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kumkaniudaku · 27 days ago

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Stay A While (BONUS)

Summary: A peak into the future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 1,865

Warnings: None. Fun fluff!

A/N: Sorry, y'all. I had some more left in the tank.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As a bright sun began to set over the Fayetteville horizon to transform the bright cerulean sky to one glowing with orange and purple hues, 22 young men huddled at the 50-yard line of Francis High School’s freshly lined football field. The wind lightly blew around them for a welcomed cool breeze while they ran through yet another play before their first playoff game of the season.

“Defense, we in man coverage. Offense, run a Go. We need to tighten up this late-game execution. How you gon’ react under pressure? Show me somethin’ boys!”

While the head coach rattled off instructions to the team, Terry stood nearby with his arms folded and eyes intently focused on the two wide receivers occupying the field. Cam and CT Wilson were tall and lean twin boys who reminded him of how he looked by senior year except they were sophomores with room to grow. He told them on day one that they were physical specimens with unreal speed and high IQ made for a few semesters at Clemson if they could focus through the head-spinning four years that made up their high school experience. He promised their father that he’d be there to guide them through it all save for a few months during Spring practices.

“Cam, you goin’ inside on this one. You remember the count,” he hollered out from the sideline.

“Locked in!”

Terry answered with a thumbs up and adjusted his stance for optimal comfort. The child-sized weight on his shoulders was starting to get heavy but he knew the tongue-lashing that awaited him if he dared to make a false move.

“He goes too slow. Make him count fast so he won’t drop, Daddy.”

The small voice from above made him look up for confirmation to find her already looking down at him with a scrunched nose and missing teeth that resembled her mother when she was that age.

“You sure?”

“Just watch.”

Together, they watched the play unfold. Terry counted along in his head to time when the ball should leave the quarterback’s hand in comparison to where Cameron should’ve been on the field. Sure enough, he was a step slow causing the quarterback to throw the ball slightly ahead of him for a bobbled pass.

“Hm,” he grunted more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll be damned. Aye, Cam, come here for a second!”

Above him, perched on her throne, Nyla Naomi Richmond rested a smart tablet on her father’s head to watch film from the previous game like she always did. Her mahogany skin was shiny under the bright white LED lights illuminating the field from her mother’s overzealous lotioning before they left home. Per her request, Terry had braided half of her hair back to give way to a collection of moisturized zigzag coils for first-grade picture day. Glasses rested at the tip of her nose with a bright yellow strap to keep them attached to her face. She kept her attention focused on the tablet’s screen, even as Cam jogged toward her and her father on the sideline.

“Yeah, Coach? I do something wrong.”

“Too slow,” Nyla answered without looking up. “Speed up. You’re like a turtle out there. We gotta win, man!”

Terry and Cameron chuckled together as Terry tapped the top of Cam’s helmet.

“A little quicker on the count, man. If you get there when you’re supposed to, that’s a catch all day. Make ‘em beat you. Don’t beat yourself.”

“Type shit. I got you, Coach.”

“Hey! Don’t say bad words.”

“My fault, Coach Ny. Can I do my pushups later?”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

Cam laughed at her dismissal before accepting a fist bump from Terry and rejoining the field. Terry couldn’t contain his smile as he reached up to tickle his firstborn's sides for that high-pitched giggle he loved so much.

“Be nice, MiMi. Remember the rule?” He craned his neck to look up at her for the lesson he’d been struggling to get through her head since she began joining practice.

She sighed dramatically and frowned. “Be hard on the work, not the person. I know, I know.”

“Be better next time, champ. We’re here to help, not hurt.”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir,” he repeated to mock her childish grumble. “You’re so mean like your mama. Gimme a kiss.”

Like she always did, Nyla lifted her daddy’s cap to kiss the crown of his head before placing the hat backward atop her own head.

From the day she first showed herself in a routine sonogram, Terry knew she’d be a firecracker. She refused to show her face to him and Patrice. She carefully concealed her features during an expensive 3D scan and almost hid her gender had they not caught her during an in-utero nap.

She came into the world kicking and screaming at a long 24 inches and a head clean as a whistle just like her pops. With Patrice, she was the perfect baby. She slept all night, cooed and babbled when spoken to, and grew into a little girl who loved to cuddle into her mommy while they watched Pixar movies on the weekends. With Terry, she was a hell-raiser. Loud and rambunctious with a love for NFL games on Sunday afternoons and playful wrestling on the living room rug.

Their smart girl had her hand in everything imaginable and, when they’d listen to other parents complain about the difficulty of raising young ones during playdates and birthday parties, they always came away feeling like they’d lucked out with Nyla.

Across the way, Patrice stepped onto the newly refinished running track with the cheerleading team for warm-ups. Under her school t-shirt, her belly protruded enough to tell anyone looking hard enough that she was expecting. Behind her, she pulled a cooler meant to supply the football team with cold water and snacks for the next day.

“Mrs. Richmond, you want me to help you? You always be actin’ like you Superwoman or somethin’.” her captain called out from behind her, jogging to catch up with Patrice’s long stride.

Patrice waved her off. “Nuh-uh. Y’all start stretching. I need to drop this off personally.”

“Uh-huh. You going to your little boyfriend. Being fast!”

“I learned from you, Z.”

“Not you in my business!”

Patrice’s loud laughter created an echo in the stadium, becoming a bat signal for Terry and Nyla’s attention.

“Hey, Mommy!”

Nyla rushed to hop off Terry’s shoulders like he was a jungle gym, unconcerned with any harm she inflicted with her long legs as she shimmied down his body. He winced in pain until she was safely on the ground before lightly trotting behind her to greet his wife.

Seven years of marriage hadn’t changed much of their love. They’d navigated the growing pains of newlywed life and parenthood to come out stronger on the other side. So much stronger that they’d neglected to follow through on contraceptives to keep their family of three from growing to a family of four. Their parents called a second pregnancy a blessing. And though they mostly felt the same, they also knew that baby number two was the result of too much booze and ignoring the cycle tracker during a kid-free night in Charlotte.

Patrice braced herself for impact once Nyla got closer and wrapped her body around her legs.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, rubbing circles at the center of her back. “You look so pretty. Did you finish your homework?”

“Mhm! I got 100 on my math test, too!”

“Alriiight! That’s my smart bestie. Now you gotta pick a place for dinner this weekend.”

“Can we get piz-”

“A place that is not buffet pizza again. Pick something else.” Terry interjected, making Nyla groan. Dad’s word was final whether she liked it or not. His eyes flickered to Patrice’s still for extra confirmation. Mom’s word was final final.

She offered a small smile while zhushing the back of Nyla’s hair. “Try something new, Naomi. Maybe chicken tenders this time?”

Nyla accepted her parents’ redirection with another dramatic sigh that made Terry and Patrice stifle laughter.

“I know, mama. It’s so hard being six years old. We can write a book about it tonight when we get home so you can help your little sister or brother when they get here.”

“I hope it’s a girl. Boys are boring.”

Neither of them could muster a response before Nyla abandoned them to supervise the cheerleaders as they started to run through cheers.

They waited in silence until she was out of earshot to face each other with equally broad smiles.

Terry spoke up first as he reached down to take the cooler’s handle from Patrice’s hand.

“Didn’t I tell you from the jump she’d be a second you?”

“Oh no, she’s a second DeeDee. She might have my mom’s middle name but she is your mama through and through.”

“Touché.” Terry chuckled. That’s why the duo got along so well. They were twin flames in more ways than one.

A lull in the conversation made Patrice subconsciously bring her hand up to her stomach for a soft rub. Terry looked on with a fond smile, proud of the way her wedding ring reflected the light back into the night sky like a star on the ground.

He pushed the cooler to the side and grabbed her free hand to pull her into a side hug. He kissed her temple several times over, making Patrice giggle like a schoolgirl at the sensation.

“We make a cute kid, don’t we?”

Patrice hummed and closed her eyes for a brief second to feel the full press of his chest on her body and his arms squeezing a little tighter than before. “So cute. She talks too much, but that’s okay.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?”

“Her damn daddy.”

The vibration from Terry’s deep baritone encased in laughter tingled against Patrice’s arm to cover her in warmth from head to toe. A whistle and call of his name from the field snapped both of them from their semi-private moment, making them reluctantly pull away.

Terry leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips as a parting gift before slyly sneaking the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She playfully pushed him to save them from the embarrassment of taking it too far in public.

“C’mon, MiMi, we not done yet.” Patrice watched Nylah quickly ditch her squad to meet her daddy’s outstretched arms for him to place her back on his shoulders and rejoin the team. He called back over his shoulder for her attention. “I love you, baby! Go get off your feet!”

“Sit down, Mommy!”

“Yeah, sit down, Mrs. Richmond!”

Patrice wore a semi-serious scowl on her face and threw her hands up to stop the barrage of demands.

“Woah, woah, woah! I am grown,” she hollered back to everyone in the area. She began the slow journey toward her team and clapped her hands. “Just for that, let me see that Hot To Go routine. If you mess up, you owe me a lap.”

A collection of teenage girl groans made Patrice crack a smile.

Maybe Terry was right.

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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lilacevans · 10 months ago

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༊*·˚ main materlist | pete's place's opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings & future pairings: pete brenner x female!reader. lloyd hansen x female!reader. ari levinson x female!reader. curtis everett x female!reader. steve rogers x female!reader. jake jensen x female!reader. (and others that will be revealed at a later date.)

word count: 1026 | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚

warnings: implied abusive relationship, homelessness, alcohol, general sadness.

this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.

✧.* ೃ⁀➷ notes: the intro is here!! it's here!! i proof read as much as i could, however some mistakes may remain. i was gonna share a little more, but i think this is perfect for setting up the first chapter! i'm so excited to share this with you! please let me know what you think! reblogs save lives! mwah! enjoy!!

A year after you packed brown boxes scrawled with black ink, clothes stuffed into various bags, and the hope of true love, into the back of your car, to move across the country to live with your ex-boyfriend, you find yourself one night in a heart pounding screaming match.

Thrown dishes, broken glass, picture frames on the floor. The remnants of a lost love etched by the sounds of your cries into the tattered walls of the home you shared.

With pleading cries, tear stained cheeks, and heart in your throat, you’re grabbed and shoved out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, and shirt with a coat being darted at you whilst you laid on the ground. One too many hours were spent afterwards pounding your fists against the front door, begging to at least have your purse so you can get a hotel room.

Just as you were about to leave, looking down at your battered, red hands, your purse was dropped out of a window; the contents spilled onto the grass below. With a sigh, either sadness or relief; you weren't sure which, you bent to pick up your scattered belongings, cursing the man during.

Luckily, you had everything you needed; cash, ID, and your shitty, overused phone.

You called around for a cab, numb fingers shaking as you pressed the blurry numbers, but with it being Friday night, you were looking at a long wait so instead, you decided to cut your losses and walk to find the nearest hotel.

The downside of moving, and being essentially trapped within the same four walls for months on end, is that you quickly found yourself lost– and being lost on Skid Row was the last place you wanted to be.

You willed your tears to not fall after you walked by tent after tent, stranger after stranger, clutching your purse tight, old key’s spread between your fingers, and finally found yourself outside the Hotel Cecil. You laughed to yourself in disbelief of having to head inside and get a room; but nonetheless, you did just that.

Lying on a dingy bedspread, surrounded by more nicotine-stained walls, you muffled your cries behind your hands and slowly fell into a sombre slumber and wondered just how the fuck you had gotten yourself here.

Over the next few days, you walked around, getting to know your surroundings and applying for jobs left and right. You were forced to ration your food while you looked around for cheaper hotel rooms. You were trying your hardest to avoid the sprawls of clubs begging for dancers but after finding yourself downtrodden after applying for yet another job and getting immediately dismissed, and not having any luck finding a cheaper room, you walked back to your grubby hotel and bump— quite literally— into two drunk guys.

‘’Ooh, one of Pete’s girls,’’ The guy slurred while his eyes glazed filthily over your body making you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself.

‘’I don’t know who that is and I’m certainly not one of anyone's girls,’’ You defend, slowly backing away as the guy then sighs and points behind you.

‘’Well, you’d sure fit in with the rest of ‘em.’’

With that, the men carried on with their drunken journey while you left bewildered.

You shook your head and turned to carry on home when you were suddenly blinded by a huge, purple neon sign:

Pete’s Place.

Underneath a small notice hung from the sign read: Dancers Apply Within.

You looked around and whined quietly while you watched patron after patron enter the club. Two heavily built doormen eyed you. You shook out your bundling nerves, hung your head and followed the thump of the bass into the belly of the seedy club. Red and purple hues guided you into the belly of the club where you found red booths filled with drunk bodies that circled small stages. Girls with perfect form swirled around the pole, capturing the attention of everyone inside.

‘’And who might you be?’’

You turned to find a man staring intensely, glass warm in hand, sharp suit and sea-blue eyes. Your mouth hung, mind blank for a moment before sputtering out,

‘’Oh, I– I’m looking for the owner– I was hoping to… Audition…’’ You trailed off as the man began to circle you, fingers pried away your coat slightly, gaze wandering over your body. Calloused fingers tilted your chin upwards while he inspected your face before a slight smile appeared on his lips.

‘’Yeah, you’ll do,’’ He concluded and began to walk away. ‘’Follow me.’’

‘’I take it you’re the owner,’’ you inquired as you followed the man to the other side of the club and down a dimly lit hallway, smiling back at, what you assumed was, one of his girls. ‘’You’re Pete?’’

‘’That’s me,’’ he confirmed as you’re led into an office. ‘’Gonna need to see ID, need you to sign a couple contracts, and for you to take your clothes off,’’ he quick fired as he sat himself in his chair and threw a small stack of paper across the table.

‘’Excuse me? Contracts?’’

‘’All my girls sign to stay loyal to the club, I don’t need anyone running off and taking my profits with him– helps limit competition, and I need to see what I’m working with here, you’re not exactly gonna be wearing a winter coat out there. Usually you’d come during the day, work the pole but, I got three of my regular girls out tonight, so it’s your lucky day.’’

‘’Oh,’’ You answer simply, pausing before a moment. ‘’Right, yeah, lucky me– Of course,’’ you stumble out as you reach into your pocket and slide your ID on to his desk before peeling your jacket off and taking in a heavy breath before lifting your shirt over your head and sliding down your skirt with shaking hands.

‘’Over here,’’ Pete summoned, fingers tapped at his desk before turning his chair to the side to make use of empty space, relaxing into the chair with parted legs.

‘’Show me what you can do.’’

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

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Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Pairing - Will Miller x female reader. Benny Miller, Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales x female reader.

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Brief allusion to sexual content. No cursing in this one!!

Word Count - 4.3k

Author's Note - hi lovelies. here's another triple frontier fic for you all!! i love writing these boys so much. we all know by now that i am a total will girly, so it's no surprise he takes the lead in this one. but all the boys are included - i can't leave them out <3. as always, if you have any specific requests or thoughts, send them over!! lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Time, and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Baby, we gotta go!”

“Coming!” you yell, running down the stairs with a duffel bag in your hand. “Almost forgot my toothbrush.”

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t on your neck,” Will winks, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Shut up, Miller,” you tease, no real malice in your voice. You lean up to peck his lips gently, before he takes a step back.

“We can’t be late again. I can’t make up another excuse – last time was bad enough.”

“That was literally your fault! You were the one that couldn’t keep your hands off me, like some sort of teenage boy,” you laugh.

“It was the green dress’ fault, not mine. I don’t regret it,” he chuckles.

Will winks at you again before picking up your bags and walking outside to pack up the car.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Four days by the lake with your boys sounded like complete and utter bliss. When Frankie had suggested it, initially, everyone had laughed it off. Realistically, it wouldn’t work. You all struggle to plan a day off at the same time, never mind multiple. It sounded like a sweet little idea. Nothing more.

Then, life got stressful. Work was tough on everyone, families causing issues, deadlines looming – the mundane routine of every day wearing the five of you down. Eventually, it was Santiago that snapped.

“We’re going to that damn lake house,” he exclaimed one evening in Benny’s backyard. “I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if we all have to call in sick. We are going to the lake house.”

He looked around at his friends, expecting them to instantly shut him down. Instead, he was met with unanimous nods of agreement.

That was months ago. It was a logistical nightmare, working out your schedules to intertwine with each other, but you did it. You were ridiculously ready for four days of swimming, drinking, sunbathing and laughing with your favourite people in the entire world. It sounded like the well deserved break everyone needed.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will’s warm palm meets the bare skin of your thigh as he drives. The roads are long and monotonous, but you don’t care. Everything is an adventure with him.

“You still sure about not telling ‘em?” he asks, blue eyes flitting over to you briefly. He’s got a gentle smile on his face. He always does when he’s with you. It’s like his default setting.

“Yeah, I think I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Think we should live in paradise a little longer.”

“Paradise, huh?” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“You know it is. I’m on cloud nine every moment I’m with you, baby.”

His words make your head spin, and you’re glad you’re sitting down already. You wonder everyday how you got so lucky. It’s rare, to know with full certainty that you are someone’s favourite person in the world. The centre of their universe. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Mostly, it’s astounding. It warms up your bones, settles itself carefully into your ribcage, pumping your heart to the beat of Will’s love. What a gift.

Which is why you’ve decided to keep the two of you a secret from the boys. You know that it won’t change anything between the group, not really – but you’re a little worried nonetheless. It’s scary, altering a dynamic that works so well. The five of you, stuck like glue, know each other like the lyrics to your favourite songs. You know each others strengths, weaknesses, favourite ice cream flavours, middle names, star signs, families – everything. It’s the kind of friendship that binds you together for life. Changing that in any way would break your heart. Will’s too. You know, deep down, that they’ll be perfectly accepting. But the fear still lingers, ugly and unwavering.

Also - you and Will didn’t take the most conventional route into a relationship.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you met in Delta Force. Co-workers, first. Comrades in arms. He had your back, you had his. You saved each other’s lives countless times. You’d stitch up each other’s wounds, carry each other back to base, share your water even though you only had a drop left. You were a team.

Then, you became friends. It’s hard not to, when you’re thrown into a life-or-death situation. You spent 24 hours a day together, wherever you were sent – sometimes Asia, sometimes South America, sometimes Africa. You got to know each other, learnt one another’s quirks and habits and likes and dislikes. The five of you bonded quickly and effortlessly. It made you a slick team, your missions running like clockwork. You could all predict each other’s movements, finish each other’s sentences. It’s what made you so successful, so revered.

After Delta Force, you became friends outside of work. Forced proximity friendship is one thing, but actually making the time to see each other back on home soil is another. You were worried that you were going to drift, and all of the trust built would perish. That wasn’t the case. The five of you quickly adjusted to being home together. You’d all spend Saturdays in Frankie’s backyard, Friday nights on Santiago’s porch, Sundays in Will’s kitchen. You’d pop by and see Benny on a Wednesday night after work, ready to watch another episode of that reality show you both couldn’t get enough of. You’d see Will any chance you got. Sunday morning farmers market trips and early swims and pancakes for breakfast and why don’t you just stay over? It’ll save you driving home.

You’d been best friends with Will for years before you realised how you felt about him.

It’d hit you, all of a sudden, one Sunday morning. You drove over to Will’s to pick him up, ready to go to the flea market downtown. You were going to grab lunch after, maybe cook some dinner together later. Just an average day.

You let yourself in to his house using the key he’d had made for you years ago. You had keys to all the boy’s places – just in case. You found Will at the stove, shirtless, golden skin on display. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and you wondered for a minute how it was fair that he was talented at everything.

“Morning, Miller,” you sing, throwing your bag down and striding over to him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replies, turning around to face you. He opens his arms and you step into his space, wrapping yourself around him and resting your head on his bare chest. You inhale, breathing in his scent deliberately. He smells like warmth and sleep and sunshine and promises.

You take a step back, craning your neck to look at him. The morning sunlight is gleaming through the windows, casting a gold hue across the room. Will’s hair is glowing, illuminating him like some sort of halo. Angelic boy.

Those ocean blue eyes survey you carefully. He rests his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“What’s on your mind? I can see it runnin’ a mile a minute,” he murmurs. You try to look down, but he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding you back up.

How do you explain that you’ve just realised that you’re completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with Will Miller? That it’s just dawned on you like a sunrise, warm and promising? How do you tell someone that you’re quite convinced you’ll drop dead if you don’t kiss them immediately? Is it even possible to explain these feelings? Is it possible to put all of these emotions into words? Are there enough words in any language to explain the enormity of what you’re experiencing?

Instead, you simply say,

“I’m in love with you.”

Will’s pupils blow wide, and he sways slightly, as if the weight of your confession has knocked him off balance. You steady him by cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you continue. “But I’ve kind of just put the pieces together, and it seems stupid not to tell you. You of all people know that life is short and fragile and can change in the blink of an eye, so I just thought –”

Will cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is passionate and tender and so full of love you’re convinced you could get drunk off it. He pulls back for air and looks at you earnestly.

“Don’t have to say it back? Sweetheart, do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me?”

You can’t help but break out into a grin. You feel like you’re floating, levitating above ground, held up purely by the love William Miller has for you.

“You have?” you ask, disbelief written on your features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you,” he beams. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

You smile at him ear to ear before jumping into his arms. You kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist to anchor yourself, closing the distance. He spins around the kitchen with you in his arms, the joy of being in love filling the room.

Suddenly, Will puts you down.

“Stay here,” he tells you, before sprinting upstairs.

Usually, you can predict Will’s every move. But not now. Now, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

He returns, placing a kiss to your forehead, before getting down on one knee in front of you.

“Marry me,” he says, complete certainty in his voice. You’ve never heard him this assured.

“Will… what?” you ask incredulously. You confessed your love for each other ten minutes ago, and you’ve skipped straight to marriage, apparently.

“Listen. I know it’s crazy. I know it seems fast. But we’ve loved each other for years, sweetheart. I realised when I met you that I was never, ever going to love anyone else again.”

He pulls out a box from the pocket of his pyjama pants and opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It’s understated and it’s elegant and it’s just so you.

“I bought this two years ago. Maybe you think I’m insane, and maybe you’re going to run out of that door the minute I stop talking. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”

You’ve been trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully for the past few minutes. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, and your brain is trying to keep up.

“Will, we aren’t even technically dating,” you tease playfully. You already know your answer. You just like hearing him bear his truth to you like this.

“We’ve been dating for years, technically,” he rallies. “Everyone always thinks we’re a couple. We’re together every weekend, we go on dates, you sleep over… we went grocery shopping last week!”

You grin, remembering how you’d jokingly argued over whether to get the red or the green grapes, and how you’d ended up getting both. It was all so domestic it made your heart ache.

The two of you sit in the silence for a minute, Will still on one knee. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. There’s no doubt in your mind what you’ll say.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Will. God, yes. The easiest yes of my entire life.”

He jumps up to grab you, spinning you in circles. You kiss him with so much force he stumbles backwards. Will takes your left hand, and carefully slides the ring onto your finger. It looks like it’s always belonged there.

You always knew it’d be Will Miller. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

That was months ago. The other boys know that you and Will spend a lot of time together one on one, so no one has suspected anything out of the ordinary. You have no doubt they’ll be happy for you both, but you’re content to keep everything a secret a little while longer. It’s easier, that way. It means you and Will get to keep living in your bubble of bliss, unphased by the outside world. You’ll tell them soon enough. You’re just trying to savour every last second.

“We’ll tell them soon,” you reassure Will, interlocking your fingers with his where they rest on your leg. “We’ll make it a whole thing, if you like. It feels like something that warrants a celebration.”

“Oh, definitely,” he grins, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re almost there. So, you’re gonna have to act like you’re not totally head over heels in love with me for four days. You think you can manage?”

You scoff playfully, and squeeze his hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you tease. He chuckles, and the melody of it is music to your ears.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You arrive at the lake house only ten minutes late, which you and Will agree is not entirely unacceptable.

“Finally, they’re here!” Benny yells as he bounds over to the car. He envelopes you in a bear hug, picking you up off the ground accidentally.

“Frankie is inside,” Santiago reassures when he catches you looking over his shoulder. You turn to give him a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek. Old habit.

“Santi, did you pack bug spray? You know the mosquitoes love you,” you wink, running your hands through his hair affectionately. He has greys coming through, and they suit him beautifully.

“Yes, hermosa, I got your text reminding me,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You and Will grab your bags and make your way inside, where Frankie is making margaritas.

“Hola, mi amor,” he greets, wrapping his arms around you. “How was the journey?”

“All good, Francisco,” you reply. “I have a very reliable chauffeur.”

Will laughs from behind you, and it makes your knees weak.

“Bad news, you guys!” Benny interrupts, jumping to sit on the counter. “You two have to share a room, since you were the last ones here. Finders, keepers, and all that.”

That really isn’t the inconvenience that the boys think it is, but you and Will play along nonetheless.

“Damn it. He snores, you know!” you laugh, looking over to where Will is pretending to be offended, hand over his heart.

“That’s what you get for being late, losers!” Benny retorts, throwing his head back in amusement. Everyone laughs along with him, and all the tension melts from your body.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It’s day one, and you’re already struggling. You’re all relaxing on the dock, soaking up the sun’s rays. Will is wearing his forest green swim trunks with a ridiculously small inseam, his strong thighs on display. You so badly want to kiss them, lick them, bite down on them in the way you know he likes. Instead, you sip your margarita and settle for ogling him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He dives into the lake elegantly, and a bead of sweat drips down your neck. He breaks the surface, coming up for air, and pushes his hair back, water cascading down his golden skin. He’s glowing, beaming, gleaming in the sunlight like an ancient marble statue. You’re practically panting. Santiago notices.

“You okay, hermosa?” he asks, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, Santi, I’m good. Just super warm,” you lie. He seems to buy it, because he moves to grab his book, fanning you with it. Admittedly, the light breeze does cool you off, and distracts you from Will. Double win.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you joke, as he pretends to tip his hat towards you.

“You should join us!” Benny shouts from the lake. When did he even jump in?

“Yeah, come on, darlin’” Will chimes in, watching you with a slight smirk on his face. He’s not going to pass up the chance to see you sun soaked and dripping wet.

“Fine!” you huff jokingly, pulling your oversized t shirt (which you’re realising belongs to Frankie – when did you steal that?) over your head. You’re left in a bikini that leaves little to the imagination, the bright colour accentuating your skin beautifully. You look good. You feel good.

Will looks you up and down and takes a deep breath. You’re just friends, remember? He’s trying to convince himself, attempting to make the act somewhat believable. You break him out of his thoughts by running along the dock as fast as you can, and diving into the lake with a surprising amount of grace.

The five of you spend all afternoon in the water. Benny thinks it’s hilarious to pick you up, placing you on his shoulders before jumping backwards, sending you both flying through the air. You all play catch, laughing when Frankie misses the ball and accidentally punches Santi right in the stomach. You and Will easily fall back into your old habits of being friends, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger just a second too long every now and again. You’re sure nobody else clocks on, all of the boys too busy splashing each other like children.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When the evening comes, you all shower and dry off while Will and Frankie make dinner. You, Benny and Santi curl up on the couch, trying to warm each other up after hours of being in the water. You eat, you laugh, and you all swap stories about the things that you’ve missed since you last saw each other properly. It’s bliss. Perfect tranquility.

The sun sets, and you all move outside to the deck. Santi starts a campfire, and the five of you grab beers, settling into the warmth of the crackling wood. Everyone is relaxed, not a care in the world. You wish, for a moment, that life could always be like this. As if reading your thoughts, Will reaches out and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb in a fleeting moment, before retracting his hand as if nothing happened.

“I’m gonna make us some warm ciders,” Frankie decides, rising from his chair.

“I’ll come and help you. You always put way too much alcohol in - these idiots can’t handle it,” you signal towards where Benny, Will and Santiago are sat. They all scoff at you, laughing because they know it’s true.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sit atop the counter next to where Frankie begins gathering his ingredients. When a strand of hair falls into his eyes, you move it away gently.

“Will you let me cut your hair tomorrow? It’s getting in your way,” you ask him softly.

“Of course, mi amor. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

He smiles at you, and your heart swells. You love this man so much - some days you wonder how you got so lucky. All five of you are bonded for life, best friends until the end. But there’s no denying that you and Frankie have always understood each other on another level.

He stops making the drinks, moving to stand between your legs. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to solve something.

“I like seeing you happy like this,” he murmurs.

“How can I not be?” you whisper back. “I’m with my favourite people. I have everything I could ever want.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, and he chuckles. He begins to draw slow circles just above your bare knee. You can tell he’s thinking carefully.

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

In this moment, you could lie. You could feign innocence, deny it with your life, maintain that you and Will are just friends. But what’s the use? Why hide the best thing that’s ever happened to you from one of the people you love the most in the world?

“Yeah,” you grin. “It’s Will.”

He’s practically beaming at you now, equal parts proud of himself and you.

“Knew it,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. “Did something happen?”

You realise now that there’s absolutely no point in lying to Frankie. You’ve come this far. Might as well tell him the truth.

“We’re engaged,” you whisper, grinning from ear to ear.

He pauses for a moment, processing the news. You can see the shock registering on his face. Then, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh my god, hermosa! You’re kidding!”

He’s squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You hear a shout from the boys outside and remember where you are.

“We haven’t told anyone yet. We’re just living in our little bubble of happiness for a while.”

“Hey, I get it,” he reassures. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew it’d happen eventually. It was just a question of when.”

You hug him again, so overwhelmed with love. What a miracle, to be loved like this by so many brilliant people.

“We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise. We were thinking of making it a party, a whole celebration.”

“Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

He pinches your knee playfully, before making his way back to his drinks, smile still plastered across his face.

“Hey, Francisco?” you murmur, still aware of the volume of your voice.

“Yeah?” he turns, giving you his full attention.

“So, I know it’s not traditional, but, I mean, when have me and Will ever done traditional?” you both laugh, and you continue. “I was just thinking – and you don’t have to say yes… I’d love it if you did, but really, you don’t have to – “

“Spit it out, mi amor,” he teases gently.

“Will you be my best man?”

He stops in his tracks, suddenly serious, and you’re worried you’ve made a mistake. Then, he breaks out into a grin, practically running over to bear hug you again.

“Of course I will,” he confirms into your ear. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly.

“I love you too, hermosa. So much.”

Frankie kisses you on the forehead once, then again, and begins to pick up the drinks he’s made.

“They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long. You know how they get,” he winks, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sit in your happiness for a little while, just basking in the glow. You’ve never felt so at peace.

Will wanders into the kitchen, immediately coming over to stand in front of you. His warm palms find your hips, and he leans in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, sugar,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Hi, handsome,” you mutter back.

“You okay? You disappeared,” he asks, fingers moving in warm circles on the bare skin of your waist.

“I’m good. So good,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s then you realise what you’ve done. You broke the rule – don’t tell the boys.

“Will?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I have something I need to confess.”

He pulls away so he can see your face, and smiles at you gently, before putting the pieces together in his head.

“You told Frankie, didn’t you?” he asks, still smiling.

There’s a pause before you bare your truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry! He kind of figured it out himself, and he asked, and I didn’t have the heart to lie to him. He’s my best friend, he can see right through me at any given moment. I know I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell them and I know this makes me a hypocrite and I’m sorry – “

Will cuts you off - just like that day in his kitchen - by smashing his lips to yours.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he reassures when you pull away.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

He rests his forehead against yours, and allows you to breathe him in. Then, he chuckles softly.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re idiots,” he replies.

“I mean, yes. But why?”

He chuckles again, clearly amused, before answering,

“I totally just told Benny and Santi while you were in here telling Frankie.”

You process the information, before bursting into a fit of giggles. He joins you, the both of you laughing like fools.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. Benny made a comment, said he’s kinda noticed that something has changed, and I just sort of confessed.”

You’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt. What are the chances? It all feels like fate. The two of you, together. The timing of the evening. It couldn’t have worked out any more perfect.

“We’re idiots,” you agree, throwing your arms around his neck. Will pulls you off the counter and spins you around, making you shriek. It’s the most beautiful déjà vu.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you make your way back out to the deck. As you walk over to the boys at the campfire, you’re suddenly caught off guard by two of them rugby tackling you, the three of you barrelling into the ground with a thud. Benny and Santiago are crushing you beneath them, shouting as they do it.

“Congratulations!”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart!”

“How did you even keep this a secret for so long?”

“Yeah, when were you planning to tell us, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re marrying my brother. Oh my god, we’re gonna be family!”

“The five of us are already family, Ben.”

“Yeah, but, like, legally. Brother and sister!”

Benny’s hair is in your mouth and Santiago’s knee is in your ribcage and your earring is caught in someone’s shirt and the grass is scratching your back and you can’t breathe. Will and Frankie are watching from a distance, chuckling. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tranquility.

