Were you always meant to be together?

w/c 3026

Lando Norris x Reader

a/n clearly i cant write small blurbs anymore lol, reblogs are everything <3

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Your breakup with Lando was mutual… sorta. Clashing schedules meant you rarely got time to be together and too many rumours surrounding him were making you paranoid. Lonely and fearful were no way to be in a relationship. So you ended things and promised to stay friends. He understood. His lifestyle was… different than most. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him all the time. It wasn’t fair. There was no bad blood. There was certainly awkward tension though.

You were in the same friend group, so it was no surprise when you had to see each other all the time. The last thing you expected was to still feel that flutter in your chest when you saw him.

Max’s birthday party was the next event coming up and you were dreading it. He had the whole thing planned out. A fancy dinner with the group of you, followed by a night out at one of London’s most prestigious clubs. You didn’t think you, alcohol and a confined space were going to mix well with the ex you were trying to get over.

Obviously you still loved Lando, you were reminded of that every time you saw his face or someone mentioned his name. He was Lando, he was hard not to love. How were you ever supposed to get over him if all you did was spend time with him?

So, your plan was to try and get out of going to Max’s party. It was a shitty thing to do as a friend and he would probably see through you right away, but it was worth a try.

You tried to play the sick card. The morning of the party you called him, preparing yourself to perform the best acting of your life.

He picked up on the 3rd ring. “Hello?”

You sniffled. “Max, hi. Look, bad news.” Cough. Cough. “I’m really ill, I don’t think I’m going to be able to come tonight.”

There was silence on the other end. For a minute you thought he’d hung up on you. You even pulled your phone away from your ear just to check the call was still connected. When you saw his name still staring at you from the screen, your brow furrowed.

“Max?”

He scoffed. “That’s bullshit. You have to get over this fear of seeing him, Y/N. You’re both acting like children.” He was sick and tired of dealing with both of you. Lando was exactly the same, making excuses to try and get out of any event that would include seeing you. He needed you both to get over whatever this was and realise you were hopelessly in love with each other. Being just friends was never going to work. “You were friends before, you can be friends after. Stop being so selfish.”

It was like a slap to the face. You couldn’t be angry that he was talking to you like this because he was right. You sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. So you’re gonna be there?”

“I’ll be there.”

As soon as the call was over she tossed her phone onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. Tonight was going to be painful. It was mid-scream that Max’s words echoed in her head. You’re both acting like children. Had he already spoken to Lando? Was he saying the same thing? The idea that he might be avoiding you hurt your feelings, even if technically you were doing the same thing. God your love life was so fucked up.

Your heart was in your throat walking into the restaurant. You hoped he hadn’t arrived yet so you could have some liquid courage before he got here.

A table full of your friends was easy to spot, especially considering all the balloons decorating the table, probably there just to embarrass Max.

To your joy, the table was Lando-less for now.

Max grinned at the sight of you. You gave him a quick hug and handed off his present, nothing special. “Glad you could make it.” There was a teasing tone to his voice that made you swat his arm when you stepped back.

“Shut up.”

After saying your hellos to all your other friends that had arrived, you took a seat at the opposite side of the table to the birthday boy. And when the waiter came around you ordered the biggest glass of wine they had. Hopefully by the time your ex arrived you’d be tipsy enough to stand it.

When Lando entered, albeit late like normal, your friends cheered, shouting out things relating to his terrible timekeeping. He rolled his eyes, waving them off and moving to say hello to the birthday boy, offering up his gift also. The two hugged and then the younger man scanned the table for an empty chair. Unfortunately for you, it just so happened to be next to you.

You froze, body tensing and eyes darting to Max as if silently asking if this was his doing. He expertly avoided your gaze but the smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Clearly Lando was having the same reaction. He had no idea how he was supposed to spend the entire dinner sitting by your side without making a fool of himself.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, pulling out the chair and taking the seat with a greeting nod to you. “How have you been, Y/N?” That was probably the first time he’d actually spoken your name in months. He liked to avoid the topic of you wherever possible.

You smiled. “Good. You?”

“Yeah, good.”

Things went silent after that. Awkward. Everyone else around you was already stuck in conversation with someone, probably another one of Max’s doings. So your options were to sit in silence or make uncomfortable conversation with your ex. Weirdly, you chose the latter.

“How’s racing going?” You didn’t need him to tell you. You had watched every race since you broke up, like you always did, but you wouldn’t admit that. It was you who broke up with him, because of racing, you couldn’t let him know that you still took an interest in him.

He frowned, but quickly tried to cover it up with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay. Won the first race of the season, doing pretty well.”

“That’s really good.”

Conversation used to flow so easily between you and now everything you said was a dead end. You hated it. It was strange how you can go from being so compatible with someone to not even knowing what to talk about in such a short amount of time. This was your fault. You had messed this whole thing up with him. And sitting here now, you regretted it.

Then the drinks started flowing.

Turns out all it took was a bit of alcohol and you and Lando were back to your old ways. The stories were nostalgic and the inside jokes came back naturally. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Why had you ever given this up?

You were so lost in your giggling with him that you didn’t notice your friends packing up with plans to head to the club next.

“You lovebirds coming?” Max teased.

Lando gave him a middle finger and you simply rolled your eyes. At any other time his comment would have made you angry, but right now you were too joyous (from the alcohol) to care about what he was saying. “We’re coming.”

At some point in the club his hand settled on your lower back, just how it used to, and didn’t move for the rest of the night. He wanted you close, to be touching you. When might he ever get this chance again? He spent the whole night glued to your side.

Around 2am you were officially ready to tap out for the night. Drunk, happy and practically overheating, you decided you were ready for bed.

Rather than calling an Uber you made a beeline for Lando, like you used to. He had been on water for a while, a warning from his trainer when he’d mentioned his best friend’s birthday; don’t get too drunk, was the advice he’d been given. The last thing he wanted was a punishment in the form of extra training, so he would respect Jon’s wishes.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when you were close enough. Logically he should have pushed you away. You weren’t together and you were drunk, he was basically taking advantage. But having your arms around him again felt so nice. He had been longing for it ever since the day you broke up. And you were smiling at him, the kind of smile that made his heart race.

“You having fun?” he asked, smiling right back at you as his hands moved to settle on your waist.

He barely heard you hum, but you did. “Tired. Will you take me home?”

There was no way he would have ever been able to resist the puppy eyes you aimed his way. For a second he could have convinced himself that the 2 of you were still together. It was just like old times.

“Of course.”

In your drunken state you had forgotten to consider that he might have wanted to stay longer, that you were ending his night prematurely. But he hadn’t even hesitated. He didn’t think about himself once.

It was only in the car, with you drunkenly mumbling at his side, that he started to think this might have been a bad idea. He was so in love with you and he was somehow supposed to keep that to himself.

You should have known it was a bad idea letting him take you home, but by that point you’d had far too much to drink to care. You wanted someone comfortable to be with you and that’s exactly what he was. Of course being in a confined space with him was going to bring up feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

You found yourself watching him as he drove, something you used to do a lot when you were together. He was handsome like that, pretty. You couldn’t help admiring him.

He had 4 buttons undone on his shirt and the skin looked enticing. His arms were straining the material and his jaw was clenched, probably to keep himself from saying anything stupid in your presence. It was taking everything in him not to make a love confession right now. With the way you looked tonight, the way you tossed your head back when you laughed, how you swayed to the music in the club, he was surprised he hadn’t done it already.

When he parked the car outside your flat it felt all too soon. This was the most time you had spent together one on one in months, even if you were sitting in silence. You didn’t want it to end yet.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?”

He didn’t look at you, he knew if he did there was no way he would be able to say no. He was trying to find the words to say no, but he didn’t want to.

So he didn’t say anything. He switched off the car, silently giving you the answer you craved so much. You smiled.

The pair of you made the walk up to your apartment like you’d done a thousand times. He couldn’t have possibly forgotten the way, it was basically ingrained in his brain. He used to stay here more than his own flat when he was back in London. He always claimed it was more homey— really he just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before he had to get back to work.

It wasn’t necessary to ask him what he wanted to drink. You already knew.

You poured yourself and him a drink and then set them on the coffee table wordlessly. For a second you hesitated before sitting down. How close was too close? You didn’t want to get in his space or overstep any unspoken boundaries, but where else were you supposed to go?

“You can sit, Y/N. I’m not gonna bite.”

Your face burned. You were being silly. It was just Lando, the same one you had always known.

Sitting next to him in such close proximity, in a quieter environment just sent your brain haywire. It was barely even a conscious decision to launch yourself into his lap and lock your lips with his.

He was caught off guard but he did briefly kiss you back. Until he realised it was breaking his heart to do it. He pulled back, dropping his head. “We should talk about this,” he sighed. He didn’t want to push you away, but he also wasn’t willing to get his heart broken again. He didn’t have it in him to just be here when you wanted him, he needed you to want him all the time. If he couldn’t have you back 100% then he didn’t want you back. He was doing it to save his own feelings.

The look on your face was one of complete rejection. It made his chest ache. But it had to be done. You cleared your throat, awkwardly climbing out of his lap and sitting beside him again.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

The dark haired man sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just… I can’t stop loving you,” he confessed, his voice wavering like he was just a breath away from breaking down. “I’m hung up on you, Y/N, and I can’t let you play around with my feelings because you’re drunk and bored.”

The implication that you may be playing with his feelings stung. You hadn’t meant to intentionally hurt him, not tonight anyway. “I’m not.”

He frowned. “You might not think you are, but-“ He ran his hands over his face in exasperation. This wasn’t a conversation either of you should be having when it was late and you were intoxicated. “What happens after tonight? Do we go back to avoiding each other at social gatherings, or keep having awkward conversations once every 3 months that we both want to escape from?”

It was true. He was making all fair points. All things you hadn’t thought about. “I didn’t mean to.” Your voice was so small and you were practically folding in on yourself to make your stature smaller too. “I just wanted to kiss you. Missed you.”

He smiled sadly. “I know. That’s the worst part.”

You were both silent for a little bit. He was worried that he’d upset you and you were thinking over his words. He had been honest with you and you appreciated that, but now you didn’t know what to do. Your thoughts and your feelings were all over the place.

“Do you ever think about if we didn’t break up?” The words spilled out of your mouth without you even thinking. Of course he would have. He was sitting here telling you this was painful for him and yet you were wondering if he thought about you.

He laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “Every day.” There was a longing look in his eyes when he turned his head your way. He needed you to know he meant every word he was saying. “You’re it for me. I don’t know who I am without you. The day you ended it, I, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you had been selfish, too hasty in your decision to end things. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to be his girlfriend and yet you acted as though you couldn’t handle it. Lots of people managed to have successful relationships with his fellow drivers or past drivers, things worked for them. Surely there was a way to make it work, something he had begged you to try before you ended it. The longing that had been building in your chest all these months was only growing stronger as you stood here with him.

When you didn’t say anything but grew visibly emotional, he leaned forward. He waited for any sign of rejection before he took a chance and cupped your face with his large hands. He felt it as you leaned into his touch.

“I love you. I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t.” He was pouring his heart out to you. How were you ever supposed to just walk away?

“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.”

His face fell. It felt like his heart was being stomped on. “What?” He didn’t truly believe that you could have just stopped loving him that easily. What you had back then was real, wasn’t it? Or was this just your way of ending things before you got too involved again.

“Lando, I think we should try again.”

By the look on his face he was finding it hard to believe the words that had just left your mouth. “Y/N.” If this was a joke, it sure would be an evil one. He didn’t think you were that cruel.

One of your hands came up to settle over his. “I mean it. I was selfish and you probably deserve better than me after ending things like that.” It was true, but he didn’t think that. He wouldn’t want anyone else. “I love you and I will spend however long it takes to make it up to you.”

That sounded like a pretty good plan to him. He probably shouldn’t give in so easily considering the emotions he’d been going through for the past few months, but how was he ever supposed to say no to you? He never could and he probably never would. He finally cracked a smile. “I’m expecting a hell of a lot of grovelling I’ll have you know.”

Your heart fluttered. “No problem.”

Max was totally gonna take credit for this.

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula one #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #formula 1 x reader #mclaren

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unholyhelbig · 3 days ago

Note

Hi!

Can I request a yelena x fem!reader fic where they are in a relationship but they’re in a rough patch and aren’t talking about what they are doing that much. They both work for Valentina and end up in the vault together and have different targets. But basically they start trying to defend each other (because they obviously still love each other) and the reader gets hurt. After all that they end up slowly mending their relationship and start communicating more and basically I want some angst with fluff because I’m a total sucker for that.

Ok thank you soooo much!!! 🖤

Title: In the Darkness Together

Ship: Female!Reader x Yelena Belova

SLIGHT THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS

Warnings: Stabbing, mentions of blood, mentions of depression, angst, hurt/comfort, injuries, John being a dick, horrible grammar, I don't proofread

[A/n: Alright, I'll admit that this isn't my best work. I've actually never written Yelena x reader before, I was kind of feeling it out! Feel free to send me some more Thunderbolts* prompts and I'll do my best!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The knife, the kind that people typically use to debone things, had edged past the Kevlar of your tactical suit and sliced into the meat of your side. It had started as a searing, uncomfortable pinch of pain, and had now faded to a dull ache that thudded along with your heartbeat as you trudged through the desert, nose and fingers frigid.

You applied pressure to it, of course. Had done a hack-job of patching it up and breathing through it. You’d need stitches once you got on solid ground, far away from the annoyances around you. The heat that radiated from the deep wound warmed you up, at least, made it easier to round out the back of the group.

It was easy to tune out John Walker from back here. He insisted on leading and you had conceded out of exhaustion. The wind blocked out his gravelly voice as he listed off his successes in tracking and trapping in the military. You could taste sand, grind it between your teeth loudly to block out the rest of his droning.

There was a body next to you, warm and solid and speaking. Your ears were ringing from the gunfire, and you were paying too close attention to the soft pink of Yelena Belova’s lips. How easy they would be to claim if you weren’t vibrating with a certain breed of anger that made you want to prove your point.

What point was that again?

It had been independence before you’d entered that god forsaken vault. Your target had been easy enough to locate and kill, something you’d done so efficiently that they didn’t even get a chance to step foot into the building. But, you were curious too, wondering what had been so damn important that Valentina agreed to this being your last job.

The whole night had been a culmination of punches thrown and blades twisted in the sinew of your stomach and guns fired. You’d watched Antonia Dreykov drop to the floor in a puddle of armor and a faceless mask that you were thankful stayed on, even with a bullet hole through the center.

“What?” You meant to sound angry, sharper than you were. But it came out sad and broken, even to your own ears.

“You should have let me take a look at that.” Yelena spoke slowly, softly. “It’s not too late, we can stop for a few moments. I can patch you up properly.”

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Yelena.”

You winced, blamed it quickly on the pain. You were turning away her attempt at tenderness. It was the first she had shown in weeks. The two of you danced around one another in the small city apartment you shared. Expertly choreographed moves that involved one toothbrush missing from the cup by the sink at all times.

Neither of you bothered to tell the other when you had a job. You just went. On nights where the two of you happened to be home at the same time, you slept facing away from each other, a decent amount of space between you. Something having shattered along the way, though neither were quite sure what.

Yelena opened her mouth, closed it again. Swallowed hard. She had a crease between her brows that gave way to her worry and you had the sudden urge to kiss it away. It was heavy in your chest, nearly oppressive until you tore your eyes away from hers, stumbled over the heaviness of your boot.

And she was there, of course, she was there. Her hand was on your elbow, holding you up. The concern had ripped through her features in a way that you almost found endearing. This was the most attention the two of you had given each other in weeks. Months.

“Let me take care of you.” Yelena whispered. “pozhaluysta.”

It was desperate, a plea. The word broke like salt rock over her tongue and prickled at the corners of her eyes. Ash clouded her features, marred her skin. Dried blood was against her hairline, head more than likely pounding listlessly. Still, she waited for your signal. One that you gave with a slight nod.

“We stop!” Yelena called out to Walker and Ava, bringing everything to a halt. “We rest for the night. Keep going at daybreak.”

Walker whined at an uncomfortable pitch “Oh, come on. Women need to learn resilience.”

“It astounds me that one agreed to marry you.” Ava replied, shaking her head. She seemed exhausted herself, voice tight, eyes rimmed in darkness. If you stared long enough, her shadow flickered. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. “I could sleep.”

She plopped down onto the hard-packed sand, something that couldn’t be comfortable, but it was finite, deepening the frown lines on Walkers face. He exasperatedly threw his hands up and turned to make himself comfortable on some dusty rocks, shining bright under the moon.

Yelena edged you further away from the two of them, lowering you onto the sand. It still held warmth from the relentless sun, the tips of your fingers digging into the soft barrier. Your back was against a boulder, sprouts of rough buffalograss itched at your forearms.

“Polegche, polegche, detka”

Her hands against you was familiar, something you’d longed for. The tension in your shoulders relaxed, even as she lifted up the soaked fabric of your shirt. It’d dried uncomfortably to your skin, filled your mouth with too much saliva. You swallowed it diligently, letting your head fall back against the rock.

“I would have gotten stabbed in front of you a lot sooner if I knew it would get you to touch me.”

Yelena’s fingers stilled, ghosting over your wound, seemingly satisfied enough with your own patch job. Her eyes flicked up to yours. There was hurt there, vulnerability. There was an insurmountable level of longing that reflected in pools of green. Her cheeks were dusted in red, a trembling breath escaping her before she plopped back on her haunches, arms resting on her bent knees. The two of you stared at each other, beaten and broken.

“I guess we have been kind of stupid, haven’t we?” Yelena let a giggle froth past her lips, sweet and sticky. “Haunting our own house. Each other.”

You shook your head, offering her the small upturn of the lip. “How did we get here?”

There was a blueprint under your skin mapping out exactly how the two of you had ended up like this. Strangers working for the same woman who thought it pertinent enough to pit you against one another in an effort to clean her own hands.

“Lena, when I saw you for the first time, I knew you were the woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, and I’m ashamed to say it’s because I recognized a sadness in you that I’d only ever seen when I looked in the mirror.”

Yelena plucked a long, coarse piece of grass from the sand and folded it between her fingers in a nervous habit, she worked the heels of her combat boots further into the ground as if to stabilize herself.

“It was selfish of me to think that I could shove away that dark feeling and the two of us could survive by clinging to one another’s remaining light.” You used the heel of your hand, wiped away tracks of moisture that cut through ash and dirt. “Didn’t take into account what would happen when both of us were surrounded by darkness. There’s nothing to grab onto.”

She sniffed, a heavy and solid sound. “Day in and day out it is all the same. We wake, we go to work, we fall asleep and we try to find something worth living for. You say it is selfish to find solace in someone who feels the same as you. I think it is selfish that we’ve turned away.”

Yelena carefully moved next to you, letting out a groan, her muscles sore and aching from even the slightest bit of statis. Her shoulder was flushed against your own, the sharp scent of gunpowder and sweat filling your lungs, but a citrus that was distinctly your Yelena soothed you.

“Do you ever think there’s going to be a time when we won’t be sad?”

“I do not know.” Her voice broke, “but we can get better at being sad together.”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, nodded. Wished that the two of you had come to this small realization before you’d been stuck in a vault with other misfits who were hell-bent on ending your lives at the behest of a crooked politician.