925 notes · View notes

punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

The Contractor

Summary: Joel joins you at work to help fix some things around the greenhouse.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe but can be read stand alone, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI)

Word count: 3.4K

January 2006

The sun was just beginning to rise, bringing on the start of another frigid winter morning as you and Joel made your way down the street towards the greenhouse. Every time you exhaled, you saw your breath puff out and disappear with the bitter wind. Joel carried his thermos in one hand and a toolbox in the other, seemingly unfazed by the blustery conditions as he took a sip of coffee. By the time you reached the greenhouse, you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the biting wind whipping around you.

You gasped with relief when you finally entered the warm and humid building. It was a treat to work in the greenhouse in winter, but you always paid for it during the summer.

"You're so sweet for spending your day off helping me," you said to him as you hung your outerwear on the hooks by the door.

"This is the kinda stuff I like doin'," he replied, picking his toolbox up from the floor after he shed his coat. "The fact it's for you makes me like it even more."

You gave him a smile and a quick kiss to show your appreciation. "Follow me, I'll show you the two benches that are broken. And I was thinking if you have time, maybe you could build me a small shelf so I could put all my fertilizers and spray bottles away."

"Whatever you say, ma'am," he said, giving the back of your head a two-finger salute as he followed you down the long aisles toward the back of the building. You led him over to the last row of benches that were void of any plants due to a broken leg on one and a buckling middle on the other. He crouched down to take a look at the underside of both to assess the damage, then stood.

"I can fix 'em, no problem," he told you. "Just need some two by fours to stabilize 'em."

"Oh, Carl brought some wood from the stables yesterday. Will this work?" you asked as you led him past the small, enclosed office space where the wood was piled in the corner.

"Yep, that'll do," he said, leaning down to pick up a few pieces. You watched him for a moment as he dropped the wood unceremoniously on the floor next to the broken benches before he lifted one onto its side, then moved it again so it was upside down with a grunt.

You wandered into the office and sat down at the metal desk, reviewing your notes from the days prior and looking at your schedule for the week ahead. You were busy logging the harvest numbers for potatoes when you realized the noise Joel had been making stopped. You turned to look out the office window and saw him shrugging his flannel off, tossing it onto the other empty bench, leaving him in a plain grey tee.

You sat, entranced, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before shoving his glove back on. He bent over to continue hammering some nails into a piece of wood, his shirt riding up and exposing a small sliver of his back.

You decided you could do your notes later and it might be a good time to plant some seeds, instead.

You stepped out of the office, wrapping an apron around your waist to protect your clothes from the dirt. Your eyes raked over Joel's body as you passed him, noticing the back of his neck had begun to collect beads of sweat.

Standing about ten feet from Joel, you pulled a marker out of your apron to scribble the names of herbs on some tags before you got your hands messy. Your gaze traveled over to Joel when you heard him grunt. He was flipping the bench back upright to test his work. You paused, watching the muscles in his arms flex with each tug, his jaw tense as he strained from the effort.

He sighed once he got the bench upright and shook it roughly, testing its strength. He seemed pleased because he shoved it back against the wall. He was about to turn his attention to the other bench when he noticed you hadn't moved in a while. He looked up at you, and you quickly came up with an excuse for staring at him.

"Do you need some water?" you asked, your mouth dry and your eyes unblinking as you tried not to focus on his sweat beginning to soak through the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, oblivious to what was happening to you. When you moved, you could feel the slick of your arousal pooling in your underwear, rubbing against your sensitive skin with each step.

You grabbed his water bottle and brought it over to him, holding it out and noticing he was panting a bit from the heat and the physical effort it took to do his repairs.

He nodded at you before removing his gloves and unscrewing the cap, tipping the bottle back, his face angled straight up towards the ceiling. You watched his throat as he drank, his Adam's apple bobbing under a thin sheen of sweat. You swallowed roughly, unable to look away and trying to resist the urge to run your tongue along his neck. When a small drop of water escaped from the corner of his mouth and slowly made its way past his jaw and down his throat, you had to bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from audibly moaning.

"Am I disturbin' you?" he asked, his eyes focused on screwing the top back on his water bottle.

"Not at all," you assured him, leaning back against a barrel of rain water.

"I shouldn't be much longer. This one'll be quicker to fix, and a small shelf won't take much time."

"Mhm, that's fine," you said distractedly.

"Somethin' the matter? You feelin' alright?" he asked you, his brows furrowed. "Your face looks hot."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you considered your options. It was just supposed to be you working today, but that didn't necessarily mean someone wouldn't pop in unannounced. You squeezed your thighs together and crossed your arms over your chest as he waited for your answer.

"I'm fine. It's just hot in here today," you told him, wiping some sweat from your neck. His eyes narrowed as he watched you shift your weight, and he began to connect the dots.

"You sure that's all?" he asked lowly, pinning you with his gaze.

"You know, I've never actually seen you work," you told him, ignoring his question. "I never came to see you when you worked on the wall, and before, I only ever saw you at the office."

He took a couple steps towards you, and you could feel your pulse quicken. He casually leaned against a rain barrel next to yours, the heat behind his gaze growing when he noticed your chest rising and falling faster than usual.

"Yeah, suppose that's true," he replied, inching closer. His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back up again. "And what'dya think of my work?"

Your lips parted as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, his large body crowding yours against the barrel. He was so close now you could smell the sweat on him, and it was making you dizzy. You tentatively reached out to thread each pointer finger through his belt loops.

"I think I'm starting to realize why you're so good with your hands," you whispered right before his mouth crashed down on yours.

You yanked on his jeans, pulling him closer to you as his hands gripped your waist tightly. You greedily opened your mouth against his and slipped your tongue past his lips, tasting the remnants from his coffee earlier that morning. He turned your body, walking you backwards towards the office door while your fingers slid up from his belt and skirted under his t shirt.

Your fingertips left trails through his sweat over his soft stomach and up to his broad chest, moaning into his mouth when you finally felt the old desk hit the back of your legs. You wiggled yourself up to sit on top of it without breaking contact with Joel, your hands still dancing over his skin.

Joel lifted a hand from your waist to grip your jaw, opening your mouth wider as he hungrily licked behind your teeth, desperate to taste you. You tipped your head back, gasping for air while he nibbled at your jaw, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you close as he made his way to the pulse point thrumming steadily against your skin, his lips sucking a mark against your throat.

The ache between your legs was unbearable. You felt yourself clench around nothing while he ran his hand up the front of your shirt, tugging the cup of your bra down so he could roll your sensitive nipple between his fingers, eliciting a low groan from your throat.

"Let's go home," he said, his words muffled since his lips were still locked onto your neck.

"No," you whined. "Can't wait." You leaned your head forward, causing him to lose contact with your neck, and pressed the tip of your wet tongue against the warm skin on his collarbone, tasting his salty sweat as you slowly dragged your tongue all the way up his throat, just like you wanted to do all morning.

"Fuck," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as you reached for his belt. "Here?"

"Yes," you panted, your fingers fumbling for a minute before you finally got the buckle undone. You landed on the button of his jeans when his hands stopped you.

"You sure? Door's unlocked," he mumbled, but he eagerly undid his jeans for you anyway. You slid down from the desk and sunk onto your knees in front of him, giving the pantlegs of his jeans a couple tugs down so his hips and upper thighs were accessible.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, staring down at you. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were parted as he panted lightly from the excitement. You slipped your fingers inside the opening of his boxers to free his throbbing erection, already dripping a bead of precum at the tip.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" you asked him, your eyes fixed on his cock, gently stroking up and down, committing to memory the noise he made and the way he twitched in your palm. You flicked your eyes back up to his and you saw him gulp.

"Eyes on the door, if you're so worried about it," you told him, then leaned forward to lick a stripe from his base all the way to the top, your tongue scooping up the wetness collecting there. He let out a shaky groan when you wrapped your mouth around his engorged tip, swirling your tongue around as you slowly eased him into your mouth inch by inch until you were sure you couldn't take any more.

"I ain't watchin' shit when I got my cock down your throat," he said through clenched teeth. "Whole town can walk in for all I care."

The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile as you pulled back. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and used your other hand to balance yourself on his thigh as you leaned forward again, taking him as far as you could and flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. Once you established a rhythm, you picked up the speed a bit, pumping and twisting your fist as you moaned around his cock. You caught on quickly that the vibrations from your voice made a difference when he reached a hand down to get tangled in your hair and his hips began their shallow thrusts into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as he watched you hollow out your cheeks to form a tighter seal around him. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you tried to take him deeper. When you looked up to meet his gaze and he saw a single tear slide down your cheek, he pulled your head off him abruptly.

"Gonna make me come if you keep goin'," he said with a grunt, palming himself as he took in the sight of you on your knees before him.

You stared up at him, your mouth open and panting, saliva covering your red, swollen lips, and your hair a mess from his fingers.

"Up," he commanded while kicking the door to the office closed.

"There's a window in the door, anyone could still see," you told him as you yanked your apron and jeans off.

"I know," he said, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his knees. You pressed your palms flat against the desk and jutted your hips back, looking at him over your shoulder as he ran his cock through your soaking wet folds.

"Then why bother closing it?" you murmured, your eyes sliding shut when you felt him notch at your entrance. His hands found a home on your hips as he pushed forward, giving you only a few moments before he sheathed himself inside you completely. You let out a strangled cry, and tipped your head back, finally able to feel some relief from the ache that had been building all morning.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you sobbed, your voice echoing in the small room. He snapped his hips into you steadily, curses and moans mixed with garbled versions of his name falling loudly from your lips.

"That's why," he grunted before biting your earlobe, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. "No one gets to hear these sounds except for me."

You fell forward onto the desk, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your cheek pressed into the cool metal and your fingers scrambled to find the edge of the desk, but Joel's thrusts had pushed it flush against the wall. All you could hear was his sweat soaked skin slapping against yours and the metal legs of the desk squeaking on the concrete floor.

"What got my girl so worked up today, hm?" he asked you, his palm traveling under your shirt and up your spine, gently holding you flat against the desk. You moaned quietly as he repositioned himself behind you to thrust even deeper inside your slick cunt. "What happened to make you wanna drop to your knees on this dirty floor and suck my cock?"

"Joel..." you wailed into the crook of your arm, trying to muffle your sounds. He yanked your arm away and twisted it so it was pinned to your lower back, his hips slamming into you so hard that your jaw was permanently hung open in a silent scream.

"Don't do that," he warned you, and you were sure you would have bruises against your hips from the edge of the desk tomorrow.

"Don't fuckin' hide those - sounds - from - me," he growled, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust of his hips. You could feel your release approaching, the warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach and the flush creeping up your neck. You were about to warn him when a loud crack filled the room, and Joel yanked you backwards against him just in time to watch the desk slump to the side, your papers and notebook scattering across the floor.

"Jesus," you gasped, then whined as Joel pulled out of you suddenly. He twisted you around to push your back up against the wall, then lifted your legs so you could wrap them around his waist and stuffed his cock back inside you with a deep groan.

Your fingers dug desperately into his shoulders as you rocked your hips forward, trying to keep pace with him. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs roughly as he pounded into you, his face buried in your shoulder. You raked a hand through his dark curls, then tightened your fingers around them, tugging to pull him up so you could see his face.

His dark eyes searched yours, his jaw clenched as he chased his release. You whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, which caused him to change the direction of his hips, and suddenly he was pushing against that spot inside you that always made you come undone. You turned your head to the side as you felt your orgasm bubbling quickly to the surface. Joel could feel you clenching around him, so he slotted his lips sloppily against yours to pull your attention back.

"Look at me when you come," he told you. Your jaw was slack and your eyes were glazing over as the flames stoked inside you, rising higher and higher. You were barely able to hear him, but you still nodded weakly.

"Joel..." you moaned, your head tipping back but your eyes still locked on his. "I-I'm close."

He nodded, his eyes burning into you, his fingers slipping against your sweat coated thighs.

"I know, sweetheart. I can feel you squeezin' me, so goddamn tight," he grunted, his pace not letting up.

You felt your orgasm rip through you violently, the intensity taking you by surprise. You cried out his name and rutted your hips against him, turning your face to the side out of habit, but his fingers quickly gripped your chin and pulled your gaze back to his.

"Eyes on me," he reminded you firmly, but you couldn't muster a response. You just kept your eyes locked on his, your jaw slack and your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm washed over you. You felt your body immediately go limp and you struggled with all your might to keep your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned, his hips stuttering into you as you tipped your head back against the wall, your eyes sliding shut. He rested his head back on your shoulder. His breath fanned over your hot skin and when his teeth sunk onto your collarbone, you yelped.

"Please, Joel," you whimpered. "I need you to come for me."

He cursed and pulled out quickly, his wet cock sliding against your leg as he coated your thighs with his release.

"Shit," he whispered with his eyes closed, his sticky forehead pressed against yours, gasping for air. "It's so fuckin' hot in here."

Laughter bubbled up from your throat while Joel slowly released your shaky legs back down to the floor. You immediately collapsed in the desk chair, wiping the sweat from your face and chest. Your hair felt wet as you raked your fingers through it, trying to tame the mess.

Joel tugged his jeans and underwear back up, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to gently clean you up. You watched him through heavy lidded eyes as he tended to you: leaving sweet kisses over your stomach before finding your clothes and peppering your legs with more kisses as he pulled your underwear and jeans back on.

He slouched on the floor against the wall of the office while you continued to catch your breath in the chair, your head tipped back over the top and your trembling legs stretched out.

"You never answered my question," he said, lifting his head up to look at you. You rolled your head lazily to the side, raising a confused eyebrow.

"What gotcha so worked up?"

You grinned and sat up in the chair, wincing slightly at your already sore legs and back.

"I never saw you do stuff like this before," you said with a shrug. "Fixing things. Building things. I don't know, just watching you do that really turned me on."

He smirked and turned his face away, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck. It was never lost on him how you simply loved him for being him. Something he wasn't sure he ever had before. Most of the women he had dated were only interested in the white collar parts of his life, always forgetting that the blue collar part is what made him so successful in the first place. But not you. You only ever saw him, loved him, for who he was, flaws and all.

"Well," he said with a grunt as he rose up from the floor, "do'ya think you can keep it together for the rest of the day? 'Cause I just added one more thing to my list." He jutted his chin towards the broken desk behind you and you giggled, standing up on wobbly legs to give him a peck on the cheek.

"I'll do my best, Mr. Miller," you said with a wink, grabbing your apron off the floor and heading back to work.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

186 notes · View notes

frostandflamesfanfic · 2 years ago

Text

Recipe for Family (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Recipe for Family (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: None, except tooth-rotting fluff (I was in a mood guys)

Summary: Set Post-ST4. The year is 1990. Everyone has moved on since the events of Vol. 2 and living their lives, Steve more than others. He finally has everything he's ever wanted. Now it's Thanksgiving in Hawkins and he begins to realize more and more about what he's grateful for...and a lot of it has to do with you and the micro-clones you call your family.

“Are we sure that’s everything?”

“Potatoes, cranberry sauce, turkey’s in the oven…I think that’s everything, babe.” Steve’s eyes raked over the rows of platters which were currently littered across the kitchen island. This was one of the first times he could really remember seeing his parents’ kitchen full of this much life and chaos.

Actually, that was a lie.

The first time the Harrington family kitchen at this level of chaos was in the early days of your relationship, when you had first started dating. Steve had mentioned how much he had disliked the holiday season. What point was there to celebrating the holidays if you didn’t have people to share it with? This had evidently been a mistake to tell you, as on the morning of that Thanksgiving, you and Dustin were perched on his doorstep with an abundance of shopping bags and baked goods.

The three of you had spent most of the day together in the kitchen, crafting a holiday meal fit for the whole party. Well, if Steve was being honest, it was more so a duo rather than a trio effort. Dustin had thought it would be helpful to “monitor” your progress by shouting random encouragement from his spot at the island, a bag of chips at his side. Steve couldn’t complain though. It had been one of the best Thanksgivings of his life. He tried so hard to memorize every detail of the day, from the way you shared your grandmother’s secret sweet potato recipe to how many times a stray lock of hair would fall into your eyes.

Now here he was, five years later in the same situation. Except things were a little different now. Thanksgiving was still meant to be shared with his friends, but now everyone had all grown up. The kids he used to babysit were college students now, having just come home to Hawkins for the first time since August. He and Dustin still spoke every chance they had, the young genius being the reason Steve’s phone bill is so damn expensive nowadays. The kid just had to be smart enough to get into Columbia.

Another big change was that Steve now owned his parents’ home. After some protest, they moved out after giving their son the keys and lived in a retirement community just outside of Hawkins. They still don’t talk to him, but that’s okay. He finally came to terms with something truly important: they may have been family by blood, but they weren’t the family that mattered. No, because that was you. . .

. . .and your two daughters: Amelia and Emery.

One year after the chaos of Vecna and the great Hawkins earthquake of ‘86, during your two year anniversary, Steve had finally mustered up the courage to ask you the big question. Proposing seemed a lot easier when he first bought the ring. He planned the whole night: a movie, dinner by candlelight, he even wrote an entire speech. Yet in the heat of the moment, all words simply left him except for those four crucial ones.

He still can’t believe you said yes, not to mention that you gave him two little miracles at once. The twins were three years old now and looking more and more like you every day. However, you still swear that Em has the start of his famous hair and striking hazel eyes. There was nothing Steve loved more than coming home after every long shift to his girls. Every day, without fail, they put the biggest smile on his face as they clung to his leg and held on for dear life as he made exaggerated steps toward you to share a gentle kiss of hello.

“I still feel like we’re missing something,” you mused to yourself as you absentmindedly wiped flour off on your apron. You had been cooking for almost three days straight to make sure that there would be enough food for the stampede of guests arriving in the next few hours. “Did we get the rolls from that bakery Max likes? And the special butter for Will? I know certain dairy bothers his stomach.”

“Babe, relax.” Steve pressed a kiss to your flour-covered cheek. “We have everything. Don’t forget, Robin and Nance are bringing over the green-bean casserole. Jonathan and Will were in charge of the stuffing and Eddie’s bringing over the mulled cider with Argyle.”

“I better not see any weird pineapple covered sides or joints being passed around,” you said with a sigh. Steve watched as your nose scrunched up into that little wrinkle he loved so much. He wished he could lean forward and kiss it off your face entirely, but there were much more important matters at hand. You would certainly kick his ass if he fell behind schedule due to stealing some private time.

Instead, Steve turned his attention to his current challenge: baking the perfect pumpkin pie. “Don’t worry, beautiful,” he tried to soothe as he prepped the pie tin. “Everything is going to be okay. Just head upstairs and get ready. I’ll finish up what’s left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now go before I pick you up and drop you in that bedroom myself.”

You smirked. “Is that a threat, Mr. Harrington?”

“No,” he replied. “It’s a promise. Although I can’t promise I’ll be too willing to leave if I have to take you up there myself.” He picked up a nearby dish towel and playfully snapped it in your direction. “Now hurry up. Our guests of honor will be here soon.”

You shook your head with a ghost of a smile, making sure to press a kiss to his lips before you sauntered over to the stairs. Steve rolled his eyes and felt the corner of his own lips pull up into a smirk as you purposefully swayed your hips when taking the first stair.

As he rolled out the final pie crust on the calendar, Steve felt a squeeze around his right leg. Looking down, he caught sight of messy sun-kissed chocolate ringlets and big hazel eyes that shone as bright as stars. “Daddyyyyyy,” came the high-pitched and dramatic cry from his daughter. “When can you pway?”

Steve chuckled. “Soon baby, okay?” He reassured her with a warm smile. “Daddy has to finish making these pies. Why don’t you go and make a card for Uncle Dustin with Amy?” He gestured to the living room, where her lighter-haired sister was happily scribbling atop the paper on the coffee table, eyes glued to the television before her.

His mini-doppelganger gave a huff of indignation far too mature for any five-year-old girl. “But ‘wan play wiff you!”

“Soon, Em. I promise. Daddy just needs to finish the pies.”

Emery tilted her head and Steve had to fight the urge to push back a loose strand of her hair back with flour covered fingers. She appeared to be contemplating something, raising a tiny index finger to her lower lip in thought. The action reminded Steve of you and how you’d nervously play with or bite your lips when deep in thought. “Can I helps?”

A warmth blossomed in Steve’s heart and flooded his entire body. He felt the smile which toyed on his lips threaten to split his face in half. His daughter was asking to help him with something; he could teach her something. “Of course, sweetheart,” he mused. “Now let’s wash those hands before we put the crust in the tin, okay?”

One singing of “happy birthday” and cloud of flour later, Steve held Em’s tiny hands in his own as they pressed the pie dough into the tin together. She was standing on the step-stool the two of you decided to buy early on. It was a preparation purchase for when the girls were a bit older and you wanted to encourage them to do things themselves. The fact that his three-year-old– his very own daughter– was standing in front of him using the steps shocked Steve to the core. This little person was someone he helped to create. She was growing up a little more every single day and it amazed him that this could happen with someone so tiny.

He watched as she stuck her tongue out in concentration when stabbing the dough bottom with a fork. It was only meant to get the air pockets out of the crust, but to young Emery, it was a life or death mission. After they pre-baked the crust, Steve let Em mix up the bowl of pumpkin filling…and maybe be the unofficial taste tester. Someone had to make sure it passed inspection, right?

“WAIT!” Em screeched as Steve reached over her head to pick up the tin to put it in the oven once they finished scooping the filling. He smiled in confusion as she reached over to stick her finger in the filling and dragged it through.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Uncwe Will says a good artist always signs theiwe work!” Em answered proudly. She leaned back slightly once she was done, tiny index finger pointing to the squiggles now etched in the pie. “Emewy…and Daddy!”

Steve could have melted into a puddle right then and there if he could.

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

Nothing could have prepared Steve when he saw you come down the stairs a few hours later. While he had dressed up in a navy button down and slacks, you had somehow transformed into a work of art. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you moved from setting the table to adjusting the pigtails you put in Amy’s hair. God, how did he ever get so lucky?

When you finally caught his stare, you smiled and walked over in his direction. “Hey there, handsome,” you quipped. “What’s captured your attention?”

“You,” came the smooth reply. “Always you. Can’t believe I got so lucky."

“I think,” you started as you smoothed out the collar of his shirt, “that I’m the lucky one.”

Before he could say more, guests began arriving and the rest of the night sped by in a blur. The Harrington household was filled with the sounds of laughter and silverware tapping against plates. Eddie and Dustin caught up with Mike and Lucas, lamenting about the various adventures of their Dungeons and Dragons groups. They had planned to get the rest of Hellfire to complete some kind of oneshot over the break, but Steve lost the ability to understand what they were talking about somewhere around the introduction of the land of Frotsgaard.

You were catching up with Nancy and Robin, who had moved out to New York to focus on their education and careers. After graduation, Nancy started work as a cub reporter for the New York Times, whereas Robin decided to study theater and English at NYU. They had just gotten a small apartment near 8th Ave that they absolutely couldn’t wait to decorate. Robin was already talking about Christmas trees, much to Nancy’s chagrin.

Em was practically bursting at the seams to talk about her pumpkin pie that she had baked with Steve. She told everyone about her design and proudly showed off her signature to Will, who grinned and ruffled her hair. He called her a natural artist, which only made her squeal with happiness more. Amy took that as an opportunity to show off her latest drawing to Dustin, who promised to hang it up in his dorm as soon as he got back.

At one point in the evening, Steve reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and kiss your temple. He brought his chair closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. As Robin continued to describe her latest class in a very animated fashion, he could feel you relax in his hold. He pressed another kiss against your skin, this time against the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear.

This was all he truly needed.

Growing up, the holidays may not have been anything special for Steve. He would have traded anything to have a kinder family, to have parents that cared. But with the family he has now? The love he found with you, the happiness he feels with your girls? He wouldn’t change that for the world. For once in his life, Steve spent Thanksgiving happy and actually thankful for those in his life.

And that’s all he could ever ask for.

======================

Author's Note: To my American readers, happy thanksgiving! I'm actually surprised I was able to draft and write this idea just in time for the holiday. In all, this took me about 3 hours to write and format. As you can tell, I am still head over heels for domestic Steve Harrington, especially dad!Steve. I had this idea and just knew it needed to be written down. I hope to write more dad!Steve in the future because his interactions with little Em are just precious.

If you want to see more fics like this on my blog, make sure to drop a comment and reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's the reblogs that really help spread the word about my writing and send the happy emotion chemicals into my singular brain cell. Want to join my taglist? Shoot me a message, an ask, or even reply to this post and I'll be sure to tag you! :)

Finally, if you have ideas for dad!Steve, send me your thoughts and maybe I'll have the motivation to craft a fic from it. Either way, I'll definitely be responding and sharing the love for our guy. Until next time, my lovely sparks! <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #gender neutral reader #dad!steve harrington #thanksgiving fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #frostandflamesfanfic #joe keery #joe keery imagines

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honeyedmiller · 1 year ago

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Fate, After All | Joel Miller — Part Four

warnings: no-outbreak!Joel, Joel is a softie (again—I just love soft and loving Joel lol), tooth-rotting fluff, reader and Sarah have a cute mom / daughter dynamic moment, sorta shy Joel, slight jealousy from reader, super brief smut (fingering), some cursing, no use of y/n. sorry this is so long and probably so filler-like lmaooo this is honestly not my best work. hope you enjoy regardless :’). 18+, minors dni.

word count: 4.5k

series masterlist

You wake up to the sound of your phone blaring in your ear, making you groan loudly. One of your eyes shot open, looking at the alarm clock on your bedside. You groan again when the red numbers read 8:03 a.m.

You answer your phone without looking at the caller ID, pressing it up against your ear lazily.

"Hello?" Your voice is groggy and evidently full of sleep. The deep chuckle on the other line let you know exactly who was on the phone: Joel.

"Good morning, honey." He greets, and you whine softly.

"Joel, it's eight in the morning. Why are you up so early?" Your words were muffled due to half of your face being pressed into a pillow, seeing as you were laying on your stomach.

"Did'ya forget it's the Fourth 'a July? The party Tommy and I throw every year requires a lot of setting up." Joel laughs, and the sound simply brings a smile to your lips.

"Mm, so I'm guessing you're calling me to recruit me for help?" You twist your body so you're laying flat on your back now, eyes slowly peeling open to stare up at your bedroom ceiling.

"Y'know me too well, darlin'. And I need your help at the grocery store, 'specially to get stuff your parents like." Nervousness took over Joel's voice in the last part of his sentence. Today was the day he was going to see your parents again for the first time in years, so he wanted to make a good impression.

You've reassured him multiple times that they loved him when you two were in high school, but he was worried nonetheless. He wanted to be noted as worthy to be your man.

"Up 'n at 'em, baby. I'll give you an hour to get ready and then I'm swingin' by your place to pick you up." Joel mildly negotiated, and you huffed.

"Fine, only cus I—" You cut your sentence short, the 'L' word nearly rolling off your tongue. You wanted to say it to him, desperately. You just didn't know how he'd react to it, or if he even felt the same way.

"Honey? You there?" Joel asks.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry. I'll be ready in an hour." Your voice held promise, so you needed to get up now if you were going to be ready in time.

"See you in an hour, darlin'."

You took a quick shower, shaving your legs as fast as you could without nicking them. You dolled up as much as possible with the time allotted, slipping on a maxi dress that showed off your curves in all the right places. It was a red dress, so it was sort of on theme for the day. Just as you were finished touching up your mascara, a couple of sharp knocks against your front door were heard.

“Coming!” You shout, grabbing your purse and your denim jacket. You peeked through the peephole and smiled when you saw it was Joel. You open the door with that same grin never fading, and his facial expression softens when he lays his eyes on you.

He whistles, giving you a once–or a thrice– over. “Damn, baby. You look absolutely stunnin’.” Joel praises, wrapping his arms around you. Your free hand travels up his broad chest, moving to the back of his neck.

“Mm, such a sweet talker you are.” You laugh as you pull him in for a sweet kiss.

He taps your ass twice before pulling apart, humming at your observation. You slip your white Converse on and step outside with Joel, locking everything up before you two head to his truck. He opens the passenger door for you and you climb in, kissing him one more time before he softly shuts the door. You admire him for a quick second as he rounds the front of the truck, taking in his beautiful features and dark unruly hair.

It warmed your heart still that you got so lucky to cross paths with such an amazing man again. He’s been nothing but wonderful to you and has treated you like a princess the few months you’ve been seeing him. Joel is so genuine. Everything he does, he does with purpose.

You couldn’t help but let your curious mind wander to what marriage would look like with Joel. How loving of a husband he’d be, coming home to him every night, spending the rest of your life with him. You truly believed he was your soulmate, and god, you really hoped he felt the same exact way. You had to tell him how you really felt soon, because it was eating away at you inside.

“Hey,” Joel waves his hand in front of your face. “Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout pretty lady?”

“Just what to get my parents at the store.” You play it off, and Joel nods.

“Once they get a taste of my famous burgers they’ll for sure give their approval for me datin’ their daughter.” Joel sates matter-of-factly with a chuckle.

“My mom already gushes about you when we have our weekly catch-up phone calls,” You laugh, looking out of the window as you pass your residential neighborhood. “My dad will be the tough nut to crack. He’s just overprotective, but I told him to be on his best behavior.” You look at Joel, who chuckles and glances at you as he drives to the store closer to his house.

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you noticed Joel's lingering gaze on you from time to time. You turned your head to him an raised an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look.

"You look real good in that dress, darlin'." Joel sighs, gaze meeting yours once he reaches another red light.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll let you take it off of me later." You say nonchalantly, throwing the most saccharine smile his way. He groans, tossing his head back against the headrest.

"Fuck, baby, don't tease me like that." He pouts, but decides to return the favor by sliding his hand slowly onto your left thigh, dipping under the soft cotton of the dress before he moves upward. You're already wet from just how fucking good he looks and smells, and you two haven't been able to be intimate recently so the mutual want from both of you was peaked.

His fingertips brush over your skimpy thong you'd put on, whimpering softly at the contact of his warm fingers.

"Oh, would you look at that. My poor baby is already wet n' I've barely even touched her. What are we gonna do about that, hm?" Joel throws a shit-eating grin your way, focusing back on the road as the light turns green. He kept casually rubbing you over the fabric of your underwear, noticing from his peripheral that you were starting to squirm.

"Fuck, Joel, please." You beg.

"What'dya want from me baby? Use your words." He coaxes, moving your underwear to the side but pausing his movements so he can hear you ask for him.

"Your fingers, please, fuck, I- I want you to use your fingers." You pant softly.

"What my baby wants, she gets." Joel smirks, running his middle and ring finger knuckles over your slick folds before pulling them out from under your dress to bring both fingers to his mouth. He closed his eyes for a split second to relish the taste of you before moving his hand back down. He slowly eased his middle finger into you while softly swiping his thumb over your clit.

You gasp at the contact, slowly grinding your hips against his hand to create more friction. A deep chuckle arose from his throat at your neediness, which only prompted him to insert a second finger.

You moaned, resting your head against the headrest as you shut your eyes.

"That's it honey. Doing so good f'me." Joel groaned as you clenched around his fingers deliciously. He moved his skillful fingers at a languid pace, and you knew your orgasm was coming much sooner rather than later. You've been holding off on even touching your own self because Joel genuinely just did it so much fucking better.

He knew your body extremely well and made sure to take care of you every single time. He wouldn't accept it if there was a time you didn't cum—he made absolutely sure you always came, even if he didn't.

You gripped the door handle tightly and clawed at the seat beneath you, feeling that hot sensation in the pit of your core. Joel felt it too with the way you were simply fluttering around his thick fingers. You bit your lip to silence your moan, but Joel wasn’t having any of that.

“Uh uh, baby doll. Let it out. Be as loud as you wanna be.” He coaxed, and that was enough for you to let out a whine which turned into a moan.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m close.” Your words are strained to a near whisper, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your hips started to buck against his hand, that hot sensation unraveling in your core and down your legs.

“That’s it baby, give it t’me.”

You moaned loudly at Joel’s words, knuckles turning white as you now had a death grip on the door handle.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You whined as you rode through your orgasm. You were panting heavily as Joel smirked to himself in a self-victory, withdrawing his fingers from you. He sticks his middle finger in his mouth to clean you off of it, but moves his ring finger over to your mouth.

“Open.” Was all he said, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at that. You opened your mouth as he stuck his finger in, and you gingerly sucked on it as you cleaned yourself off of him. You were thankful his windows were tinted and no one could really see what’d just happened, because shit, your face was beet red.