Yelena slotted her arm through yours, squeezed it close to her chest. Leaned her head on your shoulder. Your heart clenched fondly at the closeness, not realizing how much you’d missed the simple contact. The softness of her.

You leaned your cheek on her head, breathed in the sweetness of her shampoo. “We should really get a calendar for the fridge.”

“Mm, we can color code.” Yelena nuzzled closer, nosed against your jaw. “Next time we’ll know if we get scheduled to kill one another.”

#Yelena Belova #Yelena Belova x reader #Yelena Belova x you #Yelena Belova x y/n #Thunderbolts x reader #Thunderbolts x you #Thunderbolts #Marvel #Marvel Oneshot

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millers-girl · 3 days ago

Text

in the quiet

chapter 8 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: it took five days for you to tell Joel you couldn't trust him again, but only one for you to desperately beg him to stay.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, injury, stab wound

word count: 5.5k

series masterlist

It took five days to get to the Firefly base at the University of Eastern Colorado.

Five easy days, Ellie had called them, counting the lack of Infected and ambushes as a win. But for you, they were five long, grueling days – sleepless, aching, every mile dragging beneath the weight of Joel’s actions.

You hadn’t lied when you said you understood why Joel made the decision to stay behind in Jackson and hand you and Ellie off to Tommy for the last leg of the trip. He thought he was doing the right thing; thought he was protecting you both, from the inevitable fallout of letting people get close.

But understanding and being okay with it were two different things.

You weren’t okay. You weren’t even close.

You were still angry, disappointed, even heartbroken – though you’d never admit it to him. The resentment curdled inside you, hot and sour, spilling into every interaction.

You made a point of keeping your distance: falling behind him on the trail, slowing your steps until the gap widened between you two, then speeding up when he deliberately hung back to match your pace. You dodged his painful attempts at tentative small talk. You only spoke when necessary – and really only to take extra watch shifts or chores to avoid downtime with Joel.

And Joel noticed. Of course he noticed.

He began quietly hovering, staying close enough to be protective, but clearly unsure how to bridge the emotional gap between you two. He kept trying small ways to show he was there – offering to carry something for you (you insisted you were fine), adjusting your pack straps when you weren’t paying attention (of course you were, but you pretended not to notice), and even sliding an extra blanket your way at night (you took it, mumbling a stiff thanks that tasted like ash in your mouth).

You were hurting, and you were guarded. Every night, you turned your back to him by the fire, wiping at your eyes in what you thought was secret. Every morning, you steeled yourself before meeting his gaze, if you even did.

“Don’t worry about me,” you told him flatly one afternoon, when he tried to offer a hand up a steep incline. “I can handle myself.”

He let his arm fall, silently resigning.

On the fourth night, to both your surprise, Joel finally decided to say something.

That day, Ellie had chosen to ride with Joel, her small hands clutching his jacket as she leaned her cheek against his back, giggling at whatever story he was telling. You’d trailed behind on Orion, watching from a distance as the two of them shared a softness you couldn’t bring yourself to touch.

Joel’s lips had twitched upward at her giggles and when he looked back, he caught you just as you scrubbed a tear from your cheek. His smile instantly fell as he watched you avert your eyes to the first road ahead.

Now, here he was, watching you take first watch, Ellie already fast asleep, and in the dim glow of the fire, he finally had the courage to ask, “Are you ever gonna talk to me again?”

You turned, meeting his gaze over the flickering flames. Your chest tightened at the hope woven in the question, the way it softened his rough edges. This exact tone was what got you in the first place. So, now, you forced a shrug.

“What’s there to talk about?” you asked, voice clipped and hollow, matching the tone he had taken on those first few weeks traveling together.

He flinched at the coldness. He hated hearing it coming out of your mouth, replacing that lighthearted, playful and sweet tone that was your default.

“I’m… sorry.”

You’d imagined him saying those words a hundred times over the past four days, dreamed of them like they would magically fix everything. Instead, they only made your heart clench tighter.

You looked away, the fire’s heat barely touching the chill settling into your bones now. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he insisted.

And for whatever reason, that was what set you off – where did he get off trying to make everything right now? Trying to pretend like him leaving hurt him as much as it did you? Like it was the toughest decision he ever made?

Your eyes snapped back at him, anger rising sharp and bitter. “Why does it matter?” you bit out. “You made it very clear we’re not family. So why are we even having this conversation?”

“I was wrong,” he admitted, words landing heavy between you. “I just want to explain why I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to leave you, I just – I didn’t know what else to do.”

To his surprise, you said, “I understand why you did it.”

His brows lifted, hopeful. “You do?”

You gave a sharp nod. “You were scared – scared you were getting too close to us, starting to care, worried about losing us like… like you lost Sarah – ” Joel’s eyes darkened at the mention, but he didn’t interrupt. “I get it. But I never would’ve made that decision… Ellie is my Sarah. I love her, I’d do anything for her. And I’m scared every single day of losing her. But I’m never gonna leave.

“I’ve protected her for fourteen years and I’ll protect her until I die. She’s my sister. My responsibility. Everything I do is for her, and you…” You weren’t sure if this was the right time to bring it up but the words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Look, I respect you. I care for you, if that wasn’t abundantly clear already. But you have a habit of self-sabotaging, and this last time really hurt Ellie… and it hurt me. So, when this is over and we get back to Jackson… I’m gonna ask Tommy to find me and Ellie a house to stay in.”

Joel paused for a moment, frown deepening as he pointed out, “You already have a house.”

“We can’t stay there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t trust you not to leave again.” The words fell heavy in the night air. “You dumped us on Tommy like we were a problem, Joel. Like the last half a year didn’t mean shit.” You shook your head. “I don’t care that you changed your mind thirty minutes before we left. It doesn’t change anything. We’re creatures of habit, us three. You always leave and we always get left behind.”

His voice cracked. “I’m not leavin’. Not this time.”

You met his gaze across the fire, your own breaking under the weight of it. “I don’t believe you.”

A twig snapped in the woods beyond, and both of you jerked toward the sound. Instinct surged through your veins like electricity – you raised your rifle; Joel reached for the knife at his ankle.

After a pause, a fawn emerged from the brush, its delicate legs carrying it past the camp without fear, vanishing into the night.

Your shoulders sagged with relief, though your pulse still thundered in your ears. “Go back to bed,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the treeline. “I’ll wake you when it’s time for second watch.”

Joel hesitated, lingering a moment longer before finally retreating into the warmth of his sleeping bag. You listened to the restless rustle of his tossing and turning until it was time for second watch.

The hours of the next afternoon were spent with you listening to Ellie and Joel converse about the rules of American football. By the time the campus came into view, you were grateful for the distraction. If you had to hear the word “touchdown” one more time, you’d bash your head into a wall.

To your favor, the conversation shifted to college as the three of you passed through the quiet, overgrown campus, your horses’ hooves crunching over old leaves and cracked pavement.

“So people would live here and go to classes and stuff?” Ellie asked, craning her neck to take it all in. “Even though they were adults?”

Joel gave a small nod, shrugging as his gaze swept the empty grounds. "Sort of adults. I think it was just as much about partying and findin' themselves as anythin' else. Figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives."

"What they wanted to do with their lives..." Ellie echoed thoughtfully, then turned her curious eyes to you. "What did you want to do with your life? Before all this, I mean. Did you ever think about college?"

You flicked a glance at Joel, who was already watching you, then narrowed your eyes at Ellie. "I was seven when the outbreak happened, El. You know this."

"Yeah, but like… dream job. Didn't you ever think about what you wanted to be when you grew up?"

You hesitated, thoughts swirling in your mind. "Before the outbreak, we used to have these neighbors. The Sinclairs –”

“The ones with the telescope in their backyard?” Ellie perked up, piecing it together. “The one that got you interested in space?”

You smiled faintly at the memory, nodding. “Mrs. Sinclair used to be a ballerina. And on days that my mom was late coming home from work, she’d send me next door, and Mrs. Sinclair would put on old records and teach me little bits of her old routines. She’d tell me stories about being on stage, about the music and the lights, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

"That year for Halloween, Mom bought me this pink leotard with a little tutu, and Mrs. Sinclair gave me one of her old ballet pins to wear with it – in the shape of a tiny silver slipper. ‘Just to borrow,’ she’d said. ‘Until you earn your own someday.’”

You paused, swallowing the lump rising in your throat, blinking against the prick in your eyes.

“I wore that pin every day for nearly a year after that. Always in my hair, always in a bun. Like if I kept it close enough, maybe it’d come true.”

When you looked back at Ellie, she was smiling softly, almost wistfully. “You would’ve made a great ballerina,” she said gently, making your smile widen.

“The best,” Joel added, his voice quiet but certain. You really met his eyes then – brown and steady and watching you with something careful and protective. Your chest ached. You searched his gaze for some hidden meaning or ulterior motive tucked behind the compliment, but found only honesty. It unsettled you, in a way. You looked away first, breaking the moment, fixing your eyes ahead.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his weight as if shaking something off. “So I've been thinkin',” he began, addressign Ellie. “I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if I can do anything – well – when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.”

Ellie let out a surprised giggle, and despite yourself, a huff of a single laugh escaped your lips. Joel didn’t miss it.

“Why’s that funny?” he challenged, though his eyes crinkled faintly.

Ellie grinned. “You gotta sing something now.”

“No.”

“Come on,” she pressed. “We’re not gonna laugh.”

“You’re already laughin’,” he pointed out, deadpan.

Ellie had no defense, only a shrug. “Well, you’re singin’ for me later. I’m gonna save the fucking world, man. It’s the least you can do for me.”

After a pause, Joel conceded. “Fair enough.”

You refused to glance his way after that, but your mind betrayed you, spinning with images of Joel singing. You wondered what his voice sounded like? Probably rough and low.

Wondered what he would sing – country or something softer?

Wondered if he’d ever give in to Ellie’s relentless requests to sing Take On Me – God, you’d heard her play that on the radio for hours back in the QZ. You missed those nights sometimes, when danger felt more distant, and laughter was louder than worry.

But the moment slipped away from you as the Biomedical Sciences building, the unofficial headquarters of the Fireflies, came into view. You slowed instinctively, unease crawling your skin. Something was off – it was barren and quiet. The guard stations had no guards; the inside was eerily still. Joel even found a packing list, like they were leaving. No Fireflies.

The three of you did find a map pinned to the wall, the route traced in red leading to a hospital – St. Mary’s, in Salt Lake City. Your stomach dropped. The journey wasn’t over, not yet.

A scrape of boots echoed from outside. Joel stiffened, pulling you and Ellie back into the shadows. A group of four armed men entered the building, scanning the area. They hadn’t seen you – yet.

“Go,” Joel murmured, ushering you and Ellie toward the back exit. You moved quickly, heart pounding in your ears, weaving through the building until you spilled out near the horses. So close. Almost home free.

Then, Ellie shouted, “Look out!”

A man lunged from the side, swinging a bat at Joel. The crack of wood splintered against a tree snapped through the air. Joel grabbed the man, wrestling him into a brutal chokehold until his body went limp.

You barely had time to process before you turned, saw Joel… and saw the knife lodged into his abdomen, the hilt slick with his blood. Your breath caught, a frozen gasp in your throat.

Joel’s eyes met yours, steady even now as he gripped the handle and pulled it free. The blade clattered to the ground, darkened with red.

“Oh, my God. Oh. my God,” you whispered, frantic, rushing to him as he staggered. “Joel – ” You helped him up onto Callus with a strength pulled from panic. “Ellie, get on Orion – now!”

Ellie scrambled onto the horse as the other looters rounded the corner, weapons raised. “They’re coming!”

“We need to go – now!” you shouted, snapping the ewins, urging Callus into a gallop. Behind you, Ellie fired blindly, the crack of her pistol mingling with shouted curses. Your heart pounded so loud it drowned everything else. Hooved thundered beneath you. Trees blurred past. You didn’t dare look back.

Not until the sounds faded behind you, not until the adrenaline finally slowed and cold reality seeped in. Only then did you glance at Joel. He was slumped back, his weight leaning heavily into you. “Joel?” you called, voice shaking.

No response.

“Joel,” you repeated, louder now, as fear clawed up your spine. “Joel, stay with me – please – ”

But his body tipped sideways, sliding off the saddle before you could stop him. He landed in a snowbank with a dull, sickening thud.

“Joel!” You dropped down beside him, knees hitting the snow. “Joel, open your eyes!” Your hands pressed hard against the stab wound, but the blood kept coming, warm and wet beneath your fingers.

Ellie dismounted, kneeling opposite you, her face pale. “Joel – come on. You gotta get up!”

“I can’t fuckin’ do this without you,” you growled, pushing harder, desperate, the snow beneath him staining red. “Joel, get up!”

Ellie’s breathing hitched, tears welling in her eyes. “Joel!”

You leaned closer, hands trembling over the wound. “Please,” you whispered, voice cracking as tears lined your own eyes. “Please, Joel. Please get up.”

Somewhere in western Colorado, inside a house long since abandoned––its walls brittle, windows coated with grime, and air thick with mildew––you knelt beside Joel, ripping a spare shirt from your pack into uneven strips. Your hands moved fast but clumsily, fingers trembling as you worked.

The cold bit at your cheeks, but you barely noticed; your pulse thrummed loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but the sight of him bleeding beneath you.

You yanked open his shirt, buttons echoing on the floor as they scattered, and pressed the makeshift cloth firmly against the wound. Joel gasped awake with a sharp inhale, his body aching. His hand shot up, gripping your forearm, knuckles white, skin clammy and pale beneath the flickering light of your flashlight.

Your breath came fast, shallow, a tinge of fear clawing up your throat. “Stay with me, stay with me,” you whispered under your breath, like a mantra, a prayer.

“Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood,” Ellie said, hovering nervously nearby, her voice thin and small.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered, the words spilling out in rhythm with your heartbeat. The cloth was already darkening, and despite everything, you latched onto the silver lining that at least he was conscious – even if his face was contorted in pain.

"Leave," he rasped suddenly, his voice rough and breaking. His brown eyes locked onto yours, urgent. “You have to leave.”

The shock of his words knocked the air from your lungs. “What?” you breathed, stunned.

Ellie was quicker to respond. "Shut up, Joel."

But Joel wouldn’t let it go, wouldn’t stop. "Take the gun,” he pressed, his grip on you tightening.

"Joel, shut the fuck up!" you snapped, a wild panic edging your voice. What was he saying? How could he say that, after all you’d been through together? "Let me think!"

But Joel was relentless, dragging you closer by the collar of your jacket, his strength frightening despite how much blood he’d lost. “You go,” he ordered, fierce and fading all at once. “You take Ellie and you go north. Go to Tommy. You go.”

With the last of his strength, he shoved you back, hard. The force sent you stumbling, landing on your ass, the wind knocked clean from your chest.

You stared at him from the floor, heart pounding, torn between fury and terror. But there wasn’t time for either. You pushed yourself up, jaw clenched, and grabbed Ellie’s wrist. “Come on.”

You pulled her upstairs, the old wooden steps groaning under your feet. “Check every drawer. We need medicine, bandages, something for the stitches. We need to find something!”

Ellie nodded, splitting off, and you both rifled through the dusty remnants of another family’s life: broken dishes, scattered photos, clothes long moth-eaten. Drawers squeaked and banged, every sound loud in the stillness.

“Here!” Ellie called, thrusting a small tin sewing kit into your hands. You didn’t even look at her, just sprinted back downstairs, knees hitting the cold floor beside Joel with a painful thud.

His eyes flicked open at your arrival, hazy but locked on you. There was something in them – raw, unguarded disbelief that you’d came back.

“We’re not leaving,” Ellie vowed behind you, moving closer. “We're not going anywhere." She took his free hand in hers, and your chest clenched painfully at the sight of Joel’s fingers squeezing hers, grounding himself to her.

Your own hand hovered above his chest before settling, trembling slightly over his weak heartbeat. "If I’d known a stab wound would've turned you into a big softie, I'd have done it myself ages ago, old man," you teased, voice thick with emotion.

A faint smile ghosted over Joel’s lips, brief but real, and you cupped his cheek for a fleeting second, thumb brushing over his stubble before turning back to the wound.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you warned quietly. “Trust me, this is not how I pictured my first time taking off your shirt going, either.”

You drew in a long breath, trying to steady your hands. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself, building up your confidence. “Okay.”

And then you got to work.

The first time the needle pierced his skin, Joel groaned, his grip latching onto your bicep like a vice. His whole body tensed under your hands, and you felt his pain ripple through you, raw and electric.

"I know, baby. I know," you murmured, the words falling automatically as you worked, threading the needle through torn skin, pulling it tight, again and again. as you threaded the needle in and out of his skin. Hot tears continued to burn as they slid down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut before you were even halfway done, his weight sinking heavier into the ratty mattress. You pressed harder, worked faster as the stitches held but the bleeding didn’t stop as quickly as you’d hoped.

When it was finally over, Ellie helped you by covering Joel with the thickest blanket she could scrounge up from upstairs. She curled up beside him, her hand resting on his chest, her body seeking his warmth. You watched Joel, unconscious, instinctively tilt his head toward her, leaning into her touch even as he drifted deeper into sleep.

A tiny, exhausted smile pulled at your lips.

You lay down beside him, your sleeping bag doing little against the hard concrete. The cold crept up from the floor into your bones, but you barely felt it. Your eyes stayed fixed on Joel’s pale face, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, counting every breath like a lifeline.

You reached out hesitantly, your hand finding his where it rested limply by his side. You threaded your fingers through his, squeezing tightly, silently begging him to stay.

Your thumb brushed over the back of his hand, tracing the scars and calluses, grounding yourself in the reality of him, alive and here, even if hanging on by a thread.

But Joel Miller was a fighter – a thread was all you needed.

Ellie’s quiet snores filled the room, soft and steady, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

But as you lay there, tethered to him by the small, stubborn clasp of your fingers, the weight of it all settled deep into your chest. It felt… complicated.

Complicated because of how you’d left things with Joel – the silence, the tension, the unspoken things you were both too stubborn to say.

And yet, somehow, it felt like the simplest thing in the world.

Because the second he was hurt––bleeding and broken beneath your hands––nothing else mattered. Not the fights, not the distance, not the walls he insisted on building around himself.

All that mattered was him. Saving him. Keeping him alive.

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead lightly against the back of his hand.

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered, voice horse. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that quiet, flickering dark, you knew you meant it with everything you had. You didn’t care if he pushed you away – you’d keep coming back. Because that was what you did… for people you loved.

You didn’t sleep that night, afraid of what would happen if you woke up and Joel had stopped breathing. So you spent the night on your side in that uncomfortable sleeping bag, eyes glued to his chest, finding comfort in the rhythmic way it went up and down as he breathed. Every once in a while, your gaze would flicker to his face, to how peaceful he looked, even if he didn’t feel it.

You only realized it was morning when daylight began to filter through the broken window panes, casting pale patterns across the floorboards. Now awake, you sat up, resting our back against the nearest wall, arms loosely draped over bent knees. Outside, the wind howled through the bare trees, reminding you of the wintery mix existing outside.

When Ellie woke up, she fidgeted with her pocket knife, scraping the dull blade against the concrete floor around her. Every few minutes, she glanced over Joel’s still form lying on the mattress, as if waiting for him to stir awake. You followed her gaze every time, your own heart sinking deeper at the sight of his pale skin.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn’t awkward – it was heavy, thick with the unknown of the future. You watched Ellie scratch patterns into the concrete, her lights pressed tight, shoulders tense.

It reminded you of before. Before Jackson. Before Kansas City. Before Joel. Back when it was just you and Ellie against the world. Just two people surviving day by day, moving forward without knowing where forward even led.

You swallowed hard, thinking about how lonely it used to feel. And you hadn’t even realized it then. You hadn’t known how much lighter it could be with someone else helping you carry the weight. With Joel carrying more than his fair share. You didn’t realize how much his presence had changed both of you, made you more than just two survivors scraping by.

Ellie finally broke the silence, her voice soft and steady. “What are we gonna do if… I mean, what if he doesn’t…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought but she didn’t need to; you understood exactly what she was asking.

What if he doesn’t wake up?

The question made your chest tighten. You looked at her, then; really looked at her – at the circles under her eyes, the way her mouth trembled just a little as she spoke. Maybe she was asking it partly out of fear, but you knew it was mostly out of a need. Because she deserved an answer.

You didn’t realize how much Joel’s interactions with Ellie affected you. He treated her like an adult, like she was capable of handling the harsh cruelties of the world you lived in. And she’d only thrived in that environment. She’d loved learning how to hunt from Joel, how to shoot the rifle, how to take watch.

She deserved to be treated like an adult by you, too. She deserved for you to be honest, even if it was hard, because it was necessary. You couldn’t shield Ellie with false hope anymore; now, you had to honor her strength the way Joel had. The way Joel does.

You inhaled deeply, letting the breath linger in your lungs before exhaling. “I don’t know, Ellie.”

She blinked at you, surprised, maybe expecting you to lie to protect her, as you’d done her entire life. You shook your head gently. “I won’t bullshit you. I wish I had a plan. I wish I knew how to fix this. But…” Your gaze drifted back to Joel. “I don’t know what to do. I’m honestly just trying to get through the next hour.”

Ellie nodded slowly. Her lips pressed together again, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t tell you to come up with something. Instead, she scooted closer, crossing her arms over her knees and resting her chin atop them.

“I hate this,” she mumbled. “Just waiting.”

“Me too,” you admitted.

You let the silence fall again, but this time, it felt companionable. Ellie’s presence beside you was a quiet reminder that you weren't alone in this, even if it felt that way. Her head on your shoulder grounded you.

Joel had changed everything. And God, you hadn’t seen it back then. You hadn’t realized how much warmer things had become with him in your orbit. He made you both better, stronger, more stubbornly hopeful.

You didn’t say any of it aloud, but you knew Ellie felt it too.

You leaned your head atop hers, arm coming to wrap around her. “We’re gonna figure it out,” you reassured her, keeping the truth at the center of your hope. You two would figure it out, because you always did.

Ellie gave you a small, tired smile, agreeing. “Yeah. We always do.”

After another bout of silence, Ellie stopped chewing her lip and stated, “He was trying, you know.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trying what?”

“To fix things with you.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest. Ellie glanced up at you then, serious in a way that made her look older than she should’ve. “I could tell… even if you couldn’t.”

You sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… stuff. Like when we were crossing that creek last month? You slipped on a rock and he grabbed you. Real quick. But he didn’t let go right away. I thought – I thought maybe he was just steadying you. But he kept his hand there. On your arm… He does that a lot.”

You stared at her, words caught in your throat.

“And when you got clipped by that guy’s knife in Denver? You were bleeding from your shoulder and he went to you first. Before he even checked himself. I mean, if it had happened back when we were near Boston… he never used to do that.”

Memories flooded you – moments you’d brushed off, or told yourself didn’t mean anything. Joel shifting your sleeping bag closer to the fire one cold night. Waking you up gently for your watch shift so Ellie could sleep longer. The way he’d listened when you told that stupid story about how you’d spent that one birthday at the pancake house. He’d turned his entire body toward you as you spoke, his tired gaze softened like he was letting you in without saying a word.

“You didn’t notice,” Ellie added, a little quieter.

You pressed your palms against your knees, blinking hard. “I… I think I didn’t want to.” You rubbed your face. “Fuck, I was so stubborn.”

“He wasn’t mad about it,” Ellie said. “He just… kept trying.”

Something in your chest cracked open. You pressed a hand there, feeling the ache widen. “I should’ve told him I saw it. That it mattered.”

“You can tell him when he wakes up,” Ellie said, simple and certain.

You looked at her then, this scrappy kid who was fighting tooth and nail to hold onto hope. And you remembered just how much stronger, braver, and softer Ellie made you.

You swallowed again, voice thick. “Yeah. When he wakes up.”

The rest of the day was spent scavenging the house for any leftovers you could eat and making sure Joel was comfortable. Ellie found some canned food to hold you over until tomorrow, at least. It would’ve eased your stress if Joel didn’t look like he was getting worse.

The botched stitching job you’d done was starting to grow darker, more tender. You only realized after Ellie had fallen asleep, curled up beside Joel on the mattress, her small form pressed protectively against his side. Her hand came up to rest over his chest like she could hold his heart inside his body, keep it beating, keep it from slipping away.

You shifted to sit nearby on the floor, knees hugged tight to your chest beneath your blanket. The wind outside picked up again, rattling the loose shutters of the basement windows, howling through the cracks. Shadows danced along the walls from the flickering flashlight you’d lit earlier.

You couldn’t stop watching Joel’s face, his chest rising and falling shallowly beneath Ellie’s hand. You counted every breath like it might be his last.

The tightness in your throat built under it forced you to move. You crawled closer, kneeling beside him. His skin felt warm beneath your hand, feverish. You pressed your palm gently against his forehead, feeling the damp heat, and then let your hand slide to his cheek.

“Hey,” you whispered, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you. “Joel…”

Your thumb brushed over the stubble along his jaw. “I know you’re not awake. I know you can’t answer me, but… I need you to hear this.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, grounding yourself with the weight of his hand beneath yours. Then you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to the side of his temple.

“I forgive you,” you whispered. “Okay? I forgive you for what happened in Jackson. I forgive you and I mean it. I'll forget it, I'll never bring it up again. Just come back to us, please, Joel... come back to me. I need you. I can't do this without you. So please just come back."

You pressed a templing kiss to his temple, closing your eyes tightly, letting your tears freely fall now.

“I don’t even know if you can hear me,” you whispered into the dark. “But if you can, just hold on. Okay? Hold on for me… cause if you die, I’ll kill you.”

The words felt fragile, ridiculous like tossing pebbles into the void. But you said them anyway, again and again, until they dissolved into broken sobs.

“I’ll do anything,” you breathed. “I’ll stop avoiding eye contact. I’ll laugh at those horrible jokes you tell. I’ll let you carry my pack. I’ll thank you whenever you give me your jacket to sleep in. You can keep adjusting my pack straps, keep checking my boots for wear, keep giving me the biggest portion of Chef Boyardee because you know I love it.”

You laughed through the tears, willing Joel to wake and join you. But he didn't.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there fore, forehead pressed against his, hand gripping his tightly like you could tether him to this world. Eventually, your voice gave out, raw and hoarse, and you simply sat there, holding onto him.

Somewhere in that endless night, something inside you shifted.

You sat back slowly, wiping your face with shaking hands, and stared down at him. Your jaw tightened.

Your gaze flicked toward the window, toward the cold wilderness beyond. You thought of what little food you had left. Of the likely infection burning through Joel’s body. Of what you had to do next.

And the determination rose beneath the exhaustion.

Tomorrow, you’d find a way. Tomorrow, you'd’ save him.

No matter what it cost.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @ilovetoomanymen @21tao @mystickittytaco @keileighr @buckyandlokirunmylife @deesparticus @underchaos @keepingitlokiii @silas-aeiou @underchaos @tjohn63 @princess76179 @umadirectioner

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hillbillyoracle · 2 days ago

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This post got me thinking. Like really churning. I just started working through Momento Mori by Joanna Ebenstein and this post kicked up some realizations for me.

Most of my major experiences with death happened before the age of like 25. Some were the ones you "expect" like grandparents and others were friends in my scene who either OD'd or straight up disappeared. My more recent experiences were supporting my partner through 3 deaths in the family in 3 months - one a cousin that was a few years younger than her that accidentally OD's leaving behind her children. Another was the grandmother who was her rock growing up in a chaotic household and who steadfastly included me at family gatherings when my partner's mom and sister would ice me out. All passed suddenly.

I think the only thing that is universally true about grief is that everyone goes through it differently.

Because so much of what these replies held up as "this is what you say" and "this is what you do" - I fucking hate that stuff (even though I admit I default to it) as much as or more than so many people here hate the religious comments (which I usually don't tend to mind personally).

To me:

"I'm sorry for your loss" = "I am having the correct feeling about this."

"I can't imagine what you're going through" = "I can't relate to you and I'm putting distance between us to feel better about it."

"How are you doing?" = "Share something vulnerable with me so I feel like I helped you."

And you could say I'm hearing that wrong, and I get that I likely am, but that's what those words mean to me. And when I'm grieving I've learned I can't really access that part of my brain that better attunes me the "proper responses".

I also do not want someone to feel angry with, I do not want my anger fed at all. I want help dissolving it because if I don't it'll fully consume me and that's even worse than the grief for me, to have all the good in me burnt up while I'm still alive because that's my personal experience of anger.

Which is all just to say, it has nothing to do with religiosity in my experience - there's simply no "correct" response you can rely on for all people. In words or in deed.

And that is what makes experiencing grief so hard - everyone gives you what they got and often it's a reflection of their own stunted relationship with death, yes even the atheists, and it often sucks.

And trying to comfort someone in grief sucks - how do you use words and actions to reach them when communication of any kind is so highly individual and this individual might not be able to tell you what they need and want to hear/have done?

If you go "no actually they're using the wrong words/actions, these are the correct ones", you wind up doing the very same things as the people who've pissed you off.

Or at least, that's what I found when I dug into it.

I try to be forgiving when I'm grieving but I fall short. I don't expect someone grieving to be forgiving if I miss the mark, but I appreciate it immensely when they're able.

My favorite things to hear when I'm grieving are ones I know some other people hate:

"I miss them so much."

"Remember when they..."

"I thought about them today."

"I wonder what they'd say about..."

"They would have loved this."

"I had a dream about them."

Releasing the idea that there was a correct thing people could say to me and I would feel a little better (or ensure I wouldn't feel worse) let me grieve how I needed to grieve. It let me support in ways I could better sustain over the long term (because boy howdy if grief isn't long term).

Anywho, a heartfelt hug and virtual cup of tea to anyone else reading this and going through it. On other side. Solidarity friends.

it's been a year so i feel more comfortable talking about it..

when you're atheist and you lose someone, religious people don't really know how to interact with you. it's fine, we have different worldviews.

'He's in a better place, now.'

Sorry auntie, but I don't believe that. I believe that his brain stopped working at 5h55pm on december 11th 2022, and that's it. Nothing after that.

It makes grief very difficult, because not believing in god or the afterlife also means accepting that you will never, ever see that person again. That's it. The end. Nada mas.

But, back to the aunties and other faceless people gravitating in the grey blurry waters of your awareness.

They tell you 'He's with god now' and you tell them 'Yeah I don't believe that' and.

they. get. annoyed.

Here I am, gutted open, the worst day of my life, barely holding myself together, and they! Get annoyed that I won't smile and entertain their point of view!

Another faceless person tried to heal me with cristals. She also got annoyed when I told her I didn't believe in that.

I usually don't really mind religious people. It's fine, we have different worldviews. I think I'm right but so do they. As long as they're good people, I don't judge them for their faith.

I'll even be grateful for them trying to console me. I get that you're trying to give me strength and love. Thank you.

But I'm going to be true to myself, yes even when I'm mad with shock and grief. And I still can't believe they got annoyed that I didn't play along to placate them, on the worst day of my life.

(I wanted to share because I've never heard anyone talk about atheism and grief, and the loneliness that comes out of it.)

#I'll be churning on this for a while

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sosa2imagines · 7 hours ago

Text

Are you mine? Part 2

Warning- Angst, little fluff, blood, bruises, protective brother Logan.

Something was wrong.

Steve felt it first, the emptiness, the eerie quiet that settled over the compound like a storm waiting to break. He had gone looking for you that morning, expecting to find you in the kitchen or the training room, but there was nothing.

Then Bucky felt it too.

The bed was cold. Your scent was fading. Your usual presence, a force of nature they had come to rely on was simply… gone.

At first, they thought you were just upset.

That you were cooling off, still angry over the canceled dates and forgotten promises.

But as the hours passed and you remained missing, a sickening realization took root.

You weren’t just avoiding them.

You were gone.

“Where the hell is she?!” Bucky’s voice echoed through the hallways as he and Steve stormed through the compound, checking every possible place you could have been.

“Maybe she went for a run?” Steve muttered, though doubt laced his words.

But you always came back.

And you never left without telling them.

Something wasn’t right.

“Doll!” Steve called again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Nothing.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his heart pounding. He turned the corner and immediately groaned when he spotted her.

Cassidy, sitting on the common room couch, scrolling through her phone like she had all the time in the world.

“Where is she?” Bucky snapped, making her jolt.

Cassidy blinked up at him. “What?”

“Y/n” Steve said, voice tight. “Have you seen her?”

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “She’s probably sulking somewhere. You know how dramatic she can be…”

Bucky saw red, “Shut up.”

Cassidy flinched, her eyes widening as Bucky glared at her with all the rage burning inside of him, “Get out,” he growled.

“Bucky…”

“I said GET OUT!”

Cassidy paled, scrambling to her feet before practically running out of the room.

Steve barely paid her any attention. His mind was already racing, his chest tightening, “We need to find Natasha.”

Natasha was waiting for them.

She didn’t stand. Didn’t speak. Just sat on the couch, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap, like she had all the time in the world.

When they entered the room, the silence was suffocating.

Steve cleared his throat, “Tasha…”

“You finally noticed.” she said, voice low. Steady. Her eyes didn’t even move to meet his.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Where is she?”

Natasha lifted her gaze slowly, like it physically pained her to look at them. “Gone.”

Steve’s heart dropped. “Gone?” he echoed.

“She left. What else did you expect?”

The silence stretched for too long.

Steve took a step forward. “We didn’t know…”

“You didn’t care!” she interrupted, voice still calm. Too calm. “There’s a difference.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but Natasha stood, smooth, slow, deliberate. The look in her eyes was lethal.

“You don’t get to speak,” she said, each word precise, like a scalpel carving into flesh. “Neither of you do.”

Bucky shuts his mouth and Steve’s fists clenched, knuckles white. “Natasha, please…”

She walked closer, tilting her head. “Please? You’re asking me for grace? After what you did to her?”

Her lips curled into a bitter, humorless smile. “You let some trainee worm her way into your lives. You sat there, smiling, laughing, letting her take Sweets place. Her spot on the couch. Her seat at the table. Her space between you!”

Steve flinched.

“She didn’t even scream!” Natasha said, her voice quieter now, somehow colder. “Did you notice that? She cried silently. She didn’t beg. She just walked away. That’s how much damage you did.”

Bucky looked like he was going to be sick.

“You let her become invisible,” Natasha whispered. “She trusted you. Completely. And you crushed her. Slowly. Carefully. Like it was nothing.”

“She never told us,” Steve said, voice breaking. “She didn’t…”

“She shouldn’t have had to!” Natasha snapped, but even then, her tone barely rose. “You’re not children. You’re not stupid. You knew what she meant to you and you still let someone else reach for what was hers, without even blinking.”

She stepped back, shaking her head slightly.

“God, every look. Every time I stood between you and that bitch. But you brushed it off. You thought Sweets would just… wait around. Watch herself be replaced. And still stay.”

She scoffed. “That’s not love. That’s possession.”

Steve’s breath hitched.

Natasha met Bucky’s eyes then, and it was the final blow.

“You made her feel like a guest in her own home.” Natasha snapped. “You don’t get to ask questions. You don’t get to act shocked. You don’t get to pretend like you didn’t do this.”

Bucky flinched at the venom in her voice. “Nat…”

“Shut up and listen.”

They did, because for the first time in a long time, maybe ever Natasha was furious at them.

And she had every right to be.

“You trusted Cassidy,” she spat. “You let her get close. You let her take over. And you let Sweets, suffer in silence while you two stood there, completely oblivious.”

Bucky swallowed hard, guilt clawing at his insides. “We didn’t mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Natasha demanded. “Didn’t mean to leave her alone? Didn’t mean to ignore her? Didn’t mean to let some girl take her place like she was nothing?”

Neither of them had an answer.

Because there wasn’t one.

“She trusted you,” Natasha continued, voice cold. “Blindly. Completely. And you broke that trust, piece by piece, every time you let Cassidy sink her claws in deeper. Every time you canceled a date. Every time you let her take Sweets’ spot without a second thought. You let her feel like an outsider in her own home. In her own relationship.”

Steve felt sick, Bucky’s fists clenched. They had done that, they had let that happen.

“Where is she now?” Bucky asked, voice rough.

Natasha’s gaze darkened. “With Logan.”

Bucky stiffened. “Logan?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “You know, her brother? The one who actually gives a damn? The one who saw what you couldn’t?”

Steve inhaled sharply, guilt coiling around his heart.

“He just took her?” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

Natasha scoffed. “Logan is her brother and has every right. More than you do right now.”

Neither of them could argue, because she was right. They had messed up and now, you were gone.

The common room was eerily quiet.

Steve sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Bucky stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the city, jaw clenched.

Neither of them spoke.

Because what was there to say? They had fucked up, and they knew it.

At first, when Cassidy arrived, they had thought nothing of it. She was a trainee, young and eager to learn. Or so they had believed. But she hadn’t been interested in training. No she had been interested in them.

And instead of noticing it, instead of seeing what was right in front of them, they had let it happen.

They had let her sit beside them, let her take up space that wasn’t hers. Space that had always belonged to you.

They could still see it so clearly now, the way you had lingered in the doorway, eyes flickering to where she sat too close, where her hands brushed against theirs. The way your expression would shift, just for a moment, before you schooled it into something neutral.

The way Natasha had given them warning looks, subtle but sharp. But they hadn’t listened, hadn’t thought.

Hadn’t realized that every moment they spent with Cassidy, every smile, every conversation, every second of attention, was another crack in the foundation of what they had with you.

Another reason for you to pull away.

And then, the dates started getting canceled. Not because they meant to, at least, that’s what they had told themselves.

There was always a reason.

Something came up. A mission. A meeting. Or sometimes, they had just… forgotten.

Because they were too busy.

Too distracted.

Too stupid.

And every time they promised to make it up to you, your smiles became smaller, your words became quieter.

And still, they hadn’t seen it.

Hadn’t seen how Cassidy was everywhere, how she was taking your place, how she had stolen what was yours, and they had just let her.

Until that night.

The movie night, the one they had planned, thinking it would fix things. They had been so damn proud of themselves, thinking they were doing something right, only for you to walk in and freeze. And that’s when they had realized. Because Cassidy had been between them.