You were so dazed from your orgasm that you hadn’t even noticed Joel had turned in to the HEB parking lot.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s beat the crowds.” Joel leans over to kiss your temple after he unbuckles himself, then reaches down to undo your buckle as well. He hopped out of the truck and jogged to your side, opening your door for you. Ever the gentleman. He held his hand out for you to take to easily exit the truck, but your legs betrayed you as they felt like jello when your feet planted on the concrete.

“Woah.” You said, leaning against Joel for support. You wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin he still had on his face right off, but his strong hold only made you want to melt further.

“Careful there, darlin’.” Joel easily displayed amusement in his Southern drawl, and you scowled up at him playfully before finally regaining your balance and standing upright.

“C’mon cowboy, we have a party to throw.”

A few hours passed and Joel assigned you and Sarah to decorate the place with red white and blue streamers. You were currently hanging a twist of all three on the patio outside, the summer sun relentless on you.

You wiped your sweaty brow after you finished, satisfied with your work. Tommy was working on firing up the grill and getting it going, while Joel was seasoning the food and preparing it to be grilled. You made your way back into the kitchen where Sarah was sipping on some lemonade while she sat at the island counter, and Joel was chopping some onions.

“Hotter than the devil’s ass out there.” You huffed, moving to the counter where Sarah sat. She snickered at your remark, and Joel shook his head with a grin.

“Need any help honey?” You ask, tilting your head at Joel.

“I’m just about done, darlin’. Do you think your parents will like this?” The nervousness in his tone returns, and you move so you stood yourself behind him. You hooked both of your arms under his so your palms were pressing against the front of his shoulders, and you kissed between his shoulder blades lovingly.

“They’ll love it, Joel, and they’ll love you.” His heart jumped at the word, almost thinking you were going to say it yourself. He’d planned to tell you very soon, but he just hadn’t found the right moment yet.

“Hope so.” Was all he said, finishing with the onion.

Sarah called your name and you turned to her, a smile in on your face. “Will you help me with something? Upstairs?” She asked timidly, and you let go of Joel to fully face her.

“Of course, sweetheart. Lead the way.” You grinned, offering your hand to her. She took it as she led you upstairs, leading you into her room.

“Okay, so, I didn’t want dad to hear, but the whole neighborhood is coming as you know,” She started, rocking on her heels in a nervous manner. “There’s this really cute boy who lives down the street and I kinda want to impress him a little. Do you think you could, I dunno, doll me up a bit? And help me with an outfit?”

Your heart clenched with warmth at her words, loving that she trusted you enough with this stuff. Over the course of the months you’d been with Joel, you made it a point to always spend time with Sarah—girls days here and there, taking her out shopping, to eat, nails done, anything—to bond with her. You and her had grown very close within that allotted time, and although she never said it aloud (yet), she was starting to see you as a mother figure.

“Of course I’d love to help, sweetheart. You’re very naturally beautiful as it is, but if you want to wear makeup, then let’s use it just to enhance your gorgeous features. Does your dad let you wear any?” You ask, because the last thing you want is to go over his head, especially if it’s something that has to do with his daughter.

“Yeah, he lets me wear mascara and natural colored lipstick. He let me buy eyeliner too, but I don’t really know how to put it on.” She goes to open a drawer in her dresser, pulling out the previously stated items.

“Let me bring my makeup bag in here and see what else we can do.” You smile at her, making your way into Joel’s bedroom so you can grab your small bag of makeup you kept here. You returned to Sarah’s room, pulling out your eyelash curler and some very natural blush.

You sat her down on her bed as you started with her eyelashes, bringing the curler to each to lift them just slightly. You coated her lashes with the mascara, really only touching the ends that’d been curled up. Instead of the black eyeliner that she had, you opted for the brown one you had in your bag as you smoked it out very subtly on the outside corners of her eyelids.

You then dabbed the lipstick onto her lips, making her purse her lips every so often so the product could blend evenly. You applied clear gloss over her lips as the final coat. You then used the tiniest amount of blush on the apples of her cheeks, to which it looked like someone just pinched them in adoration.

“I’m all done.” You announce, holding up the mirror set on her dresser so she could see herself.

She gasped softly, the biggest smile on her face as she studied her now slightly enhanced features.

“I love it! You have to teach me how do this.” She gushed, getting up swiftly to give you a hug. You giggle and hug her back, giving her a small squeeze.

“I’d love to. Now for the outfit.” You move to her closet after letting her go, sorting through her clothes while weighing the options.

“How about this pretty blue dress?” You unhooked the hanger from its rightful place, holding the dress up. It wasn’t too short, wasn’t too long, had spaghetti straps and was perfect for summertime. The baby blue color would really make her features pop more.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot I even had that dress. This with my white shoes. Thank you so much for your help.” She grins.

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it to get changed.” You close her door after you exit her room, and within a couple of minutes, she opens her door again.

She looked so beautiful, and you could tell she really felt it too.

“You look gorgeous, Sarah.” You grab her hand and lift it up so she does a twirl, and she laughs loudly. She twirls a few more times before stumbling into you, hugging you tightly.

“Hey people are–” You hear Joel start, pausing when he sees you two hugging each other laughing. His heart just melts at the sight of his favorite girls having a fun time together. You both pause and look up at him, and Joel’s eyes scan Sarah’s features.

He was surprised to see she was wearing makeup, but he also knew she was a teenager and it was part of growing up. He was starting to realize his little girl wasn’t so little anymore.

“So, what do you think?” Sarah spins around for him, an unwavering bright smile on her face.

“You look beautiful babydoll.” He grins softly at her, leaning against the doorframe.

“Thanks dad.” She smiles, moving toward him to give him a hug before rushing down the stairs. You chuckle at her eagerness, remembering what it was like when you were a teenager giddy for a boy—Joel, to be more specific.

“They grow up so fast.” You tease, and he groans.

“Thank you for helpin’ her with, you know, the makeup n’ stuff. I know it means a great deal to her, even if she doesn’t show it right away,” Joel smiles as he pulls you into him, kissing the top of your head. “Now c’mon. Guests are starting to arrive and I wanna introduce you.” He pats your butt softly before trailing after you downstairs, keeping you close to him as you met the neighbors and friends of the Millers.

An hour and a half later, the party was in full swing. Country music was playing over a loud speaker, kids were playing Marco Polo in the pool, burgers were being grilled, and beers were being chugged. Your mom had called to say they were almost at the Miller residence, to which you got a Michelada ready for your dad (they were his favorite), and you were currently working on a Cosmo for your mom. The doorbell rang and you wiped your hands on a hand towel before making your way to the front door.

Joel comes rushing into the house, his red shirt starting to get a small sweat stain around the collar. He thought it’d be ‘cute’ to match with you today, hence him opting for a red shirt instead of his usual gray or black.

“I got it honey, I think it’s my parents,” You tell him, and he gives you a worried look. “I promise you have nothing to worry about.” You reassure him, patting his chest before giving him a quick peck on the lips. You open the door with Joel right behind you, and you beam at your parents standing there.

“Mom, dad, c’mon in.” You smile, moving so they can get into the house. You notice your mom carrying a tin pan of what you assume to be her famous pasta salad, so you led them both into the kitchen. You took the pasta salad from your mom and set it down on the counter, bending to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You hugged your dad next, and Joel stood there with a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Mom, dad, you remember Joel Miller, right?” You ask them, and your mom is beaming. She may have set you up on all those terrible blind dates, but technically, if it weren’t for her, there was a slim to none chance you would’ve rekindled with Joel.

“Of course! Joel, dear, how are you?” Your mom pulls him in for a hug, to which he gladly accepts. He chuckles as she holds him at arms length, inspecting him.

You almost protest your mom’s actions before Joel flashes his charming, megawatt smile at her. “I’ve been good ma’am, it’s so good to see you again.” He’s polite and his Southern drawl just makes you melt.

“My my, you sure have grown into a handsome man. You picked a good one, sweetheart.” Your mom looks over at you, and you groan.

“Ma.” You huff, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Actually, I’m the lucky one here.” Joel confesses, and you and your mom look at him.

“Well ain’t that the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!” Your mom is absolutely head over heels gushing for Joel, and it almost makes you want to laugh.

“You remember my husband, right?” Your mom asks, and Joel sticks his hand out to shake your dad’s.

“Of course. Very nice to see you again, sir.” Joel nods, and your dad raises a brow at him.

“You treatin’ my baby girl right?” Your dad asks, and you cut in immediately.

“Dad, for Christ sake. If he wasn’t I wouldn’t be with him,” You roll your eyes. “Be nice.” You warn, shoving his Michelada into his hand so he can have something to drink instead of running his mouth.

“He’s just looking out for you, baby, I understand.” Joel chuckles smoothly, pulling you into his side. He wraps his arm around your waist securely, and you rest a palm over his beating heart.

“That’s right, babydoll. He knows what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.” Your dad nods, and you roll your eyes and look to your mom.

“Men.” You both say simultaneously, laughing at the ridiculousness. You hand your mom her Cosmo, while Joel and your dad trail off into a conversation which seems to be about football. At least they can bond over that.

“So,” Your mom starts, sipping her drink. “How’s he really treatin’ you, sweetheart?” Your mom whispers, and you grin.

“Really, really good mom. I’m head over heels for him.” You answer honestly, nudging her softly with your hip. She chuckled and nods, staring down at her drink.

“You in love with him?” She says a little louder, but still not to the point where Joel and your dad can hear you—or so you think. You know your dad’s hearing is shot to hell from his old profession, but Joel’s sure isn’t.

“Yeah, I really am. I really think he’s the one, Ma.” You confess, a rosy blush covering your cheeks. Joel nearly rushes to your side to give you the biggest, most heartfelt kiss, but he plays it off like he never heard you. He just casually continues his conversation about training season and their picks for their fantasy football league.

Tommy eventually coaxes everyone outside with more food being ready. Sarah comes up to you almost instantly and tugs you to the side, a bright smile on her face.

“He gave me his number!” She whisper shouts, and your eyes go wide.

“That’s amazing, Sarah!” You hug her, rocking her back and forth gleefully.

“I’m gonna go hang out some more, but I’ll keep you updated!” She tries to play it cool by walking slow over to her crush. It was so cute seeing your favorite teen gush over her crush like that.

The party went on some more and many people were getting buzzed, including Joel. You had a light buzz going yourself, but nothing too serious. You were in fact sober enough to catch Joel’s neighbor, Sheila, making eyes at him.

“You know darlin’, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you in this little number you’re wearin.’ Makes me wanna finish what I started earlier in my truck.” Joel murmurs lowly in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe we should do it in front of Sheila so she’ll stop undressing you with her eyes.” You retort, rolling your eyes. His hands rest on your hips as he rubs soft circles into them, purposefully kissing your neck tenderly while she looked.

“Is my girl jealous?” Joel teases.

“No.”

“Mm, good, ‘cause you ain’t got a single thing to worry about, baby. I’m all yours.”

Dusk had rolled around faster than anticipated, but the firework show was amazing. Joel and Tommy apparently had a bunch saved up, so they put on a show for the whole neighborhood and then some. The kids were waving sparklers in front of themselves and drawing their names on the asphalt, enjoying the different colors they emitted.

Your eyes shifted to Sarah who was by the boy—who’s name turned out to be Christian—getting snuggly and close as he draped his arm around her shoulder, which was clad with a jacket that definitely wasn’t hers. You smile at her and shift your eyes again, landing on Joel.

You admired the way he looked when he interacted with people. He was so genuine and caring, and though he was more introverted, he could easily work and charm a crowd. His smile beamed at the multiple neighbors who complimented the barbecue, as it had been yet another huge success this year.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and as if you couldn’t fall even harder, the look that was in his eyes proved you so wrong.

Tommy was about to light the grand finale of the fireworks, and Joel made his way back to you. He and Tommy sobered up in time to light all of the fireworks responsibly, which you were grateful for.

“Hey baby.” He said softly, pulling you into his side gently.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, leaning your head on his shoulder. Tommy ran back toward the crowd of people as the fireworks were ready to shoot off, and within seconds, the first one shot into the air with a loud boom. Then came the second, and the third, but by the fourth, you were completely enamored in the man that is Joel Miller.

You heard the crowd “ooh” and “aah”, and while you could see the fireworks from your peripheral, your focus was solely on the man in front of you.

“I’m in love with you, Joel.” You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. Your eyes never wavered from him as you wrapped both arms around him. His head snaps down as his eyes find your gaze, and you can see the beautiful hues of purple and gold of one of the fireworks reflecting in the beautiful brown eyes of your lover.

“Darlin’,” Joel breathed, his eyes soft and face displaying pure adoration. “I’m in love with you too. I love you. So much.” He cups your face with both of his hands, thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones.

“I love you, Joel.” You semi-whispered, but he still heard. He didn’t waste time in pressing his lips against yours, holding your face in his hands like his life depended on it.

There was absolutely nowhere else in the universe that you felt safer in than in Joel’s arms—

the arms of someone who cherishes you, adores you, and loves you with his whole being.

#pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller imagines #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller masterlist #joel miller story #joel miller x you #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x y/n #no outbreak!joel miller

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f1nalboys · 2 years ago

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Catch 22 - Bo Sinclair and Nick Jones

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader x Nick Jones

haiiii so heres the first of (hopefully) a few poly fics!!! bex (@bisexual-horror-fan) is currently running a little something called multi-may where for the month of may, every fic she posts will be polyam focused!!! i HAD to participate and what better way to do it than w stinky bo and stinky nick?? i hope yall enjoy the surprise of nick and the nasty sick little thing i wrote here for you <3 PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE GUYS!

WORD COUNT: 2526

WARNINGS: nsfw, dub-con to be safe but reader is (sadly and not really happy about it) into it, poly!relationship, toxic relationships, reader and nick used to date before ambrose and now bo is in the mix, bo comes as his own warning and honestly in this one, so does nick! oral (amab receiving,) unprotected sex, spit-roasting, heavy degradation, light praise but it's really just to make the degradation hit harder, slight humiliation, blood, biting, sadism and slight masochism, toy usage, slight dumbification, training mention (aka bo trains nick to be as sadistic as him and they train you to be good for them.) reader is called pet/sugar/freak/a good little bitch/baby/a pretty dumb thing.

It was hard to think about how exactly you got here, squished between both men with an ache deep in your gut as their hands roamed your body. How long had it been since you and he had come to town? A few days? A few weeks? Months? You weren’t sure anymore. Time in the basement had all but stopped for you the moment you had gotten strapped to the chair and it was hard for you to even think about before, especially when what was happening now was so good.

“Like that, doncha?” Bo asks, grinding against your ass, his face nuzzled into your neck. You make a noise resembling an agreement and you can feel his laugh rumble in his chest. He’s still clothed and you wish he weren’t, you wish he were naked and doing this to you so that you could at least pretend it was more for his own pleasure than yours. “Yeah, I bet you do. Like having two sets of hands on you, don’t you, my greedy little pet?”

He’s right, you do, and you hate that you do. You hate how much you’re loving this, having four hands grabbing and groping and pulling at you however they please. “They do love it,” Nick’s voice is in front of you and his forehead is pressed against your own. You blink, getting rid of the haze that had begun to collect in the edges of your vision, and are met with his icy stare. He resembled Bo here, a sharp stare with eyes that seemed to sparkle in a way that made your gut swim in both anxiety and lust. “Tell him, baby. Admit that you like when we treat you like this.”

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry. You nod and both men tsk at the same time, something you wish you could laugh at. You wish that their accidental synchronicity could ease your worries a bit, and could result in the briefest moments of normalcy. But their being in sync meant they were the same and that they had the same idea floating through their heads. Nick smiles at you, the corner of his lip curling upwards into a snarl. You’re sure Bo has a matching one.

“He told you to say it, sugar,” Bo’s grip on your hip tightens, grime-covered nails digging into your bare flesh, right over the last remnants of finger-print shaped bruises. It hurts but it was meant to. His touch was always meant to. Bo wanted the pain and pleasure to be uneven, coming in waves, making you crave the pain knowing that the sweeping and overwhelming end of the pleasure would come for you eventually. And god, did you crave that ‘eventually.’ “So… fuckin’ say it. Unless you want me to cut that tongue outta your mouth? Might do some good; you talk so goddamn much.”

“Yeah, but then how are we gonna let ‘em suck our cocks, Bo?” Nick asks, ignoring your squirming. You felt claustrophobic in between these two. Everything they did was almost too much, too intense and too rough and too hurried, but the thought of them leaving you after all this, aching for their touch, was enough to kill you. His voice was light as if he were discussing the weather with the other man and not about whether or not your tongue should be cut from your fucking mouth. “Wouldn’t you miss it, man? How warm and tight their throat is? So perfect…”

Nick drags his hands down your neck as if he were imagining you on your knees for him then and there, taking his cock like you had done hundreds of times before, some before Bo but most after. Bo liked to watch, liked seeing how he brought this sick sadistic side of Nick out. You remember the first time they both used you, when Nick didn’t pay attention to your whimpers of pain as he pushed inside, how he seemed focused only on his own pleasure, looking at you only to call you a name that you had never seen pass his lips before, the same name Bo had called you before. Pet. Bo had been watching, directing, and had met your eye after the third round with a smile. “Seems he got the hang of it all, doncha think?”

Bo hums. They had been touching you everywhere except where you needed them and you were getting desperate and they knew you were too. It would be embarrassing if they hadn’t already trained you to enjoy it. “Guess you’re right. Maybe we can get one last good one in before we do it.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you yelp in pain, feeling the skin break underneath his teeth. He keeps biting for a moment longer just to hear your cries, just to smell the fear seep out of the wound before he pulls away. You look up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks, and he grins. Blood covers his teeth.

You knew if given the chance - if given a reason - Bo would be more than happy to rip your throat out with his teeth, pull and tear the muscle from your body, feel the warm blood cover his mouth and the front of his shirt, savor the taste. When you look at Nick, his eyes are on the shallow wound of your shoulder and he swallows hard, eyes trained on the blood dripping from the mark. You wonder what would happen to him if you were gone. Nick and Bo didn’t seem to interact much unless you were involved. Would Bo kill him too? Would Nick even want to live?

The idea of the two of them moving on and finding someone new to replace you fills your gut with a slow-moving panic, one that you suppose is always there inside you, just under the surface. And then Nick is looking at you and you're taken back to before Ambrose, to the guy you had thought about marrying, to the late nights and soft kisses and praise that dripped from his tongue like honey. It’s all gone now. That Nick had died the moment Bo had met him and had seen himself inside, festering under Nick’s skin like an infection. Maybe that version of Nick never really existed at all.

The moment is gone and you’re back in the dusty house between the stranger and your lover and you don't know either one anymore.

“Please,” you say and both men stay silent, waiting for you to continue. Your voice sounds foreign to you now, thrown far behind you like a puppet on a string. “I wanna be good.” Nick smiles and again, for just a moment, it’s like you’re back home with him, but then the glint in his eye is back and you know you’re so very far from home even when you’re pressed against it. “I like when you both touch me.” Your face is hot at the admittance but you’re rewarded with a soft groan behind you as Bo finally loosens his grip. Your hip feels numb. “Please don’t stop.”

“See?” Bo coo’s in your ear, pulling away from you for a second to undo his belt. The sound is Pavlovian and you whimper, falling into Nick's arms, mouth filling with saliva, ass sticking out. Both men laugh at you but you can’t bother to care now. The dam holding back your panic from bubbling to the surface had broken and you were ready to cry, to beg, to do anything and everything they asked. “Was that so hard?”

His voice reminds you of what it was like to be scolded as a child and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you as Nick cradles your head in his hands. He presses his fingers into your neck and you whimper, pain shooting down your spine. “Doing so good,” he says, kissing your forehead. Instead of comforting you, it does the opposite, sending goosebumps up your arms. You had been in this situation with the two of them countless times and you knew better than to let Nick's praise be just that. It was always a ploy, shielding the true reason behind his kind words and actions. “Gonna let us use you, aren’t you?”

“‘Course they are, the freak.” You feel Bo’s cock press against you and he groans, cursing under his breath as one hand lines himself up to your entrance, the other pressing down onto your lower back, forcing you to bend over a bit more. Nick lets go of you and you cling to his jeans, face pressed against his crotch as you feel a glob of spit land on you followed by Bo’s thick fingers smearing it across your hole before pushing inside. The force of his thrust and the pain ripping through you at the intrusion despite all of the teasing has you jolting forward with a cry and Nick takes advantage, grabbing the back of your head and pushing you into his crotch harder. “Gettin’ off on this, fuck, they’re so fuckin’-”

Bo cuts himself off with a groan, finally all the way in, and he wastes no time in setting a rhythm. It was for his pleasure and you knew better than to expect him to touch you, not while he’s busy chasing his own high, his pants around his ankles and his blood-stained shirt in his teeth. “So fuckin’ obedient, right?” Nick finishes, letting your head go and nodding at you. Your hands are shaky as you work on his jeans, your face still pressed against the denim. “Gonna be good and take our cocks just like they were made too, right? Just like we taught ‘em?”

“If they know what’s good for them they will,” Bo replies, sentence muffled by his shirt still in his mouth. When you finally fish Nick’s cock out of his jeans you don’t wait for permission, instead taking him into your mouth with a fervor. You felt complete like this, Bo inside you, fucking you with reckless abandon, Nick in your mouth, moving with slow and deep thrusts, reveling in the feeling of you choking around him.

Drool was spilling from your mouth onto the wooden floor underneath you, dripping down your chin and chest. Your hands were on Nick's thighs in a weak attempt to keep him from plunging his cock down your throat, but you and he both knew that if he really wanted to, you’d let him. Not that you had much choice in that matter, of course.

“Could stay like this all day,” Nick grunts, tilting his head down at you to watch as you take more of his cock with each sharp thrust Bo does. “A pretty dumb thing on my cock getting split open… yeah, could do this all night. How ‘bout you, Bo?” Bo grunts in agreement, too caught up in the feeling of you squeezing around him. Nick grins, sucking in a shakey breath before pulling you off of him and bending down to be face-to-face with you.

There are tears spilling from your eyes and your lips are swollen, spit covering the bottom half of your face, and you’re looking at him with such a needy look that he almost feels bad enough to help you out. Almost. “You’re gonna play with yourself and make yourself cum before Bo and I do or you don’t cum the rest of the night, okay, baby?” He asks, waiting for you to acknowledge what he said.

“O-okay,” you choke out, hand reaching in between your legs. Nick’s eyes light up and he stands, giving Bo a sick smile before tapping his cock onto your wet cheeks. Your hand moved quickly, not moving in any particular rhythm or pattern, mouth opening for Nick. Now that your own orgasm was on the line, all three of you were doing whatever you could to cum first and you knew you were in for a long night.

The pleasure that had been building in your gut all night with their teasing finally comes to a head and you cum quickly, hands sputtering in their movement. Your eyes are squeezed shut, a gargled moan leaving your body as Nick face fucks you, holding the back of your head to keep you still, Bo and he working in tangent to keep you full at all times. Bo is the first to cum, doing so with a choked moan. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you fully sat on him as Nick finishes deep in your throat, pulling out enough to leave the tip in so you can swallow around him.

“Good little bitch, doin’ what they’re told,” Bo finally says after Nick pulls out of your mouth, running a hand down your back in an almost soothing gesture. You give Nick a weak and pleased smile, exhausted. “Ready to switch, man?” Your eyes widen as Nick nods, looking down at you with a faux-apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, taking his calloused thumb and wiping spit from the side of your mouth. “You get to cum as much as you like tonight.” And then the men are moving positions, Nick using his slender fingers to push Bo’s cum, which had begun to leak out of your hole, back inside. Bo takes a moment to walk off, further into the bedroom where you can’t see him, and you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Nick behind you, touching you. If you try hard enough, you could maybe go back to before all of this, to before Ambrose and Bo and this strange relationship. Your stomach twists at the thought. When your eyes open again, Bo is there.

He stands in front of you and you look up, lip quivering at the sight of him. Bo’s sadistic smile doesn’t fade, just grows a little more knowing how afraid you were of him, of how rough he’d be. “Such a good pet,” Bo says in a mocking tone. “You can cum as much as you can.” And then you see the toy he’s holding in his hand and realize that you were about to cum until it hurt to do so. Bo hands it off to you and you take it with a shaky hand knowing that it would be your downfall tonight. “Ready?” You nod before realizing he was asking Nick and not you; you had forgotten that you were here for them, not the other way around.

“More than I’ve ever been,” Nick says and as the two men line themselves up, ready to use you the way that they had molded you to be used, you briefly wonder if you were ready. Bo shoves himself into your mouth first and you realize that no, you weren’t ready, and maybe you wouldn't ever be really ready for this, for them, but it was happening. And as Nick pushes himself inside you slowly, hands soothing the bruises Bo had left, you think that somewhere down the line, you would probably learn to get used to this.

#f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works #multi may #house of wax #bo sinclair #nick jones #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #nick jones x reader #bo sinclair x reader x nick jones #nick jones x reader x bo sinclair #theres a niche here and i found it #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher one shot #bo sinclair fic

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thoroughlymodernminutia · 11 months ago

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This Christmas - Prequel

Pairing: Benny "Borracho" Magalon x F!Reader

Word count: 8,219

Summary: This is a prequel of sorts to this from last year. It’s basically the how Benny and the reader met, etc

Warnings: Mostly Hallmark-style fluffy stuff, lots of pining, but brief mention of loss, guilt, some foul language. If I missed anything else let me know and I'll add it in.

A/N: I don’t know folks, I started writing this and was really chugging along and had a whole plan for how I wanted this to be. Then I got sick with everyone’s favorite illness from 2020 and lost a lot steam. I found, I think, a happy compromise with myself because I wanted to post this before Christmas (self imposed deadlines am I right?) and realized I can always I don’t know, post more parts of it later?? I am my own worst critic so if you read this and it isn’t your jam, please don’t say anything lol I’ve probably already thought it, so it would be redundant! Also, clearly, I do not know the proper use of a semicolon, or an em dash and I don't have an editor, so we'll all just have to deal. Anyways, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, all that jazz

-----------

It’s a little after six in the morning and they still haven’t rolled in. Usually, the five of them would have been here for an hour already; a few hungover, one still drunk, and the fifth one acting like an adult babysitter for the other four. It’s weird how this happens–people come into your little donut shop and after a while, instead of you becoming part of their routine, they become part of yours. Eventually they start to feel like stand-ins for the friends you hardly ever get to see. You’re busy with your business and they’re busy with their jobs and families.

It could feel lonely, but you have people like Noreen, who comes in every Friday to buy three dozen assorted donuts for her team. Noreen is kind and not the type of person you envision working at a private equity firm. When you were thinking about expanding into the small space next door, she looked at your plan and helped you figure out where you were being too aggressive and in some cases too shortsighted. She didn’t ask for anything in return, but you made sure her next three dozen donuts were on the house.

There’s Will, a retired teacher, who comes in every Sunday. He used to come in with his partner, Charles, and they would sit at the table you have set up near the front window. They traded off different sections of the newspaper while drinking their coffee and sharing one old-fashioned donut and one raspberry jelly donut; they never strayed from those. Charles passed away six months ago and it was unexpected. You didn’t expect to see Will for a while, but routine is hard to give up especially when it’s the only thing you have left. Every Sunday morning you set a 'reserved' sign on the table near the window.

There’s Stuart, who hangs out in the plaza your shop is located in. You’re not sure if he’s unhoused or just likes to spend his day outside, but it felt strange to always see him and not interact with him. One day you invited him to come by for coffee and a donut but he turned you down. You told him the offer was good for any time and that you hoped you’d see him in there soon. He came in a few days later and it made you feel like you were doing some good; and then you felt bad for feeling like that. Stuart’s reserved and not much of a talker so you just let him sit at a table while you go about your work. Some days he’ll start a conversation; it’s rare but it feels like you both trust each other enough to make more than small talk. If you don’t see him in his usual spot outside, you worry. He usually turns up a few days later, but you're concerned that at some point he won’t turn up and what are you supposed to do then?

There’s a handful of people that fall into this category of if they never came back you would notice. It’s because some of them are smart and kind like Noreen. Some because they sit in the same spot, newspaper sections still divided in two, like Will. Some because their silence fills your little shop, like Stuart. And some whose absence you would notice because they don’t fit into these boxes. Sometimes they can be loud or irritating; but they can also be entertaining. And they’re are always five of them, but only one that makes you feel like you’re thirteen and just saw your middle school crush.

They started coming in sometime in February. You only remember because the biggest one said he’s 'not eating a fucking, prissy, heart-shaped donut.' Some men are like that, afraid if they come in contact with something feminine that’s not a woman, that their dick will fall off. He was loud and obnoxious and only one of the other four looked truly embarrassed for the guy and for himself. He apologized for his friend and ordered five large coffees and a dozen glazed donuts.

“You sure glazed are going to be manly enough for your friend over there?”

You ticked your head over towards the table where his friends were sitting. He laughed and it was a surprisingly warm laugh for a man with neck tattoos.

“He won’t even remember being here, let alone what kind of donuts he ate.”

He sounded annoyed but used to the behavior. You remembered having friends like that, in your twenties, but you were well past that age and so were these guys by the look of it. You saw him eyeing an apple fritter so you grabbed it from the case, put it on a plate, and set it on the counter next to the box of donuts.

“On the house, since it doesn’t look like you’re getting paid for your babysitting duties.”

He smiled, said thank you, and then went to sit with his loud friends. You noticed he was quiet in comparison and thought it would be nice if they were all quiet like that.

When they were getting ready to leave you saw that the quiet one made sure all the trash was thrown away and all the dishes went into the right bin. At the door as they were leaving he gave you a small wave thanking you again. There was something about his smile that made it feel like flowers were blooming in your stomach. That feeling carried you for a week. You’d think of that moment of him at the door and a fog would enter your brain and the flowers in your stomach would grow larger.

The feeling would start to subside after a while and you would get caught up in your real life–your business, the rare time with your friends, the occasional bad date. It would slowly drift from the front of your mind to the back. Then they would show up and the cycle would continue.

The one who had the soft smile and neck tattoo, you learned his name was Benny. And that if you gave him a choice between the apple fritter and anything else, he would choose the apple fritter one hundred percent of the time. The loud drunk, that was Big Nick and he’s only been not drunk five percent of the time they’ve come in. There’s Connors, Zapata, and Henderson–you’ve only heard them referred to by their last names. A thing that you’ve only ever heard men do. They all come in once or twice a month–usually early, usually hungover. It makes you wonder what they do before they end up at your place. You never ask because to know would be to probably ruin your crush on Benny.

Benny always pays and there’s a part of you that hopes he’s doing it just for the chance to talk to you. When he leaves he always gives you a wave goodbye and a thanks again. The flowers in your stomach have bloomed and blossomed to an embarrassing degree by the end of May. And that’s when they stopped coming in.

—-

Benny shakes his head no at Connor’s who’s trying to hand him a beer, “Not feeling it tonight.”

Benny isn’t feeling it any night, but he keeps that to himself. The drinking, the cocaine, the women, none of it interests him and it hasn’t for a while. Since February if he’s being honest with himself.

They had ended up at your donut shop, Glazy for You under random circumstances. The usual place they would go to sober up after one of these parties had been closed down by the health department. He should have known it was bound to happen, the place was dim and oddly seedy for a diner. Benny was the designated driver that night, since he hadn’t been feeling well he didn’t drink and spent most of the night ushering random women out of a grim motel room. When he saw Glazy for You as he was driving by, it looked like the complete opposite of his evening; it was bright, there were Valentine’s decorations on the window. It looked comforting and warm, two things he felt like he was missing in his life.

Nick of course was an asshole and Benny felt like he spent a lot of time silently apologizing to you. His apologies must have entered you mind telepathically because you gave him an apple fritter–the best apple fritter he’s ever had in his whole fucking life. There must have been some kind of magic in because that moment lodged itself somewhere in his heart and reappears when he’s feeling low. Like now–sitting in this motel room, on this couch that probably hasn’t been cleaned in two decades, watching his friends lose their fucking minds over shit they should have outgrown.

Benny hasn’t seen you in months, ninety-seven days to be exact, not that he’s counting. They’ve been working on one case after the next and it’s left time for little else. No post drug test parties, no early mornings sitting in a donut shop waiting for everyone to sober up, no you. It’s been sleep and work for three months straight. Last time he saw you, it seemed like you were happy to see him. Maybe he imagined that feeling; misunderstood the warmth in your smile. Maybe that’s the smile that you’ve practiced in order to be able to perform it for everyone. Maybe everyone feels what he feels when they see you.