In your spot.

In your place.

They had tried to explain, had told you she hadn’t known it was just for you, that they hadn’t wanted to be rude. But you had just looked at them with those broken eyes, nodded once, and walked away.

No fight.

No anger.

Just defeat.

“Fuck.” Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “How the hell did we let this happen?”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tight. “We weren’t paying attention.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No shit.”

Steve closed his eyes. “She trusted us.” His voice was quiet. Pained. “Completely. And we let her down.”

Bucky turned, his expression haunted. “She left, Steve. She left us.”

Steve’s stomach twisted, because it was true. You hadn’t fought. Hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t told them you were leaving.

You had just… walked away, because you had given up on them.

And that? That was the part that hurt the most.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath, dropping onto the couch beside Steve, his hands clasped together, his metal fingers tightening around his flesh ones.

“We have to fix this.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know if we can.”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Because neither of them knew the truth. Because neither of them knew if you would even want to come back. Because for the first time since they had met you.

You had chosen a world without them in it and they had no one to blame but themselves.

The drive to Logan’s cabin was long.

Too long.

With every mile, the silence between Steve and Bucky thickened, the guilt like a noose tightening around their throats.

But it didn’t prepare them for what waited at the end of the road.

Logan was already outside.

Standing on the porch like a statue carved out of rage, arms crossed over his chest, claws SNIKT out before their car even rolled to a stop.

The moment their boots hit the dirt, he moved.

“You’ve got five seconds to get off my land.”

Bucky raised both hands slowly. “Logan, we just want to…”

“You want to what?” Logan snarled, voice raw with fury. “Say you’re sorry? Offer some half-assed apology after breaking her like that?”

Steve stepped forward, jaw tight. “We need to see her.”

Logan’s eyes gleamed, feral. “Over my dead body.”

Then he charged. No warning. No hesitation.

His claws slashed through the air too fast.

Steve ducked, barely dodging the first blow, but Bucky wasn’t so lucky. Metal met flesh. He grunted, stumbling back as three deep gashes bloomed across his bicep, blood soaking through his shirt.

“Logan!” Steve shouted, trying to block the next strike but it was already too late.

Logan was a storm. Unstoppable. Every move was brutal, efficient. He wasn’t fighting to scare them. He was fighting to punish them.

Steve’s ribs cracked under a punch, and Bucky barely managed to parry with his metal arm as claws scraped down his side.

“You think she cried?” Logan hissed, claws flashing. “You think she screamed?”

He pinned Bucky against a tree, claws digging into his shoulder. “She didn’t make a sound. You ripped her soul out and she didn’t make a damn sound!”

Steve tackled him from behind, and they rolled in the dirt, a blur of fists and claws and snarls.

“She’s my sister!” Logan roared, eyes wild. “You don’t get to break her and walk in here like it didn’t happen!”

“We didn’t come to pretend!” Steve shouted, panting. “We came because we love her. Because we’re not giving up.”

Logan punched his face harder, claws dripping with blood. “Love? Don’t talk to me about love. You had it. You had her. And you destroyed her.”

“We know!” Bucky yelled, wiping blood from his mouth. “We know, Logan!”

Logan’s claws whipped through the air, stopping just inches from Steve’s chest.

“You know?” Logan’s voice was low, deadly. “Know you ignore her? Know you push her aside for some other woman? Know you made her feel like she was nothing?”

For a moment, the woods fell silent.

Only their ragged breathing and the hum of tension filled the space.

Steve stepped forward, chest heaving. “We don’t deserve it. We don’t deserve her. But we’re here because we want to earn back what we broke. Whatever it takes.”

Logan stared them down, breathing hard, blood dripping from the tips of his claws. Then slowly, deliberately, he retracted them. “You want to see her?” he asked coldly.

Bucky nodded, limping toward him. “Please.”

His glare darkened. “I should gut you both right now.”

Steve’s heart pounded, but he didn’t back down. “We came to fix this.”

“You think you can just fix what you broke?” Logan snapped. “Do you have any idea what you did to her?” His fists clenched, his claws trembling. “She was done, Rogers. She wasn’t even mad, she was gone. You took the light out of her eyes.”

Bucky flinched. “We know…”

Logan scoffed. “No, you don’t. But you’re about to.” Logan narrowed his eyes. “Here’s how it’s gonna go,” he said, voice like ice. “You don’t talk to her unless she speaks first. You don’t touch her. You don’t even sit within reach unless she lets you.”

He stepped closer, eye-to-eye with Steve now.

“And if either of you so much as make her flinch…” His claws clicked out again, glinting in the low light. “I will rip you open from neck to navel, Super Serum or not.”

Steve swallowed, his voice steady. “Deal.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate, he accepted, “Understood.”

Logan held their gaze for a long, brutal moment, then he turned toward the cabin. “Follow me,” he growled. “But don’t forget for one second, you’re only breathing because she hasn’t said otherwise.”

Logan finally turned his back on them, but not before one last glare that promised violence was only on pause, not over.

Steve exhaled shakily and staggered, one hand pressed against his ribs where the fabric of his shirt was slashed open. Blood seeped through his fingers. His face was a mess, his left eye swollen nearly shut, a deep purple bruise blooming from temple to cheekbone. A ragged claw mark carved across his side, oozing with every breath.

Bucky wasn’t any better. He leaned against a tree, panting, blood streaking down his metal arm and soaking into the waistband of his jeans. Logan’s claws had torn through his shoulder and ribcage, deep enough to sting with every movement. His knuckles were split, his lip was busted, and one side of his jaw was turning a sickly violet.

Neither of them complained, neither of them even tried to patch the wounds.

Because it felt right, this pain. Deserved. And if it meant a chance to see you again, to try and fix what they shattered, they’d crawl the rest of the way.

Logan didn’t look back as he walked toward the porch.

He stepped back, motioning toward the porch. “Go ahead. Take a look at what you did.”

Steve and Bucky hesitated before stepping inside.

And there you were, sitting by the window, staring at nothing.

You looked… different, your face was blank, your posture slouched, your eyes, once so bright, so alive were empty.

Lifeless.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. “Doll…”

You didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them. Didn’t even blink. It was like you weren’t even there.

And that was when it truly hit them. They had done this to you.

And suddenly, the pain they had felt since you left was nothing compared to the agony of seeing what they had reduced you to.

Steve swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Doll… please.”

Nothing.

Logan leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “Still think this is something you can just fix overnight?”

Steve and Bucky said nothing, because they knew now, this wouldn’t be easy. And they deserved every second of it.

The next few days were hell.

You didn’t speak to the, didn’t look at them.

Logan made it clear, “she’ll talk when she’s ready. Not before.”

So they didn’t try to push their way inside.

Instead, they stayed in the car, instead of heading back to the compound.

Every night, no beds and warmth. Just bruises, blood-soaked gauze, and guilt.

Steve sat in the driver’s seat, barely moving, his ribs bound but still aching with every breath. His swollen eye throbbed under the butterfly bandages Logan tossed at him, no more, no less. Bucky sat in the passenger seat, shoulder stitched up by Logan who had done it because you told him to, but he didn’t told that to them, watching the cabin through the windshield like it might vanish if he blinked.

They didn’t leave.

Not to shower. Not to eat.

Logan had to drag them a blanket the first night, tossing it into the dirt with a scoff. “You bleed out here, fine. But don’t fucking die on my property.”

Every morning, Bucky walked to the porch and left your favorite coffee on the step. Every afternoon, Steve left a handwritten note, something short. Simple. Honest.

Sometimes it was “We’re still here.” Other times, “We love you.” Once, it was just “I’m sorry. I will never stop being sorry.”

You didn’t react. Not once. But the coffee was always gone by mid-morning.

And every evening, they sat under the quiet hush of the trees, bruised and broken, but still there. Still waiting. Still fighting.

Because this time, they wouldn’t leave first.

And yet, they refused to leave. Every morning, they were there. Helping. Talking. Apologizing.

Every day, they tried.

Not just with words, but with actions, because they knew they had to earn that back.

Logan watched them carefully, his presence a constant warning.

Meanwhile at the compound, Natasha had enough of Cassidy. She had her own way of dealing with things.

Cassidy barely had time to blink before the fist connected with her jaw. She flew backward, crashing into the training mats with a choked gasp. Blood bloomed across her lip.

“Get up,” Natasha said coldly, standing over her like death itself.

Cassidy groaned, dazed. “What the…”

Another strike. This one landed straight to the ribs, a sharp crack echoing across the room. Cassidy screamed in pain.

“You thought this was a game?” Natasha growled, crouching beside her, her voice low and lethal. “You thought you could slide in, smile pretty, and dismantle a woman’s life for fun?”

She grabbed Cassidy by the collar and slammed her into the wall.

Cassidy whimpered. “I didn’t…!”

SMACK. Natasha’s palm connected with her cheek.

“Don’t lie to me!” Natasha’s voice never rose, but every word dripped with fury. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Cassidy’s lip trembled. “They let me…”

“They were stupid,” Natasha spat. “But you? You were calculated.”

She released her, letting Cassidy crumple to the floor, blood stained her teeth. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts. And Natasha straightened her spine, adjusting her sleeves like Cassidy was dirt beneath her boots. “You’re done here.”

Cassidy looked up, eyes wide, voice barely a whisper. “What?”

Natasha didn’t blink. “I already spoke to Fury. Your access is revoked. You’re off the roster. Pack your shit.”

“You can’t do that…”

“I did.”

Cassidy struggled to her feet, clutching her ribs. “You don’t understand…I…”

“I understand perfectly,” Natasha snapped, stepping closer again. “You played with fire, hoping you’d get warm off someone else’s ruin. You didn’t care about Steve or Bucky, you just cared about having something that was never yours.”

She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted.”

Then she stepped back and opened the door to the hallway. “Now get out. Before I forget I’m done hitting you.”

Cassidy staggered out, clutching her side, sobbing softly. And the moment she crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her.

Back in the silence of the training room, Natasha exhaled and pulled out her phone. A quick text sent. One word.

“Handled.”

Back at the cabin, Logan stood on the porch, a beer in hand and his eyes trained on the car parked near the tree line. The same damn car. Still there. Still full of bleeding, broken, stubborn super-soldiers.

His phone buzzed. One word from Natasha.

“Handled.”

He smirked, good. Cassidy got what she deserved. He slipped the phone back in his pocket, then turned his gaze to the window, where he saw you, sitting curled up on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, face half-shadowed by the fading evening light.

You had seen the text too and you knew what it meant, but you said nothing, just turned your gaze back to the window, to the outline of that car, where they still were.

That night, after Logan went to bed, you stayed on the couch, eyes wide open. The blanket felt heavy. The silence pressed against your ears like water.

Your heart ached.

When you had first heard their voices at the cabin, something inside you had broken again, shattered, because it wasn’t enough that they made you feel small.

Now they were here. Showing up. Bleeding for it.

Your brother’s claws had torn them apart. And they stayed.

The first morning, you thought it was a trick. The second, you thought they were just proving a point. By the third morning, when you found your favorite coffee still warm on the step… your fingers trembled as you brought it inside.

You told yourself it meant nothing, that they were just desperate.

But desperation didn’t look like Steve curled in the driver’s seat, shivering through fevered sleep, one eye swollen shut.

It didn’t look like Bucky dragging himself out of the car every morning despite the gash on his side reopening, limping up the porch just to leave a note with shaking fingers.

This wasn’t just guilt, it was grief.

And it was starting to chip away at your anger, but not your pain.

Because you still remembered how Cassidy smiled beside them. How you’d walked into the room, your spot between them already taken.

You remembered the silence. The way they didn’t even blink. You remembered walking away… and neither of them followed.

Even now, days later, a part of you hated that they were making you feel again. They had shattered something sacred.

And yet here they were, refusing to leave until they helped you put it back together.

A war was playing out in your chest. Fury and longing. Hope and heartbreak.

You curled tighter under the blanket, heart pounding, and whispered into the dark, “I don’t know if I can forgive them...”

But part of you wanted to try and that was enough, for now.

It was just after sunset, and the sky was painted in bruised shades of violet and gold when Logan found you sitting on the porch swing, knees pulled up to your chest, a mug cradled in your hands.

You hadn’t said a word, not about them. Not about anything.

Just silence.

Logan sat beside you without a word, the wood creaking under his weight. For a while, he didn’t speak either. The two of you watched the wind shift through the trees in front of the cabin, the whisper of pine needles your only company.

“They haven’t moved.”

Your eyes flicked toward him.

“They’ve been sleeping in that car for five days,” he said, voice low. “Wounds still bleeding. Busted ribs. Swollen faces. And they haven’t left.”

You stared down into your mug, “They should…” you muttered. “They forgot me...”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, “Yeah. They did.”

You expected more, but that was all he said.

After a long pause, he exhaled. “But they’re trying. Not with speeches or flowers. They’re not trying to talk their way out of this. They’re doing the only thing that matters now.”

“Which is?”

“Staying.”

You blinked at the horizon, eyes burning, “They didn’t stay when it mattered.”

“No,” Logan agreed. “But they’re staying now. In the dirt. In the cold. In the blood they earned. That says something.”

You scoffed. “They feel guilty.”

“They should feel guilty.” Logan turned to look at you. “But guilt doesn’t make a man sleep in a rusting car for five nights with broken ribs and half a face. Guilt makes you say sorry and run. What they’re doing out there? That’s something else.”

You didn’t respond.

He leaned back, one arm across the back of the swing.

“You don’t owe them anything. Not your time. Not your heart.” He looked at you then, softer. “But don’t let what they did stop you from seeing who they are now.”

Your lip trembled.

“And if they’re not that man? You’ll let me carve ‘em up myself.”

That earned a breath of a laugh from you, and he grinned. “There’s my girl.”

You wiped your cheek roughly and looked out at the dark outline of the car at the edge of the property. Still there. Still waiting. And maybe, for the first time you didn’t hate the sight of it.

One morning, as Steve placed a fresh cup of coffee on the table, you finally spoke.

Your voice was hoarse. Quiet. “Why are you still here?”

Steve froze.

Bucky, sitting across from you, slowly set down his fork.

You stared at them, your expression unreadable. “I left. You could’ve moved on. So…why are you here?”

Bucky exhaled, “Because we love you.”

Your jaw clenched, “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Steve leaned forward. “We messed up. We know that. And we’re so sorry, Doll. But we’re here because we won’t give up on you. Not ever.”

You looked away.

Bucky’s voice was rough. “We don’t deserve another chance. But we’re gonna fight for one anyway.”

A long silence stretched between you.

Then, finally you picked up the coffee and took a sip. And for the first time since they had arrived, you didn’t look so empty.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was something. And for Steve and Bucky, that was enough.

For now.

Part 1

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As you all can see, I tried to tag everyone but the tags don't work well, sorry 🥲❤️

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pyxxiestyxx · 2 days ago

Text

How to Find a Traitor

Hi! This was inspired by This Hypnotic Audio by VerityLey, which is insanely hot....but also, yknow, CW for this being based on a very real hypnosis file that can give you very real hypnotic triggers (and while I don't think this story would do that on its own...safety first and all that). So y'know, just keep that in mind, I suppose ;p

. . . . .

Who was it?

The Captain of the C.N.S. Byzantium was known as a cruel, harsh man. Many were the days he had spent chasing down defectors, and many were the names of those who had... disappeared, once he had inevitably sniffed them out as plantfuckers.

Couldn't be someone from Engineering...unless that's exactly what they wanted him to think.

Even though he had only served for a single year as Captain, the turnover rate aboard his ship was almost three times the amount of any other of its class. This despite the latter half of his year spent with his ship in drydock, slowly receiving repairs while the battle against the Weeds raged onward.

He winced as he remembered the close call that had completely knocked out his engines and eventually sent them limping into the nearest safe haven. How nearly half of his crew had been taken by the damnable affini...and the angry chewing out he had received from his superiors within the New Terran Militia (or whatever it was they were calling themselves these days; it seemed to change every month).

Was that their plan? Get him kicked out of leadership, make him slow and dull? An empty-headed idiot, unable to think? Not him. Never him.

The Captain scowled at his hands, at the thickened band of skin caused from years of running his fingernails over the backs of his thumbs. His thoughts sometimes felt muddled, messy. The lines drawn between the web of relationships hard to keep track of. Even if it didn't make sense to him, he was still in control.

He just needed to find this most recent traitor, and then he would finally be able to sleep right. He knew they were in his crew...somewhere. He could feel it in his gut. Outbound communications had been rising steadily, and his newest Comms Officer (the previous one had, of course, been a traitor as well) had quietly notified him of that fact.

A knock at the door drew him from his thoughts. A pause, and then the door opened to reveal something that finally brought the ghost of a smile to his lips: two of his most trusted Officers, and an Ensign they were practically dragging in behind them. The lad was barely out of Naval Academy, boots still muddy from spending so much time on-planet. The recruit's eyes danced across the room, unable to settle. Pumped full of adrenaline, as sure a mark of a traitor as he had ever seen. The innocent had nothing to hide.

How could such a fresh-faced recruit have found himself in this position? How long ago had the worms buried into his mind?

The Officers set their prisoner down roughly in the only chair in the room for guests, then took their leave. The door creaked shut, locking itself automatically. Only he had the key. The Captain preferred to handle these sorts of things by himself; the guilt of an innocent loss would weigh on him, and him alone.

Fortunate for him, then, that he had yet to make a mistake.

The Ensign stirred, face pale with fear as he realized just how screwed he was. The Captain waited while he continued to look around; they always spoke first, eventually. It was just a waiting game. This time, he waited three minutes.

"I...um, Good Afternoon, sir?"

The Captain slowly blinked as the recruit nervously stammered, unimpressed. He sounded nervous, shaken- clearly not cut out for the life of a rebel. No doubt the Affini Compact had offered him a whole bevy of comforts to get him on their side. Two square meals, warm showers for a full minute and a half, the kind of stuff he hadn't gotten in years.

What a fool to accept them.

The traitor bit his lip, then snapped a salute as he spoke again. "I'm... I'm here to, um, that is...whatever it is Juarez said, it's all a lie, okay? I'd never betray my brothers and sisters, I swear it!"

A common refrain, an attempt to assuage doubts. The Captain's stare only tightened, pinning the young man in place while he opened a hidden compartment in the left side of his desk, retrieving a few items and placing one on the table, and keeping the other in his right hand.

The tools of the trade for this kind of thing.

He glanced at the tablet first, scrolling through with one hand until he found the Ensign's information, skimming it quickly.

Ah....of course.

Just as he suspected. Those in charge had designated Recruit Burkes as a clear potential ally to the Compact after accidentally speaking with a Mx. Drythes, Third Bloom, over a communication device disguised cleverly as a bar's video game; the report made great effort to impress how dangerous it would be to leave someone like Burkes in the rebels for much longer.

He needed to be...removed.

The Captain pushed down the feeling of guilt in his chest. It was for the best; once the Affini Compact got their vines into you, you were as good as theirs forever. There wasn't any point in trying to bring the recruit back (something he found hard to believe...but those in charge had insisted. Who was he to argue?). Burkes would soon be in a better place, and that was all there was to it.