Benny sinks further into the couch and looks up at the ceiling. It’s a drop ceiling which brings back memories of a case he had worked on. While securing a crime scene, they were in the living room of a run down apartment. It had this same type of ceiling and a body fell right through it onto the floor. He thinks that maybe this is how it ended up being called a drop ceiling, because shit just drops right out. That thought, that memory makes him realize that he doesn’t want to be in this room anymore. He gets up, grabs his jacket off the back of the couch, and leaves. He hears Connors call after him as he’s closing the door but he doesn’t care. He only has one place that he wants to be right now.

—-

You’re putting a tray of bear claws in the display case when you hear the door open. It’s still early, the sun is barely up, pink and purple hues are still in the sky. You get a lot of municipal workers that come in at this time, barely past opening. So it’s a little bit of a surprise when you get a glimpse through the display case of Benny walking in, alone.

There’s a second while you’re crouched down, adjusting the tray that you let yourself be excited; allow yourself to give into the childish feeling of getting a glimpse of your crush. Your knees are wobbly as you stand up–unsure if it’s because you’re getting old or because he’s looking right at you.

“Oh hey, how’ve you been?” You wipe your palms on the front of the apron you’re wearing. “It’s been a while.”

You try to sound neutral, neither excited to see him or disappointed that it's been so long. He smiles and that familiar sensation of flowers blooming returns.

“We’ve been working on a lot of cases and it’s been hard to find time for anything else.”

You lean forward and rest your arms on top of the bakery case.

“Cases? You guys are lawyers?” As the words leave your mouth you realize how truly stupid it sounds. You’ve never in your life seen any lawyers that look like these guys.

Benny chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, something he does when feels embarrassed or self conscious.

“No, definitely not lawyers. Detectives. We work for the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department.”

You fail at suppressing a laugh, “I’m sorry. All of you are detectives? Even your friend Nick?”

Benny knows your laugh isn’t mean spirited and if he were you, he’d probably laugh too, knowing what he knows about the people he works with. He moves closer to display case and leans in.

“Even Nick. You seem surprised.”

“It’s just. I.” You pause, trying to choose your words with care, because you like Benny and you don’t want to insult him, “I mean, it’s hard to imagine being a victim of a crime or something and like Nick is the person taking your statement, trying to help you. That is my nightmare.”

You hope you don’t sound like an asshole, but the idea of Nick serving and protecting seems like a stretch. If you offend Benny, he doesn’t show it, he just laughs.

“The way that you’ve seen him, I can understand the sentiment. He’s not like that a hundred percent of the time. I promise.”

You give Benny a joking look, “Okay, but what percentage are we talking here?”

You’re both laughing when the rest of the guys walk in. The rowdiness is a shock to your system after not dealing with it for a while. You look at Benny and he’s no longer leaning in towards you and maybe you’re projecting, but you think he looks a little disappointed too.

Benny’s disappointed, but he tries his best to hide it. The guys may be drunk, but they are cops and they are perceptive. Benny already knows he has a reputation among them as being soft. It used to bother him, but it hasn’t for a while. He knows he would rather be soft than be the type of man that can’t feel anything other than bitterness and rage.

“Borracho, you fucking asshole, you left us.”

Nick, is of course loud and slurring his words. Benny hopes you can’t understand Spanish–he doesn’t want to be known as a ‘drunk’ to you.

Benny turns from you to look at the guys. Connors is propping Nick up; Henderson and Zapata are stumbling towards a table.

“I was hungry.”

Benny hopes it’s enough to shut Nick up. He knows it’s not because he sees Nick loosen himself from Connors and stumble towards him. He claps a large, drunk hand on Benny’s shoulder and the force almost knocks him backwards.

“Fuck, Borracho. You’re no fun anymore.”

Nick is a mess and that’s not really that surprising to you. What is surprising is how uncomfortable Benny looks. He has the look of a man who would give anything to disappear. You can’t really blame him, these guys, Nick especially, are exhausting to be around and you only deal with them for a few hours a month.

“Can I get you guys something or are you just going to loiter?”

Benny looks towards you and you give him a sympathetic smile. He shakes Nick off of him and is about to order when Nick lurchers towards the counter that you’re standing behind. You step back as he unsuccessfully tries to paw at you.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart.”

Benny groans and runs a hand over his face, “Jesus Christ, Nick. Shut the fuck up.”

You step closer to the counter and lean forward, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sweetheart’?”

Nick tilts his head to the side and mutters, “That the next time I do it, you’ll put my head in the deep fryer.”

You pat his shoulder, “Good, you remember.”

You hear Zapata, Henderson, and Connors–who’s joined them at their table laughing and chanting do it, do it.

You gently push Nick away from the counter, “Go sit down unless you’re willing to see if I’m serious.” You look over at Benny, who no longer looks like he wants to disappear. “Benny, five coffees and a dozen glazed, right?”

Benny nods his head, “Yeah, that’s good.”

Nick turns around and starts walking towards where Connors, Zapata, and Henderson are sitting. He jerks his thumb back towards you, “She’s no fun either.”

Benny feels awkward standing here, watching you gingerly place twelve glazed donuts in a box and then pour five large coffees. It’s calming though, watching you do routine things, like you’re slowly rooting out the anxiety of being around drunk idiots. You put the coffees in a tray and place it down on the counter next to the donuts.

Benny pulls out his wallet to pay, “Uh, sorry,” he pauses, he’s sorry about a lot suddenly, “sorry about Nick. He was acting like an asshole.”

You shrug and hand Benny his change, “Don’t worry about it.”

Benny is sitting with the guys and can’t help feeling like he’s messed something up. You didn’t give him an apple fritter like you normally do. He wonders if you’re mad that he didn’t do something more when Nick was acting like an asshole. Maybe he’s overthinking it–he can’t expect you to give him a free donut every time you see him. It’s possible he’s misread the situation entirely, that you’re just friendly and nothing more. He watches you behind the counter adjusting things, bagging up donuts for customers that have come in. When Benny checks his watch for the time, he misses seeing you slip an apple fritter in a bag and write 'Benny' in a tidy script.

You watch the guys start filtering out of your place; Nick and Connors are first and from the store window you can see them getting into separate cabs. Benny is still throwing trash away as Henderson and Zapata leave. They share a cab and you imagine that maybe they rallied enough to start drinking again at 7:30am. You see Benny heading towards the door and it looks like he’s leaving without giving his usual wave goodbye. Your stomach sinks a little–maybe he’s mad at you for not joking around more with Nick or the other guys. Or it could just be that he’s tired and wants to go home and you’re creating feelings that aren’t there.

You grab the bag with the apple fritter from below the counter and hold it up, “Hey, you forgot something.”

Benny looks at the bag with his name on it–it’s the nicest handwriting he’s ever seen. He walks over to the counter and takes the bag from your hand, your fingers overlapping for a fraction of a second.

“So this means you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? Wait, you think because of Nick?” You look at him strangely as he nods his head yes, “He’s the idiot, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Benny smiles, “That’s good to know.” He starts walking away, but stops when he gets to the door, holding up the bag with the donut, “Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

“Take care, Benny.”

—-

“You like that girl at the donut place?”

It sounds less like Connors is asking you a question and more like stating a fact. Benny’s a little caught off guard and pretends to start looking for something on his desk.

“What?”

Benny tries to sound confused, like he’s never even heard the word donut before.

“At the donut place. The girl who runs it, are you into her or something? You always act fucking weird when we’re in there.”

Benny thinks back to all the times they’ve been at Glazy for You, trying to remember his behavior. Did he look at you for too long? Say ‘goodbye’ in a way that sounded like he didn’t want to leave. Benny opens the bottom drawer of his desk and pretends to look for something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Benny knows he doesn’t sound convincing and Connors must hear it too because he keeps going.

“Really?” Connors sounds incredulous. “You’re always lingering at the counter. She’s always giving you free donuts. Any of this ringing a bell for you?”

Benny can feel Connors staring at him. He closes the desk drawer and goes back to looking at the file on his desk.

“Maybe she likes giving away free donuts. I really couldn’t tell you.”

Connors crumbles a piece of paper into a ball and lobs it at Benny’s head, hitting him just behind the ear.

“Whatever you say asshole.”

—-

The summer goes by quickly–it’s one of your busier seasons. School is out, the weather is nice–there are day camps, company off-sites, and sleepovers. All the types of occasions where the people in charge don’t want to make breakfast but need to provide it. Benny and the guys come in a few times throughout the summer. It feels a little different from before. Benny doesn’t linger at the counter as much anymore and sometimes one of the other guys pays. It’s stupid little things that you shouldn’t notice, but you do, because they used to be part of your routine. It’s embarrassing thinking you let this crush on Benny become such a big part of your life that you’d notice he didn’t pay last time or the time before that. It’s that embarrassment that makes you start building a wall around that garden in your stomach so the flowers can’t reach your heart.

It’s the end of October when you’re opening up one morning and it registers for you that you haven’t seen Stuart since some time around June or July. His absence gnaws at you. You feel like a bad person for not noticing sooner; that feeling that you failed someone even though they weren’t your responsibility. You don’t know what to do or if there’s anything you actually can do. So when you see Benny a few weeks later it feels like a little bit of a last resort when you ask for his help.

—-

You were hoping that Benny would be the person paying this time when they all came in, so you could mention Stuart without having to pull him aside. But he doesn’t and it makes you a little anxious trying to figure out the best way to talk to him about something serious. So it’s a relief when it looks like he’s going to be the last one to leave. He’s behind Connors and when Connors makes it out the door, you stop Benny who’s close behind.

“Benny, hey. Do you have a second?”

You come out from behind the counter, nervously smoothing the apron tied around your waist in short downward strokes. Benny stops and lets the door go from his hand. You look upset and he hopes it’s not because he’s been acting standoffish lately. Ever since Connors asked about you, he’s been trying his best to act normal–whatever that means–around you.

“Did Connors’s card get declined again?”

You let out a small laugh, “No. Um, I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.”

Benny steps a little closer to you. You have some powdered sugar on your cheek and he has to stop himself from brushing it off.

“Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

“This is probably going to sound weird, or stupid. Maybe both. But there’s this guy who h—”

Benny cuts you off; his voice is a little rougher, “If someone is bothering you, I’ll take care of it.”

You laugh awkwardly, “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s this guy, Stuart. He usually hangs out around here and I have him come in sometimes for coffee or donuts and I haven’t seen him in…since maybe July, I think? I’m just a little worried.” You pause and try to read Benny’s face to see what he’s thinking, “Sorry, this probably sounds stupid to you. I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Benny scratches his jaw piecing together what he thinks you’re getting at, “Do you know his last name?”

You notice that Benny’s voice has gone back to the soft tone that you’re used to. He’s looking at you with compassion and not like you’re stupid or some kind of burden. Benny is the kind of person that you would want helping you in a crisis and it makes you wish there were more people like him in his line of work.

“I don’t, but I printed a photo from the security camera I have.” You walk over to the counter and lean over, grabbing the photo from under the register. “I don’t even know if you can do anything with that. I watch a lot of crime shows. Don’t judge me.”

Benny laughs and shakes his head as you hand him the photo.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Yeah of course. It’s…I don’t know. I’d feel like a bad person if something were to happen to him and I could have helped.”

Benny feels bad because he knows how these things generally end up. Usually there are no happy endings.

“You can’t put that on yourself.”

You nod your head, “I know, but still, you know?”

Benny understands the feeling and also understands it’s easier to tell someone something isn’t their fault than to know it yourself.

As Benny leaves you start to feel a bit lighter. Like someone has taken some of your worry, some of your concern and is carrying it for you; so you aren’t so weighed down.

—-

“What was that about?”

Benny is surprised to see Connors waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Nothing. Well, I guess there’s some guy, homeless, I don’t know. He usually hangs out around here. She hasn’t seen him for a while. She’s worried.”

Connors flicks a cigarette on to the pavement, “Figures she’s one of those bleeding heart types. What did you tell her?”

Benny pats his jacket and then his pants pockets feeling around for a pack of cigarettes, forgetting briefly that he’s trying to quit. Connors pulls his pack from his pocket and tosses them to Benny.

Benny pulls a cigarette out, “I told her I’d look into it.”

Connors laughs and hands Benny a lighter, “Chump.” He waits a beat for Benny to light his cigarette, “But, if you want. We can start looking into it now.”

Benny’s grateful it’s Connors out here and not one of the other guys. Benny and Connors go back further than just Major Crimes and he’s someone Benny would trust with his life.

—-

Benny’s worried that he’s going to have to deliver you bad news. Best case scenario seems like Stuart is in jail. Not great, but it would mean that he’s alive. Worst case scenario is that he can’t find Stuart and that usually doesn’t mean anything good. Benny is suddenly hoping for some kind of miracle for a person he doesn’t even know.

The photo you gave him does turn out to be useful. Connors is able to find him in the system through facial recognition. Stuart Morton has a record; a few arrests for driving while under the influence and some time in a county jail. Benny is able to get a last known address but it’s over a year old. It’s a sober living house that’s not actually that far from Glazy for You. He doesn’t have much hope that going there will bring him any closer to finding Stuart.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Benny is finally able to meet with David, the director of the sober living facility. He finds it’s better to meet with people in person. Talking with people over the phone, he’s learned, makes it easier for them to not give you the information you need. David of course is a little guarded at first with Benny; not wanting to share anything that could get Stuart in trouble, which Benny can’t really fault him for. Benny explains the situation, that the owner of a donut shop near here is worried because they haven’t seen him in a while. When Benny mentions your name to David, he lights up.

“Her glazed old fashioneds are the best ones in this entire state.” He pauses and to Benny it looks like he’s getting lost in the memory of a donut, a feeling he knows well.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

David turns away from Benny to look through a drawer in a filing cabinet, “Just this year we got to talking and she’s been generous enough to donate breakfast here every month. And recently she’s been working with us on a job training program at her bakery.”

Benny thinks back to Connors calling you a ‘bleeding heart’ and is glad he came here by himself.

“She didn’t mention anything about knowing Stuart lived here.”

David pulls a folder from the cabinet and thumbs through it, “Stuart is the type to not overshare, so that doesn’t surprise me.” He pauses to write something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Benny, “Here. This is his sister Noreen’s information. When he left, he was going to be staying with her for a while. Might still be there.”

Benny barely makes it to his car before calling the number that David gave him.

—-

“Wait, so you’re saying that Noreen, the Noreen that comes in here, is Stuart’s sister?”

It’s late in the day, near the time that you close up. You and Benny are sitting across from each other at the table near the window. It’s hard to believe what he’s telling you, that Stuart used to be a resident at the sober living facility, the one where David works; that Noreen is Stuart’s sister and somehow all these dots never got connected for you.

“She didn’t realize that you two were,” Benny pauses looking for the right word, “friends. She feels terrible that you didn’t know he had moved out of the state and were worried. She said he’s doing well.”

You’re quiet for a moment, trying to take in everything Benny has been telling you. It’s a lot to process, considering you had been preparing yourself to hear bad news. You can feel your eyes fuzzy with a few tears and feel a little embarrassed to be getting so emotional over the good news.

“It’s such a relief to know that he’s doing okay.” You feel a tear slide down your cheek and quickly brush it away hoping that Benny didn’t see it.

Benny can tell you’re trying to keep yourself from crying and he wants to tell you that it’s okay, that there wouldn’t be any judgment from him. He has the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you, but he knows it would be wildly inappropriate. He feels awkward sitting here, looking around, trying to figure out what he should say.

“I like the Christmas decorations you have up.” It’s lame and he knows it, but it seems better than freaking you out with a hug. You smile at him and that feels reassuring.

“You do?” You look over at Benny, nodding his head, “I know it makes me basic, but I love Christmas. The lights, the decorations, the movies, the music. Expect to see a lot of green and red frosted donuts until December 31st.”

Benny laughs, “I’m looking forward to it.” He looks at his watch and starts to get up, “I should probably leave, so you can close up.”

You get up and follow Benny to the door, you put your hand on Benny’s forearm to stop him for a second and he feels a little spark through this jacket.

“Thank you, again, for everything.”

“I’m glad I could help. And that everything turned out okay.”

You’re not sure what it is that compels you to hug him, but you do. Maybe it’s the gentleness of his voice, or how he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. It feels intimate and dreamy and it’s hard for you to recall the last time anyone has looked at you like that. It happens so fast that Benny barely has time to register what happened.

It hits him as he’s walking to his car–the delayed feeling of your arms around him. It strikes Benny that maybe there’s a chance you like him, that maybe you’re both kind of stupid and clumsy, and afraid to ask the other one out. There’s the realization that one of you will have to make the first move or it will go on like this forever. That he will see you every few months at your job, that he’ll get a free donut occasionally. It’s not enough for Benny and he knows that he can’t be stupid about this much longer.

—-

It’s the last piss test party of the year–the week before Christmas. The concept is idiotic–sure it made sense at one point when Benny wasn’t wading into the deep end of forty. Going to a cheap hotel to get drunk and high, have sex with women that Nick found God knows where. It was never appealing to Benny but he used to understand the idea of celebrating after your mandatory drug test. Now he usually just sits, drinks a beer or two, and tries to avoid contact with everyone. There’s something especially depressing about it during this time of year.

Benny’s spent the last few days mulling over the best way to ask you out. He regrets not asking you when he was giving you the news about Stuart. Although there’s a part of him that thinks maybe you would have felt obligated to say yes given the circumstances. He thinks about asking you tonight, if they end up there, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of the guys because you might feel obligated then too, maybe even feeling sorry for him and not wanting to embarrass him in front of everyone by saying no. If you say yes, he wants it to be because you actually mean it, he doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt.

His decision is made for him, because when they get to Glazy for You, you aren’t there. Benny can’t remember if there’s ever been a time when you haven’t been there, behind the counter, greeting him warmly. It’s a little bit of a shock to his system to see a middle-aged man in a goofy Christmas sweater in your place. Benny’s good at thinking up doomsday scenarios and imagines one in which you’re trying to avoid him, so you no longer work this early in the morning. But then he thinks of when you hugged him and that even though it was quick, it was like your touch had gone directly to his heart. He doesn’t stay much longer, opting to go home, lay in his bed, and try to figure out what he’s going to do.

—-

You used to hate working during the holidays. Maybe it’s because you were working for other people and not yourself. Maybe it was because the work you were doing felt unimportant and people expected you to care even when everything else around you was winding down. Five years ago the thought of working on Christmas Eve would have made you want to walk into traffic. Now it feels different, like maybe you’re contributing to the holiday experience versus missing out on it entirely. You’ve always loved Christmas, but Christmas Eve is your favorite day of the year. It just feels more special somehow. There’s anticipation and excitement in the air. It’s possible it’s a product of all the Christmas movies you’ve watched over the years where there’s the idea that anything seems possible on this day. There’s something about the idea of your life changing for the better, surrounded by twinkle lights and ornaments that you find very appealing.

The morning is kind of slow–you spend most of it watching holiday episodes of tv shows on your phone. Around 11am you start cleaning up–taking trays out of cases, boxing up the donuts that are left to drop off at the comic book shop next door. You’re looking forward to going home and laying on the couch the rest of the day, queuing up your standard Christmas Eve movies. You’re ready to watch Scrooged and feel abnormally homesick, but then put on Christmas Vacation and remember why it’s never a good idea to spend Christmas with your entire family.

You’re in the back when you hear the bell on the door jingle, letting you know someone is out front. You consider just staying where you are, pretending no one is here so you can wrap up your day. You don’t want to have to tell anyone that you can’t help them with their donut emergency–getting yelled at on Christmas Eve is not something you’ve prepared yourself for today. So it’s a pleasant surprise when you make your way back out to the front and you see Benny.

“Hey, this is a—hi.” You’re not sure why you’re suddenly unable to put together a decent sentence.

Benny rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “Is this a bad time?”

“No. No, well. I mean, unless you were looking for a few dozen donuts. Then it definitely is.”

Benny smiles, “Actually, I, um, was,” he pauses and tries to collect himself, he can suddenly feel his heart beating in his ears, “I wanted to ask you out. On a date.” The feeling has spread to his skull.

When he says it, it’s almost like the words traveled through your brain and you can’t comprehend what’s actually happening. Benny, the guy you’ve been harboring your fragile middle school crush on, is here asking you out. It makes little, if any sense to you.

“Are you just trying to get more free donuts?”

Benny shakes his head no, “I promise I’m not.”

You’re quiet as you consider what he’s asked–trying to reprocess the information in your mind so that it makes sense. When all the words are finally in place and you repeat them in your mind, you feel some of those flowers that you’d walled up in your stomach starting to push through the cracks.

“Yeah, okay.” You grab a business card from the counter, write your number on the back, and hand it to Benny.

Benny’s not sure he’s ever heard anything better than yeah, okay in his life, it’s like a bolt of lightning right to his core. He puts the card with your number in the chest pocket of his jacket, the safest place he can think of.

“Great. Amazing.” Benny laughs nervously. “I need to get back to work. I’ll text you.”

“Okay. Well, have a good Christmas, Benny.”

“You too.”

Benny gives his standard small wave as he leaves and you lock the door after him. When he’s out of sight you let out a squeal and excitedly dance in place. Your phone vibrating in your back pocket interrupts you mid-happy dance.

Hey, it’s Benny. Are you free for dinner on the 27th at 7?

Benny watches dots appear and then disappear on his phone. It feels a little bit like torture as he sits in his truck waiting for you to respond.

Dinner on the 27th at 7 sounds great

Benny releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Let me think of a place and I’ll text you the address

Sounds good. And you meant Dec 27th right?

Benny laughs to himself, Yes dec 27. I’m not going to wait until jan to take you to dinner

Just making sure 🙂

You read his last text at least ten more times before finally going back into the kitchen like you had intended. Each time you read it, there’s a sensation in your stomach like bricks dissolving and flowers blooming again.

—-

Benny texts you on the morning of the 26th with a restaurant name and an address. You already have the sense that he’s different, the type of person who has follow-through. You try to temper your excitement about dinner with him, not wanting to do that thing you sometimes do where you make something out to be more than it is. You keep telling yourself that it’s just dinner, nothing more. But as you pull up to the restaurant a few minutes late and see Benny standing outside, looking nervous in dark denim and a green flannel, you let yourself think that maybe it could be a little more than just dinner.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

Benny smiles when he sees you standing in front of him, “I just got here a few minutes ago.”

It’s a lie; the last one he’ll tell tonight; but he doesn’t want you to know that he was so amped up about this evening that he got to the restaurant thirty minutes early. On the way in, when you pass in front of him, your perfume delicately floats by him. It’s earthy, but slightly sweet, with cinnamon and vanilla blending neatly in–he’s sure it’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever smelled.

It’s a French restaurant, one that you’ve never been to before, but it’s cozy and still in the Christmas spirit. There are multicolored lights strung up and silver tinsel hanging from the ceiling.

“Have you been here before?” Looking at Benny from across the table and you can see flecks of silver in his facial hair catching the light of the candle on the table.

“My sister and her husband had their tenth anniversary party here last year. Most of my restaurant choices come from wherever she has an anniversary party.”

You laugh, “Nice. Do you just have the one sister?”

Benny has just the one sister, you learn, among other things. You find talking to Benny is easy, he doesn’t give one word answers to questions like some men you’ve gone out with. Where trying to get to know them is like trying to get to know a slab of pavement. He’s funnier than you thought, something that you didn’t expect, but is a nice surprise.

“Did you always want to be a detective?”

Benny butters a piece of bread, “To be honest, the only thing I wanted to be growing up was a magician. I guess I saw one too many David Copperfield specials as a kid.”

You start laughing, “Do you know any magic tricks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. What about you?”

“I don’t know any, no.” You shrug jokingly as Benny laughs. “But, yeah, I guess I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to be doing. I’m lucky that things have worked out how they have.”

Benny’s curious now, “You didn’t always work in a bakery?”

“Nope. I actually used to work in tech. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m not in any hurry to end the evening.”

There’s something about Benny that puts you at ease, that makes you comfortable enough to want to open up to him. Something that you would never normally consider doing on a first date. You don’t feel the need to downplay that you made a lot of money when a company you worked for in New York was bought out. He doesn’t flinch when you tell him that the reason you moved to California was because of your now ex-husband. He tells you about his own divorce and for the first time in a long time you don’t feel so unlike yourself on a first date. It doesn’t feel scary telling him that you felt insignificant in your own life because of your work and your marriage. That every conversation with your husband made you feel like a burden.There’s a moment when you start to apologize, out of habit, but he stops you. He smiles when you say that the divorce was the best thing to happen to you because it–and you hate to say it like this–gave you your power back.

“I always wanted to own my own business and I love donuts, so when the divorce happened, I just said fuck it, and went for it. Just threw myself into it.”

“I’m glad you did, I don’t know where else I’d get an apple fritter that good. And for free.”

“Yeah, about that.” You smile playfully, “I’m going to have to start charging you before you put me out of business.”

Benny makes a show of looking at his watch, pretending to want to leave, “I guess we should probably call it an evening then?”

He likes the way you laugh, how it’s kind of loud and fills the room. It makes him feel good, to hear you laugh, to see you smile; like he’s responsible for some bit of happiness you’re experiencing.

“See, I knew this was a scam.”

As the waiter clears the table and they wait for the check, Benny asks you what your favorite donut is.

You don’t even have to think about it, “Definitely a maple bar.”

Benny watches as your eyes light up, telling him how you first had one when you spent the summer between fifth and sixth grade visiting your aunt in Seattle. He listens to you describe how your mom was, in the nicest terms you can find, an extreme dieter, who tried her best to pass all of her food issues down to you, and never let donuts in the house. But your aunt didn’t care and the first thing she did once she would pick you up from the airport was take you to her favorite bakery. It was the highlight of every summer after that until you graduated high school. It was the first donut you learned how to make because on the east coast they’re hard to find. You laugh when you say the best part of moving to the west coast is that every donut place has maple bars, but you’d like to think that yours are the best. Benny can’t help but think it’s cute.

Benny doesn’t want the night to end; he knows that you took a cab to the restaurant so he offers to drive you home. You try not to sound too eager in accepting his offer, but fail.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

You ask him if he wants you to put your address into google maps for directions, but he doesn’t need them. Benny spends so much time driving all over the city that he knows every street, every highway, every interstate. The map exists in his head; he can get anywhere without really having to think about it. Benny drives you through some unfamiliar, but beautiful neighborhoods. The homes are still decorated and lit up, it’s like driving through the set of a Christmas movie–the only thing missing is snow.

You ask him more about his job, the guys he works with. You like hearing the stories that Benny has about them. You can tell by the way he talks about him, that he’s closest with Connors. You finally learn everyone’s first names and how Benny got his nickname–which you had previously googled out of curiosity. You ask if it bothers him to be called a drunk.

“Knowing the shit they all get into, not really.”

He says that it doesn’t matter what they call him because he knows that in any situation they’ll have his back and he’ll have theirs. That’s what he cares about.

When he pulls up to your house; a small, one-story home, string lights along the frame and around the windows; it looks exactly like he’d imagined. You both sit quietly for a few minutes unsure what to do next.

Eventually you unbuckle your seatbelt, “I had a really good time tonight, Benny.”

“Me too. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” he looks over at you, “protect and serve, you know.” Benny knows it’s a dumb joke, but you laugh anyway.

When you get to the top of your steps, you find it hard to say goodbye. His face is illuminated by the Christmas lights and you can tell he doesn’t want to say goodbye either. You start to say something, you’re not even sure what, but no words come out because Benny’s mouth is on yours, his hands gently cradling your face. His lips are soft and you can feel the warmth of his tongue asking for permission. You drop your keys onto the porch and pull him closer to you by his belt loops.

It feels like hours have passed when Benny finally pulls away, “Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

You rest your hands on his chest, “Next time,” you gently tug on his shirt collar, “don’t wait so long.”

Benny smiles as he watches you crouch down to pick up the keys you dropped. When you stand back up, he reaches towards your face, his fingers grazing behind your ear, “Hold on, you have something in your—” Benny sweeps his fingers against your hair and when he brings his hand in front of you, he’s holding a small, folded piece of paper.

You take it from him, unfolding it. When you see the words ‘what are you doing for new years?’ written down you start grinning, “So you do still know some magic tricks.”

Benny places his hand on your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek, “A few.”

#benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x f!reader #benny borracho magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon x f!reader #borracho magalon x reader #den of thieves fic #christmas fic #holiday fic #this christmas fic

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ficnation · 2 years ago

Text

“I'm not leaving you” - Shane x Reader

Prompt: "I'm not leaving you!"

Word count: 1545

Pairing: Shane Walsh x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: pure angst, out of canon, usual twd themes (e.g. descriptive gore, use of weapons, violence, cursing), major character's death

A/n: This is a gif writing challenge from @crossbowking that I just found in the ask box on my other account. Damn, I wish I've found it sooner 😭

*gif credits go to @darlingshane *

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁ || ☁ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

The summer heat was unbearable, and the evening breeze did nothing to cool down your skin. The wind was light and warm, blending with the hot temperature so naturally that you couldn’t really tell if it was real, or just your brain playing tricks on you. You were exhausted, dehydrated, and starving. You barely succeeded in forcing your legs to move; unlike Shane, you had no desire to push forward, to spend another four days running away from the herd that kept catching up to you no matter where you went or hid.

“Shane,” his name left your chapped lips in a raspy whine, showing just how much your throat was desperate for some water. A single droplet would be enough to get you through another few hours, but there was no guarantee that the walkers wouldn’t gain on you the minute you stopped pushing forward.

The man in front of you slowed down but didn’t stop walking. Before he decided to respond, his tired brown eyes darted behind you to the herd to check how far, or rather how close, the walkers were. When he was sure that they weren’t coming anywhere near the both of you, only then did he set his gaze on you.

“What’s wrong? We’re gettin’ ahead of ’em, might even try to get off the highway in a few hours. Maybe we’ll lose ’em once we get to the forest,” he rambled, stubbornly trying to ignore the pain that shot through his heart when he noticed your exhausted expression.

You looked exactly like one of the undead with your hair all tangled, skin paler than ever, eyes sunken, and dark circles piling beneath them. Your whole being screamed ‘exhaustion,’ and Shane was scared to hear what’s been haunting you. Did you decide to give up? Will you want him to leave you behind to get eaten by those monsters? He didn’t want to overthink it, but the way you looked at him made his eyes tear up in pure anger.

“Shane, I’m so tired,” you murmured under your breath. You stopped walking and leaned on the car wreck beside you. There was probably no gas in it, but even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to drive it because of all the other vehicles that blocked the road.

“Fuck,” he mumbled out when you scrunched your eyebrows in pain.

Every muscle in your body burned because of the sudden change in position. You didn’t have any strength left to walk, either.

Shane avoided meeting your gaze. His hands, stained with dried-up blood, tangled in his dark locks in a nervous habit.

“I think you should just go and—”

“Nah, nah. Listen to me, sweetheart.” Shane rushed to your side, cradling your face in his palms. “We’re gonna think of somethin’. I can always carry you.”

“Don’t be stupid.” You put your forehead against his with a sigh. “I’m slowing you down. The way I see it? Those walkers will eat us both alive if you keep dragging me with you. But you might have a chance to escape if I stay here.”

You kissed his nose when his eyes met yours in a silent match. You weren’t stupid enough to think that he’d leave you without putting up a fight. He was stubborn as fuck and loved you to pieces.

You tried to stand straight, pressing your palms against his chest. Your muscles were screaming for rest and sleep. The world around you seemed blurry and unfocused, but Shane held you steady in his strong arms.

“No, no, no, you’re not leavin’ me. Not you.” His voice rose to an angry tone, and he growled quietly when you opened your mouth to protest, silencing you quickly. He grabbed your wrists and forced you to meet his eyes.

“It’s my responsibility to protect you. No matter what happens, I can’t let you die, do ya understand?” he whispered, almost pleading, eyes shining with desperation. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I’ll find a way. I’m not leaving you!”

Your eyes glistened with tears threatening to fall. You swallowed hard before you spoke again. “Okay.” You nodded softly, fighting back the lump forming in your throat. Your hands rested gently on top of his and squeezed lightly.

He smiled sadly, kissing the top of your head. “Now come on,” he whispered, taking one last look at the creatures approaching you. “Let’s not let ’em catch up.”

You were too tired to argue any further. Shane carefully picked you up bridal style with a quiet groan and started walking again. Even though you were determined to fight back, you knew that Shane was right. You’d already run out of energy.

You wrapped your arm tightly around his neck to keep yourself from falling. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you didn’t dare to close them. Sleep deprivation meant that your brain would shut down sooner rather than later, leaving you vulnerable. You couldn’t let that happen. Not when you knew there was a possibility that you’d have to run.

You trembled from exhaustion and dehydration, and you were sure that Shane wasn’t doing much better than you. Every time you closed your eyes, it took every ounce of self-restraint for you not to fall asleep. You were losing the battle.

After walking for over an hour, Shane stumbled. You held onto him, hoping he wouldn’t drop you.

“Shane, please, let’s take a break for a little while. Just for a second, okay?” you asked after he stopped moving and stood still for a while.

A soft breeze brushed past your cheeks, and you shivered. It was starting to get cold, and the sky was already turning dark blue.

Shane was silent for several seconds, making you feel more anxious. But eventually, he gave you a quick nod and placed you carefully on the ground. He crouched next to you as soon as you were sat on the gravel. It was uncomfortable, but he didn’t care, kneeling in front of you. This was the best he could offer you at the moment, and he knew it.

His breathing was labored and uneven, and it sounded painful. He groaned quietly and pressed his forehead against yours. You felt your chest tighten at his action.

You sighed deeply as his breath fanned over your sweaty cheeks. You left a short, sweet kiss on his chapped lips before pulling away and letting your eyes wander from his face to your surroundings.

In the distance, you could see the trees. They were tall and thick, blocking the sun and casting shadows everywhere. It seemed like it was impossible to reach them.

The wind was getting stronger, and you were pretty sure that the air was full of flies and mosquitoes. The sound of the groans and shuffling behind you faded into the background. If you strained your ears, you could hear the faintest whisper of animals in the bushes, maybe rabbits or squirrels.

Shane reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. You looked at each other with loving but sad eyes. You could sense how weak you both were. How you were slowly losing control of yourself.

Shane could feel your pulse beating in your wrists and your heartbeat matching his own. Your heart was pounding fast as a drum, your lungs working overtime to keep you awake. Your vision was beginning to blur, and blackness slowly crept up on you.

“Stay awake, sweetheart,” Shane pleaded. “We’re gonna make it.”

His words only caused more tears to spill from your eyes.

All you wanted to do was close your eyes and slip away. You started to feel like you were suffocating. Your breaths came shorter and quicker, your lungs refusing to expand and fill up the empty space in them. You couldn’t breathe but you knew Shane could still make it without you.

You shook your head, refusing to meet his pleading gaze. A small gasp escaped your lips as Shane pulled you towards him, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him and clung on desperately as you felt your consciousness fading. A sob tore its way out of your mouth, and you buried your head into his chest.

“I love you. Please, promise me you’ll survive this,” you begged quietly.

Shane’s grip tightened around your waist as he buried his face deeper into your skin. He couldn't force back the tears that started streaming down his face, sinking into your dirty shirt. “I promise.”

He sat with you for a few minutes until he couldn’t feel your pulse anymore and he had no more tears to cry before standing on shaky legs, feeling like Bambi. He took the rifle off his back, breathing deeply through clenched teeth. Pointing the gun at your beautiful face was the most difficult thing he had ever done. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, his finger trembling on the trigger.

His heart lurched in his chest, begging him to shoot, to protect you from becoming one of them. He needed to end this quickly so he could outrun the walkers and survive for you. Shane screamed as loud as his lungs let him before he slowly pulled the trigger, letting the shot echo around the abandoned highway. That was his last bullet.

@whiskeypowder @witheringblooddemon @humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff @spidergirla5 @clemscult @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @whiskeypowder @witchygagirl

#the walking dead x reader #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #the walking dead imagine #twd shane walsh #shane walsh #x reader #shane walsh x you

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andreafmn · 1 year ago

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Bound | Prologue

Word Count: 4.3K Warnings: mentions of death

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: I know this isn't exactly a request, but since it's based on one I decided to post it today😬 anyway, hope y'all enjoy this story as much as I do. We are definitely lacking in the Rosalie fic department. Also, this chap doesn't include reader nor Rosalie, it's a way to explain bounded souls. If you read the oneshot, then this is the story Margaret tells (Y/N) in the beginning. 💖💖

Next ->

Certain mysteries in the universe had always been unexplainable. Further than the existence of vampires and werewolves, witches and wizards, hybrids, and more, one thing remained too complex to understand–even to the most brilliant of minds.

Soulmates.

The intricacy of how two souls were bound together by the universe boggled everyone. The only certain thing was that there was a word for it that spread across languages, cultures, and even species. But all of them concorded in one thing, this particular bond linked you to a person for the rest of your life.

Yet, it was almost unheard of for this connection to transcend species. Unheard of, yes, but not impossible. And it was those unique cases that crumbled any understanding there was about soulmates. Those exceptions that broke every single rule.

Esther Haight and Samuel Leighton were one of those exceptions. A witch and a vampire, natural-born enemies selected to be paired for eternity. And they had decided to answer the calling with love.

The girl was a descendant of a Salem witch that had fled North during the trials, forced to hide her magic and live in seclusion amidst the forests. Esther had been taught her wiccan roots under candlelight and whispered spells. She spent her entire childhood living in fear, looking over her shoulder. But as time went on she grew used to concealing her true self. There was no need to listen to the shadows, she could feel their energy before they ever neared. Despite her fear, she grew strong and powerful.

But there was something always missing.

“I understand not, mother,” she had asked one day. “I hast all's I could possibly crave, yet I still feel empty. There’s something inside me that is lacking.”

“Worry not, my child,” her mother had answered with a smile. “What thou are feeling is the tug of thy bound soul.”

“What is a bound soul, mother?”

“When we are born and reborn, fragments of our souls scatter and sink into the lives of others,” the woman continued, running her fingers through her daughter’s long hair. “It tethers 'em to us. Those are our soul mates. Thou might meet some of 'em as thou grow, or thou might meet none. Yet no connection shall aye be as firm-set as the bonded soul.

Not many are thrifty enough to find 'em 'i one lifetime, for't is not a primrose feat to discover the other half of thy heart. Yet the thrifty few that doth experience a love like no other. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love”

That phrase had stuck in Esther’s heart. A once-in-a-lifetime sort of love; the kind of love poets wrote about. She dreamed of that love and wondered if she would be one of those lucky few. Though, as time dwindled on she feared there would be no chance.

One year, then two, then four. Years and years with no sign of her bound soul. Yet, that wasn’t a startling realization as the fact that her face had remained the same throughout that time. Esther saw as her mother’s hair started to pepper with white curls, how the wrinkles by her eyes deepened, how the woman’s body grew weaker. And still, she remained in the same skin as her twenty-two-year-old self.

“Yet, mother, how could this be?” Esther worried on what was supposed to be her thirtieth birthday. “I am witness to thy age and yet, I hast not changed a day 'i years now. Is't a curse?”

“I warrant thou, mine dear, that no dark magic hath been bestowed upon thou,” the woman cooed. “Although I never hast an explanation for what is happening thee, I say to thou that there hath been no harm thee”

“What if this continues, then, mother? What would I doth would I lost thou?”

“Mortality is not something to be afeared of, mine child,” she said with a smile. “We all return to Mother Earth one day. And would she so allows it, we shall walk amongst her children once more.”

“I can’t do this without thou, mother,” the girl silently cried. “I canst not lose thou too.”

“Mine darling, even when I am gone I shall aye be with thou,” the woman responded, drying her daughter’s tears. “As thy father is right now, I shall be in the trees, I shall be in the chirping of the birds, I shall be in the beating of thy heart. The universe hath granted thou a gift, and it is thy job to understand the why. Haply it is an answer to thy deepest desire.”

Two trips around the sun passed before she would get her response. Esther didn’t understand how immortality could be a gift. How could watching the only family she had left get older as she did not be a present?

But she never thought she would find what she was looking for in a vampire. Much less as she washed her clothes in the river, something she had done many times before.

It had been a quiet morning. Nothing alluded to a meeting that would change the course of her life. She had awoken in the earlier hours of the morning, gathering the week’s laundry to tread down to the brook near her family’s concealed shack. Her chores provided her the only escape she had to the confines of their home and she was always glad to do them.

As she had finally settled on the ground, the wicker basket of clothes on her right and an empty one on her left, Esther set to work. Her ears were filled with the rush of the water and the whistling of the wind; she could feel the energy that lived in the ground; she was energized by the rays of sunlight that warmed her face. The elements surrounded her and it made her feel serene.

Until a splashing startled her, her hands extending in a protective stance, ready to defend herself against any assailant. Esther prepared herself for a fight that never came.

“Woah there,” a melodious voice chuckled. “I come in peace, fair maiden.”

“Who are thou?” Esther asked, her hands shielding her from the man. “How did thou find here?”

“Well, I never meant to,” he continued, a joking tone still laced in his words. “I was escaping hunters and I somehow ended up hither. I promise I mean no harm. Mine name is Samuel and I mean no harm to anyone that hath not harmed me.”

For some reason, Esther believed him. The stranger she had yet to truly look at and had somehow known her identity, she trusted. Her hands lowered, the elements around her calming as her heartbeat did as well. She steadied her breath and finally looked up to meet the most striking red eyes she had ever seen.

“A vampire,” she breathed –it was not a question. There was a rush inside her, filling an empty crevice in the depths of her heart. It was him. “Who would have thought?”

“I’m sorry, I do not believe I got thy name,” Samuel smiled, taking tentative steps toward her. “A creature as beautiful as thou might not but have a name.”

“Esther,” she returned her smile, extending a hand to the shimmering man. “What a pleasure it is to meet thou.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said before he took her hand and placed his frozen-cold lips on her skin. His eyes studied her. They ran from her wild brown curls down to her bare feet, taking in every inch of her body he could. “I canst not receive I am in the presence of a Salem witch. Who would have thought mine day would end this way?”

“How did thou…?”

“Pardon me, ‘tis a gift,” Samuel grinned. “I learn things about a person with a simple touch.”

“A psychometrist vampire,” she mused. “How very intriguing.”

The pair remained silent for a moment, their hands still interlocked. They had felt a shift. Within them or in the Earth herself, they were not sure. But nothing was the same. There was a tug at their hearts they had not felt before; a tug that had replaced a certain emptiness in their chests.

Then, a rustling beyond the trees Samuel had jumped out of, startled them apart, their defenses going up once more.

“Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you, dearest Esther, I’m afraid I must go back to running,” he smiled before kissing her hand once again. “And I fear I must warn you to run as well. Humans don’t take too kindly to anyone that is different.”

“Oh, right, the hunters,” she grimaced. “You could come back to my cottage. It’s cloaked against the eyes of humans. They won’t find you there. And I’m sure my mother won’t mind.”

“Who am I to deny such a gesture? Not that I have much choice at the moment.”

Esther grabbed his cold hand with one hand and the basket with another and ran. She ran until the trees stopped whispering of dangers that lurked near; ran until she could breathe again. And it wasn’t until she passed the threshold of the safety circle her mother had cast upon their land that she allowed herself to calm.

And that very day, Samuel had come to her house and never left.

Esther’s mother had been apprehensive at first. The man was still a vampire at the end of the day. But once she understood why her daughter was so adamant about him staying, she couldn’t help but welcome the man with open arms. The universe had brought them together at the river for a reason and she would not stand in the way.

In time, they came to understand he was the explanation for Esther’s never-changing appearance. The unexplainable bond the young coupled shared made them one; synching their mind, body, and soul. For as long as Samuel lived, the girl would remain the same.

Their love grew slowly and then all at once. Whether it was the close confines or the inevitability of falling for the other, they didn’t know. And they didn’t care. They were completely head over heels for one another and it was undeniable. It was the thing of storybooks, perfection at every turn.

Until Samuel started to withdraw. His mind seemed to wander when they were together and his hunting trips seemed to draw on for more days than usual. It made Esther’s heart ache. Even the thought of losing him was too much for the girl. It made her soul shatter. Her mother had tried to console her daughter, to calm her worries until she was able to have a conversation with him. It did her no good to dwell on things she couldn’t answer for himself. Only he could kill her theories.

After six weeks of that behavior, she confronted him. Samuel had just come back from a three-day hunt, the thousand-yard stare still in his eyes. Before he could step foot into the cabin, Esther pulled him away. Far from her mother’s ears. If that was the end, she didn’t want the poor woman to bare witness.

“I need to know what is happening, Samuel,” she pleaded, her eyes already pooling with tears. “Are you planning on leaving me? Is that it?”

“How could you possibly think that?” He sounded hurt, even a little offended. “I would never do that. Not willingly.”

“Then, why hast thou been so disengaged? For weeks, your body is here but your mind is so far.” Esther’s head fell as she broke down. Samuel was everything she had prayed to the universe for, and she believed she was only seconds away from losing him. “Was it something I did?”

Samuel’s hands quickly cradled her cheeks, his cold fingers wiping away the tears that stained her beautiful cheeks. He smiled and placed a kiss on top of both of her eyelids. He could see just how bad he had been hurting her and he couldn’t keep the why in anymore. It was time to confess. “There is nothing in this world that thou could do to push me away, my love,” he said. “I will confess, my mind has been far but it has nothing to do with anything you could have done. It’s me.”

“What about you, Samuel? What did you do?”

“Thinking too much,” he chuckled dryly. “Thinking how you deserve better than me. How you deserve a man that can give you everything that I could never.”

“And what is that, my darling? What could any man give me that you can’t?” Esther cried. “You have already given me more love than I could have ever hoped for. What more could I want?”

“A family,” his voice broke. “A man that can give you children. A man you can walk with to town and hold his hand without being persecuted. A man that you can build an actual life with.”

“Have you thought of what I want, Samuel?” It was her turn to lift his head, her hands cradling his jaw tenderly. “Because I don’t want any of that if I don’t have you.”

“My heart doesn’t beat, darling!” Samuel exclaimed, turning from her touch as though it had burned him. “I don’t breathe, I don’t cry, I don’t even sweat! All I do is exist. All I will ever do is exist. The only thing that has given meaning to my life is you.”

��Then I shall be human enough for the both of us!” she yelled into the air, a smile tugging at her lips. “My eyes will cry for us; my lungs will breathe for us; my skin will weep for us; my heart will beat for us. I do not want immortality with anyone else but you.”

“But…”

“No buts, Samuel,” Esther interrupted him. “It’s you. It’s me. For eternity.”

“What of your legacy? Your line of witches can’t die here.”

“If it was my purpose to have children, my soul would not have found yours. And that is no reason for me to run into the arms of another man,” she said. Her eyes were trained on the red irises of his. They were filled with pain and regret, with disappointment for the man he was. There were only two words that could tell him just how much she loved him. “Marry me, Samuel. With my mother as a witness, marry me, and let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

“Esther, I can’t confine you to a life like this. You deserve the world and all I can offer you is this.”

“I’m not asking for anything more,” she smiled, closing the distance he had out between them. “If you say no, I will close myself in the cabin in protest. I will not marry, I will bear no children, and all of this will be naught.”

“And if I say yes?” Samuel finally cracked, a smile growing on his lips. “ What would happen if I say yes?”

“You would make me the happiest woman to walk this earth,” she responded. “I don’t want a life that you think I should have, Samuel. I want you and only you. Not for what you can’t give me, but for all that you already have.”

“Then yes,” he said before pressing their lips together. She tasted of honey and promises, and he was sure he could see forever with her. “A thousand times yes. I would marry you every day of our lives.”

“It’s you,” she whispered.

“It’s me,” he replied.

“For eternity,” they said in unison.

And so it was.

In a week's time, Esther was walking toward Samuel in a dress her mother had sewn, to meet her at the bank of the river they had first met. Hazel and red eyes stared into one another, twin smiles plastered on each of their faces. Even if it was just the two of them and Esther’s mother, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Today is a special day,” the older woman started. “Today we bind for eternity two souls that have found each other by the will of the universe. A witch and a vampire –an unusual pair but perfectly complimented. We stand today before our Mother Earth to presence the love that has flourished between Esther Haight and Samuel Leighton. After today, you are no longer singular entities. From now on, you shall walk through life bound as a unit.

My darlings, please hold hands and answer truthfully to what I will ask” Esther’s mother produced a sage green ribbon and draped it over their joined hands, holding the ends as she recited the words. “Samuel, will you share in Esther’s pain and seek to ease and protect her from it?”

“I will,” he answered.

“Esther, will you share in Samuel’s joy, rejoice in it with him, and seek the best for him?”

“I will,” the girl smiled.

“Then let the binding be so,” the woman said as she tied one know around their hands. “Samuel, will you share in Esther’s hardships and turmoils so that you may evolve in the eye of trouble?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Esther, will you use every emotion, good or bad, to strengthen and withhold your bond with Samuel.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Then let the binding be so,” the older woman smiled, tying another knot. “Samuel, will you honor and respect Esther as an equal in this bond, every action and reaction coming from a place of love and never of hate?”

“Yes, I will,” he smiled brightly, his smile only growing as Esther repeated the same words a second later.

“Then let the binding be so,” the elder recited. “Now that the binding has been completed, it is time to seal this bond with the exchanging of your rings. I take it that you both have vows you wish to recite to each other. Samuel, you may start.”

Samuel reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a gold band, and placing it just at the tip of Esther’s ring finger. “My dearest Esther, with this ring I promise to love and care for you for the rest of our lives. I promise to share in your joy and your pain, to carry your burdens and become a haven for your worries, to help you grow and navigate this life for eternity.”

He slid the ring down her slender finger, admiring the glimmer of it under the sun’s gleaming rays.

Esther’s mother handed the girl her ring and the same exchange took place. “My Samuel,” she smiled, tears already falling down her cheeks. “With this ring, I vow to love you for all of eternity. In this life and the next, shall our souls always find a way back to each other. I promise to love you and grow with you for all the years to come. I promise to share in the good things and the bad, in sickness and in health, and to help you navigate this world as our love grows.”

“Having proclaimed your vows with our Mother Goddess as your witness, I call upon the elements to help me bless this union for the rest of time,” the woman continued. “I call upon the Air from the East, to bless this couple with good thoughts and positivity. I call upon the Fire from the South, to erase their past and clear a new path. I call upon the Water from the West, for renewal and purification. And I call upon the Earth from the North, to bless this couple with balance and wisdom.”

As the words left the woman’s mouth the wind rustled the trees, the calm brook rushed its water downstream, fire surrounded them in a circle, and the earth shook beneath their feet. “Now, with Mother Earth’s blessing and the power vested in me by our Great Goddes, I pronounce you married. You may seal your promise with a kiss.”

Samuel’s hands snaked their way to cradle Esther’s kissing her deeply with a smile on his face. Flower petals rained on them, the elements surrounding the couple as they celebrated their union. It was a promise, from both the Earth and the Universe that they would look upon the couple for as long as they were bound.

“It’s you,” she whispered before kissing him again.

“It’s me,” he replied with another.

“For eternity.”

It was the happiest day of their lives. They had given themselves completely to each other, both body and soul, forever intertwined with their promise to each other. Nothing and no one could tear them apart.

In time, their love simply grew stronger. It was that love that kept them strong through the highs and the lows. The only thing that kept Esther strong once her mother passed. Samuel was her rock. He was the reason she was able to wake up every day after, and the reason she was able to welcome new people into the land she called her home.

As the years passed, word spread throughout the supernatural world of this couple, beaconing them toward them. Soon, the two-person household grew into a small community hidden deep within the forests of the state. Mostly witches seeking a safe haven made their homes in cabins built by Samuel and looked to Esther as a guiding mentor. Everything was perfect.

And it had been for the thirty years that they lived together. Until the day it was not.

Samuel took his time when hunting, but it was never more than a day or two. Being apart from Esther made him physically ill and there was not a second more that he ever wanted to spend away from her. But he had not returned when he was supposed to and she was almost certain she knew why.

That very day, she had felt something inside her empty, creating a harrowing void in the deepness of her chest. It had taken her breath away and made her heart skip a beat. Something was wrong, but she did not want to imagine what it was. Because her mind would break her heart before the news did.

It wasn’t until late in the night that a trusted messenger from the town had come riding into the small community. The man called for Esther, a solemn look on his face. And that was when her greatest fear had become her reality.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said, holding his hat against his chest. “It is Samuel.”

Esther clutched her hand to her chest, biting back the tears that threatened to break free. “What happened?” her voice croaked. “Where is his body?”

“I’m afraid some men had been on the hunt for his kind for quite some time, I think they heard about you two,” he answered. “As for his body, they already burned it, ma’am. That smoke you see past the trees is him and some other unlucky ones. I was only able to retreat this from his body.”

The man held out a glittering gold ring covered in soot. Samuel’s wedding ring. It felt too cold on her hand, colder than he ever had been. And it was the evidence of their bind being broken. His soul was no longer walking with her in that life and it would be waiting for her in their next lifetime.

Many tried to offer her consolation but she needed to be alone. The elements around her were growing unsteady and she had to find a place to burst. So, she ran. She ran as fast as she could. Her limbs were burning and her lungs were begging for air, but she continued running. She ran until she reached the very river that had seen the two monumental events in her life, and it would be witness to her latest.

Esther fell to her knees at the edge of the river, clutching at her chest as she let out the most agonizing scream she could. She could feel her magic weakening and that hollow shape in her chest grow more and more. Samuel had been and was supposed to be her everything for the rest of her life. And yet, someone else had decided against it. Someone she did not even know had decided that her forever would end that day.

She let herself break. Even as the skies parted and downpoured around her, she remained at the edge of the river wailing. The Great Mother was angry, she knew that. As lightning and thunder fell, she knew She was sharing in her anger and sadness. And all she could do was pray that Samuel’s soul reunited with her mother’s and that they looked upon her.

The weather remained that way for an entire week, mimicking Esther’s sentiments.

She locked herself in her home that entire time. Surrounded by the home they had created together. Esther did not come out once and everyone in the small village understood why. Losing a loved one was one thing, but she had lost a part of her soul that day. A piece that she could never again mend.

But, out of heartbreak came new beginnings. Though she always carried a void inside her, she was able to rebuild her life. Once she had started aging, she knew she had to take advantage of the fact that she was still alive. In time, she met another man. Abraham Bishop. He gave her what Samuel had always wanted for her. He gave her a legacy in the form of three daughters and a son.

As the times changed, so did the small village. The few cabins had expanded and grown, modernizing as the other towns did, but still protected by the forest. Her family grew, her face aged, the world changed.

And after a hundred and forty years, Esther Haight passed away.

“It’s you,” her shaky voice spoke to emptiness.

“It’s us,” a voice replied.

“For eternity,” they smiled.

Next ->

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sunghanne · 2 years ago

Text

STAR RACER － ENHYPEN GREASE AU SERIES | PART 3 🚦

racer!enhypen & flaggirl!reader

PARTS: PROLOGUE, PART 1, PART 2 , PART 4. coming soon...

TITLE: ST★R-RACER : PART 3. MAKING ENEMIES

feat. ENHYPEN, TXT, STRAY KIDS?!

PLOT: in a small town during the 1950s, seems the only thing keeping careless teenagers entertained are drag races where only the elite participate. and those elite are known as star racers.

WARNINGS: coarse language, sexual themes, sexist remarks, ooc idols, illegal acts, violence, tba...

TAGLIST: @lalalalawon , @strvlveera comment your @/user to be added!

WORD-COUNT: 8.5k

NOTE: heyy, in hopes to keep the 1950's setting authentic, there are sexist jokes so please watch out for that. because the reality is, that mindset was not rare to come across during those times. this chapter is NOT EDITED at all. i'm sorry if its not my best one. likes, reposts and comments are all heavily appreciated, thank you and enjoy!!

"ow, that hurts y/n! you've never done this before have you?!" the whining male cried out as you shushed him with a harsh tug of the tuff of his dark hair, his yells echoing off the bathroom walls.

you shot him a death glare through the mirror of your bathroom, standing behind riki's sitting figure with foil and bleach encased around his head like someone's grandma with a head of rollers, "no, but i know what i'm doin'! i saw this on a commercial, it's a piece of cake," you reassured, even snorting quietly in your throat at the stupidity in your words. riki wasn't sure whether to be even more terrified than before at such unhelpful guidance.

"if i come home bald, you're gonna tell my folks exactly what you'd done," he huffed as you painted a thick coat of hair dye on a handful of his strands. you tutted at his childish nagging and focused on the task at hand.

"the ladies are gonna be all over you," you sang while lifting a foil-covered bunch of his hair and waving it in the air for him to see in the mirror. his dark eyes shot open at the new colour enveloping his virgin hair, "look at that."

"shit, how many times do i gotta do this?" he asked when a concentrated yellow appeared from his roots to the ends of his hair.

you hummed at his inquisitive question and with a cheery smile you replied, "only around four times." his head was thrown back while he wailed out with a mocking cry, like a child on his first day of school. you nudged his head back forward with the bleach applicator in your hand so the foil wouldn't fall out of place.

"i better win this upcoming race," he sulked while sitting up properly as you enforced harshly. you giggled and immediately started teasing him if he didn't win, he'd be on a permanent ban from racing ever again. except, when the day arrived. you didn't know what kinda racer yang jeongin really was.

"shit," you cursed out aloud, having to almost yell it to be heard over the jostling barracks, feeling guilty, "we missed riki's takeoff," your eyes searched for sunghoon's and he ducked his head low am tousled some of his light silver hair in a fluster. you originally wanted to be cheering your heart out for riki's first race back in action but you were so lost in your conversation with chan and felix that you forgot all about it.

"right, yeah," sunghoon plainly responded, eyes scanning the scene of the flag girl skipping off to her side of the track, "he's made in the shade. let 'em be," he nonchalantly finished while the crowd's volume gradually decreased and currently in a waiting period.

definition:'made in the shade'. > success guaranteed.

"yeah, she'll be right," felix grinned, most likely referring to his mate, jeongin. you were curious about brace boy, particularly that last conversation he looked like he held with riki where riki held his pinky up and did a promise in the air. your attention was placed back onto felix who has turned away with a hand tucked into his pocket.

definition:’she’ll be right’. > he/she/they will do fine.

"you're a star racer?" you questioned the freckled-faced male diagonal from you and he shone a proud smile at your acknowledgement.

"that's right. why is everyone always surprised when i tell them this?" felix asked while turning his head to his familiar, chan. his voice uncertain and high-pitched at the backhanded reaction from you.

"you're just so friendly, the other stars i've met are too busy touching their gearsticks to come up to another star and chat," you explained and his nose scrunched at your misleading metaphor of gearsticks. sunghoon snickered beside you quietly, silently agreeing in his mind. you weren't entirely off the mark saying that, hell, soobin never cared for his opponent at the beginning or end of the event. too busy stroking his machine on wheels to unsuspecting girls from his side.

"aw, that's real peachy of you. where's this star of yours?" he wondered while pressing a flat hand above his brow bone and squinting his eyes, deliberately looking over sunghoon during his theatrical act. of course, only chan found this bit funny. sunghoon on the other hand was driving forward to brush his hand on felix's shoulder to spin him back around to where hyunjin stood.

"cut the gas. i need another weed," sunghoon demanded the childish counterpart of his, hiding his internalised annoyance for being overlooked. felix let out a toothy laugh and called out for the red-haired male several metres from where we stood.

definition:'weed'. > a cigarette.

hwang's fierce eyes faltered at the outlandish male calling his name in a deliberate baby voice and reluctantly came to his heed. leaving the makeshift spotlight of the lamp post behind him, his charming features were illuminated in the natural moonlight, half of his face hidden in the shadows. and as he approached even closer, he was surprisingly almost as tall as sunghoon.

"what is it?" he grizzled out, annoyance evident in the way he spoke at felix's antics. the male in question patted his disgruntled friend on the back and gestured towards sunghoon with his free arm like a tour guide.

"a cig for the gentleman here," the playful boy announced and hyunjin's dark pupils shrunk upon landing on sunghoon.

"park, where's your little groupie?" the newcomer asked, their voice tainted with boredom like he didn't care about the answer regardless. you were curious about their history together so you kept a keen eye on their interactions. hyunjin's slim hand hid in his jacket's pocket and when he retracted it, a cigarette was flown at sunghoon in an instant. your friend paused and reeled forward to catch the stick, startled. "need me to light it for you too, eyebrows?"

sunghoon's brows dipped at the name-calling from his opposite, ignoring such disruptive teasing and lighting his cigarette smoothly. he sighed peacefully, blowing smoke that lapsed the red-haired male in spite. the misty effect around the said boy with the mole beneath his left eye made you want to jump out of your sneakers and hope to catch a ride with him home. he had no reason to look so effortlessly gorgeous. eyes starting to water from the lack of blinking, a carefully placed hand spun you around towards the upper slope of the concrete walls.

"hitting the road so soon? tell lee i said hello," hyunjin's voice poured and you felt sunghoon's nails almost dig into your fabric-covered arm in frustration. he couldn't answer why the other men weren't with him, it'd only open more holes for the opposition to pry. so for your safety and his, the only thing he could do was turn his back and exit without a word.

"want a drink?" he questioned to break the defeating silence on the way up the slope. it felt like it was the two of you against the world, a familiar feeling with you and sunghoon being placed in difficult positions to crawl out of. it was so lonely, jungwon and sunoo didn't come with you and jake was somewhere in the crowd preparing for his upcoming race.

if you weren't sure which of the two boys from earlier would be against jake, you'd be safe to assume ruby locks. chan the creep was a close competitor but something about his appearance didn't scream racer. the reason you weren't familiar with this handful of boys was that they were not in town often. why? because they were from a nearby suburb and only came to your drag strip because it was better than whatever set-up they had. this only lead you to ponder what kind of people they were.

"yeah, please," you agreed to sunghoons suggestion and he changed directions of your footing to a nearby huddle of people around a foldable table, impatient hands of money held out to whoever was running the alcohol-selling get-up.

the rumble of an engine, the screech of tires, the painful sting of car oil and your sweet face amongst the strands of hair flying behind you. that's all heeseung could recall in his last moments of racing before everything turned cold.

when he saw you and sunghoon running away from him, getting chased by soobin, beomgyu, taehyun and kai, he knew he was at a loss. he fidgetted with his door lock, hands soiled in grease resulting in his fingers being slippery with the hard surface. then, with a dip in his legs, he limped out of his messy car and turned right back around to look at the state it was in. just his luck, the white shine of his vehicle was ruined by a clear brown slick splattered inside and outside it.

"fuck. fuck, what am i gonna do," he cursed while his wet fingers came in contact with the back of his hair, jostling his strands in frustration. he had two options, go to you and the mobs surrounding yeonjun or hit the road. he couldn't go home like this, and neither could he relish in humiliation from everyone. so, weighing his options, he began his journey up the closest slope with heavy footsteps.

he loathed the way his favourite jacket was now dirtied with car oil and his footsteps left marks on the dry pavement behind him. he just prayed to god that they would dry up by the time anyone else came to find him.

this side of town for heeseung was unexplored. the neighbouring school's turf, that's all he took in as his head turned while walking past the tall, brick building. the school for the higher-ups. the school where students probably didn't spend their after-school time in gas-ridden garages as he did. he had made quite the change in progress from the race track he crawled out of and now found himself deeper in the bramble bushes on the opposite side of town.

he smelled awful, like a gas station set on fire. he still wore his damp jacket, knowing it was a smarter idea to throw it off but the evening breeze was way too cold to discard it so easily. and, part of the boy believed there'd be a chance to save it when he got himself out of the mess.

a deafening beep of someone's car brought the boy out of his clashing thoughts when he found himself crossing a road, green appearing on every street light around him. his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his teeth in annoyance, throwing up a middle finger to the driver as he picked his pace up while meeting the other side of the pavement.

he wasn't the type to dawdle stupidly. he was irritated at his thoughts tuning him out of the real-world enough to make him senselessly cross a road. also half irritated at the scare and the loud beep made his heavy shoulders flinch. he was wondered what was going on in the drag strip right now. the other school was having their bash and you were probably with the other boys heading home or to sunoo's diner for burgers and shakes.

just his luck, the neon wiring on a shop's board spelled '24hrs' stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the dark windows of already closed establishments. he'd found a 24-hour dry cleaner and maybe he didn't hate the previous rage road for rushing him to it. the entrance bells rang as he stepped in, his hand leaving a thin coat of car oil on the door handle.

the cleaning service smelled of lavender-scented washing detergent and the warm smell of an iron pressed to clothes, a nice change from his burnt tire-smelling 'cologne'. behind a run-down service desk was an employee, looking up from her newspaper, glasses tilting up her nose bridge. her face was partly distorted behind the tip jar that only had two coins in it. the stranger's mouth was parted, most likely surprised a customer even came in at this time of night or maybe at the appearance of heeseung who looked like he'd crawled right out of some swamp.

heeseung was just as surprised to see a girl his age working, assuming it was a family-owned business and she was most likely forced to stay late nights as punishment for bad test results. but, he knew he would be able to use this to his advantage.