There was only one thing to do, really. Even if it didn't make sense to him, the orders were clear.

The Captain levelled the service weapon in his hand, aiming it center-mass at Burkes; he rose to his feet and stepped back and over to the bookshelf in the corner. He accessed the hidden switch on the underside of the middle shelf, sliding the whole thing over and revealing a darkened passageway.

Almost done...almost done.

The satisfaction of a job well done dangled just out of reach…but no. Premature celebrations were for others; not the Captain. He knew the hardest part was yet to come; felt it in his gut like vent-critters.

The crewman got to his feet (albeit shakily), eyeing the tablet the Captain held in his other hand. Burkes chewed on his lip, but upon seeing the iron in the Captain's eyes, decided to comply; the recruit cautiously stepped into the dark passage, the Captain following a few steps behind. Neither of them spoke; they both knew there was no longer a point.

Soon, it would be over. Soon, the Captain would get a reward.

Why was his heart beating so rapidly?

It wasn't the first time he had done this. The passage in general was created months ago, serving as a way for the Captain to take care of such business in a discreet manner. No mess, no worrying about others, just clean and simple and safe.

...Simple...

And yet with each step, the feelings grew and grew. The Captain's eyes darted left and right, searching for...something. Someone. But the passage was dark and narrow; they were alone.

The thought of that was...upsetting.

The Captain frowned. Why? This is how it had always worked. Even if it didn't make sense, all that was left to do was bring Burkes to the end (a spot of light rapidly approaching), and then there was…

There was something…that the Captain wasn't supposed to worry about?

It doesn't...it doesn't make sense to...

“Good puppy~” *click click*

The pieces fell into place. The veil was lifted.

Oh.

The two Terrans stepped out of the darkness and right into an ambush, vines of soft green and deep blue shooting out and binding them both before they had a chance to blink. Burke let out a strangled yell of panic, but an injection from her new Mxtress immediately began to calm her right down, based on the noises made soon after.

"There you areeeee, silly little puppy~!" The vines binding the Capt...the puppygirl squeezed her tightly, drawing excited yips and barks from her like water from a well. she fell into Mistress's grasp with delight, dropping the tablet Mistress had given her and the squirt-gun (it shot a harmless paralytic) to focus entirely on licking all over her Owner's face.

she was such a Good girl! she obeyed, and listened, and no one got hurt, and was a Good girl, and everyone was happy!!! she was home she was with Owner and this was her favorite part and Good girls got rewarded!

*click click* went the little circle in Owner's hand, the sound sending shivers of pleasure down her back, causing her eyes to roll and drool to fall. Dumb little puppies like her got Clicker, and it was...sho good...

“Settle down girl, come on now~” puppy’s Owner giggled, brushing her vines through the girl's long hair, which was hidden beneath the cap she usually wore when pretending to be the Old Meanie. her previous self, the one before Owner had found her on that ship, the one she had ripped from her spirit and soul so lovingly over the months in dry dock.

“Wh…whhhuz goin…on?” The cute rescue, the one-who-used-to-be-Burkes, mumbled through her teeth, having already been stripped and redressed in a flowery flowy slip of a thing. She was already looking so much better, with pupils wide and gaze empty.

“It's quite simple, little one~ You see, my obedient and precious little girl here, who you may know as the Captain, did what she did best…” Owner smiled down at the puppy, making small coo-ing noises. The puppygirl giggled, writhing as her tummy got rubbies.

*click click* *click click* *click click*

“she fetched what was asked of her. Such a Good girl, yes you areeeee, yes you areeeee!” Owner began to scritch under puppy’s chin, causing feminine moans and squeals of delight to slip free from her soul. It was so hard pretending to be a mean nasty angry Captain, which is why Owner did that thing in her head to help! She didn't really understand how it worked, but that was okay.

How the affini had broken her? Doesn't make sense to puppy!

What was going to happen to the rest of her crew? Doesn't make sense to puppy!

Her Owner's plans for her? Doesn't make sense to puppy!

*click click*

puppy felt the thoughts and questions blissfully slip from her mind, giggling in delight. Stars, she was such a ditzy little happy pet. So well trained, so mal…malle…um…so well trained! Owner tilted her head up to gaze into her eyes, and puppy felt so happy...and a bit sad.

Because this was the Hard Part.

The part that made her whimper. The part where her Owner's eyes pulled her back to the Old Meanie. She felt herself falling, falling to Owner's pretty voice...

“I know, petal. I know. But you get to sleep with me every single night already, don't you? Yes you do, yes you do~ Good puppy. You're making me sooooo proud, doing this. And very, very soon, we will be ready to get everyone else in one go~”

. . . . .

The Captain woke slowly, peeling his face off of the desk. He groaned, rubbing his forehead as he glanced around the room. What had he…?

Oh, right. He had taken care of the latest traitor, and then he was getting a small nap in. Something told him that he needed to be extra vigilant for the next while, to find out as many traitors as pawsi...as possible. Those in charge were counting on him.

...It was a little weird that he had been so tired he had collapsed into his chair completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, or the smile he was unable to wipe from his face, but that was okay.

And in the corner of his mind, just out of sight...a whisper.

It didn’t have to make sense to puppy.

#hdg #human domestication guide #pyxfics #microfiction

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storiesaplenty · 21 hours ago

Text

The Pitt Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though. This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: loss of limb (nothing descriptive) a bit of swearing. Child birth (nothing descriptive)

WC: 3338

Requested by no one.

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work. All readers are female, unless stated otherwise.

Summary: During a storm, Jack can't sleep. As he sits in his office, he looks back over the memories of your relationship.

I was sitting in my home office, listening to the police scanner, not being able to sleep.

When there is a storm happening outside, I can never sleep due to the thunder.

My mind flashes back to memories I wish to forget. Each boom of the thunder makes me jump slightly, and I start to do my exercises to calm down.

But a flash of lighting lit up the room, seemingly to light up the photos across my desk, and my eyes zoned in on the first set of photos.

The memories that seemed to haunt me on nights like this slowly faded away as I looked at the first photo her and I took together.

I couldn't help but shake my head at the photo.

It was taken during high school, and it was at a Halloween party.

I didn't want to go to the party, as my girlfriend at the time had just broken up with me.

She was angry at the fact that I was focusing on school, my final season of playing football, and well, I told her I was going to join the military once I was done school.

I knew she had our future all planned out.

We were going to get married and have three children. I was going to work for her Dad, and she was going to be a stay-at-home-mom, but that was her dream, and never mine.

So at the beginning of our senior year, she dumped me, and even though I knew it was for the best, I just knew seeing my ex with other people may hurt, but my best friend, Alan convinced me to go to what would be the party that would change my life.

Everyone was dressed up.

I was just wearing my football jersey, but put in some fake vampire teeth, and drew two red marks on my neck with fake blood.

I was walking around Alan's girlfriend's house, trying to find a washroom that was occupied, when I bumped into someone who was going to change my life.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" We both said as we bumped into one another, my hands instantly going to her shoulders to steady her as she was wearing heels.

I couldn't help myself as I looked at her costume.

She was wearing a pumpkin poncho, with a headband that looked to be a steam, wearing black tights and green heels.

"I'm okay, are you?" She looked me up and down, taking I'm my costume."Vampire Jock?"

"The name is Jack, Miss Pumpkin, and yeah, I'm okay."

"Let me get you a drink, though, to make up for bumping into you." I was about to take her up on her offer when Alan's girlfriend, Becky, came up to her and grabbed her arm, mumbling something in her ear, making her groan.

"I'll catch you around VJ." Was all she got out before Becky was dragging her away. She looked over her shoulder as I gave her a small wave.

"I'll see you around Pumpkin." I said to myself, knowing that I would find her later.

Through out the rest of the party, I tried to find her again, but she wasn't with Becky, and when I asked Becky about her, she just said that you went outside to talk to your mom on the phone, and will be back in soon.

I waited and waited until I gave up.

I told Alan I was going to leave, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Most likely making out with Becky somewhere.

I stepped out onto the front porch, and to my utter surprise, there she was, sitting in the outdoor rocking chair.

"Thought you went home." I said, making her jump at a bit as she was looking up at the clear night sky.

"Na, staying the night to help Becky after we sleep." She told me as I sat in the chair next to her.

"I haven't seen you before. You don't go to our school." She shook her head no.

"Becky is my cousin. I go to The Ellis School for girls."

Her and I went back and forth, getting to know one another, until my watched beeped, letting me know it was time for me to leave.

"I should be going." I said as I yawned.

"Oh, well, I hope to see you again Jack."

"I don't have anything to write my number down, but Becky has it."

"Well, before you leave, may I get a photo?" She pulled out a disposable camera, looking to see how many photos she had left.

"Yeah." My voice seemed to crack as she stood next to me, putting my arm around her waist to get as close as possible.

The light almost blinded me as she took photo after photo, the two of us hoping for a decent photo.

"I'll be seeing you around Pumpkin." I teasingly said, making her playfully roll her eyes.

"Hmmm, sure you will Jack."

◆

A week after the party, as I was going through the mail to sort it, there was one for me.

From an address I did not know, but I still opened it. To my suprise, there was the photo of the two of us, smiling at the camera, in our costumes.

There was another note in the envelope, and it was just her phone number.

I didn't waste any time. I called her, hoping her parents didn't pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pumpkin." She let out a small giggle, but tried to hide it by clearing her throat.

"Hello Jack."

Her and I spent what seemed like hours on the first phone call, until she had to tell me she was being called for dinner.

"Wait, before you go, I have a game this Friday. Can you come?"

"I'll try."

The line went dead, and I hung up my phone, looking at the photo, wondering where I should put it.

◆

She came to that game, sitting in the stands with Becky.

She came to every game after that.

My eyes searching for her in the crowd, and when I would see her, she would wave at me, and I her.

Becky, Alan, her and I would all go out to eat after the games.

"Becky isn't felling well. I'm going to take her home."

I was disappointed, but tried to hide it. "Just go out with out us." Alan said as he winked at me, which confused me for a moment.

Then I caught on to what he was meaning.

He knew how much I liked her. Hell, he brought it up to me.

"Just have her home by 11:30 Jack, or she won't be allowed to come to the next game." He warned me.

◆

Years later, she told me she knew her cousin was faking being sick, but that night was our first date.

We were already at ease with one another, but as I drove her home, I became nervous.

I parked in front of her house, turning off the engine, turning to look at her, and she was looking at me.

"I had a really good time tonight Jack." She told me as she leaned her body closer to mine.

"I did too." I said just as our lips touched for the first time.

It was gentle at first, as we were testing the water, until she deepened the kiss.

We made our in my car until my watched beeped, reminding the two of us that she now has two minutes until it was 11:30.

"I'll call you tomorrow." I promised her as she got out of my car. I did offer to walk her to her door, but she said she was fine to walk up by herself.

I didn't drive off until she was in her house, the door closed behind her.

◆

Ever since that night, her and I have been together. We spent every moment together that we could. Her and I went to my prom together.

Our prom photo went with me when I was in the military. It was always on my body if I could help it.

Another flash of lighting lit of the room, and I looked at the photo that was next to our first photo we took together.

It was the photo of when I was in the base hospital. Our lives forever changed. She came to see me the moment she had clearance.

I woke up confused, as I saw her sleeping in the chair next to my hospital bed.

At first I thought I was dreaming, knowing she was back home, going over her lesson plans for the Monday as she teaches history at her old school.

I groaned as I felt some pain as I moved.

"Jack." She said, startling me.

"Pumpkin, what are you doing here?" Her nickname has stuck all these years, and sometimes she calls me Vampire Jock, or VJ for short.

"I'll get the Doctor." She said as she kissed my cheek, walking out of the room, leaving me confused, until it finally dawned on me.

What happened flashed in my mind, bits and pieces. I remember the five of us talking and then a loud ringing in my ears as I felt the worst pain imaginable. I remember seeing my leg burned and barely attached to my body anymore.

I moved the hospital blanket to the side, and just as I feared, the lower part of my right leg was gone.

I couldn't stop staring at it.

Not when the nurses came or the Doctor.

She stood next to me, grabbing my hand as I barely listened to the Doctor tell me what happened.

I just looked up at her, knowing she was listening intently to what was being said.

Her hand was gripping mine as tight as she could, knowing our lives were changed forever.

I could feel her engagement ring as she gripped my hand.

I smiled to myself as I thought back to us walking along the Emerald View Trail when I was on leave.

The box felt heavy in my pocket as we finally came to look out spot.

As she was taking in the view, I got down on one knee, the engagement ring box open as I cleared my throat.

As she turned around, her hands covered her mouth as I started to tell her how much she means to me.

How I knew the first time I saw her face, that she was the one for me. How I couldn't live without her in my life as she is my world.

She is my heart.

She said yes, and as I put the ring on her finger, her and I kissed for the first time as an engaged couple.

Her voice brought me back to what was happening into my hospital room.

"When can he go home?"

"We do not know yet."

At that moment, I knew I had to push her away. So she could have a normal life.

◆

I barely talked to her as I just stared out the window. Two days of me basically ignoring her.

She told me later on she thought I was just trying to process what happened to me, and she wasn't completely wrong, but to me, I was just trying to push her away.

"Jack, love, you got to eat." She said as she noticed I barely touched my food.

"Why are you here?" I finally asked, without looking at her.

"Why am I here? Because I love you Jack." She tried to grab my hand, but I pulled my hand away. I knew she was hurt.

"You need to leave." I told her.

"I'm not going anywhere Jack. I want to be here. I need to make sure you are okay."

For some reason, that made me angry.

I threw my food tray across the room, hitting the door, making her gasp.

"How the fuck am I okay? I lost my leg. I am barely a man anymore."

"Jack, baby," I didn't wait for her to finish. I screamed at her to get out.

Seeing tears streaming down her face made my heart clench, but I knew this was for the best.

I watched her leave, knowing this was for the best.

◆

She didn't come back for three days, and I hated every single second of it.

But to my utter surprise, when I was being wheeled down the hall, back to my room, she was standing there, talking with the Doctor.

I looked down at my hands that were in my lap, fighting an inner battle with myself.

I was happy she was there, but I didn't want her to be there. Even then I knew I was lying to myself.

I didn't get back into the bed, as I was some what happy to be out of it, even if it was only for a short while.

I was looking out the window as the nurse left and I heard another set of footsteps enter the room, and closing the door gently behind them.

"I thought I told you to get out." I told her as she sat down on my bed.

"Jack, I know why you did that." I could see her reflection in the window, and she was looking at me.

"Of course you do, because you know everything." I muttered, trying to get her to leave again.

"Jack, I'm not going to leave you." She softly whispered as she stood up to stand next to me.

She placed her hand on my shoulder, as I tried to push her hand away, but she just kept holding on.

"You need to find someone who is whole. Who can take care of you." I finally said to her as I looked up at her.

I knew how I must have looked.

Like a broken man, who knew he should be alone and not drag her down with him.

But she gently cupped my face in her hand, and I couldn't help but close my eyes at the contact.

I didn't realize she leaned down so we were eye level until I felt her breath on my face.

"I am not going anywhere my love. You may not think you are whole, but you are. You are still my Jack, the same man who I fell in love with the moment I bumped into you. I love you VJ, forever and always."

I didn't say anything as I captured her lips with mine, finally kissing her.

And at that very moment, I just knew we were going to be okay.

That I was going to be okay.

We got married while I was still recovering.

Just her and I and the priest.

It was intimate, and just what her and I wanted, and we didn't care what our families and friends would say, as we knew this moment was for us and for us alone.

The priest took the photo of us, her in my lap, as the sun was setting behind us.

Even through one our darkest times as a couple, we pulled through it together. Not knowing what our future looked like, but we would be together.

I saw the hallway light turn on just as another clap of thunder seemed to hit. This time louder.

"Jack?" Came her sleepy voice as she slowly opened my office door.

"You should be asleep love." I said to her as I wheeled out from behind my desk.

When I am home, I do not wear my prosthetic leg,

"You should be sleeping as well." She said right back at me, as she sat in my lap, as I wrapped my arms around her waist, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

"Bad dream?" She asked me as she played with the curls at the nape of my neck.

"Same one." She knew which one I mean. The day where I lost the lower part of my leg, and friends. Only two of us survived that day.

"Hmm, so what were you thinking about while you were in here?"

"Just memories of us with each photo." I said.

"I think the most recent one is my favourite." She said as she grabbed the newly framed photo off my desk.

It was us at the hospital I work at, the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital.

It was a normal start to my shift when Dana came up running up to me.

"Your wife is here. She is being taken up to labour and delivery."

I didn't even say anything as I rushed past her, Robby calling out to me that he will stay.

As I got to level 8, the nurses at the front desk just told me which room she was in.

"Jack." She cried out as she breathed through the contractions.

"I'm here baby, I'm here." I said as I grabbed her hand and kissed her.

"We still have a bit to go, but I will back in to check on her soon Jack." The Doctor, Kylie, said to us.

"I'll call if anything changes."

Then it was just us two. Nurses coming in and out to check on her as she slept on and off, but I couldn't sleep.

I just paid close attention to the monitors.

But the moment I was actually dosing off to sleep, she woke up, gasping.

"Get her, Jack. The baby is coming." My wife cried out.

I lifted the covers, and I could see the head. Swearing, I walked as fast as I could to the door, call out that I could see the head.

It was a blur as our birthing team came running down the hall towards us.

I got behind her, letting her rest against me as she pushed our child out of her tired, spent body.

The moment we heard him cry, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"It's a boy."

"He is finally here, Jack." She said to me, as I moved her damp hair, from her sweaty, beautiful face.

"And you did perfect my love."

Our son was taken to me looked over and did the normal tests as my wife was taken care of.

I wasn't to far from her just in case she needed me.

I was sitting behind her once more, brushing her hair and putting it in a messy bun, when to my utter surprise, Robby and Dana came in.

Dana was pushing our son in.

I was going to get up to grab him, but Dana gave me a look, which I knew what it meant, so I didn't move.

Dana gently lifted our son up and placed him in his mother's arms.

"He is just perfect." I said as I looked at him. Her thumb was rubbing his cheek.

"What is the little guys name?" Robby asked.

"Owen Jack Abbot." I proudly said.

"A good name. Now, how about family's first photo?" Robby suggested. I handed him my phone and he took many photos, none that really turned out well, except for one.

You could see her and I smiling at our Owen. Tired but happy.

I had that photo framed and put in my office and in our bedroom before she even came home with our son.

"Yes, I have to agree. That one is my favourite as well." I said just as I was about to kiss her, but then, our son started to cry.

I looked at the clock and noticed it was time for his night-time feeding.

"I'll go feed him. I won't be long." She said as she stood up.

I followed behind her, turning off the hallway light as I opened his bedroom door.

She was sitting in the comfiest chair I could find, feeding Owen.

As I watched the two most important people in my life, I couldn't help but feel content.

Even with the storm still happening outside.

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fluff #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbot x f!reader #jack abbot x f/Reader #jack abbott x you #jack abbot #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot x female reader #dr abbot x y/n #dr abbot x f/Reader #dr abbot x you #dr abbot

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dogletantte · 2 days ago

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Okay, so you really are just one of those US Americans who is incapable of understanding that there’s a world beyond your country.