"pick up for, er, nathan," he fibbed while fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, praying to whatever god above that there was a customer named nathan. the girl's eyebrows raised, realising she actually had to do her job. so with the fold of her newspaper, she jumped down from her seat and tiptoed towards the long hanger racks with a collection of clothing hanging.

heeseung tailed behind her, proceeding to the opposite side of the two stripes of clothing racks and clicking the hangers together as he frantically sought clothes that could do the trick. long floral nightgowns, tuxedos, and even a wedding dress yet, no clothing fit for a teenager. "i'm sorry, no clothes under the name nathan," the employee fret while turning around to look at heeseung's opposite spot to hers.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance, not replying but only heightening his pace in scrolling through articles of fabric till his hands paused at someone's long pair of coveralls, clean and freshly ironed. he unhooked it and held it to the girl observing and smiled, "found it," he responded and the girl pushed her glasses up her nose bridge at the awkward feeling of being bested by a customer.

"really? oh, there we go then," she replied without a console and padded back towards her counter, leaning her elbows on the surface while picking her newspaper up. heeseung was silently celebrating in his mind at his successful act, treading towards the girl whose stationed right at the exit.

he calmly slid off his oily jacket and threw it on the edge of the counter she didn't lean on, a few rolling coins with it, "thanks, buttercup. i'll pick this one up next," the boy spoke with a wink at the broad. then, he pressed forward and left the building, stolen coveralls folded over one of his arms. as he disappeared from the store's large windows, he couldn't help a long arm of his being pulled back to his side in a celebratory dance, hoping on his light feet to an imaginary beat in his head as he skipped past dimly lit buildings.

you and sunghoon were regretful forgetting to watch riki's departure. because when he rolled in a fraction of a minute after jeongin, that's when hell broke loose.

you leapt up from your sitting position and pulled sunghoon with you to the middle of the track where riki had just parked. before getting a word in, the protruding male shoved through the circle of students encasing jeongin and raised a fist to the unsuspecting boy's face. about to strike, he was roughly pushed to the floor and met with the untamed clashes of three pairs of shoes.

"watch it, greaser!" chan yelled before laughing and settling his foot right on top of riki's reddening ear, earning a hiss of pain from the younger. your eyes widened in worry while you mirrored riki's shoving tactic to maneuver the crowd out of the way for you and sunghoon. you'd never expect such a rocky entrance from your friend.

"beat it!" you yelled while trying to shoo off hyunjin, felix and chan who had been kicking and stomping on riki's fetal position. sunghoon aided you by rutting his shoulder into the trio of men to make space for you. you placed your drink on the floor while ducking down to help riki up. he was roughed out, swipes of dirt in the pattern of shoe prints all over his clothes and face.

"what's the big idea?" sunghoon grumbled while glaring at the prosecutors, chan swiped his nose, sniffing inwards while his eyes searched the crowds like he was expecting someone. the look in the other two boys echoed the same reaction and sunghoon was taken aback by their behaviour. they were waiting for everyone else, jay, jungwon, sunoo and heeseung to interfere but no one came. sunghoon could tell, another light of pride flickering off in his mind. they weren't here.

only jake was running down the concrete slopes while his dark leather jacket flew behind him with every airy step he took.

"what's our prob? like you didn't just see your yoot strike ours first," hyunjin replied while his shoulders seemed to relax at the lack of our crew members. your head turned to riki as he grappled onto your hand and slowly unfurled himself, wincing during the gradual motion.

definition:'yoot'. > a younger sibling.

he wasn't looking at hyunjin, nor sunghoon at that. he was only staring at one boy. the boy with a sadistic grin spread across one cheek to the other, braces shown and all, "what happened, riki?" you questioned lowly in case you'd tripped on a wire that lead to the alarms going off in his head. his eyebrows furrowed while he wiped the back of his palm against his nostrils, a crimson fluid left behind on his pale skin.

"take a look at it yourself, this brute just dented jay's ride," he explained while your head flicked back to the boy's car he had borrowed from jay to use. jake positioned himself next to riki and viewed the area like a radar, a serious scowl on his face from his usual sweet smile.

"no rules in drag racin'," jeongin spoke up, and it was the first time you'd ever heard him. he sounded youthful and the cruel smile still on his face only added to it.

"you wanna pay for your damages? go ahead," riki rasped, a clothed arm against his nostrils to try and soak up his bleeding nose. the boy opposite to him only raised an eyebrow, looking over to his older peers like riki had just told a bad joke.

"i'm not the one losing the race, why would i?" jeongin rhetorically questioned while his smile finally dropped and only then did he finally give you the creeps. riki seethed through his teeth and stepped forward with hunched shoulders before he was stopped by sunghoon's hand.

"relax, he's just tryna bug you. ts'only the first race. jake and i got this," sunghoon reassured and rubbed his hand on riki's shoulder. the younger affirmed with a nod of his head and took a few steps backwards, almost bumping into you if you didn't move away at the right time.

"come on riki, let's get you fixed up," you persuaded the other and tugged on the cuff around his free hand. he reluctantly turned around, his eyes being the last of his body to disappear from the four boys.

"his mom came to pick him up, ain't that nice," you heard jeongin mock, only earning a small snicker from the crowd here and there. but you didn't care. cheaters would never have real skill and that's that.

you lead riki back towards the slanted pavement, in hopes of finding some tissues or an ice pack around somewhere. as you left lightly, you heard jake's voice question sunghoon about what happened and the crowd slowly disburse in preparation for the next race.

with a cold glass of beer against riki's sore face, his eyes never lifted off the concrete you two sat on. you clutched onto your long skirt and bit your bottom lip while mindlessly tracing your eyes on the tire tracks left in the dirt as jake and hyunjin already started their race.

"so... what really happened?" you asked the boy gently and he groaned at the forming bruise on his cheek that hurt every time he tried to speak.

"that son of a bitch' decided to play dirty when i was ahead of him for half the race," his voice was nasally due to the two twisted tissues stuffed up his nostrils and you could laugh at his state if it wasn't such a serious situation.

"he just rammed into you?" you questioned in uncertainty a boy so sweet looking like jeongin could be so fierce on the racetrack. but riki wanted to prove you wrong.

"yes. before the race, he told me no hard feelings for whoever won. so much for that act," he spat in betrayal, his gold locks draped around the sides of his face like a curtain. you assumed that's why riki held his pinky up before his race, motioning a promise to that flawed oath. you lightly chewed on the insides of your mouth, thinking his outrage seemed justified.

"what a joke," you commented while tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and looked off towards the distance to not pile on the shame the boy was already drowning in.

"ts'tough. i wanted to win so badly. now everyone still thinks i'm a joke," he vented while continuing the shield on his expression. you immediately consoled the doubtful boy, a gentle hand stroking his back soothingly.

"that's not true. shit, i doubt anybody could handle the stress of being crashed into during a race," you pleaded while trying to cheer the boy up. he lifted his face slowly and his bangs fell to their correct placement, eyes lightened at your encouraging resolve.

"think so?" he asked in a low voice and you nodded with a small grin at his change in attitude.

"keeno," you responded and he sighed in relief while closing his eyes and rocking his head back.

definition:'keeno'. > keen, sure.

"this little kindness thing you do, is this what you learn in bible study, y/n?" his tone suddenly changed as he teased you with his usual banter. your eyebrows furrowed before you abruptly tore a tissue down from his nostrils and he cried loudly at the sting and the gush of blood that came out with it.

jake won his race. you were glad to see the smug grin wiped off of hyunjin's face upon his arrival. this glimmer of hope made your shoulders lift at the chance your crew could still win the night. it was you, jake and riki sitting together along the pavement waiting for the winner. riki's previous beer was now being used for its actual purpose and he gulped it down without a care in the world once his bruise stopped hurting and his nose quit bleeding.

jake was talking about how some pack of girls kept crowding around him like flies when he first arrived, hence his disappearance when you and felix first met. you thought it was a little funny why jake was always trying to run away from his group of fans every time he raced and riki made some comment about how jake probably swung the other way which he immediately denied.

the topic changed, rotating between what holiday jay was forced upon by his father, whether riki's voice had dropped yet and if heeseung was going to come back or not. where would he be? what could have taken him two weeks of his life from racing? not only was the absence at his desk at school starting to grow a pit in your stomach but also the doubt whether he was coming back or not.

you and the seven boys were childhood friends, in preschool, middle school all the way to high school the seven of you were inseparable. heeseung wasn't the kind of person to throw away years like that just for some hurt pride. so he had to come back.

the loud echo of an oncoming vehicle's radio sounded from atop the slope opposite your side. it was a roofless, bright blue automobile but the pack of men inside it is what surprised you the most. the two boys in the backseat were standing up and cooing like wild animals, fists in the air that held bottles of liquor. the people sitting on the concrete slope had to jump and run out of the road for the vehicle barging through them to avoid being squashed flat.

the men standing up only held onto the top of the front seat headers to retain their balance as the car veered forward down the slope dangerously to the point it could almost tip over. the air out of your lungs was socked out at such a stunt as the rolling vehicle came to a halt once it met the flat ground. the bass of the radio reflected off the pavement and you could hear your ears thumping to the same rhythm of the music before it clicked off and the four men jumped out.

"yeah, the boys!" chan's loud voice yelled while he ran from his previous viewing position to greet the other individuals with bear hugs and handshakes. your head steered towards the two boys beside you, curious about their reactions as well. jake's lips were parted and with clenched teeth, he fidgeted in his position steadily. riki's eyebrows were raised far enough for his forehead to crease in interest to what the appearance of these newcomers entailed to the event.

your eyes squinted while watching the figures below where the three of you say upon and their interactions. they behaved like sleazy, booze-infested apes who only knew how to communicate by yelling and wooing at everything. "who are they?" you questioned, not directed to either of your friends but jake took the initiative.

"that's the rest of their gang," he cooly replied and his lips licked out of habit and discomfort. if sunghoon didn't win, he would be the bud of jokes between the just-arriving men.

"shit, there's a mob of them," you cursed while counting up the numbers of your crew. four to eight did not look appealing to you at all.

"they're bad news," jake quietly continued while his eyes traced the furthest he could of the race track for any sign of sunghoon or felix. and you believed him. the appearance of such a feral group muddled with the only familiar handful of men you knew from them completed a perfect puzzle in your head. they were much worse than yeonjun and his group. way worse.

heeseung didn't have anywhere to stay the night. but when the company of his worn coveralls found him tiptoeing in the night, they invited him in. the owner of the repairman company, an old, balding man asked heeseung where he found the uniform which the boy answered shamelessly. unexpectedly, the old man laughed at such brutal honesty and offered heeseung a job.

so for the upcoming days, heeseung spent every day and night on the job, using the telephone outlet to call home and promise his temperamental mother that he'd be home soon and was just out with the boys. the owner of the establishment loved heeseung and his surprising work on vehicles.

"you seem to know a lotta 'bout cars, son. your old man a mechanic too?" his low antique voice asked while heeseung lay on a creeper on the undercarriage of a car, toying with something. a bead of sweat rolled down his dirt-staining temple while he licked his lips to answer.

"nah. just a knack i picked up," he lightly responded in such a bent-over position, his voice was coarse and throaty.

"impressive. skilled with your hands, aren't ya," the old man chuckled at his gag and heeseung just softly chortled at the dirty joke.

"no sweat," heeseung replied while focusing back on his work. that was the domestic dynamic he held with the owner who so generously offered food, shelter and a job to him. but all things come to an end and heeseung had a group to return to and a race to win.

and that's where heeseung found himself, sprinting out of the joint with nothing but a cigarette in his mouth and handfuls of scrunched cash stuffed into his pockets and crowded against his stomach as he ran away with the infuriated man behind him. of course, being at such old age made the owner give up easily and retreat to inside the store and to the nearest telephone for the police.

heeseung was smiling, laughing breathlessly at such a successful act that merely took a week and a half to achieve. the loud steps of his black converses came to a stop in front of the only store with a neon sign at this time of night. the dry cleaners where he could finally collect his jacket.

he swung the door open, ignoring the glare of the same girl at the run-down counter as he raced to the hanger racks to find it. the loud scratch of the girl's chair bounced off of the poster-ridden walls when she stood up in disbelief at the return of the boy who left her with a hand of dirty pennies and a destroyed jacket.

"nathan?" she abruptly spoke up and heeseung's pace faltered for a brief moment while he ignored her calling. she had a lot of questions in mind as to why he was running with wads of cash glued to him and why it took him to long to collect his jacket. "those aren't yours, are they?" her glasses adjusted on her nose bridge as two shakey fingers pressed against them. she was referring to his coveralls now soiled in stains. he had almost forgotten the fake name he used so he didn't even realise she was referring to him.

"s'course they aren't mine. you realise this world is full of cheaters," he rhetorically asked through messy heaves of his chest while still flicking through articles of clothing. he was drenched in sweat and, motor oil and dirt, almost as dishevelled as the girl first saw him. her hands, once preoccupied with the newspaper she once read grasped onto her long red polka-dot skirt, uneasy with such a mean response.

the brief moment of silence broke at the relieved sigh that left the tall boy's parched lips as he found his beloved jacket. before he could pad back towards the entrance, the bright flash of red and blue reflected off the windows as police cars drove past at a deathly slow pace. they were searching for him. heeseung's dark eyes widened and he ducked down in an attempt to hide before his vision was clouded by red and white polka dots. "nathan, behind here," the gentle voice above the endangered male brought him back to reality and the crisis he was in.

the employee gestured to behind the front desk and he complied, side shuffling on his aching knees behind it. the girl was like his reflection, mirroring his positioning to take light steps and use her wide skirt to cover his face while he made haste getting to behind the desk. he met with the grim dusty table legs and leaned his back against it with a clamouring heartbeat. the unnamed girl returned to her usual position, reading a newspaper but all the tiny printed letters were too blurred by her adrenaline to actually process anything.

police cars swarmed by, their loud tires burning rubber against the road outside and their brash sirens singing out. heeseung was more than grateful for the little helping hand as he would've been toast if he was still out in the open. the only thing he thought about was the son of a bitch who ratted him out and sent a flock of police after him. he'd understand one or two cars but half a street full was asking for too much. it wasn't like he robbed the man's entire life savings, only a till full.

his partner in crime only took the flashing reflection in her glasses as a signal that the police cars had finally passed by and she craned her guilty head down to the man below her. his pearly white teeth shone, smirking in his pleasing tactic of avoiding the authorities, "thought you were a good girl. turns out y'not," was the only sentence he formed as his nerves calmed as his breathing regulated.

the quiet girl suppressed the tint of red growing from one of her cheeks to the other at his words, turning away in an instant to not blow her cover. "hit the road, hood," her voice changed while she referred to the criminal acts of the boy and now realised the kind of character he was.

the smoke of heeseung's cig left an imperfect line in the air as he stood up cautiously, eyes darting through the wide glass panes to see if the coast was clear. once he confirmed it was, he graciously stepped out of the desk and back on his previous path to the exit. the nickname 'hood' amused the boy, as well as the sudden fierceness in the girl he only thought was innocent.

"thanks, sweetheart. my name's heeseung," he revealed through a light whisper before he ducked out of the thrown-open door and to the opposite direction the police cars came from. the employee raced to the doorway upon his departure and leaned her head out of it to watch as the male escaped to an alleyway hidden in the shadows.

a knot in her heart snapping at the thought it would be the last time she'd ever see the boy. she knew from the beginning the coveralls weren't his and she knew his name wasn't actually nathan. because the tag on the jacket he left behind was claimed with blue pen that spelled his real name. all she knew about the dangerous boy was that she had fallen head over heels for him.

heeseung swerved past tight corners, cautiously avoiding the open from the fuzz that was most likely circling the area. he was trying his best not to move so violently and risk papers blowing out his pockets so he stopped once and found himself in an alleyway between some grocery store and two large skip bins where the stink was more detrimental than being caught by the police.

fortunately, there was a telephone hooked to the wall of the grocery store and as long as it wasn't hooked up to the services of the actual store, this could be his one-way ticket out of this muck. so, within two beats he held the phone up to his ear and dialled the only reliable service he knew. park jay.

sunghoon lost. the ear-defeating celebration from the pack of animals in the middle of the track only rubbed salt in the wounds when sunghoon exited his vehicle and scrambled his hair in his fingers out of frustration. jake stepped forward and rubbed the dishevelled male on the shoulder out of encouragement but he didn't bite into it. the cold winds brushed against the equally cold atmosphere and it sucked having two losses in a row.

you stood beside riki and began to turn away as sunghoon and jake were an inch past you when felix's loud voice yelled, "that race was child's play. i thought you had more fire in you, but i guess you put out," he mocked cruelly, indicating something unrelated to racing.

"s'got a broad with 'em. whaddya gonna do on the way home? this a gangbang?" another male you never met before slurred out, clearly mixed with alcohol. the disgusting comment made your nose scrunch and riki's steps froze.

"ey, let me tap in then," another one drunkenly laughed while his arms were slung around chan and the previously spoken male.

"what'dya meant to do the other 23 hours and 45 minutes in a day, han?" hyunjin teased immediately and han was laughed at while the other boys yanked his clothes mockingly.

the laughing group of hyenas in contrast to your silent crew made you grow embarrassed by the inappropriate remarks. well, until riki's fist banged into han's snickering face and made the boy almost collapse like a folding chair. your eyes shot open, sunghoon and jake immediately spun back around to stop the incoming throttle the seven active men were about to induce on riki.

the mobs of drunken teens were reeled around the scuffle, making it almost impossible for your two friends to pull their youngest out of the rut. your fingernails seeped into riki's shoulders as you attempted to help them hold riki back from going any further than a punch against han and the other men did the same with the said male.

"bust a gut, but you'll be blown off when i get my hands on you-" riki hissed out, voice hindered by the violent thrashes he used to try and get out of the lock sunghoon and jake had on him. han's lips were sneering in anger, cheek reddening while fought against his kind.

definition:'bust a gut'. > laugh out loud.

'blown off'. > defeated in a race.

"bite me!” han yelled before getting shoved to the ground by felix and chan, the two men who were slightly guilty for their friends' behaviour having met you beforehand. you stole a glance at felix, eyebrows furrowed in anger at the switch of personalities the men had around their friends. you thought they were cool at first before their true colours showed.

"cool it!" chan shouted while han was still itching to get his hands on riki. riki finally complied with the grip on his arms, calming down his heaving chest that was so clouded by anger and humiliation.

"i'm warnin' you ever utter a word about y/n," sunghoon rasped, for once his pink lips not clouded by the smoke of a cigarette between them. felix gulped down dryly, eyeing you through the gap between jake and riki's shoulders sympathetically.

"these chicks're only good for one thing," the male with dark hair who previously brought up the idea of the 'gangbang' spoke so confidently and your stomach turned at his controversial words. riki's body jerked at the immorality of the other and sunghoon called out for him to relax.

"fuck up, changbin, for fucks' sake," felix cussed in irritation while turning to his aggravating companion who never got the hint of the situation. you hand rubbed at riki's warm back to continue to settle him down as a blanket of intense silence ensued, consisting of death glares being shot from one boy to another.

"if you're cruisin' for a bruisin', this is our turf and we can get you kicked out anytime y'want," sunghoon warned lowly and felix's head angled downwards at his threat. before he uttered a word, hyunjin stepped forward with his red hair stealing the attention of everyone else.

"how 'bout we settle this? let's cop this side of town so you looneys can't reach us," hyunjin suggested and it piqued interest with his clique nodding in agreement.

"this s'not your turf and neither is it ours," sunghoon retaliated referring to the other side of town owning it. and to be exact, he meant yeonjun and his lackeys' ownership. hyunjin's head tilted in amusement, one eyebrow raised at the correction.

"well then, better defend their turf or you'll be bruised by 'em too. lets race. same spot, same time, tomorrow," hyunjin gambled and for one, you knew bets like these never ended well. you bit your lip uneasily and stole a glance at sunghoon. his eyes didn't falter, and neither did he move an inch from his position when his hands clapped against hyunjin's in a passive-aggressive handshake.

"winner takes the turf," he concluded while he released his hand from hyunjin's robotically and started to turn around to his vehicle parked behind him. you, jake, and riki copied his mannerisms and with hunched shoulders, you refused to return the sorry gaze felix conveyed to you. the tension in the air broke and was followed up by the loud celebration of the opposition's win.

sitting on four leather seats, you and the three others leaned on the counter, chewing your nails anxiously at the upcoming rumble in 24 hours. "i mean, surely you can bring your salt shakers and maybe sprinkle it in their eyes," jake humoured while looking over at sunoo who burst out laughing at the idea.

definition:'rumble'. > a fight among gangs.

"effective, don't you think? five bucks if i land it in jeongin's eyeballs just for you, riki," sunoo joked, previously hearing all about the events thirty minutes ago. riki just sighed out a less than enthusiastic laugh, clearly still torn on jeongin and his personal fight.

"you learnt better than that to set up bets again," you spoke with upturned eyebrows, staring at sunoo with a smile on your face to try and get him out of the habit.

"five bucks is not gonna empty my wallet," he replied while pouting his lips slightly to exaggerate his pronunciation.

"you paid your debts back?" you questioned, sounding a little more surprised than you intended to and the male was almost insulted.

"yes, actually," he rolled his eyes at your tone and then shifted his gaze to sunghoon whose head was in the clouds somewhere, only the fog of a cigarette blowing out of him. your eyes traced the long, slowly wavering line of smoke all the way up to the ceiling that danced before it disappeared into the air.

"sunghoon," you called his name and only his eyes moved to the direction of your voice, which you flinched in your seat, "oh my god. he's possessed."

sunoo and make cracked up quietly, not wanting to bring the male back to his right senses by being too loud. because for some reason, sunghoon's spaced-out periods were entertaining to watch. "must be heeseung's ghost. hey hyung," sunoo piled to the humour and you chewed the inside of your mouth not to giggle as well.

"stop," you begged while silently laughing while tugging sunoo's wrist to try and stop his hand from waving like a robot at sunghoon as if he were greeting heeseung.

finally, sunghoon's eyes blinked and he awoke from whatever curse was placed upon him, "fuck. we are so canned this rumble," he groaned while his hands clawed at his roots, palms drowning his eyes in darkness while he covered them.

"cool it, hyung. we've got weapons," sunoo calmly reassured while sliding a bottle of ketchup to jake which the male effortlessly caught and raised in the air playfully.

"'m being serious. six of us and eight of 'em, if they don't bring any other hobos with them, we're dead," he responded while his hands dripped from his anguished face and resided on the table.

"it was your bet, jackass," jake's brows crossed as he placed the bottle on the table and crossed his arms. sunghoon grunted while he slowly looked back at the other.

"yeah, i know that. how else would i have gotten them off us," his dark faze darted to riki's unsuspecting face next, "some fucker decided to strike 'em first, not once but twice."

riki's mouth fell open in treachery at his scolding, "lay off, hyung. you saw the way they were talkin' to y/n," he retorted while his blonde hair bounced with every word he spoke.

"i saw, we were jus' outnumbered. it was a bad move," he explained as quickly as he could before you got the wrong idea. his reasoning made sense but riki still thought he was getting heat for shit.

"whatever," the younger scoffed, pride partly hurt when he recalled the amount it took to calm him down from lashing out at han further.

"hey, riki. you wanna drop jay's ride at his garage for jungwon in the morning?" you asked the other to change the subject and ease the growing pressure in the room. the boy nodded his head and jumped up from his stool without another word and you trailed behind him to the entrance, "catch you later."

"i don't get it, he would've done the same for you," riki opening complained, hair grasping at his roots in stress as he steered with one hand. you leaned your chin on the back of your palm, listening intently to his worries while the gusts of cold night winds blew past you through jay's roofless automobile.

"no one was in the right in that situation," you responded and riki's eyes flicked up to you in the rearview mirror for a split second while he tried to piece together why, "i don't care about the shit they said. i know the only girl they'd ever kissed is probably their moms so why should i," you grumbled and a quiet noise in riki's throat signalised that he was laughing just a tiny bit.

"so you agree with sunghoon hyung then?" he mindlessly questioned as he turned a corner and the come and go of neighbourhood lamposts illuminated him briefly.

"i didn't say that. riki, he would've done the same if heeseung or jay was also there. but they weren't. can't you see that their absence is affecting him more than you think?" you asked with a simple reflection and riki's lips closed while he thought about it for a second.

"you're confusing me," he blabbered while his eyebrows furrowed at your complex analogy. you hummed for a second to piece together a version that maybe he would understand.

"i'm saying that he was trying to keep you outta trouble. he was scared of them and scared you'd get hurt even more," you finalised and riki released the grasp he had on his blonde tufts while he sat up straighter.

"hyung doesn't get scared, y/n. we could've taken them, easily," he contradicted whilst he pulled up to jay's father's abode. you clicked your tongue at his stubborn disregard and unlocked your door to step out.

"you didn't see it but i did," you swore before knocking on the garage door a few times and awaited a response. jungwon was usually still here at this hour so you had nothing to worry about. riki stayed inside jay's car and tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel to an imaginary beat. the garage door finally revolved upwards and you saw the expected boy alone in the empty garage. your eyes widened at the lack of heeseung's car that left behind a few splatters of oil in the centre of the room it used to be in.

"where's heeseung's car?" you asked the boy and furrowed your eyebrows at the last remnant of the boy being gone. jungwon's cat-like eyes peered back at you and stepped to the side of a wall to make way for jay's car.

"what do you mean? i gave it away," he quietly muttered while carefully scanning your shift in expressions. your heart panged at the very words and although you expected it since it was a race for the pinks and all, this just revealed that the only reason jungwon spent late nights at the garage was to clean the vehicle for the enemy.

your mouth pursed and you steered your gaze away from jungwon, hurt, "oh. right," you mocked remembering the bet. you tried to hide your solemn expression through a thick lie, "i forgot."

riki turned off the engine of jay's car and stepped out after parking it in the middle of the garage, he tapped the hard metal of the vehicle and looked up at jungwon, "it's dented. when i took it out for a spin, i didn't know if be racing with some psycho," riki explained while jungwon walked away from you and towards the rear of the vehicle to see the damages.

"that's totalled," jungwon's eyes widened at the large vacant indent captured just beside the boot of the car. he slipped his white thick gloves off and placed them in the pocket of his coveralls, "you guys win or lose?"

"lose," you softly responded laced with a layer of anguish and defeat. jungwon's lips just downturn at the disappointing reply.

"i was about to catch some z's so i'll head out nd fix it tomorrow, cool?" he questioned the male who was striding closer towards him from the hood of the car.

riki's eyes show up and he immediately shook his head, "you gotta fix it sooner or later, i don't want jay to flip when he sees i've broken his car," he wailed while he put his palms flat together as if he were praying.

"don't flip y'lid, rug rat. jay isn't coming home anytime soon," jungwon conceived while he buttoned down his coveralls and took his arms out of the sleeves, revealing his clean white tee in comparison to the dirty pair of coveralls he wore. he linked the two sleeves of his coveralls and tied them around his waist, settling on his hips. from the lack of fabric around his forearms, you could finally see what laid underneath that baggy fabric. well-toned biceps formulated by the tired labour of car work.

"first thing in the morning," riki pleaded next and earned the eye roll of the older male as he turned on his heel and began to walk the other way.

"they still at the diner?" jungwon asked, knowing the usual routine of the guys after a race and completely disregarding riki's whining.

"i'll tell you if you promise to do it tomorrow!" riki yelled out from within the garages jungwon was already skipping towards the direction of the diner anyways. you just gave the asking male a nod at his question and that's all he needed to go. the male now left with you sighed through his nostrils and you made haste in clicking the automatic door button to start to close the door, leaving the boy inside. he screamed out and jumped out of his frozen position to meet you outside, making you laugh out at his skittish behaviour.

sunghoon was worried about being outnumbered. if sunoo and jungwon came with us tomorrow, that would be six to eight. it would be fine if the race really was just a race. but from the intense atmosphere where the bet took place, you knew it would most likely result in a rumble regardless of who won or not.

rumbles happened every blue moon or so. your crew never really thrived on gang fights but only did when it was necessary. and to get these stray kids off your turf was definitely needed. so you needed allies, at least a handful of them for undeniable succession.

that's where you found yourself outside snob-high. the place where you wanted to find the very man you dread. choi yeonjun.

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sweetjuniperandboiledsatan · 1 year ago

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Chapter 29 – Further Questions of Female Suffrage

Full story here: Not a Doctor, Not an Angel Either Rating: M Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader; Javier Escuella x F!Reader Word count: 39,387 Chapters: 29/41 Warnings: Sexual content, mention of alcohol and cigarettes, blood, violence

In the past few weeks you've spent with Sadie, she had told you repeatedly that you wouldn't truly learn unless you've seen action, and each time she brought it up, you easily dismissed the notion, thinking it might have just been her own version of tough love. You've never given it much thought, really—until now.

You found yourself a couple of miles away from Shady Belle, taking cover behind a boulder, its rough texture pressing against your fingers. The midday sun blazed overhead as Sadie cautiously surveyed the clearing ahead. She informed you casually that there may be about a dozen or more Lemoyne Raiders that had set up a camp there.

You fumbled with your Colt revolver, your hands slightly trembling with apprehension. "I've never shot anyone, Sadie," you muttered as you tried to wrap your head around the reality of the situation. "I've never killed anyone. I don't think I ever can!"

You have desperately tried to explain to her that target practice and taking down the occasional deer were already more than enough, considering before all these, the mere recoil of a gun would send you staggering backward. Now that you could manage to hit a bottle or two out of five in a row, you'd like to believe your lessons were already over, and she had taught you everything you could possibly learn.

Today, however, Sadie had a point to make – as far as she was concerned, lessons weren't over yet.

"Listen, darlin'," Sadie said reassuringly, "I get that this ain't what you signed up for, but sometimes, life deals us a hand we never expected. We ain't lookin' for trouble, but if it comes our way, we need to be ready."

You stole a glance at your Colt, its metal glinting brightly in the sun. You felt your heart pounding relentlessly. The thought of aiming your weapon at another human being sent shivers down your spine, but then you firmly reminded yourself why you were here in the first place.

The only reason why you asked for this crazy woman's help was so you could stop feeling sorry for yourself. You've been so weak and helpless all this time. Perhaps knowing how to fight back could've made all the difference that day your father was killed, or when the Braithwaites took Jack or even the last time you went face to face with your father's murderer.

"You're gonna be just fine. I got your back," she said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. Her eyes remained fixed on the makeshift tents ahead.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you whispered more to yourself than anyone else, "Alright. Fuck. FUCK. Let's do this."

Sadie's plan was straightforward (at least to her, anyway). Given the odds you faced, your best bet would be to approach the camp quietly. Sadie would take the offensive, eliminating any stragglers on the outskirts, as you provided cover. As you get closer, you were to stay low, keep an eye out for any Raiders, and keep covering fire as she maneuvered.

"You see any one of 'em, you point and shoot," Sadie instructed. There was no room for hesitation. She reminded you – just aim, shoot, and keep her alive.

As the two of you braced yourself for the attack, you heard the bushes behind you rustle, causing your heart to leap into your throat. You swivelled around, Colt at the ready.

"Woah, woah, woah, easy there, partner!" Javier whispered. You've shot him once accidentally, and he had no intention whatsoever of going through that again. Arthur was with him. The pair approached you and Sadie, and now, all four of you were huddled together in a rather humorous display of caution.

Arthur leaned in, whispering just loud enough for the group, "We were out fishing and saw you ladies headin' this way. Armed like that, sure didn't seem like a goddamned Sunday picnic you were planning on." Arthur said.

"So what's the plan?" Javier chimed in enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together.

Sadie shook her head at the audacity but instantly realised that a significant advantage had just presented itself. She leaned in closer to you, "Seems like we've got ourselves an impromptu raiding party, darlin'. The more, the merrier, I s'pose. I don't want you getting killed on your first rodeo, and with these two around, we'll have some extra insurance."

She looked at your faces and decisively directed, "Javier, you're with me. Arthur, you're with [Y/N]."

With that settled, you and Arthur swiftly moved to a huge tree, giving you a vantage point over the Lemoyne Raiders' camp. The heat was stifling, but the intensity of the upcoming confrontation made the air feel even heavier. The tree was a little further from the action, but it provided enough cover for both of you.

Arthur readied his revolvers. Every so often, his gaze flitted to you, but you purposely averted your eyes. You clutched your weapon tighter, your palms slick with sweat.

"What? We still ain't talking?"

Taking a moment, you replied, "Just make sure I don't end up dead, Mr. Morgan, and we can call it even."

A faint smirk played on his lips, but his eyes remained serious. "Don't you worry none, I ain't gonna let that happen," he whispered, his voice steady. You found his seemingly calm demeanour, like he'd been through this dance a million times before, both comforting and slightly disconcerting.