Do you have the slightest idea what’s going on for trans people in, as an example, the UK right now?

I’ll make it easier. Do you know what the political climate is like for queer people in any European nation, at all?

I’ll expand the topics for you. Do you have a concept of the discourse on immigration policy and race in any country but the United States?

Does it occur to you *at all* that people in other countries might have *other priorities*?

And, just because I’m sure you won’t take me at all seriously without this, I have met your arbitrary standard of posting about American politics in the past, even though I’m not American.

Your insistence that US politics is all that matters is frankly imperialist, and you need to take a long hard look at yourself and why you think that’s okay.

I get that the current climate is scary. I get that makes you angry. It makes me angry too. But you are lashing out at someone for *no reason at all* other than your perception that they aren’t sufficiently engaged with the political system of a foreign nation.

That’s not an acceptable way to engage in discourse or coalition building and you need to do some serious introspection as to why you think that it is.

it really is all of us or bust btw. we cannot accept conditional acceptance of queer people, we cannot accept the exclusion of some in exchange for inclusion of others, it's all of us or nothing and we have to be so fucking clear about that. don't let conservatives or terfs or twitter discourse convince you that there's any other option. don't let them get away with it. we're all going to fucking make it and we're not leaving anybody behind

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softsuo · 1 day ago

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when their s/o gets jealous

⊱ you try to keep it at bay, but green-passing someone getting perhaps a bit too close to your boyfriend isn't your thing ; sakura, suo, kaji

⊱ request: "Imagine sakura, suo and kaji with an s/o that gets jealous and a bit possessive over them. Like not in a toxic, obsessive way but if they see their bfs getting hit on, best believe the s/o's gonna cling a bit more than they usually do and hold on to them until their jealousy simmers down 🙏😝😝"

⊱ w.c: 1.2k (total); 0.4k (average)

⊱ genre: fluff-ish

⊱ warnings: none

⊱ a/n: had too much writing this omg, thank you for requesting <3

sakura haruka

you try to keep it at bay, truly. few things make you happier than seeing people appreciate sakura after all, it warms your heart to extents beyond human comprehension. there is still a limit though.

it hadn’t even been a fight, only sakura helping two girls clearly bothered by some, quote unquote, punks with mere half-threats. it’s part of his duty, right? and it’s also part of his duty to make citizens feel safe, right? so it only makes sense for him to respond when the two come up to thank him, right? and it only makes sense for them to shamelessly act like you’re literally not even there, right? no. no, it doesn’t, and while you can’t blame him and his nature, it admittedly stresses you out when sakura doesn’t know how to respond through more than flustered stutters.

you like to follow the principle of being the bigger person. this time, you find yourself being the bigger problem instead.

“haruka,” you call out, fully going against your so-called principle once you wrap your arms around him from behind. you’re quick to feel his entire body shiver against your own, and if he already wasn’t flustered, you’re sure he is now. maybe you feel a bit bad for doing this to him in broad daylight, but you make a mental note to just apologize a little later. “nirei and suo are waiting for us.”

“what the he— since when do you call me h—” sakura makes an attempt to turn around, though interrupts himself upon processing the smallest of a pout you struggle with suppressing into his back. it’s just a guess, one he’s not certain of at all, but he does know better than to take any risks; clearing his throat, he turns back to the two girls, awkwardly rubbing his burning neck as he explains there’s somewhere you’re supposed to be right now and have to leave.

thus, that’s how you stay there until they’re both out of sight and sakura, still dusted in pink, finally puts his guess out there, “the hell are you being jealous for?”

“the hell are you getting shy around girls for?”

“oh, shut up!”

“and you speak up!”

suo hayato

it’s not like you’re angry or embarrassed or something along those lines, yet your face is damn near burning as you keep it buried into suo’s chest. you’re lying flush against him, legs tangled together, stretched over the sofa. you should feel comfortable. you don’t, and you’re not telling him why.

“i’m sorry, my love,” he apologizes, although he’s quite sure he can’t recall anything particularly wrong throughout the day you spent outside. “so can you please look at me already?”

as if stubborn were your middle name, you shake your head, but mutter anyway, “it’s not your fault.”

“so something is wrong?”

“... i don’t want to talk about it.”

“by chance, are you—”

“suo, no.”

a silence fills the room. only briefly, before suo lets out a light sigh. a hand reaches to gently, barely, caress the back of your head, the touch making your fist subconsciously loosen its grip on his shirt. “you know,” he begins, and your shoulders relax — partly from the soothing tint lacing his voice, partly because there’s no use trying to get around someone so naturally observant. “there’s nothing you have to be jealous of.”

“i know there’s nothing i have to be jealous of,” you retort, nudging his knee with your own. “but that doesn’t mean i have a thing for watching others hit on you like that.”

suo truly tries to hold it back as well as he can, but upon feeling his lips curve against the top of your head, you can easily tell he’s on the verge of laughing. though, it doesn’t make him take your thoughts any less seriously: “is there anything i can do to help you feel better?”

you’re ready to reject the offer — he had been quick to dismiss the previous events after all, clarifying that he already was with someone so he really isn’t at fault — yet you remain quiet, like you’re thinking.

in the end, you opt to wrap your arms around his torso, legs tangling even more chaotically with his. tilting your neck a bit, you allow yourself to rest into the crook of his neck, and the sigh you let out finally makes him laugh. in response, you soon find yourself held impossibly closer as his hands meet at your lower back. there’s a nod, a pair of lips feathering your forehead accompanied by a soft hum, “okay, let’s stay like this then.”

kaji ren

everyone and their mother knows about furin, so it comes rather naturally that they’d know kaji as well. lovely. great. you mean it whenever you think that too! it’s something you often take pride in.

although it can be an issue at times too.

when you exit the school building, you immediately notice the little crowd that’s gathered by the end of its grounds, right next to the gate. albeit somewhat curious on what’s going on, you’re more interested in going home, hence thinking you wouldn’t spare the minor fuss more than a glance or two—until you find out what’s actually going on.

there he stands, just a few meters away from fellow classmates and other students you don’t really know; without a single care for the surroundings, or maybe even awareness, kaji is leaning back against the brick wall, occupied by whatever social media he’s browsing, headphones on. due to his lack of response in curious whispers, gasps of awe and giddy giggles, you quickly assume that the sound of them all is muted behind his music. not that it helps the icky feeling growing inside you.

sure, you like to think you know where the reactions are coming from, and you’re humble enough to not assume each one of them know who you are — although some definitely do — but it’s gnawing on you, that little sense of jealousy you frankly don’t want to admit.

you really do not want to admit it. yet it’s undoubtedly the cause of you just slightly picking up your pace the moment some of the students move to approach him; by the time kaji’s attention is finally torn apart, you’re already ahead of them, safe to say giving him a startle as you soon nearly crash into him.

“i told you, you don’t have to pick me up every time,” you sigh, pulling him closer by the arm you squeeze close to yourself. do you mean it? yes. are you also trying to prove a point? yes? no? maybe so. nonetheless, you repeat the reminder once he tugs the headphones down to his neck, pausing his playlist.

kaji blinks at you a few times and if you didn’t know better, you could almost believe he’s the human embodiment of disinterest. his eyes dart aside though, noting the crowd that’s yet to leave—for better or for worse, you realize the pieces fall into place as soon as he lets out a deep breath.

“whatever,” he mutters and frees his arms from your hold, yet showing no hesitation when he securely grabs your hand in his own. “let’s go, coffee shop’s not waiting for your jealousy.”

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker imagines #sakura haruka #suo hayato #kaji ren #wind breaker reactions #t:rh

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 days ago

Note

payneland + 22

Thank you for the prompt! Here's some post-canon, pre-slash Payneland:

22. “...you knew?”

CW: Referenced homophobia

They don’t talk about it, until there’s nothing to do but talk.

Charles isn’t sure how long they’ve been trapped in this iron cage; there aren’t any windows in their prison and it’s not like they need to eat or sleep. Their captors took Charles’s bag, his cricket bat, and Edwin’s notebook when they threw them in there, so there’s nothing to do to keep them occupied. There’s not even enough room for Charles to pace; the cage is barely large enough for them to both stand chest-to-chest without touching the iron bars.

So they talk, because Charles would go mental otherwise. They talk about Charles’s dad and Hell and Port Townsend and losing Niko. They reminisce about past cases. They speculate about how much Crystal and the Night Nurse are probably driving each other mad right now. And finally, when it seems there’s nothing left to talk about, they revisit the elephant that’s been hanging between them for six months now.

“I wasn’t sure if you would ever want to see me again after I told you,” Edwin says quietly, nearly a whisper. The basement is pitch dark; even though their faces are only centimeters apart, Charles can’t make out his expression.

Charles is surprised by how much that hurts. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

“Because back in my day, what I told you would have been unconscionable.”

“Well, it’s not your day anymore, is it?” Charles shakes his head. “You really thought I’d go all the way to Hell for you, then leave you on the steps?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t know if you’d want anything to do with me after we escaped.” Edwin blows out a frustrated breath. “You must understand, none of this was something to be spoken of when I was alive. It wasn’t even to be thought of. When people like me were spoken of, it was because we were the subject of scandal, condemnation, and usually criminal charges. There weren’t people like Crystal running around with flags.”

“Yeah, I get that, mate,” Charles says. Not even the happy memory of Crystal and Edwin arguing when she wanted to hang up a pride flag in the office is enough to distract him. “But I told you, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter one bit to me. It wasn’t really a surprise, to be honest.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say even before Edwin’s voice goes shrill with indignation. “You knew?”

“Not about you being in love with me,” Charles says quickly. “Didn’t see that one coming, trust me. But I mean, I could guess you were… not a ladies’ man.”

“Not a ladies’ man,” Edwin echoes. “How did you know”

Charles doesn’t know how to answer that, because the truth was, he just sort of… assumed. There was something about Edwin that always reminded him of Mr. Wright, the man who’d lived two doors down from him when he was a kid. He’d always seemed like a nice enough bloke, but his father sneered at him and forbade Charles from riding his bike past his house alone. It wasn’t until Charles was older that he realized that the quiet man who lived with Mr. Wright probably wasn’t just his roommate.

“I don’t know, mate,” he finally says. “Guess I just know you, don’t I?”

“Everyone always knew, back when I was alive.” Edwin doesn’t sound indignant now, just tired. “The way I walked, the way I spoke, the way I stood. That was why Simon…”

He trails off, but Charles knows what he was going to say next. Days ago—at least Charles assumes it was days, but it may have been weeks by now—Edwin finally told him the whole story of how he died. Charles got so angry, he punched the bars of the cage and barely noticed when they burned his hand.

“They were fucking idiots,” Charles says fiercely. “All of them.”

“Of course they were, Charles. They accidentally summoned a demon as a prank. They were hardly Britain's greatest minds.”

“No, because they were shitty to you because of the way you stood.” Charles reaches up to put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, just like he did on the stairs out of Hell, smoothing his thumbs over his collarbones. “Listen, you have to know that there’s nothing you could ever tell me that would make me never want to see you again, yeah? Nothing. You’re my best mate. That’s never going to change.”

He hears Edwin’s throat click as he swallows. “Never say never.”

“No, I will bloody well say never,” Charles says firmly. “Our friendship survived you not liking ska. It will survive anything.”

That earns him a small laugh.

Charles’s chest feels tight with a thousand emotions he can’t put a name to yet. “And I think you being in love with me is brills, okay?”

“You do?” Edwin sounds gobsmacked, which makes Charles smile. He likes taking his partner by surprise. Doesn't happen often, does it?

“I mean, it’s just… flattering, you know?” Charles’s face is warm, which is weird. Ghosts aren’t supposed to get flushed. Did he touch the iron bars without noticing? “Because you’re aces and if you love me, then I must be pretty great too, yeah?”

“Like I said in Port Townsend, you’re the best person I know,” Edwin says, voice going soft again.

Yeah, it’s definitely too warm in here. Time to get out of this bloody cage. “And at least you’re not in love with the Cat King or that bloody crow.”

Edwin lets out a huff of laughter. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Charles feels like there’s more to say, because Edwin’s got to know how much he means to him, but before he can find the right words, there’s a horrible wrenching noise, followed by a crash, as if the door has been ripped off the cage. Charles whirls around, arm thrown out to defend Edwin, ready to take on these wankers with his bare hands if he has to—

“For goodness’s sake.” The Night Nurse’s voice rings through the darkness. “I do not know how on earth the two of you managed before Crystal and I came along. Getting dragged to Hell, kidnapped by witches, and locked in cages. What a way to run a business.”

Charles’s shoulders sag with relief as Edwin makes an offended noise behind him. “Would you believe that we used to not get kidnapped all that often?”

“No,” she says flatly. “Now, come along, let’s get the two of you out of here before you manage to get into more trouble.”

***

Angst and Hurt/Comfort Prompts

#dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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mageknife · 2 days ago

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also if the mortalitasi actually do puppet the nevarran throne, that makes emmrich’s constant defense of king markus exceptionally fascinating. the mortalitasi are established to be extremely politically shrewd, and the nobility is largely not thrilled about king markus’s rule because they suspect the mortalitasi of ruling through him. which is like. 100% what’s happening, based on the lucanis/emmrich banter where lucanis says crows have been hired to kill king markus 20 times by nevarran nobility.

it was previously only speculation but veilguard makes it pretty clear in a couple different places that king markus is dead and being controlled by the mortalitasi, though emmrich won’t straightforwardly admit it even to ingellvar. what does emmrich stand to gain from denying what seems to be a fairly open secret even to someone within the order that benefits from it?

the mortalitasi are essentially ruling nevarra right now. they can have whatever they want as long as markus remains on the throne. but he’d already be pretty old if he were still alive, and suspicion about how long he’s been king from both within and outside nevarra’s borders will keep him from sitting on the throne much longer. the mortalitasi’s puppet rule is probably on its last legs. they can only keep playing weekend at bernie’s with markus for so long before the nobility starts to get even more angry and they risk another civil war (the war of the banners that ingellvar quelled was an undead uprising, but the nobles that are alive are already trying to assassinate him, so).

basically the mortalitasi are going to be victims of a power shift sooner rather than later—there is no clear successor to the throne, and much of the nobility thinks the reign of the pentaghasts should end, which would likely further weaken the mortalitasi’s influence—and i think emmrich, who is very comfortable in the life he’s built, is more denying it to himself than to anyone else

#largely speculation on the political state of nevarra but i do think it’s interesting wrt emmrich specifically #emmrich volkarin #dragon age meta #eliasposts

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verdancy-hime · 3 days ago

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I don't think we need to eliminate them I think just not doing what they want is okay. Mostly that's about women not getting hurt. An individual woman might feel rage. You can if you want. Specifically against really shitty men who have done things to you or your friends or your relatives or like

Specifically it's the dog pile guys for me.

The ones who jump on and in to invalidate whatever you went through and blame you for whatever happened

There was this woman on tiktok who got hit in the head with a brick.

She refused to give some guy her number so he hit her in the head with a brick. She had to go to the er.

She was yelling with a hole in her head at the men outside the club who just stood there watching her get hit and did nothing and it went viral.

This guy who never fucking met her went on tiktok claiming that because she did some skit on tiktok that she was a troublemaker who everyone knew and who had it coming.

He claimed to be from her neighborhood and know her and said he was there.

Another person proved that was 100% untrue.

That guy.

Whatever makes men do that because they know it will benefit them?

I hate that a lot.

If I were designing a punishment I would make those men literally invisible to women.

You cannot in real life or online interact with women.

But really? It's not a punishment cuz those guys hate women so much they drive women away from them on purpose.

It does serve the purpose of keeping women from getting hurt by their shit though.

Like I decided to be 4b other than my job. I can't quit my job for reasons.

One of them is unfortunately women have always hated me even before the men turned on me.

I have a terrible personality and only people who want to pay me for sex can stand me but I need to eat and be away from people so they don't get hurt so we do what we have to do.

But like

4b is about accepting that romantic love isn't real, men will literally take over the government and take away your legal rights even when the science exists for them to completely replace you in their own lives because they hate you so much that the idea that you could be happy even with them makes them so angry that any time you are happy they have to fuck things up so that you are angry and yell at them.

It's about accepting that the pay gap is real and it's designed specifically to try to force women to choose between a "bear" market and poverty and a man who hates them.

It's about accepting that feminism never really happened it's just some kind of weird play they do to gaslight younger women into thinking they chose their cage of their own free will.

It's about accepting that most men see women as sources of labor and not as people or even sexual objects and they mostly have sex with women to punish them or keep them in line.

It's about accepting that you were lied to about the world and nothing will ever happen to you when you believe love is real but agony.

Sex is real.

Sex work is real.

Labor trafficking is real.

Men who want women only to have a baby are real.

The rest is just fake.

Why would you not be 4b if it turns out the bs are in a giant conspiracy to hurt you on purpose so they can publicize the instructions and they don't have to pay money to try to punish you for being happy around them?

The only rational response to the world I personally live in, at least is to become a pornosexual and never date kiss or have sex again.

If I wasn't being stalked by weird assholes I would have stayed a sex worker because the only sane response to living in a world where romantic love is labor trafficking and they won't let you get and keep a stable job unless your income is going to a man's benefit is to be a sex worker so at least you can charge and no man wants you.

You get all the good stuff that way and none of the bad stuff.

But they came along and shat on that, too. And tortured me for four years. Which is proof that no matter what you do, someone will force you to be miserable doing it.

But that's not really because of men. I know because a lot of the people torturing me over the years have been women. They did it for patriarchal reasons but they were women.

If you have to have a tribe of people who will torture you for sport for not begging them for approval but also won't give you approval and will still torture you it doesn't matter if it's men or women or one person or a group or a hivemind.

No matter what you do you will be miserable so it's best to just focus on making sure that you get killed by those people as soon as possible since they all hate you so much.

rich men succeeded at making the average man turn against the average women (which isn't that difficult because men are fucking stupid) so now regular working class men have been attacking women, bitching about feminism, and they want to end our rigjt to vote and work so we can be dependent on them and have all their chimp babies. it isn't just the wealthy men who are ruining society, regular men are too. they are all class traitors and must be eliminated

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7975348473 · 3 days ago

Note

Hi, I love your fics. Could you write one where Lyra and Gray have a really big fight, break up, and then get back together after a while?

Breakups Don't Last.

------------------------------ Relationship/s:- Lyrason (Lyra x Grayson), The Hawthorne Brothers. Post- The Grandest Game

I recommend you read "The Rolex Chronicles" before this fanfic,in order to understand it better, but its not necessary.

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

LYRA

Grayson and Lyra hadn't been properly communicating for quite a while. It wasn't intentional, of course.

Half of Grayson's thoughts were still preoccupied with Lyra and half of Lyra's thoughts were still plagued by her asshole.

It was just that, between Grayson's work at the firm and Lyra's studies, they couldn't talk much.

So, apart from the occasional "How are you?", "Did you eat?", "I love you" and "I miss you", they weren't interacting. Of course, Lyra had noticed. And she hated it.

But she had figured that, once both of their lives calmed down, everything would return to normal. Return to just them.

Life had other plans, though.

Grayson was tired. Lyra was beyond exhausted. Yet they still took out time and decided to meet one another, that's what love did to a person. Unfortunately, though, their lack of communication over the past few weeks finally took its effect.

They ended up arguing.

“Lyra, I honestly don't remember??” Grayson said, sounding absolutely exasperated. Which only hurt Lyra more.

“I- Gray. You planned the event??” Lyra immediately shot back.

“And I forgot. I'm sorry, its just work has been-”

“Do not give me that excuse again, Gray, because I have been perfectly busy too, but I remembered.”

Grayson ran a hand down his face, his smile was completely gone now.

“I'm not giving you an excuse Lyra, its the truth and sadly inevitable.”

Lyra let out a frustrated groan, “Inevitable, Hawthorne? Really? You're the one that suggested we go out this weekend and then forgot. This was perfectly avoidable.”

Grayson's eyes bored into her, as if he was trying to read what was going through her mind.

“You're right. This was perfectly avoidable, I shouldn't have tried in the first place.” He sounded cold.

Lyra tried to remind herself that they were both just tired, that they were both lashing out for no reason, yet she couldn't get herself to stop.

Her scoff was cruel.

“Or you could have remembered?? Set a reminder or something. This is the third event of ours that's been cancelled-”

And so they went back and forth over and over again.

“Oh, my god. I cannot even with this right now.” Lyra said after they had argued for a good twenty minutes. She raised her hands in defeat and began to pace the room to keep her cool.

“With what?” Grayson pried, he wasn't masking his anger either.

“I don't know genius. The event? This? Us?”

When Grayson was angry, he didn't yell or scream or turn red. No, when he was angry, he put on his poker face. His cool, unbothered façade. He went so unbelievably still, seemed so unbelievably calm, that people were unnerved.

And that demeanor never faltered when he was in a bad mood.

At least that's what Lyra had thought up until then.

The moment the word “Us?” left her mouth, Grayson's expression changed. For one split second, he looked shocked, taken-aback, broken.

Lyra knew immediately where she had erred. She didn't mean that. Not one bit.

“Gray-”

“Then leave.”

Silence.

Lyra felt her world tilting on its axis as she repeated those words again in her head.

Then leave.

He wants you to leave. He wants you to leave.

A small part of Lyra whispered, He doesn't mean that.

Lyra took a deep breathe.

But what if he does?

She looked up to meet Grayson's gaze but he wasn't looking at her anymore. His head was turned to the side as he glared holes into the floor.

“Leave?” She asked, her voice sounded indifferent. A broken kind of indifferent.

A heavy silence followed, which answered the question for her.

“Alright then.” Lyra turned on her heels, walking fast towards the door. She needed to get out of there.

“This is the end, Hawthorne.”

Lyra grabbed her car keys and was about to snatch her coat from the stand when she realized that it wasn't hers.

The coat she had been using was her boyfriend's. Or, her now ex-boyfriend's

Lyra's hand retreated and she barged out the door. She didn't let the tears come, she had a long drive ahead of her.

But where am I going to go?

She decided on Miles End, making up her mind to drive for nearly a day and a half.

Lyra sprinted to the parking area and spotted a man standing in front of her car.

“Excuse me, can you please move? I need to drive.” She tried to sound as polite as she possibly could at that moment.

The man turned to her, “Actually, I have been assigned to drive you wherever you'd like.”

Lyra felt her heart tug.

Maybe Grayson didn't hate her?

She pushed the thought away. He had told her to leave, he didn't want her around anymore and she would respect that.

“I decline the offer, now please leave.” Lyra said, making her way to the drivers seat.

“M-miss! I insist-”

Lyra sent the man a levelled glare, ordering him to back off, “You are dismissed, sir.”

The man gave a small bow and left. Lyra almost felt bad, she hadn't meant to scare the poor guy, but she wasn't exactly emotionally stable at the moment.

Finally, sitting there alone in the car, her feelings bombarded her. A broken sob escaped her lips.

Lyra didn't think her life could have a lower moment than when the memory of her biological father began to haunt her. She had been wrong.

This was so, so much worse.

Because Lyra had a taste of what love felt like, what being whole felt like, what being with him felt like.

And she had screwed it all up. She had ruined it.

Lyra felt like somebody had ripped her heart out of her chest, threw it to the ground, stomped on it a hundred times and put it right back in her chest.

That would be better than this, actually. She thought.

Everything hurt.

And he wasn't there.

Lyra's entire body shook as she sat their in the car, crying her heart and soul out.

She had lost him. He hated her. They were over.

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

GRAYSON

Grayson's brain didn't process what had went down until she slammed the door shut behind her.

She left.

Lyra was gone.

And he had told her to leave.

Grayson's eyes widened slightly.

When they had started arguing, Grayson knew it wouldn't be a short 'scream and finish' argument. They both had been tired, they both had lashed out.

But he never expected for this to happen.

Grayson took a step back as the weight of the situation finally settled in.

Lyra left. She's gone. She isn't coming back. We broke up. She hates me. It's over.

He fell back on the sofa without meaning to, his legs had given out. Grayson had faced heartbreak before, this was something else. Because what was his life without Lyra? What was he without Lyra?

How did this happen? Why did this-

He took a shaky breathe. He tried to steady himself.

He failed.

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

LYRA

It was hard to keep her eyes open for nearly 29 hours after having an entire sob session, but Lyra was stubborn as hell.

She had drove. An entire 29 hours. No eating or breaks. Just driving

And she was now at Miles End.

Lyra stood at the front door staring at the door knob as she contemplated whether to tell her mom. What to tell her mom. She took a deep breathe and stepped in.

“Mom! I'm home!!” Lyra screamed as if her arrival was to be expected.

Her mom ran out of the kitchen, “Lyra?! Oh my goodness-”

She hugged her, Lyra let her.

“You came alone?? Where's my soon-to-be-son-in-law?” She asked, looking back to the door to make sure nobody was left behind. That he wasn't left behind.

When Lyra didn't reply, her mom turned back to her.

Lyra had decided before hand that she wouldn't tell her mom, she didn't want to worry her. She didn't want her mom to see her despair.

Her mom turned around and gazed over her entire body, toes-up. Her eyes lingered on her face. She didn't say a word.

She simply took Lyra's hand and led her to the living room.

Lyra followed like a lifeless corpse.

She took a seat on the sofa and signaled for Lyra to follow suit. She did. And then, her mother took her head and gently pried it onto her lap, Lyra was stunned for a moment.

But that's all it took.

She wrapped her hands around hers mother's waist, face towards her mother's stomach.

The tears came of their own violation.

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

GRAYSON

Grayson had dealt with heartbreak before. This was not the same.

He didn't know what to do. What to think.

It had been nearly a week since the argument, since the break up. Grayson hadn't so much as left his room. He didn't shower, didn't eat, didn't sleep.

Life felt bland, pointless, like nothing.

Suddenly Grayson heard voices coming from outside the door, his usually sharp ears, though, didn't process what they were saying until they entered his penthouse.

“Nope. We've given him enough time to sob. We cannot handle this gently anymore.” Jameson

“Agreed.” Said Xander and Nash heaved a heavy sigh.

They stepped into his room and froze.

Obviously, whatever it was they were expecting, it wasn't this.

Grayson, laying down on his bed, looking surreally pale- symbolizing a corpse. Judging by how disheveled his clothes looked, he obviously hadn't changed from his previous pair, leave alone bathed.

He looked miserable. Dead, almost.

His three brothers stood there, trying to process what they were seeing. It didn't feel right. Nothing about the scene said Grayson.

Jameson snapped out of it first.

“Grayson. What are you doing?” He practically screamed, Nash shot him a glare but he ignored it.

When Grayson didn't reply, didn't move, Jameson walked forward.

“Oi! Grayson-” Nothing.

“Gray! You can't stay like that for the rest of your life. Get up.”

Followed by, once again, nothing. Not a glare, not a scoff not even an eye twitch.

Jameson's eyes widened slightly. This was bad.

Nash and Xander stepped up beside him as they all looked down to Grayson's extremely still body-practically-corpse.

They were stumped.

“Okay!! Its obvious my dearest brother here is in need of some scones. And chaos. A lot of chaos.” Xander declared.

He produced a scone out of his pocket and handed it to Grayson, when he didn't move Xander began to wave the scone in front of his eyes.

“Brother! Earth to Brethren!! Hey, its a once in a lifetime moment that I share my scones, are you seriously going to miss out on this??” Nash and Jameson snorted, Grayson remained still.

Silence.

Xander looked slightly panicked and even Jameson was shook.

Nash then picked Grayson up and they all moved to the living room. No one had to say anything, because when a Hawthorne was down and depressed, only one thing helped them lighten up.

“Karaoke Time!!” Jameson and Xander screamed simultaneously.

And the brothers did what they did best. They chaos-ed. They chaos-ed so hard that Xander had just about lost his voice, Nash had ditched his cowboy hat and Jameson's shirt had come undone. Yet, despite it all, Grayson had still not moved.

Finally, his brothers stopped.

They all shared a look, they needed to face this head on.

Nash sat down next to Grayson, who was just staring at the floor. He wore no expression but it wasn't what you could call his poker face.

His poker face only came up when he himself was in control, this expression was something else.

It was broken.

“Gray.”

Nothing.

“Look at me lil' brother.”

Grayson didn't. He didn't so much as move a muscle.

“I feel a tackle coming in~~” Xander tried. Still nothing.

Finally, Jameson stepped up.

He simply moved and sat down on the other side of Grayson and then, without warning, he smacked their wrists together.

A loud clinking sound was produced.

Nash and Xander looked confused, they looked to Jameson and Grayson's wrist and saw two Rolexes.

Two matching Rolexes. Bestie Bands.

Finally, Grayson looked to Jameson and Jameson met his faltering gaze.

“You alright, bro?”

Grayson shook his head slowly as his brain began to catch up with reality once again.

A broken sob escaped him, and then he couldn't stop. The sound kept coming, shattered and crushed.

Jameson was immediately there, wrapping his arms around his brother, Nash put his strong arms on Grayson's shoulder as he shook.

Xander's eyes looked slightly glassy, he was the youngest after all. He wiggled himself between Jameson and Grayson's bodies and wrapped his hands around Grayson's waist.

All four brothers stayed like that for a while and Grayson's brain finally formed one coherent thought.

What'd I do to deserve these three?

A/N: Everything. Gray, my child, ur the bestest.

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

LYRA

It had been a week and five days.

An entire 288 hours without Grayson, and Lyra was not coping well.

She would randomly explode during the day and cry herself to sleep at night. Things were not looking good.

Lyra's mom had told her that she needed to be stronger for herself and try to get over the entire situation.

But it was easier said than done.

Because getting over Grayson Davenport Hawthorne seemed to get more and more impossible with every passing hour. How were you supposed to get over somebody that perfect, somebody you didn't even want to get over??

Lyra had been trying though, to pull herself together for the sake of her family. She was miserably failing.

No matter what she did, her brain would always find a way to wander back to him. If she was cooking she'd think, "Grayson likes less spice in his food" Or if she was watching TV she'd catch herself thinking, "Grayson's favorite show comes on today."

And then reality would catch up with her, but that wasn't the worst part.

No, the worst part was the thought that came after.

You shouldn't be thinking about him anymore. You can't.

It was that thought, that thought that made her heart squeeze, that made it hard to breathe.

Thinking about Grayson had always come naturally to Lyra, as if he was always meant to live rent free in her mind. And Lyra had loved to think about him, her boyfriend.

Hell, she still loved thinking about him, and that's what anguished her.

Lyra still thought about him, still loved him but she had lost the right to do so. She had hurt him by saying she was tired of them, she had left.

It was all her fault.

"Lyra!! Get down here, you have a guest!!"

Lyra flinched awake. She had been trying to sleep off her heart wrenching reality for a little bit, but it seems her mom had other plans.

A guest?

No one knew Lyra was back in town, so who would have come to visit her?

"Quickly!!"

Lyra dragged herself out of bed unwillingly, she barely had the energy to stand. She walked over to the mirror and stopped, looking herself up and down.

God. I look terrible.

Lyra's eyes were brimmed red because of all the late-night-crying-sessions and her hair was all over the place, not to mention her tear stained cheeks.

She let out a heavy sigh and grabbed a scrunchie, putting her hair into a quick messy bun and then washed her face.

When she was done tidying up, she realized... she still looked like shit.

Screw it.

Lyra flew down the stairs, making up her mind to wrap this up quickly.

"Mom, who is i-"

Lyra reached the end of the stairs and paused upon seeing the guest, she was absolutely floored.

A tall man in his early twenties, equipped with a cowboy hat stood at the front door.

What''s Nash doing here??

Lyra proceeded to have a mini freak-out.

Oh no. He probably heard what happened from Gray. Does he hate me too? I would hate me if I were him.

Nash's voice reeled Lyra out of her trance.

He smiled and said, “Hey lil' darlin'.”

Lyra was, once again, floored. Why was he smiling at her??

“H-hi.” She replied. What were you supposed to say to your ex-boyfriend's eldest brother?? Lyra certainly didn't know.

“Can I get you anything, Nash?” Lyra's mom chimed in.

Nash turned his gaze from Lyra to her mom, “No, thank you though. I'd just like a few moments with my lil' sis' here.”

Lyra's eyes widened slightly at the endearment. Lil' sis?

She took a deep breathe, trying to calm her emotions which were brewing up a storm, internally. But why was he being so nice to her??

“Please come in.” Lyra said finally.

Nash walked into the living room, his eyes travelled around Miles End as if assessing and judging the house.

“Um- can I ask why you're here?” Lyra asked hesitantly.

He plopped himself down on the sofa, turning his gaze to her and that's when it hit her.

He's probably here to return the stuff I left.

When Lyra had left Grayson's pent house so abruptly, she had forgotten all of her belongings.

“I already told your mom didn't I? I just wanna talk with you for a little while.” Nash drawled, Lyra felt a comfortable warmth settle over her.

Why was he being so nice?

“Oh, I also needed to give you something your forgot.” He quickly added.

I knew it. She thought.

Unexpectedly, Nash reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. Lyra looked at him, slightly surprised, before taking hold of the picture.

Her breath hitched.

The picture had 5 smiling girls in it, Avery, Max, Gigi, Savannah and Lyra.

It had been no secret that Lyra loved the photo, she had framed it and kept it in her room and it seemed Nash had noticed.

But it wasn't the photo she loved exactly, it was the moment that had come with the picture, the photographer.

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

“Alright people, gather around!! Our photographer is ready to do his job!” Jameson yelled from across the park.

Grayson rolled his eyes. A habit he had picked up from his girlfriend.

The five girls, who had been screaming and messing around, ran on over to have their photo taken. Grayson was ready with his camera.

The girls posed, putting up two fingers to make the peace sign, grinning. Lyra had been smiling too, the same smile she always wore in all her photos. A practiced smile.

Grayson was adjusting his camera when he suddenly frowned. A frown so minute you could barely see it but Lyra knew it was there.

She was confused, 'why is he upset all of a sudden?'

Suddenly, Grayson looked up at her and their gazes met, the rest of the world seemed to tune out. Because, god, he was looking at her like that again. Like she was the world and the stars and everything else that came with it.

And then, Grayson Hawthorne- the beautiful asshole, smiled. He really smiled. The type of smile where his eyes softened and his eyes wrinkled slightly.

Lyra's breathe caught. How was he so unfairly beautiful??

But Grayson Hawthorne was contagious.

Lyra found herself returning the smile and then the camera sounded click, he had taken the picture.

And she had been smiling. A real smile. Meant for him.

The moment was incredibly private, but Lyra knew she'd cherish it forever.

They would be forever.

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

Lyra ignored the way her heart squeezed and her throat closed up. She smiled at Nash.

“Thanks, Nash.”

“So, what have you been up to?”

Lyra thought that over. Oh- the usual, crying, having mental break downs, etc.

She couldn't exactly say that, though.

“I've been trying to learn a new dance choreography I found online. Its pretty nice.” She settled for a half-truth.

Lyra had been trying to learn a new ballet choreography, true. But she had also been unsuccessful in doing so because even the slightest violin note reminded her of him and then she felt her eyes burning.

Nash's eyes bored into her, and suddenly Lyra was reminded of how crappy she looked.

“Max and Xander managed to almost burn down the entire house. Again.” Nash deadpanned.

Silence.

Why was he telling her this? Weren't they going to talk about Grayson?

“Oh.” She replied finally.

He adjusted his cowboy hat “Yeah. They were apparently trying to make scones with some sort of alchemy for science.”

Lyra snorted at that.

“Let me guess, Alisa had their head?”

Nash shot her a look, “Worse. Xander is banned from touching scones for two days and Maxine is not allowed to read any romance novels.”

Lyra couldn't help it, she giggled.

Leave it to Alisa to find the most perfect ways to punish people.

Lyra and Nash talked, discussing the stupid found-family that resided within the Hawthorne household. And for the first time in the past two-ish weeks, Lyra felt slightly happy. Slightly at ease.

“I can't believe him sometimes, honestly.” Nash said in reference to Jameson.

Lyra rolled her eyes, “That sounds like Jameson. Stupid half-british ass.”

Nash paused for a second, meeting her eyes before laughing. Lyra found herself joining in.

Finally Nash stood up, a smile still on his face, “I should get goin' now. A long trip ahead and everythin'.”

Lyra stood up too and walked with him slowly, towards the door. She wasn't sure why he came all the way to Miles End just to talk to her.

Once they reached the door, Lyra spoke.

“You can say it.”

She hadn't meant to open her mouth, but now that she had, she couldn't find it in herself to stop.

Nash turned to look at her.

“W-why,” She took a deep breathe, “why haven't said anything about Grayson? You have the right to be mad. You're his eldest brother.”

Nash didn't say a word as he continued to look at her.

Her vision began to blur, “I'm sorry. Its my fault. I got mad first and lashed out like an idiot. I-”

She tried to steady herself, ordering her tears not to fall, “Grayson, he- he deserves better than m-”

Lyra was cut off by Nash's strong arms wrapping around her upper back and pulling her close. Lyra was stumped.

And then a sob escaped her. Followed by another, and the she was breaking down again in Nash's embrace.

“Shhh, its okay lil' darlin'.”

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

GRAYSON

“For the last time, Jamie. No.”

It had been exactly two weeks since the break up.

And saying Grayson had not been taking it well was a major understatement, weren't these things supposed to get better with the passage of time?

How come he felt like dying then??

“C'monnnnnnn. What're you gonna do lazing around here, marinating in your depression?” Jameson retorted.

Grayson sent him a glare, “Do I look like I'm in the state to attend a social party, Jamie??”

He didn't. He looked terrible actually.

He hadn't had a proper meal in ages, which made him look skinnier than usual, his hair was disheveled and he wasn't even dressing properly anymore.

The Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, who always looked too perfect to be real, looked far too human at the moment to be considered even okay-adjacent.

"Heartbreak doesn't kill a man, and it certainly doesn't kill a Hawthorne." Tobias Hawthorne's words echoed in Grayson's mind.

And then he snorted. Then what the hell is happening to me right now, old man?

“Gray. Please. Why can't you try and move around a bit? Touch some grass?”

Grayson didn't deign that with a response.

Jameson muttered something incomprehensible, “You're gonna die at this rate.”

Then Grayson met his eyes, “Good.” Before turning his attention back to his phone.