Sadie made the first move, expertly dispatching two unsuspecting Raiders who had ventured dangerously close to her spot (most probably to take a piss). Gunshots broke immediately after, the acrid scent of the gunpowder filling the air. That was your signal. Arthur and Javier followed suit, making every bullet count as they maneuvered through the Raiders' camp.

For you, however, time seemed to stand still as the sounds of the battle overwhelmed you – the pop and crack of firearms and the desperate cries of each Raider they've successfully taken down. 'Move! Damn it, move! Just point and shoot, that's all!' But no matter how much you berated yourself, your feet remained rooted to the ground.

Arthur was already a few paces ahead. He turned around to check if you were right behind him. His eyes widened with concern when he noticed you weren't advancing.

"Move, [Y/N], now!" he urged you in desperation, momentarily letting his guard down.

Then you saw it. As your partner grew increasingly distracted by your inaction, he had failed to notice a Raider creeping up, his weapon raised. He had Arthur dead to rights. Without thinking, instincts taking over, you aimed your Colt and fired – pop! Pop! The bullets hit the Raider just as he was about to pull the trigger on Arthur. The man fell, a surprised expression on his face as he crumpled to the ground.

Arthur looked at you, stunned. "Nice shot!" He called out, a sense of relief and admiration in his voice. "Now get over here!"

The fight continued around you, and there was no time to dwell on the life you had just taken. With each subsequent shot and move you made, you found your rhythm, your reactions sharpening as the minutes passed. Arthur, meanwhile, never strayed too far from your side. He fought fiercely, but every so often, his eyes would search for you amidst the chaos, making sure you were safe.

The hideout was slowly cleared, and as the last Raider fell, a tense silence settled over your surroundings. You looked at your companions. Their faces were smeared with dirt and sweat, a few scratches and bruises here and there, but alive, nonetheless.

Sadie clapped you on the back, "You did good out there."

As you prepared for the journey home, the adrenaline from the fight began to ebb away, and you felt a sharp, persistent pain on the side of your abdomen. You had dismissed it at first, but the pain and discomfort only grew more pronounced.

"Hey, you alright?" Javier asked, noticing the discomfort you were in. Reluctantly, you lifted your shirt, revealing its source. Your face drained of colour as you saw the dark stain on the clothing, the vivid red of fresh blood.

Sadie's eyes widened with alarm, and Arthur was quick to approach. "Dammit." He muttered under his breath.

"It looks like it just grazed you," Sadie observed – she was right. The wound appeared to be superficial, most likely a bullet grazing your side rather than penetrating deeply – a stroke of luck, you thought, realising that should you have stood inches away from your spot earlier, you would've been pretty much dead by now.

Still, you knew that even seemingly minor wounds could turn serious if left untreated. With trembling hands, you pressed a cloth against the wound, applying gentle pressure to slow the bleeding. The pain was sharp.

Javier watched with concern. "You're gonna be alright," he assured you. "It's not too bad. We need to get you home and patch you up."

Back at the camp, the four of you made quite the sight. With your arm draped over Javier's shoulders for support, you leaned heavily on him while Sadie took the lead, guiding your unsteady steps toward your tent. Arthur followed close from behind. The commotion drew the attention of several gang members, who watched in curious concern. Dutch and Hosea stood from their seats on the veranda, their eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's fine. I can do this." You tried to convince them. But they were having none of it.

Sadie gave you a stern look, her eyes unyielding. "You ain't in any condition to be actin' tough," she stated matter-of-factly.

Javier gently cut you off. "Stop being stubborn." He helped you inside, carefully setting you down on the bedroll. The dim interior was a stark contrast to the dying light outside. His eyes constantly darted from your face to the injury on your side. You began to instruct him, but your voice came out weaker than you had anticipated.

"Javier... get my bag," you whispered, grimacing from the pain.

He quickly did as he was told. As he started cleaning the wound, he looked up, his dark eyes searching yours for assurance. He tried to be gentle, but his uncertainty was evident.

"Easy there," you whispered, wincing slightly when he accidentally pressed a bit too close to the wound.

Javier's eyes widened in alarm. "Lo siento," he whispered apologetically. "I'm trying to be careful, but..."

"It's okay. Just listen, and I'll tell you what to do." Despite the pain, you gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Outside the tent, you could hear the faint murmurs of Sadie and Arthur's conversation, occasionally glancing inside to see how you were doing.

"Ain't' too bad for your first time, huh." Arthur quipped, peeking into the tent and handing you a flask of whiskey. You took a swig, the fiery liquid providing temporarily relief as it dulled the biting sting of your injury. You exhaled deeply, savouring the brief reprieve as Javier diligently tended to your wound.

"What the hell happened?!" John's voice was agitated, jolting you from your moment of respite, as he pushed past Arthur and Sadie to get a look at you. His eyes locked onto the wound, then Javier's hands, covered in your blood. His face contorted in anger and worry, and his eyes met yours for a brief moment. but it felt more like an eternity.

You did tell him last night you’d talk today, but you purposefully went out with Sadie (although at that point, you were oblivious to what she had planned all along) using it as a convenient excuse to avoid him.

"We got her, John," Arthur assured him, indicating that now might not be the best time for too many questions.

***

#john marston #john marston x you #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #sadie adler #john marston x reader #red dead redemption #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #rdr

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years ago

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Good Girls Grown Up

Word Count: 4.3k

Note: This takes place approximately three years before the current timeline of Ex Wive's Club

Warnings: anxiety, feelings of not being a good enough pairing, slight angst, insecurities, soft! Lee (because that is a warning), bullying, mentions of an unwanted child, angst in children, gaslighting.

“Mayor Bodecker, what do you think you are doing?” she whispered softly as her husband’s nimble fingers worked their way sinfully inside of her sleep shorts. Lee hummed thoughtfully, pressing his erection against his wife’s backside. His fingers dipped inside of her, and she moaned. Her eyes flickered closed and her core clenched around the familiar digits, “Lee…oh, fuck…”

“Such improper language for the first lady of our little town.”

She giggled as he nipped along her neck. Instinctively she bucked her hips against her husband’s hand, his calloused palm dragging deliciously against her clit. Lee’s own hips pressed forward once more as he was filled with need for her, “Lee…oh, Lee…who cares about language…”

“You’re right,” he agreed thoughtfully. She whimpered when his fingers pulled out of her, and his hands worked needily on her sleep shorts. She was quick to stop him, and he frowned. She turned her head ever so slightly so that she saw him in her peripherals. He wore a nervous look, “what’s wrong, Em?”

“Lee…the kids…” she sighed, “it’s Easter…they’re bound to barge in…and the triplets…”

Lee looked over to the extra-large bassinet, where his three youngest babies were sleeping soundly. He sighed to himself, “you know that ‘he’ misses being inside of you, sweet pea…”

“Lee, we have nine little babies now…not six…and four of them have the ability to barge in without their siblings carrying them.”

“Just one taste,” Lee all but begged, his nose gently touching that of his wife’s. She turned around in his arms, giggling at him. He frowned a little bit more and she wrapped her arms around his neck, “c’mon sweet pea…we’ve done this since we moved here…I taste you before we start our festivities…it sets my whole day right!”

“Your insatiable nature is the reason we have nine children, mayor!” she teased.

“Oh, it’s not for lack of trying, sweet pea,” Lee smiled, wrapping his arms around his wife, “if you’d let me as much as I wanted to, we’d easily have double the number.”

“Lee Bodecker!” she squealed.

Lee smiled, “c’mon sugar…there was a time when you were the same…I remember quite frequently when we were freshly married, you were askin’ for my Bodecker baby juice all the time…”

A new blush rose to her cheeks and Lee shot her a flirtatious wink, “oh I still do want it…but I think we need to seriously consider you getting snipped first…”

She watched the color drain from his face, “snipped?”

“Lee, we have nine babies…”

“What happened to double digits, Mrs. Bodecker?”

“Nine children happened!” she sighed, admitting it aloud, “I don’t know how you’re in your 40’s and manage to keep up with them. I’m only in my 20’s and they leave me exhausted every night…”

“You want me to hire a nanny to help you out?” Lee asked, a concerned tone taking hold of his voice, “sweet pea…I cou-“

“I’m not saying that, Lee,” she said quickly, cutting him off, “I just-“

“Sweet pea…I don’t want you feeling like you are run ragged by the babies…we got more than enough money to be hiring help!” Lee offered. He watched how silent he was for a moment, and in that instant he knew that there was a bit more to how she was feeling.

He started piecing together all the little hints.

They hadn’t been having as much sex.

She was less flirty, and always talking about being exhausted.

Sometimes he’d get home late and she’d already be passed out in bed, the children tucked away.

Lee waited patiently, “baby…talk to me…just say the word and we’ll do it.”

Em bit her lip, “you wouldn’t be mad?”

Lee felt his heart ache. He held his wife a little bit closer and reached up to tip her chin up so that she was looking directly at him, “why would I be mad, sweet pea? We have nine amazing babies together…you gave me that amazing gift! Hell, you agreed to marry me and let me make nine sweet, beautiful babies with you. Let me do this for you, baby…”

“I think I need help, Lee…” she admitted with a nod. Lee nodded in response and wrapped his arms around her.

“We’ll hire some help, baby….and I-I’ll look into a vasectomy.”

“I-I don’t want to go to school today…”

Jake frowned, looking down at Evie as he served up the pancakes and French toast he’d made for the kids. His youngest two seemed oblivious to the tension in the room as they munched on their breakfast, but Jake and his eldest son were tuned into Evie’s distress, “why not, Eve?”

“I just don’t want to go!” she muttered, poking at her food, “can I stay home today? I-I think I need to stay home. My tummy hurts!”

“Look, kiddo…we talk about our feelings in this household…you know that! If you’re feeling sick, we’ll make a doctor’s appointment and get it figured out, but that’s not what it sounds like. So do you want to talk about it? If not, we’re going to school today!” Jake said firmly as he placed the pan back on the stove. When she didn’t respond he put the spatula down and turned around, speaking into the Bluetooth in his ear, where his team was going over the groundwork for a mission, “Clay…pooch, I’m going to have to call you guys back…”

He tapped the side of his Bluetooth without waiting for a response, and then looked to his adopted daughter, “you going to tell me what’s going on, Evie, or do I have to play twenty questions?”

Her jaw tensed momentarily, and her eyes glistened. She looked to Tyler and he went to speak but she ran away from the table. Jake looked between his sons and daughter. Layla and Jacob shrugged, the three and four year old not entirely sure what was going on, while the second grader Tyler bit his lip and looked away from his father. Jake watched his son’s actions, and he sighed when the little boy refused to make eye contact with him.

“Tyler…”

“Evie asked Michael to play with her at recess yesterday…and they kissed underneath the slide…”

He fought off the instinctive protective urge that made him want to smack the young Barber boy silly in lieu of hearing the rest of what his son had to say. He waited, but Tyler remained silent. Jake’s brow furrowed, “and…”

“Some of the other kids said that Michael only kissed her because he felt bad for her,” he admitted, still biting his lip as he told his father the story, “Evie got sad when they asked why he’d feel bad for her…”

“What did they say, Tyler?”

“That Michael only did it because he feels bad that Evie’s real mom didn’t want her…” he said quickly, “that you and mom only took her in because her mom was going to throw her away! They started calling her a garbage baby.”

Jake looked down the hall, heartbroken over what his son had just told him. They’d had a long journey fighting for Evie, and she was wanted amongst the Jenson clan more than anything, “you know that’s not true, right Tyler?”

“Of course I know that!” he said as though it were the most obvious piece of information he ever heard, “I told Evie that we love her and that she should tell you and mom, but she said no…she tried to talk to Michael and he wouldn’t even look at her.”

Jake’s jaw tensed, “that little shit…”

“Dad…am I in trouble?”

“No bud,” Jake said with a shake of his head. He reached over and messed with his son’s hair, “you aren’t in trouble.”

“I pushed Michael when he ran away from Evie…”

“I’ll be right back,” Jake said quickly, disregarding the claim that his son made, “you did good in protecting your sister…do me a favor and make sure Layla and Jacob eat breakfast!”

“Okay daddy…”

Jake rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall to where Evie’s room was. His heart ached as he heard the little girl crying from the other side of the door. But before he could so much as speak when he burst through the door, he saw that his wife already was there sitting on the bed, with Evie sitting on her lap and sobbing against her chest.

“It’s okay, Evie,” Maddie sighed, gently smoothing down her half-sister’s hair, “don’t listen to those mean kids at school…”

“They said my real mommy didn’t want me! They called me a garbage baby,” she sobbed, “and Michael went along with it. Michael is my boyfriend! And he didn’t stand up for me.”

“Well I’m going to talk to Sasha and Andy after I drop you off at school-“

“Mommy no!”

“Baby…that’s not right,” she sighed, looking into her half-sisters chocolate orbs, “no one should say that. And if Michael really was your boyfriend he would have stood up for you. You said Tyler stood up for you, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“People that love you will always stick up for you, baby!”

“But my real mommy didn’t want me!” she argued, “no one wants me…you and daddy just feel bad for me!”

“Don’t you ever say that again!” Maddie said firmly, holding the little girl at arm’s length. Maddie’s tears reflected Evie’s and both of them refused to move a muscle, “I don’t want you to ever say that again…”

“But it’s true!”

“I want you!” Maddie said quickly, a tear streaming down her cheek, “I want you so desperately to be part of the family Evie…our mother was a mean woman…but I wanted you so badly. I fought for you!”

“We fought for you!” Jake agreed from the door.

Both Evie and Maddie looked teary eyed at Jake. Jake felt like his throat was closing up, seeing two of his girls in so much pain, but he pushed himself further into the room. He dropped to his knees, “Evie…Maddie and I want you…Maddie and I adopted you when we got you here…remember?”

The little girl nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

But the trio was shocked when they heard another voice from the door.

“We want you too, Evie!” Tyler proclaimed, “You’re my big sister…you’re all of our big sister…”

“Sissy!” the three-year-old Jacob chirped. Layla nodded in agreement, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“We love you, sissy!”

Evie sniffled and Jake led the charge, wrapping his arms around both Maddie and her. The Jensen babies were quick to join in and they all began to reaffirm the love that they held for Evie. Maddie sniffled and Jake’s eyes caught hers.

‘I love you!’ she mouthed.

And Jake tearily smiled, wondering how his life managed to go so right.

“Hey…”

Cami looked up from her desk, surprised to see Sam standing there with kindergarteners Jamie and Stephanie, and his own four-year-old daughter, Kaya. She bit her lip, unable to hold back the smile from her lips, “well hey there guys…what are you doing here?”

“A few of the guys were working on some new prototypes for the wings on my suit…”he said with a shrug, “picked the girls up, and was going to take them down to the tech lab since the daycare closed down for the day…”

“Again?”

“Your newborn brother can be thanked for that…” he said while holding back a chuckle. Cami frowned, nervous to ask. Sam bit his lip, “apparently one of the women was playing with him, and he wouldn’t let go of her finger…”

“Oh no…”

“He snapped it!”

Cami gasped, “No.”

“Was pretty funny watching Buck come and get him…” Sam admitted, “but it’s better than Mel coming down. You know she would have made those poor girls feel bad for it. Your dad just looks sad when he tries to fight over it.”

“Oh god…is he arguing with them again?”

“Baby, it’s the second time James injured one of the workers…”

“He’s a serum baby…they know that they’re supposed to not stick their hands in his face,” she sighed, “he’s got super strength. I mean, Jamie and Stephanie are a lot more mild-mannered than him, and me and Steve were there a lot more…I mean, he cut down on the missions he took, and I didn’t work for a while when I had them…mom is a counselor with those groups and dad’s never slowed down. James is bored! Of course he’ll break bones and test waters if someone allows him to.”

“Doesn’t do that to your mom!”

“Mom does have a way with Barnes boys…” she laughed to herself, “she puts them in their place, and quick!”

“Mommy come with us!” Jamie begged, interrupting the adult conversation.

Stephanie and Kaya agreed, “Come down to play with us!”

“Mommy’s busy babies…I have a lot of work I need to do!”

“Please!” Kaya asked, running up to Cami’s desk, “we wanna show you a card we made…we made cards!”

“A card?”

Sam nodded, pulling the attention away from the girls, “they made you and Nia a card because mother’s day was coming up next month…”

“You girls made us cards?”

The girls giggled, excitedly nodding along. A chorus of squeals met her ears, “and I have to come down with you guys?”

“Uh huh!”

“YEAH!”

“Come with us, mommy!”

“See my mommy?”

“Yes, Kaya, we can stop at the medical ward and see your mommy too!” she agreed, lifting the young Wilson girl up, “after we drop daddy off to go play with his wings, we can see mommy Nia!”

“Daddy us uppies too?”

Sam smiled, lifting Jamie up first, only to pass her off to Cami, who balanced her on the other hip, and then he turned to Stephanie who was giddly awaiting to be picked up by him.

“Uppies!” Stephanie giggled.

“Yeah, yeah!” Sam smiled, lifting her up, “now you three are stuck with us!”

“YAY!” Kaya giggled.

“Mission Accomplish!”

“To tech!” Jamie demanded.

“Yep,” Sam nodded, already starting out the door, “Mission accomplished girls. We got mommy out of the office! Now lets go play with Uncle Tony’s tech and then we’ll see your mommy Kaya!”

The girls were a mess of giggles, chattering excitedly the whole way down to the tech wing, but as soon as Sam let them go to try on the wings, the girls all lost interest.

It didn’t matter that he was the new Captain America, or that the wings were easily way bigger than them. The girls were far more excited by the prospect of showing off their cards.

They had jointly handed off their card for Cami, but the twins insisted that they take the card up to Kaya’s mom. Sam was okay with the idea, seeing the girls were already starting to get a little bored being forced to be in the space that wasn’t friendly to a child.

So they quickly made their way up to the medical wing. Doctor Cho had told Cami that Nia was off in the office, catching up on paperwork.

And surprised she was, when Cami opened the door to the office, and three little girls were bunched up beside her, rushing on in.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind,” she said quickly as the girls ran to the front of the desk, “Doctor Cho said it was okay and we wanted to surprise you!”

Nia smiled, genuinely taken back seeing her little girl excitedly peering at her from over the edge of the desk, “You…wanted to surprise me?”

Cami smiled at how surprised Nia actually looked. She looked from her daughter to her one time best friend, tears lining her eyes. Kaya was giggling, the four-year-old holding out a mother’s day card that was nothing more than a bunch of scribbles to her.

“Momma, you!”

“She’s handing it to you, momma!” Cami smirked.

Nia rushed around the desk and knelt down to her daughter, overwhelmed by the emotions that she’d felt. She reached out, her hand stroking her daughter’s cheek, before pushing back to tuck some of her curls behind her ear, “it’s beautiful baby.”

“Love you momma!”

Kaya nearly threw herself against her mother, her tiny arms wrapping around her as much as they could. Nia leaned into her daughter’s touch, “oh baby…thank you.”

The card lay nearly forgotten between the two of them for a few moments.

“If you’re willing to spring yourself from Dr. Cho for a bit, we could go and grab lunch with the girls. Sam is testing some new wings in the courtyard.”

“Do you wanna grab some lunch, baby?” Nia asked.

Kaya nodded excitedly, “We go lunch with mommy and momma.”

“Yeah baby!” Nia confirmed, “let’s go grab some lunch.”

Sasha bit her nails, unsure of what to do. She sighed, taking a deep breath as the doctor looked at her, “there’s nothing wrong with your daughter, Mrs. Barber, or so it appears, but we’ll know more after tonight.”

“See, I told you,” Andy smiled reassuringly, “Ashley is doing great!”

“Andy, she’s wetting the bed and screaming in the middle of the night…” she said worriedly, “last week she stopped breathing.”

“You thought she stopped breathing.”

“You don’t have to deal with it,” she grumbled, “you sleep like a rock, Andy…”

“Baby…”

“Well, the two of you will have a night off tonight at least,” the doctor attempted to joke, “the sleep study should reveal any issues that she’s been having and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Andy and Sasha shared a look before turning their attention back to the doctor, “you mean we can leave her here?”

“She’ll be monitored the whole night. You two are free to leave. The sleep study will end and we’ll have the results by nine AM.”

“Why do you have to discredit everything that I do?” she spat, the left overs to the dinner she, Andy, and Michael had enjoyed, now being put away.

Andy frowned, “what are you talking about, Sash?”

“The doctor’s office, earlier..I thought Ashley stopped breathing,” she remarked, “no, Andy…I didn’t think it happened. It did happen. I was check-“

“Here we go again,” Andy growled, cutting her off, “you check on the kids through the night and you spotted her in a second where her breath hitched. You didn’t have to go rushing in and make it seem like you were saving her life, Sasha. Ashley was fine. You scared her when you woke her up like that”

“I’m not crazy, Andy…she did stop breathing!”

“Look, I get it…the kids weren’t your first option, but you’re going overboard, Sasha,” he said angrily, his arms crossing over his broad chest. He leaned against the counter and glared at her, “but we had Michael. You walked away and left me with him. He turned out fine. When you came back, you agreed to a second child. You wanted Ashley just as much as I did. You can’t keep going back and forth about this.”

“What the hell are you saying, Andy?”

“You need to get help,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders, “I was talking to Bucky and the guys about it bec-“

“You were talking to Bucky?” she growled, “why the hell were you talking to Bucky and the guys about our relationship, Andrew?”

“Mel’s a counselor baby!”

“Don’t baby me,” she replied angrily, “this is not a situation you can just ‘baby’ your way out of. You were talking about me to the guys…”

“I think you could really help from the support groups that Melissa helps run.”

“I’m not going to that, Andy…we tried it when I went through the postpartum with her, and it didn’t work,” she answered, her defenses building up because of her anger, “my meds are good, and I evened out!”

“You haven’t,” Andy declared, “even before the other week when Ashley supposedly stopped breathing, you were doing things, putting her through unnecessary tests. There’s nothing wrong with our daughter, Sasha…”

“Andy yes there is!”

“No, there isn’t!” he argued, “now here’s what’s going to happen, Sash…because I’m fucking tired of this. Tomorrow morning, when we pick up Ashley and the doctor says there’s nothing wrong with her, you’re going to drop it. No more testing. No more scaring her. We’re done with this endless, needless chase.”

“Somethings wrong, And-“

“SASHA if you don’t drop it, I’m going to drop you…plain and simple. Stop looking for things to be wrong!” Andy said definitively, “because the only issues that exist are the ones that you’re creating!”

“I don’t want to do it, Ari…”

Ari smiled, watching as his wife held their eldest, balanced on her hip, “you’ve already done it once, my love…but if you’re really upset about letting Isaac going to kindergarten in the fall, we could always-“

“Oh no, Levinson, I know where you’re going with that,” Britt smirked. She was quick to cover Israels’ ears, even though the sick kindergartener was in a deep sleep against his mother, “and watch that mouth of yours daddy bears…we’ve got baby ears nearby.”

Ari licked his lips and eyed his wife’s form, her sleep shorts leaving her thighs bare, while the fabric of the cami was pushed down ever so slightly from Israel leaning against her chest, “well…he is asleep…we could put him back down in his bed.”

“Ari…”

Ari sighed, knowing how much she missed spending her days with her growing children. She’d been far too busy at the law firm with her father lately, and had begun missing out on mile markers like Israel losing his first tooth and the Thanksgiving play. And she’d missed Isaac learning how to tie his shoes. And their youngest…Britt was heartbroken when she missed Arianna’s first day of daycare just so that she could get some socialization with children other than her two older brothers.

“I know mommy bear!” Ari agreed, coming in close to his wife. He reached out and took Israel out of her arms, and the little boy snuggled against his father, adjusting quickly, “you wanted to go back to work though…”

“I thought I would be okay…”

“We can talk to your dad together if you want,” Ari offered, “I’m sure he’d underst-“

“No…we can’t bring it up!” she frowned, “you know how much issues he’s having with Sasha…”

“But if this is affecting you this much-“

“Ari…dad doesn’t need the stress…I-I’ll get through it,” she argued quickly and quietly, following her husband as he went to Israel’s room and laid the five year old down, “I just didn’t know that I’d miss spending this much time with the kids…and I mean, one of us has to work…you retired from the embassy. And-“

“Hey…calm down,” Ari said gently. She stared helplessly up at him while he held her by the shoulders, “you are an amazing, intelligent woman, who is a force to be reckoned with, in and out of the courtroom. But you are just one woman. You need to take care of yourself just as much as you want to take care of everyone else. If not being home is getting to you this much that you need an out, I’ll go back to work. I have contacts, and I could pick up as an independent contractor…and I can do it all from home.”

“I can’t just leave dad in the dust…”

“You’re not…and he’ll understand that. You’re a junior partner, and you’ve done so much for him with the law firm. You could still consult. You could work from home if you really want. I’m sure your dad would appreciate you being the one who looks up the background for his cases. He’d love to have some free time. You could step down, and do the leg work,” Ari said kindly, “you’ve always loved that best about being a lawyer anyways.”

“I have…” she admitted, thoughtfully thinking it over, “god, I really have.”

Ari smiled, “see…and you could spend more time with the kids…and with me…”

“There it is,” she teased, “the real reason he’s helping out…”

“Hey…if I get to taste that honeypot more often, who knows,” he shrugged playfully, “I may convince you of a fourth child yet…”

“Ari…”

“That’s not a no,” he smirked, finally letting go of his wife and sauntering out of the room. Britt felt a sense of relief as she thought about what she and Ari discussed. She could talk to her father, and if she really needed to, she knew that Ari would go with her as well and she wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than taking care of herself and her family, “you coming to bed, mommy bear?”

Britt giggled, finally exiting her son’s bedroom. As the door clicked softly behind her she was surprised to see Ari’s shirt in the middle of the hall, leading towards the open bedroom door. As she walked and picked it up, she spotted his sleeping pants just around the corner of the door.

“Ari…”

“Come to bed, mommy bear….daddy’s got a little of his own honey waiting for you…”

Britt giggled a little bit more, her previous anxieties washing away as she lightly jogged down the remaining length of the hall and into her bedroom. Her eyes nearly bulged out as she shut the door. Her husband was laying naked on the bed in front of her.

“Well hello there, mommy bear,” he smirked huskily. Britt’s eyes raked down his muscular, hairy frame. The rasp in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her thighs instinctively clenched. Her mouth went dry as she watched him stroking his already hard cock, “should we make a little extra time to let mommy bear feel good?”

“Oh I think she more than deserves it!” she purred, sauntering towards her husband as her fingers worked on pulling her camisole off.

#good girls club #exwivesclub #ex wives club #mayor lee bodecker #lee bodecker #devil all the time #sam wilson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson #soft ari #red sea diving resort #andy barber #defending jacob #chris evans characters #soft jake jensen #jake jensen #the losers fanfiction #sebastian stan characters

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outstandingblue · 2 years ago

Text

Promises to Keep

Thirteen - Almost Lost, Twice

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

Miles almost losses Jiniraa and he (unintentionally) returns the favor.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: it's a doozy blood, animal attack, animal mutilation, stabbing, animal bite, loss of self, angst word count: 8.5k

The viperwolf latched itself onto Jiniraa’s arm and Miles felt his entire world shift. There was nothing else that mattered. All that shit he said earlier that day about the mission being the most important thing? Gone. All that mattered was getting Jiniraa and Spider and the team out of this mess. His vision was trained on Jiniraa’s form - the way the animal’s jaw pressed further into her flesh, the way her deep red blood dripped onto the forest floor, the way her eyes were wide and terrified.

The creature momentarily released its death grip on her arm, but latched onto her hip as it slid down. Jiniraa let out another howl of pain as its teeth sunk into her flesh, tearing straight through her woven pants.

Viperwolves descended on the entire group. They usually picked on loners in the forest, not an entire group. The pack must’ve been beyond starving to challenge the Recoms, searching the group for the weakest one - that person would be the easiest to pick off. Spider remained encased in the center of the group; Lyle continuously threw glances over his shoulder to check on the teenager as he fought off every damned animal that lunged his way.

Miles only saw red as he made his way towards the woman. Hunman Quaritch hated viperwolves for his own reasons - his scars originated from their deadly claws. He carried those markings as a badge of honor, proof even Pandora wasn’t strong enough to kill him. Recom Quaritch carried that same hatred deep inside, but the hatred would change into unadulterated loathing by the end of the night.

Miles slashed the animal, forcing it to release its death hold on Jiniraa’s side before it fell to the ground. He forced his foot down its neck, hearing the satisfying crunch of its spinal cord under his boot. For extra measure, Miles stabbed his knife into his torso, ripping back towards its tail to empty the contents of its body onto the forest floor. Once the threat was beyond dead, Miles grabbed Jiniraa by the waist, dragging her back to the security of the group. Prager stepped to the side, allowing Miles to come through and then resumed his position. They were guarded by a wall of Recoms. She was awake and still breathing, but clearly in shock - the clammy skin and glassy eyes were enough proof.

“Baby, you with me?” Miles slapped the sides of Jiniraa’s cheeks, watching as her unfocused eyes rolled around in their sockets, “fuck, eyes on me.”

He set his knife next to them on the forest floor, bringing both hands up to cradle her face. She was dazed as the chaos continued around them, but nevertheless she nodded. She had yet to realize the severity of her wounds, not noticing how her blood was collecting in two small puddles beside her.

“That’s it, there you are. There’s those pretty eyes, keep ‘em on me, yeah?” Miles softly cooed as her eyes locked onto his, dragging on the phrase to keep her focused. He was acting as her tether to the world.

Spider had his back to the pair, acting as their second line of defense if the wall of Recoms failed. He tried to remain brave, but the shaking hands showed just how terrified the young teen was. He had never experienced a viperwolf attack of this magnitude before. His bow was drawn, but he couldn’t trust that he’d hit his target when he released.

A viperwolf launched itself off a tree branch, aiming right for Zdinarsk’s head. The impact of the skeletal creature knocked her completely off balance, making her fall back and land on Miles. With the absence of Miles and Zdinarsk, there was an opening to the two most vulnerable members: Spider and Jiniraa. Viperwolves could smell the blood that was already split, making their mouth’s fill with slobber as they salivated imagining their next meal.

Two sets of yellow eyes gleamed as a bold viperwolf darted forward, seizing the opportunity to take down the seemingly defenseless pair. Jiniraa was still out of it as everything seemed to occur in slow motion: a dark figure coming from above, Zdinarsk falling onto Miles, Zdinarsk and Miles wrestling a viperwolf, the viperwolf coming towards her and Spider. Right towards Spider. Spider.

The blade on the ground gleamed and Jiniraa grabbed it. The weight was unnatural in her hand, the hilt heavy and straight rather than curved and sleek. She would've preferred her own obsidian blade in this situation, but there wasn’t time to think about that. She swung an arm behind Spider, hitting him in the knees and making him fall forward into the ground. She moved her body infront of him, crouching down to cover him as much as possible. Spider hit the ground just as the viperwolf launched itself into the air and six sets of claws came right for her.

Miles snapped the neck of his viperwolf, a kill performed with his bare hands. His knife was long forgotten a few feet away on the ground. He turned to Jiniraa, watching a viperwolf launch itself at her for the second time that night. It made contact and the force made her fall backwards, rolling over her shoulder as she wrestled with the animal. She flipped them over, knees on either side of the animal's body.

Her eyes widened, enough to show the whites around her green eyes as she screamed. This time the scream wasn’t in pain, but sheer, unbridled rage. She extended an arm, wrapping her fingers around its neck to keep the snapping jaw away from her hand as the other stabbed the animal again and again and again. She sliced the animal well past its point of death, almost mutilating to beyond recognition.

She rose up onto her feet as she bent over the corpse, unable to contain her growl as her throat burned in fury. She returned to her full height and joined the nearby Recoms in their defense. By the end, she took down four more viperwolves before the pack retreated into the darkness. Jiniraa stood, eyes wide and crazed as she looked around. Animalistic was the only word one could use to describe her current state. She wasn’t standing up straight, remaining slightly hunched over with a bend in the knees. There was a splatter of blood diagonal across her face, the result of her feverish violence.

The people she cared about had been threatened and she protected them. She spent too many years living in fear, utterly reliant upon the people around her. No more of that. Now? She was capable and strong - she did not need to entrust her safety into the abilities of another out of necessity anymore. She could protect herself just fine and would bring a reckoning down on anything that dared attempt to harm those she cared about.

Miles watched, completely speechless at the metamorphosis. A rebirth. This was not the same scared and weak woman he’d picked out of the forest over a month ago. No - she was a warrior now. Screw everything Jake Sully tried (and failed) to teach her all those years ago, continuously telling her she was the lost cause. No, Jake, you were the one in the wrong. Jiniraa always had this strength inside of her, she just needed the right people to push her.