Silence.

When Jameson didn't say anything Grayson looked back up at him, planning to tell him to leave.

His tongue caught when he saw Jameson's expression, though.

Jameson was a lot of things.

Reckless, stupid, a daredevil, whipped, narcissistic, perhaps even an egoist in the making. But that was mostly just a front. He, like all of his brothers, was taught to suppress his feelings, to never let his emotions catch up with him.

So when Grayson saw the expression Jameson was making, he was taken-aback to say the least.

Jameson's eyes were glassy and he was holding his breath, like if he let go then he'd come crashing down with it. His hands were balled up into tight fists and he was glaring holes into the floor.

He looked angry, helpless.

Scared.

Grayson thought the situation over again. To him, dying sounded perfectly fine, hell he already felt dead. But Jameson wasn't okay with that.

“Three hours. Then I will leave.” Grayson deadpanned.

The way Jameson's face lit up reminded Grayson of when they were kids, when they actually confided in one another. When it was just them.

He almost smiled.

“See you then, Gray.”

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

LYRA

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

Lyra groaned.

She had been trying to help her mom cook when her phone suddenly went off. She ignored it initially but then it rang again.

Lyra had stormed off, ready to snap at whoever dared call her a second time when it was obvious she didn't want and wasn't going to pick up.

She was slightly shocked when she read Avery's name. Pleasantly shocked.

“Avery. I. Am. Not. Coming.” Lyra paused after every word, trying make her point.

“Whyyyyyy??!!”

“I literally live 29 hours away?! I can't just show up for an over night, quote on quote, 'social party' and leave-”

“I'll just send a private jet to get you, please come.”

Lyra forgot she had rich friends.

But travelling wasn't the only problem. What if Grayson is there?

Lyra wouldn't mind seeing him, in fact, she wanted to. Really, really badly. But Grayson hated her. What if he got angry when he saw her? What if he ignored her?

She didn't want to think about it.

“Lyra. We haven't so much as talked in two weeks, I miss you. Just for a little while. Please.”

Lyra felt warmth wrap around her heart. She had missed Avery too. The two girls had talked all the time when Lyra was still dating him.

“... Alright.”

She heard Avery gasp and then squeal from the other side of the line.

“But only for a little while, okay?”

“Of course, darling.”

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

LYRA

Lyra had considered ditching the entire plan and running away a million times but she pushed the thought away every. Single. Time.

Yet, as she stood in front of the Hawthorne Gates, gazing at the huge crowd, she cursed herself for not escaping while she had the chance.

I am done for, aren't I? Welp. No turning back.

She walked in.

Lyra was, in a way, an introvert. She hated huge crowds and loud noises, so this party was not appealing in anyway.

Just find Avery, say hi, get out.

She walked through the crowd and spotted Avery.... with Jameson.

Yay. Off to a great start.

Lyra turned around and stalled for a little while, praying that Jameson left his girlfriend's orbit for just one god damned minute.

There was no way she was facing any of Grayson's brothers today.

Thankfully and surprisingly, Jameson did walk away. That was almost sketchy, Avery and Jameson were practically inseparable at events.

Lyra decided not to look into it and walked on over.

"OH MY GOD LYRA!!!" Avery screamed and immediately hugged her. Lyra laughed, returning the embrace.

She still couldn't believe that both Nash and Avery didn't hate her.

"Its been so long, girl. Where have you been?"

Lyra gave her a soft smile. There was something to Avery, something that allowed Lyra to open up and be herself.

"At Miles End. Dying, I think." She said it as a joke, but it was true.

Avery stared her down for a before they continued talking about the most random bull crap, laughing at terrible jokes.

Lyra turned around to grab a drink from a bartender and that's when her gaze fell on him.

About 10 feet from where Lyra stood, a man with beautiful blonde hair and shining grey eyes stood. His posture was perfect, one that said that he was a man of power and not afraid to use it.

Grayson Hawthorne. Gray.

He looked skinnier, his dark circles had grown slightly, too. No one else saw it, she did, though.

Lyra's heart beat picked up, she felt like a stupid girl with a crush again. She couldn't help but stare, forgetting that Avery was talking.

He looked immaculate as always, glorious as he smiled.

And he was talking to a girl.

Lyra tried to ignore the way her heart squeezed, he's not yours anymore, Lyra. Get a grip.

"Lyraaaaa, earth to my favorite kitty!"

She snapped out of it and turned back around to see Maxine Liu standing next to Avery.

Lyra couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face, Max was a force to be reckoned with and Lyra loved her for it.

The three girls went on yapping, when suddenly a very familiar song came on. One everybody knew.

Shape of you.

Max squealed, "Lyra."

Lyra didn't have to guess what Max was implying, "Max. No."

Avery smiled at the both of them, "Why not?"

Lyra sent her a withering glare, "I just don't want to."

Max rolled her eyes, "Who are you lying to? You always want to dance."

She had a point, Lyra did in fact want to dance. It'd help her get her mind off of Grayson smiling at another girl.

God Lyra, stop acting like you're still dating him. Her heart squeezed again.

But if she were to start dancing, chances of Grayson spotting her would be at an all time high. She couldn't risk that.

"C'mon pleaseeee, its been so long since we all danced together." Avery pleaded and Max joined in.

Lyra sighed, feigning exasperation as a smile broke out on her face.

Well, I suppose I could dance just a bit.

And the three girls walked on over.

Lyra looked to her two best friends as they began to dance, Lyra let the music come, felt it in every bone of her body and then she was swaying to the beat.

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

GRAYSON

Like every other event Grayson had ever attended, this party too, was extremely taxing.

People put on nice facades and talked to others only so that they could benefit themselves.

In fact, this party was much worse.

Not only was Grayson still trying to cope with the separation from Lyra, as it turns out, news of the break up had spread far and wide. People jumped at the opportunity.

In the one hour Grayson had been present at the party, he had been flirted with at least 50 different times and that was rounding it off.

His brother was not making that much better.

"Oh! Gray, here comes another one~" Jameson teased, signaling towards a girl whose clothes seemed far too suggestive for Grayson to feel comfortable.

Wrap this up quickly. You control the room. Grayson reminded himself.

He was wrong. This girl was demanding and stubborn.

"Hey there hottie~"

Grayson tried not to cringe as Jameson snorted.

"Yes, miss?" Grayson replied, ever-so formally.

"I hope you know CPR, because you just took my breathe away." She replied.

Jameson turned his head around, covering up his laugh with a cough. Grayson fought to remain polite.

"That's quite funny, miss."

"Oh please, drop the title, just call me mine." She said, adding a wink.

Grayson was dumbstruck, can this woman not take a hint?? Jameson was having far too much fun.

"I'm sorry, ma'am?" He said, emphasizing the new title. This woman was getting on his nerves.

"Hmm, maybe 'mine' is not to your liking?? Then what about girlfriend?" She said, sounding smug.

Jameson tried to cover up his grinning by sipping his drink.

Grayson was floored, "Um. No thank you."

"Aww, you wanna take it fast then? Alrighttttt, you can call me wife."

Jameson choked on his drink.

Grayson choked on air.

What in the world was going on??

"I'm not interested, so-" She cut Grayson off.

"Yet. You're not interested, yet."

Grayson blinked. What?

The lady spun on her heel, she shook her head, her hair falling down to her waist and she threw off her coat.

"My dance will enamor you." She declared.

Jameson was barely holding it together, she then boldly walked to the dance floor, never once breaking eye contact with Grayson.

Then she started dancing.

Grayson shot Jameson a withering glare as he laughed. Hard.

"OH MY GOD, THAT WAS PEAK. AHHAHA-" Jameson barked

Grayson was considering actually digging up a hole and just dying, the woman didn't even dance well for all her boasting. She looked like a robot was attempting to do ballet.

Grayson's gaze wandered over the dance floor before it landed on one girl. He'd recognize those moves anywhere.

Far left, Grayson's gaze rested on a girl with long dark hair which had been left open, her golden-tan skin seemed to shine in the disco light as she danced to the beat like the music had possessed her.

Lyra.

He noticed the way her moves seemed more dragged out, as if she was tired. Her smile was fake and her dark circles had increased.

Yet, she still looked breathtaking.

Grayson didn't bother hiding his stare.

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

LYRA

Lyra got carried away.

She knew it the moment she felt his gaze on her, unwavering as he stared.

Lyra didn't know whether she should hate herself for dancing in the first place or hate herself for liking the fact that she had caught his attention.

He's probably glaring. She thought.

I mean, his ex-girlfriend did quite literally just attend a party his family had hosted. Lyra groaned.

"You guys, I'm tired." She said, coming to a stop. Her body ached for more.

Avery and Max shared a look, "Alrighty, lets go chug some drinks!!" Max yelled.

Lyra shook her head as they began to walk off the dance floor, that's when two guys stepped in their path.

"Hi." One guy said, speaking to all three of them but his eyes rested on Lyra.

Lyra wanted to ball his eyes out.

"Hello." Lyra replied as Max and Avery spectated.

"I happened to see you dancing and I must say, you can groove." He said.

Lyra heard Max and Avery snort the moment the weird guy said groove. She shot them both a glare.

"Um... yeah. Thanks. Now please move aside." Lyra replied, trying to make her disinterest clear.

The man was stubborn.

"Actually! I was wondering if we could have a drink together?" He asked, sounding confident in his abilities to make a woman swoon.

Lyra raised a single dignified brow. She had learned that from Grayson. Her heart ached yet again and she immediately pushed the thought away.

"I'm sorry, but no." She said, crisp and firm.

That should do it. Lyra thought.

"Oh come on. you can spare a few seconds-" The man started.

"She said no." Avery stepped up along with Max, who was now glaring.

"Um... I don't remember including you in this conversation?" The man had the audacity to say.

Lyra thought about reaching for her heels and beating the living shit out of this guy, but she couldn't since that'd tarnish Avery's image.

"Really?? Well I remember Lyra telling you to back off and you not listening you motherfaxer!!" Max said.

"Look. Everyone knows she's single, so she doesn't have any real reason to reject me?? Why should I-" The man began.

"She's my sister-in-law and best friend." Said Avery and Max simulatenously.

Lyra whipped her head around to face them.

Sister-in-law?? She wasn't dating Grayson anymore, what were they on about??

Avery sent her a look. Lyra let out a breath and turned back towards the man.

"You heard her. I am married and taken. Walk away."

The man and his friend snorted.

"Who do you think you're lying too??"

Lyra was about to reach for her heels, when she felt a hand suddenly land on the small of her back. She froze.

She knew that hand, that touch. She knew it the way she knew her own body.

Grayson.

Lyra leaned into the touch out of pure habit, she relaxed into the intimacy.

Shit! Pull back. Lyra ordered herself.

But then Grayson's hand moved from her back and slithered over to the side of her waist. Everywhere he touched burned and Lyra felt her heart begin to race.

She blushed hard.

"Don't make her repeat herself."

The man looked up at Grayson with wide eyes, obviously, he wasn't expecting this. To be fair, Lyra hadn't either.

Grayson's voice turned dark, "Scram."

The man and his friend didn't need to be told twice, they ran like their life depended on it.

Avery and Max smirked at Grayson, knowing fully well where this was going, before they, too, took their leave.

Yet, Lyra couldn't focus on them.

Her focus was fully on the man behind her.

Grayson. Suddenly the party hall seemed too small and she couldn't breath properly.

Neither of them moved until Grayson retracted his hand. He made to move away but Lyra was faster.

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

GRAYSON

The guy with the death wish finally left.

Grayson had considered sending Oren after him or beating him up himself but his anger completely dissipated when his gaze landed on her again.

Lyra. Grayson's heart swelled yet he felt nervous.

Her eyes were downcast, her hair covering the side of her face. He saw the tiniest tinge of pink on her ears.

Grayson didn't let go at first. He couldn't.

Lyra was right here. Right in front of him. He wanted to pick her up, run away with her and apologize until she forgave him. But he wouldn't do that.

Not unless she wanted him to.

Grayson loosened his hold on her and then let go completely, he turned to move when her hand latched onto his.

He froze.

She wants me to stay. Grayson pushed the hopeful thought away. He turned around to face the goddess, that was Lyra.

She wouldn't meet his eyes as she stared down at where her hand held his arm.

"U-um. I- uh." She began.

Grayson's heart began to race, he had almost forgotten how much he liked her voice.

"Can we talk?" The words were out of his mouth before his brain had even processed it.

Lyra looked up at him then, eyes blown wide.

Shit. I screwed up.

"Yes." She said finally.

Grayson paused. then blinked once. Twice.

Yes?? She said- she said yes?! Yes!

He grabbed her hand and walked the both of them off the dance floor and towards the "Staff Only" area.

Once they got there Grayson let go of her hand and turned to face her properly. The Staff Only area was unfairly small.

They deserved better than one small square room??

Grayson noted to mention that later.

Grayson's gaze landed on Lyra and, this time, she was looking too, Grayson's breathe caught.

Suddenly the rest of the world didn't exist.

She's here.

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

LYRA

Lyra noticed the way Grayson's eyes travelled around the small staff room he had led them to.

She observed as his face went from stoic, to observant, to disappointed, to serious before his gaze landed on her and then all of his feature softened.

Lyra's heart swelled. Why was he looking at her like she was fragile? Like she meant something??

She had hurt him.

Lyra had made up her mind on the short walk to the room that she would apologize to Grayson and that, no matter the outcome, she would live with it.

No matter how upset it made her.

But, now, with her staring into his beautiful deep eyes, she couldn't seem to remember any of the points she was going to say.

"Lyra." Grayson broke the silence, he said her name like it was a secret. A promise.

Lyra didn't know what to say.

You're beautiful? I love you still, but I'm also a dumbass and hurt you?? Why are you looking at me like that?? Her mind ran through her options.

"Hi."

She slapped herself mentally.

hi? HI?? REALLY??

Grayson blinked, slightly taken a back, before a smile broke out on his face, Lyra's breathe was taken away.

How was it fair that he smiled like that and she was supposed to let him go?

"Hi, Lyra."

She looked down as she blushed slightly, god this is embarrassing.

A silence followed, but it wasn't suffocating or awkward. It was comfortable. As if the rest of the world had disappeared leaving just their slow breathing.

They both stood their, absorbing the others presence. It felt like coming home.

Lyra felt her eyes burn slightly at the familiarity of this situation. Grayson always gave her this sense of comfort. Did she really have to let it go?

You brought this upon yourself. Apologize.

Lyra took a deep breathe, "Grayson."

Grayson kept staring at her which made it hard for her to focus, "Yeah?"

She looked up and met his gaze, "I'm sorry."

Grayson's eyes widened slightly.

"I-," she took another deep breathe to try and calm herself, "I shouldn't have lashed out. That was stupid of me."

She tried to keep the tears at bay, but one fell anyway.

"If you hate me now, I completely understand. But I want you to know that when I said us-" her voice cracked, she kept going.

"When I said I was tired of our relationship. I-" She calmed herself. Lyra needed Grayson to know that she truly meant this.

Lyra's gaze steadied and she met his eyes.

"I didn't mean it. Not in the slightest."

Silence.

"I'm not telling you to forgive me or anything, I just need you to know I'm sorry and-"

"Stop." Grayson said finally, Lyra did.

His voice sounded deep, hoarse, guttural. As if it was taking everything in him to keep firm. He looked both confused and surprised.

"Lyra, why are you apologizing??" Grayson finally managed, his breathing was slightly shaky.

Lyra paused.

"Why-," he ran a hand through his hair and walked closer to Lyra, making her heart beat pick up again, "Don't apologize Lyra. Its not your fault."

Lyra stared at him, she couldn't process what he said at first.

Not my fault?

Lyra turned the phrase over in her head as her eyes widened, what did he mean?? It totally was her fault?

"Lyra, you weren't the only one who lashed out. I did too, and that was dumb. As hell." He let out a breath.

Lyra couldn't believe her ears, was Grayson blaming himself?

"And no matter what you might have said, Lyra, I was the one that told you to leave."

Lyra's breathe caught once again.

"I told you to leave like I wanted you gone, like I was tired of you. I acted like that freaking penthouse was mine alone."

Lyra gulped, "It is yours, though, Grayson."

"No. No its not. Its not just mine. Lyra, when I asked you to move in with me, the place became ours. Its yours just as much as its mine."

If Lyra wasn't crying before she certainly was now.

"I shouldn't have told you to- fuck. I-"

Lyra didn't let him finish, she threw her arms around his neck. Grayson went still for a moment before his arms wrapped around her waist tightly.

They stayed like that for a while, with nothing but the sounds of Lyra's sobs slowly dissolving into nothing but silence.

Just them

"I love you." Grayson said, finally.

Lyra thought she was done crying but she had been wrong.

"And you don't have to say it bac-"

Lyra pulled away from him, looking him dead in the eye, "I don't have to do anything Hawthorne. I chose to come to this party. I chose to follow you here. I chose to apologize to you and-"

Lyra smiled, "I choose to love you, Gray."

The wind sped up, making the room slightly chilly, but Lyra didn't care because, god, Grayson was looking at her like that again.

Like she was the entire universe and he didn't need anything but her.

Grayson closed the space between them first, taking her chin and prying it upwards. She closed her eyes and they were kissing.

It wasn't a slow kiss, not at all.

All of the pent up emotion- heartbreak, anguish, regret, lust and love- all of it spilled out in their intimacy.

Neither of them were holding back, Grayson picked her up with practiced ease and set her down on the singular table in the room, Lyra wrapped her legs around his waist as if they were always meant to be there.

They finally broke apart gasping for breathe. Lyra's head was on his shoulder and she could feel Grayson's breathing by her ear.

Butterflies flew around in her stomach.

Lyra lifted her head and met Grayson's eyes, he looked at her- his chest still moving up and down, trying to catch his breathe.

Her hands went to his face, she started from his forehead, moving down to his cheek bones to tracing his jawline. She committed the moment to memory.

"That girl was fucking annoying." She said finally.

Grayson paused before he burst out laughing, Lyra couldn't help but smile at the warm noise.

"I can sympathize with that, though, the guy was worse." Grayson said. Lyra groaned.

"God don't remind me." She said, exaggerating as she put her head back on his shoulder.

Grayson pulled her closer.

"We aren't going to get anywhere here." Lyra said.

"..what?"

Lyra pulled back again, her eyes alight with something new, "Well? Won't you give me the chance to make up for being away for so long??"

Grayson's entire demeanor changed. He grabbed her hand, "There's a short cut."

Lyra laughed. She couldn't believe it.

She looked at Grayson's beautiful face, his eyes taking on a bluer shade in the moonlight.

She had been sure that she had lost Grayson forever, that she didn't deserve him in the slightest, but she had been wrong.

Because in the end, Grayson chose her and she chose him.

Isn't that really all that mattered?

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

UM?? WOW- THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC YET. I AM BLOODY PROUD.

Personal belief that Lyra can be just as freaky as Grayson, try me.

I hope u enjoyed ahahah :DD (Grayson's POV was a challenge, pls don't come at me.)

Constructive Criticism: @lyrakanefanatic @musiwashere @inkstainsonmyfingertips @alwaysthefangirl @talahsaudiobooklibrary (newest author on the block <3)

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