She was still on high alert as Miles approached her, slowly raising his empty hands to show he wasn’t a threat. She swung the knife - his knife - towards his chest, reaching to slash at him before she realized who it was. He crouched down to be more level with her, rather than the imposing mass he typically was. The burn in her arm and hip was starting to take over, making her grip loosen slightly, but she refused to give in and release the blade. Spider’s gaze flicked back and forth between Jiniraa and Miles, watching the latter approach her like she was a wild animal.

“Sweetheart, put down the knife,” Miles bartered, volume low in volume, but firm in tone. She didn’t respond as her tail flickered around. He watched her blink twice, seeing her physicality change as reality settled in. She looked around the clearing, finding the bodies of over a dozen viperwolves littering the ground, varying in levels of disfiguration and mutilation.

The weight of the situation came down on Jiniraa instantly, robbing her body of any strength. Miles closed the gap between then, catching her in his arms before her knees even hit the ground. He quickly pulled the knife out of her grip and tossed it somewhere behind him. He didn’t care where it landed. Someone else would pick it up. All that mattered was her.

She clung to his vest, continuing to look around at the corpses. The blood from her hands was seeping into the material of his vest, making her sick to her stomach, but Miles didn’t care. Na’vi were supposed to protect the great balance and leave decisions of life and death to the Great Mother. She took that into her own hands, literally. Also - she didn’t just kill a creature and move on. No, she butchered the animals without care for the pain they felt. These deaths weren’t completely meaningless - they were necessary to protect Spider and Miles and all the other Recoms, but it didn’t make the gravity of the situation any easier.

Jiniraa’s hands shook as she attempted to wipe the blood off her skin, but it was pointless. It was already beginning to stain. Miles didn’t care that she wiped the blood right onto the vest - that was the least of his concerns. She didn’t seem to notice that there was blood spewed across her face; if she did know, she would’ve emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor next to them. Miles would have to figure out a way to get it off without telling her what it was.

He brought one hand to cradle the back of her head, pushing her forehead into his chest in an attempt to shield her gaze from the carnage she had caused. A carnage he never wanted to see again. For those few minutes, Jiniraa was lost to her rage as her instincts took over. That wasn’t the Jiniraa he knew - this was a completely new side to her that she did not even know existed.

Jiniraa pulled herself out of Miles’ hold, wiggling around as he tightened his hold on her. She sharply inhaled and whined in pain, making him ease up instantly, “Spider.”

He remained planted on the ground, watching her stumble and almost fall over as she made her way to Spider. He was ready to jump up and catch her if need be, but in the meantime he would let her walk on her own two feet. Jiniraa checked over Spider once, twice, and then a third time as she didn’t trust her own eyes. Spider complied to her examination, if he refused she would just get more upset. She wasn’t able to find a single scratch on him, truly a miracle.

“Oh, thank you, Great Mother,” Jiniraa breathed out, brushing the hair off Spider's mask. He sadly smiled, already seeing the consequences of her actions beginning to weigh on her conscience. This would be a night that never left, haunting her until the day she died.

“‘Niraa? Are you okay?” Spider tentatively asked, voice laced with sincerity as he wrapped small pale fingers around her much larger ones. His gaze drifted to her bloodied arm and stained pants. The lacerations were deep and almost pulsating, making Spider almost lose the contents of his stomach.

“Sweet boy, I am okay as long as you are alright,” Jiniraa sniffled as a single tear fell.

Miles watched the exchange from afar, feeling voyeuristic as he listened in on their intimate moment. Spider felt the Colonel’s intense gaze burning a hole into the side of his face. He turned to face the echo of his father; Spider didn’t need to vocalize his question as they conversed through eye contact. You alright?

Miles approached the pair, taking a knee as he checked over Spider with his own eyes. He felt awkwards under the two unrelenting and scrutinizing gazes. It was bad enough when Jiniraa fretted over him, and now there were two of them. Although it was a foreign feeling, it was nice - these two people cared so deeply about the boy they were ready to lay down their lives if need be.

The Recoms moved around in silence, trying to give the trio a moment of solace as they secured the area. They all knew their jobs, so there was no need to talk and risk disturbing the private moment.

“Sweetheart, we gotta take care of your wounds.” Miles brushed his fingers against Jiniraa’s forearm, trying to get her attention. He didn’t allow his fingers to trail any further upward, not knowing how much pain she was in. The blood was still actively pouring from the wound, but it had slowed significantly as her heart rate returned to its semi-normal pace. Blood ran down her arm, creating a morbid criss-cross pattern of red and blue as it clashed with her natural stripes. The gash on her hip was worse, blood collecting on her pants and spreading quickly. As Miles called her injury to attention, the agony seemed to settle all at once. Her eyes rolled back as her mouth dropped open, breath caught in her throat at the trauma she’d been ignorant to thus far.

Miles rose and wrapped his arm around her waist as he guided them towards a cleared area, one that wasn’t stained with blood and death. Spider awkwardly followed behind, not really knowing how he fit into the current situation.

“Ja!” Miles called out, motioning down to the woman in his arms. The medic nodded, getting his small field kit ready.

Miles sat down first, letting his legs extend out. He expected Jiniraa to settle down next to him, so it was a shock when she boldly took a seat between his legs and leant back against his chest. She was completely drained - emotionally and physically, so there was no thought behind her movements. She instinctively sought out his body for comfort. The warmth reminded her he was there. This was real. He was real.

“I’m going to have to clean this out first, ‘ight?” Ja asked as he cracked open a container of alcohol. The smell burned Jiniraa’s nose, the sterile smell was something she was intimately familiar with from the extensive hours she spent in the lab with Norm, Max, and the other scientists. Still, that familairy didn’t make it smell any better. She nodded, grounding herself by gripping the material of Miles' makeshift shorts.

Ja and the Colonel made eye contact, already preparing for Jiniraa to lash out and fight back against the pain. Miles snaked an arm around her bare waist, anchoring her back against his front as he nodded at the medic. The pain from the disinfectant was almost worse than the initial wound itself. As expected, Jiniraa attempted to escape the sensation, but Miles’ hold was unrelenting. The wounds needed to be properly cleaned or else she risked infection. His ears turned down at the pained whimpers and gasps that worked their way from Jiniraa.

Her hip was worse. Not only was it in an awkward place to reach, but it was also more painful. The animal’s teeth must’ve sunk in far deeper than her arm. As Miles helped her shimmy her pants down a little bit, allowing Ja access to the wound, Miles eyes were drawn to that familiar star-shaped scar placed an inch or do away from her hip bone. The bite almost perfectly surrounded the decade old scar in a morbid border. She’d been hit in that area twice, almost like Eywa had planned it herself.

Ja’s touch remained perfectly clinical as he worked to clean out her wounds. Only touching on a need be basis, working quickly under the scrutinizing gaze of his superior.

As Ja finished, Jiniraa fell completely limp against Miles, attempting to curl into him and escape everything. Her chest continued to rise and fall with deep, rapid breaths, but now she’d endured the worst of it. This time yesterday, they were curled up in the safety of Miles’ bed where nothing could ever hurt them. Now? Miles could have lost her in the blink of an eye. If that viperwolf aimed for her jugular rather than her bicep, it would’ve been over. There would have been no shot at saving her, no matter how much Miles would have fought.

Ja pulled away to thread his needle, holding a flashlight between his teeth. Miles, as opportunistic as ever, took the moment of privacy to press his lips against Jiniraa’s temple as his arm tightened around her. This time, it was to convince himself that she was okay. This was real. She was real.

Her shaky hand reached for his free hand, pulling the appendage into her lap as she played with his fingers as a means to distract herself from the pain. Soft fingers traced each digit with feather light touches, running the length of the finger before starting over with the next one. She was tiring quickly, so the movement eventually became too much to focus on. Jiniraa allowed Miles to wrap his hand around her much smaller one, giving her a squeeze every few seconds. The blood was still on her hand, but he would deal with that later.

Ja cursed under his breath as he continued to struggle with threading his needle - he was great at many things, but he certainly was not known for his ability to thread a needle. Miles rolled his eyes at the medic before feeling Jiniraa slump against him as she dozed off. He wanted nothing more than for her to sleep in his arms, but her health was more important.

“Baby, gotta stay awake,” Miles murmured against the tip of her ear, slightly shaking her. The term of endearment had slipped from his lips the second time that night. The first time was out of pure fear, petrified at the thought of losing her. This time it was intentional, feeling appropriate for their situation. He almost lost her. There was no better time than the present to act on this.

She whined, fighting to stay as she waited for Ja to start working. She only flinched the first couple stitches before becoming accustomed to the sensation. Ja made quick work before carefully wrapping her upper arm with white gauze and placing a patch on her hip. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could offer in the field. Dr. Renia Cox would be her first stop upon return to Bridgehead.

As Ja treated Jiniraa’s injuries, the rest of the Recoms cleared camp. Lopez, Prager, and Lyle made three separate trips to dispose of the viperwolf bodies, dumping them far enough that any scavengers wouldn’t be tempted to approach the temporary settlement. Zdinarsk and Mansk remained on tour, surveying their surroundings for threats. None of them had any major injuries; Prager had a scrape on his right forearm and Zdinarsk had a killer headache from getting her head slammed into the ground, but they didn’t require immediate medical care.

“I’m tired,” Jiniraa slurred against Miles as Ja moved away to regroup with the rest of the team.

“I would be concerned if you weren’t,” Miles chuckled, the force of his laugh jostling Jiniraa. His thumb ran over the back of her knuckles, caked and sticky with a thin layer of blood. Miles called out, “hey, Spider, grab my canteen, would you? And her bag too.”

Spider made quick work of grabbing the half-full canteen and delivering it to Miles’ outstretched hand. The Recom pointed to a nearby scrap of fabric - a cut-off from someone’s pants - and Spider grabbed that as well. Miles doused the fabric in the cool water and began to wipe the blood off her hands. She remained complacent within his grip, allowing him to manipulate her hand however he needed to work best. Her eyes remained closed, trusting him to wash any evidence of sin from her skin. Even when it got to her face, Miles’ touches were light. He never dared to pull her skin taught, even if it meant it took longer to get rid of the blood.

When Miles was pleased with his work, he took a swig of water before offering the canteen to Jiniraa. He held it up as she took a small sip before resuming her resting place against his chest. Absent-minded circles were rubbed into her soft waist, “ready to sleep now?”

She nodded at Miles’ question, but made no move to stand. Her hammock was set up only a few feet away, so Miles easily could just carry her over. He made no effort to move either, enjoying their shared moment too much.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Jiniraa quietly pleaded, the second night in a row she asked that question. She was scared of another attack, just realizing how close she was to dying less than an hour ago. Miles’ chest tightened at the slight crack in her voice, but warmed at the idea she felt safest in his grasp.

“Of course you can,” Miles confirmed, pressing another soft kiss to her temple.

Jiniraa slid out of Miles’ grasp, leaving him momentarily confused before she laid herself down on the forest floor, back against the log he used as a backrest. His thigh became her pillow, arms wrapping around to lock his limb into place. He wouldn’t be able to escape her hold if he tried - not that he wanted to. He would stay still as stone if it meant she got a good night’s rest.

Jiniraa didn’t fall asleep right away. She tried to maintain a little conversation, but Miles engaged as little as possible, hoping she would just fall asleep on her own. The words of Dr. Cox echoed in his mind - she needed rest or else she would seriously hurt herself. Well, the injured box had now been checked, therefore she needed rest more than ever.

He reached over to Jiniraa’s bag, unzipping it with one hand. He struggled to rummage through, searching for the metal tin Cox gave her earlier that day. His fingers brushed along an interior pocket, feeling a piece of paper inside. Out of curiosity, he pulled it up quietly. There were two pictures: one of a much younger Jiniraa and two older individuals and a second of her with Sully’s kids. It felt wrong to look at them without her permission, so he pushed them back into the hiding place. Miles found the tin, pulling it out and applying a thin layer to her back. Maybe the numbing balm would help her sleep.

“Go to sleep,” Miles softly commanded as he brushed hair from Jiniraa’s face, the scent of the salve lingering on his fingers. Her primarily one-sided conversation wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. The rest of the Recoms had already settled into the hammocks for the night - Miles offered to take the first two hours of watch. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep. He didn’t know it, but neither could any of his subordinates. They all remained awake in their hammocks, listening to every sound of the forest.

“I can’t,” Jiniraa confessed, rolling onto her back to get a better look at Miles. He tilted his head, hoping she’d offer an explanation. She didn’t. It wasn’t difficult to gauge that she was still on edge from the attack, something everyone was struggling with. He grazed a hand against the curve of her waist to lull her to sleep.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens, okay?” Miles promised, reaching down and intertwining their pinkies for a brief moment before pulling back. Another pinkie promise, this time initiated by big bad Quaritch. He didn’t know what that was - the action felt unbelievably foreign, but it seemed to work as Jiniraa rolled back onto her side. To help her sleep, Miles slid his arm down to the deepest curve of her waist, rubbing soft circles in possessive affection.

At the darkest point of the night, sometime during Prager’s watch, a glowing jellyfish-like object floated down towards Jiniraa’s sleeping form. Miles’ hand stilled against her skin, the opposite hand tightening on his gun. He held his breath as the glowing orb floated above his fingers pressed against her skin for a few seconds before it bobbed down and ever so slightly brushed against his skin. A second one came down, finding purchase lower on Jiniraa’s waist and rested upon her bandaged hip. The pair remained still for ten seconds or so before floating off in unison, disappearing as quickly as they came. Eywa had forgiven her for the lives she ended prematurely.

Miles kept his promise, staying up the entire night. He watched the watch change from Mansk to Zdinarsk to Prager and finally to Lyle. The night came and went without the slightest hiccup, but he was exhausted as the sun began to poke through the upper canopy of the forest.

The Recoms woke slowly, moving around in silence as they prepared for the trek ahead of them. It was oddly domestic. Seeing everyone was awake, Miles allowed himself to get a few minutes of sleep - it would be better than nothing. Jiniraa woke up right as Miles fell asleep, working to carefully remove the heavy arm slung across her shoulders to move towards everyone else.

Spider was perched on a low branch, leaning against a wall of vines as he worked on the tension of his bow. It took a few shots to get back in the groove, but once he was readjusted to the weapon he hit dead on time and time again. Jiniraa tossed a fruit to Spider, watching as he ripped it into smaller pieces. He slipped off the mask and popped a small piece into his mouth before sealing it once more. Jiniraa settled next to Spider as they shared breakfast in silence.

A few yards away, Miles’ hand flexed, something he’d been doing throughout the night. Feeling nothing under his hand, Miles shot up out of his feet, knife ready and eyes wide as he searched for her form. Within seconds, he located her next to Spider. He slid his knife back into its sheath as he walked towards the group, trying to cover up the little panic he just experienced. Everyone turned back to their tasks, letting the Colonel believe no one saw. They all had, but no one dared to ask.

“Let’s get a move on,” Miles called out with his hands on his hips, “banshees are waitin’ for us!”

A series of whoops and hollers came from the group. They’d all been excited for this moment, especially after hearing stories Jiniraa shared about flying on her ikran Situ. Nothing compared to the freedom one feels as they soared high in the clouds. They would never ask outright, but they all secretly wished they would be permitted to tame their own banshees sooner rather than later. They also never asked why she would become so distant for a few hours after telling stories about her and Situ, but everyone had their theories.

Before leaving camp, Ja checked on Jiniraa’s stitches to make sure she didn’t tear them overnight. Miles hovered behind, watching out of the corner of his eye as he checked his rifle. There was a little blood on her hip, but other than that nothing too alarming.

Jiniraa and Spider led the Recoms through the forest, swinging from overhead vines and jumping on larger branches. They moved with ease, almost like they swam in water. The Recoms were a little less graceful, but it was a drastic improvement from their first days in the forest. Jiniraa came to a screeching halt, making everyone pile up behind her. Mansk took one look over the edge of the branch before shuffling towards Ja; the branch they were stopped on was suspended over a hundred yards in the air. A straight drop down.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Lyle called ahead, clearly out of breath.

“Take the boots off. They’re weighing you all down. Look at Prager - he left his off and hasn’t slipped once.” The Recoms exchanged warry glances as Jiniraa continued, “you wouldn’t want to fall, right?”

Mansk was the first one to drop down and hastily untie his laces, practically ripping the heavy combat boots off. Everyone else followed suit. Boots were abandoned in the forest, even though Jiniraa attempted to stress the leave no trace policy. Once everyone was barefoot, Jiniraa turned around and resumed her quick pace.

As they left the treeline, Jiniraa turned to watch the Recoms as they took in the Hallelujah Mountains. It wasn’t the first time they’d seen them - flight patterns had taken them through there countless times, but that didn’t make them any less amazing to witness. Marvelous.

“Wow,” Zdinarsk whispered under her breath, slinging her rifle against her back as she took in the sights. The floating mountains were imposing, breathtaking, and terrifying all at the same time.

“Ready to climb?” Jiniraa boasted, almost bouncing in excitement. Spider slipped his bow across his chest as he moved to stand next to Jiniraa, a wicked smile etched on his face. He was so ready to see the Recoms get a taste of their own medicine. He wanted them to struggle.

Mansk seemed uneasy at the task ahead of them. He was fine with heights - fine as long as he didn’t look down. In the Hallelujah Mountains, it was impossible not to look down. Jiniraa sensed his anxieties as she moved towards the fidgety Recom, “you okay, Mansk?”

He nodded slowly, not looking down as he continued to take in the floating mountains in awe and fright. Jiniraa rubbed at his arm reassuringly.

“Everyone needs to listen to Spider and I as we approach where the ikran nest,” Jiniraa declared, raising her voice so everyone would take her seriously, “got it?”

She tried to be threatening. On another day, they would have laughed her off a little. Today? After seeing what she was capable of the night before? She had been more ruthless than any of them. They all nodded quickly.

“You alright to do this?” Miles asked, pointing towards her twin bandages. There also was the bruise on her back, but he was less concerned about that.

“Of course I am, Miles,” she smiled up at him, voice dripping with sweetness.

“Just makin’ sure,” he raised his eyebrows with a small smirk.

She turned around and took a step back before running forward and launching herself into the air. She landed on a small floating boulder, calling out as she stood up, “you’re going to want to get a move on!”

Her laugh was infectious as she moved, euphoric as she moved from boulder to boulder, using vines to pull her body up. Her body was much stronger than the last time she’d been up here, making her movements more fluid and easy to push through. The first few minutes, Miles was afraid for her safety, but he had faith in her once he witnessed the confidence in her body as she moved. She allowed her instincts to take over, her body able to move without thinking.

Spider followed close behind Jiniraa, trailing anywhere between ten and twenty feet behind the woman. He was smiling and laughing too, throwing jokes up to Jiniraa as they moved in tandem. The Recoms struggled at first, their fears dictated their actions rather than trusting their bodies. Once they got over that initial fear, they began to move with relative ease. Mansk trailed the furthest back, still not comfortable with the sheer drop below him. He blamed his lagging on the weight of his gun, arguing it was the heaviest and most awkward to move with.

The first time an ikran flew in front of them, the entire Recom team halted in their tracks, instinctively pulling their rifles to the ready. Jiniraa clicked her tongue in protest, a sound they had all gotten used to when they did something she didn’t appreciate. One by one, they slung their rifles back over their sounders and resumed the journey upward.

“C’mon, keep up, losers!” Spider yelled down, taunting the Recoms for their slow place. They may have moved quicker than him on land, but this was his terrain. Spider Socorro, King of the Mountains.

Jiniraa clicked her tongue once more, scolding him for his taunts. She paused, hanging off the side of a boulder, “Spider, play nice.”

“They said the same thing to me in the forest!” Spider argued back. Jiniraa rolled her eyes, knowing he made a valid point. She couldn’t help but think how this resembled the childish arguments between Spider and the Sully children, she’s heard him say those words a hundred times before. He was just a child, trying to get people to recognize his skill.

Jiniraa entered the cave first and Spider followed close behind. She walked towards the ledge, pushing her hands into the cool water that flowed from above. One handful to splash her face to cool down and the second to drink the pure, clean water.

Jiniraa turned away from Spider, trying to hide her actions as she peeled back the material of her pants. In times like this, it was useful to wear pants that had such large vertical slits in them. She grimaced seeing the deep crimson pushing through and staining the bandage. Once again, she was grateful for the pants as it hid her torn stitches from everyone.

Lyle was the first Recom to make his way into the cave system, obnoxiously letting out an ‘oorah’ while flexing. In quick succession, Zdinarsk then Miles then Prager, Ja, and Lopez together joined them. Mansk was the last Recom, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he finally felt safe with solid footing under his bare feet.

“Banshee time!” Lyle yelled out, flexing his arms for a second time.

Jiniraa’s signature tongue click pulled everyone’s attention to her. She stood at the opposite end of the passageway, but everyone looked past her. They watched as a dozen ikran flew down, screeching to each other as they soared through the air. The entire color spectrum was displayed on their mighty wings. Dagger-like teeth glimmered as the light caught them, each as long as their fingers.

“Everyone needs to listen to me if you want to live. You must choose your own ikran and they must choose you. Take your braid out in front of you. See this at the end? You are going to use this to make tsaheylu, the bond. Once the bond is made it is for life. An ikran will only fly with one hunter in their entire life.” Jiniraa walked them through the basics. The joking tone Jiniraa had a few minutes ago was gone, replaced with unrelenting seriousness. The Recoms nodded, trying to internalize her directions. She looked over them, hovering over Miles for a second too long before turning around. “Come.”

One by one, the Recoms pushed through the narrow passageway, all having to bend over as they walked up the makeshift stairs. It was incredibly humid inside the cave structure, the walls were damp with condensation as it almost collected enough to run down the walls. The transition from darkness to light was painful, making everyone shield their eyes.

Miles attempted to push Jiniraa behind him as they entered the ikran nesting grounds, but she pushed right back against him and moved around his arm. He wasn’t going to steal this moment from her. Spider joined her at the front of the group, crouching down as they stalked towards an overgrown root which he perched himself up on.

The Recoms circled around, rifles at the ready for an attack. Lyle, Miles, Prager, and Zdinarsk took position near Spider and Jiniraa while Mansk, Lopez, and Ja moved in an opposite direction. Lyle quickly assembled a long-barrelled sniper rifle, pulling a small pouch from his waist to grab a tranquilizer bullet.

“I got this,” Miles grabbed the weapon out of the Corporal’s hands, not giving him a second to refuse.

His back was to Jiniraa, so he was unaware of the deep scowl that settled on her face. She and Spider shared a look; Spider looked much more amused than Jiniraa did. She was upset with him - maybe more like upset at him while her true anger began with General Ardmore. It was the General whose threat caused Miles to accelerate her cultural lesson plans, jumping straight to taming an ikran when there were a dozen steps in between.

Spider laughed, mocking Miles as he pointed the barrel at the closest ikran and gazed through the scope.

“What?” Miles asked, not knowing how idiotic he looked with a gun pointed towards an ikran.

“Na’vi kids younger than me do this with their bare hands,” Spider continued to laugh.

Miles paused and bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating his actions, “Jake Sully do it the hard way?”

“What do you think?” Spider challenged back.

Miles focused on Jiniraa, who had placed between himself and his semi-son. She wasn’t paying attention to the banter, but watched the ikran with a wide smile on her face. Memories from her hunter initiation flashed in her eyes: the way she made eye contact with Situ and immediately knew he was the one for her. The way Tsu’tey stood back and coached her through the experience, shouting in pride when she finally made the bond. And most importantly, the freedom she felt as she flew off the cliff for the first time as an independent rider.

“You did too?” Miles asked, truly curious.

“When I was fourteen,” she smiled, a distant smile with a twinge of sadness. “So that means big ol’ Quaritch can do it the Na’vi way, right?”

Miles pushed the rifle back into Lyle’s hands, mumbling, “don’t call me that.”

He didn’t know if he was referring to her insinuation that he was old - which of course, mentally he was older, but physically he was half a decade younger than her - or that she called him Quaritch. When the surname fell from her lips, he couldn’t help but cringe. He much preferred when she used his first name, much more intimate and reserved.

“What we doin’, Colonel?” Lyle asked.

Jiniraa’s stomach was in knots as Miles slowly pushed himself over the log. He reached back and grabbed the elongated braid, slowly bringing it over his shoulder as he approached the closest ikran

Spider laughed once more, moving to follow Miles, “this is gonna be good.”

“Alright, move up,” Lyle commanded the rest of the group. The rest of the Recoms continued to have their rifles drawn as they ushered towards the Colonel in a quick procession. Lyle tucked himself behind a smaller rock, giving him an open line of fire towards the banshees if needed. Zdinarsk and Prager followed the Corporal while Ja, Mansk, and Lopez hung back.

Jiniraa kept Spider behind her, ready to push the human towards Lyle if a situation were to occur.

Miles grit his teeth as the closest banshee rose up on his hind legs, extending his wings in a territorial and threatening display. He was stunning - primarily indigo and tan with bright orange splashed in intricate patterns. His chest was pale, almost bone gray and lacking much color, but everyone was able to see just how colorful he was as he returned to the ground. His topside was coated in shades of red, orange, and lighter shades of blue.

Miles was light on his feet, bouncing around as he approached the ikran - almost like a boxer in the fighting ring, ready to see who would dare to make the first move. “It’s you and me, cupcake,” Miles grit out. It’s no surprise he would choose a nickname like that right away.

The ikran hissed and bared its teeth and Miles returned the favor. His hiss was more throaty and unnatural compared to other Na’vi. She’d never heard him try to make that noise, which was probably why it came out so awkward. Thus, their deadly dance had begun. The ikran had chosen Miles.

He was quick to snap his jaw towards the Recom, to which Miles swiftly delivered a punch to the side of the creature’s face. Of course he would. Miles quickly dogged as the ikran swung its large head, trying to take a chunk out of Miles. He dropped to the ground, swifty moving under its muscular neck before launching himself onto its back.

His legs locked together on the underside of the creature's neck, trying to secure him to its body, but it was a futile attempt as the ikran beat its powerful wings twice before dropping back down. The momentum suspended Miles in the air for a second before he came crashing down onto his previous position, momentarily knocking the air out of his chest.

Jiniraa flinches from the impact, but Spider laughed out as the ikran continued to snap its jaw, “did I mention you’re supposed to tie the mouth shut first?”

“Thanks a lot, kid,” Miles yelled right back. He wanted to curse at the teenager, but he didn’t have much time to react before the creature threw its head back, smacking Miles in the face.

“Miles, make the bond!” Jiniraa yelled out, growing increasingly anxious as the fighting went on.

“I’m tryin’!”

The ikran trashed under Miles, slowly inching them closer to the cliff edge. Everyone was helpless as the ikran took a dive off the side of the cliff, taking Miles with him as he clung to its neck.

“Miles!” Jiniraa screamed out, throat raw in terror.

“Move up! Move up!” Lyle commanded, quickly pushing forward.

Jiniraa was the first to make it to the side of the cliff, searching for Miles. She watched him hanging onto the ikran by its dual queues as he disappeared into the mist. She could hear his screaming fading away, but it was impossible to see him through the thick clouds. She dropped to her knees, practically hanging off the side of the cliff. Maybe if she strained her eyes or ears just a little bit more he’d be able to find any proof he was still alive.

Spider came up behind her, grabbing onto her shoulder to pull her back from the edge. A rock shifted under her hand and fell down, demonstrating just how dangerous her current position was

“Can you see him?” Lyle asked, peering over Jiniraa’s shoulder as he looked over the edge as well.

Zdinarsk joined Spider and pulled Jiniraa away from the cliff, watching as she fell onto her haunches. She was going completely numb - the longer she went without hearing Miles, the less hope she had that he would survive.

The Recoms all held their breaths as well. They should’ve been upset with their pair of guides - afterall, they were the ones who brought them to this place. The thought that Jiniraa and Spider were responsible for the Colonel’s death didn’t sit right with anyone.

After a minute, Jiniraa knew the Colonel wouldn’t be coming back. He was probably a puddle of blood, bones, and organs on the forest floor right now. No one could ever survive a drop from this high. Jiniraa sat on the floor, her hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress the sobs that were building up in her throat. She didn’t try to stop the tears from flowing, but she wouldn’t allow her body to produce any sounds.

Spider remained at the cliff's edge, continuously scanning for any sign of the Colonel. Everyone else had moved inward, automatically looking to Lyle for their next course of action. He was the second-in-command after all and if Miles was MIA, Lyle was now the highest ranking person in the group. Lyle’s stomach was weighed down like a stack of stones - he knew he was capable of leading, but it didn’t feel right to do so at the expense of the Colonel.

The same man who lived for decades as a human on the deadly moon. The same man who he followed around, hanging onto his every word. The same man who he’s looked up to since the day his boots hit Pandoran soil. The same man who had a woman crying out for him just a few feet away. It didn’t feel right. It was cruel. Pandora was cruel.

“Alright, let’s go. We’re Oscar Mike. C’mon,” Lyle commanded. Slowly, everyone began moving past the Corporal with heads hanging low. Lyle laid a comforting hand on Ja as he walked by, seeing a hint of tears gathering in the Recoms eyes. They slowly moved to leave, heads hung as they accepted the second death of Colonel Miles Quaritch.

Spider gave the sky below one final look before turning around and reaching down to Jiniraa. She didn’t hear a word Lyle had just said, unable to process anything as she blankly stared ahead. She felt Spider’s small hand wrap around her bicep, but couldn’t hear the words he was producing.

“Let’s go. We’re out of here.” Lyle’s first phrase was harsh enough to grab the pair’s attention. He watched Jiniraa jump as she snapped back into reality. She slowly turned around, still firmly planted on the ground. Her lip quivered ever so slightly as Lyle finished his statement, a little softer than how he began.

No one expected to hear the whooshing of ikran wings come up behind them. Prager and Mansk snapped into action, training their weapons towards the origin of the sound. Everyone else remained frozen as the Colonel called out.

His triumphant holler graced everyone’s ears, confirming they were not hallucinating and he actually was here - alive and well. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and Jiniraa’s eyes fought to take it all in to internalize the memory so she would never forget it.

“Yeah! That’s right!” He called out, raising a first in the air to show how he tamed the mighty beast beneath his legs. The somber atmosphere was gone instantly as the Recoms began to celebrate the Colonel. The younger ones jumped around, hooting and hollering - Lopez jumped excitedly with his arms extended in the air and Ja pumped his rifle in the air.

“Yeah, Colonel! Get some!” Lyle yelled as the rest of the unit continued to celebrate. Jiniraa hadn’t moved from her previous position quite yet, not entirely convinced he was real.

“Who’s up next?” He challenged, swooping over the Recom’s heads, making all of them hit the deck. The close call didn’t make their celebration falter in the slightest. Miles continued in his victory lap before landing a few yards away from the group. He slid off, patting at the neck of his ikran and disconnecting their queues. Miles was ecstatic as he turned around, beaming towards the group.

Jiniraa rose from her seated position and darted towards the Colonel, launching herself at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He staggered back, slightly overtaken by the impact, but wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her pressed against him.

“Is this my congratulations?” He smirked down at her, exuding cockiness as his body buzzed with excitement. He fully expected her to slap his chest at the comment, but she didn’t. Instead, he could hear her sniffles as she pressed into his neck. “What happened?”

Jiniraa removed her head from his neck, bringing him face to face with her tear-stained features. Lashes clumped together and damp. A residual redness making her eyes darker than usual. Flushed cheeks and shaking lips.

“Baby?”

Jiniraa then slapped him on the chest. It wasn’t powerful by any means, she clearly wasn’t trying to hurt him, “what happened? What happened!? Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?” Miles was almost offended by her pathetic little slap. Afterall, he taught her better than that. He knew what she was going to say. He didn’t need her to utter the words to confirm his guess, but for his sanity he needed to hear her say it. Needed her to vocalize how she cared about him.

“Scare me like that,” her words were muffled as she buried her face back into his vest.

“I promise.” Miles declared. Jiniraa loosened her grip around Miles neck, sliding against his body as her feet made contact with the ground once more. He didn’t ease up at all, keeping his one arm trained around the small of her waist.

“You’ve been promising a lot recently.”

Miles rolled his eyes, nudging her to walk back towards the group. He followed close behind as his hand ghosted her back to remind her of his presence. Once they stopped, she lent back, allowing his palm to make direct rather than indirect contact. His eyes flicked down for a moment, confirming that she moved on purpose, she wanted to feel his comforting hand against her skin.

Lyle was the first to come up, already laughing with one hand extended. Miles joined in the mini celebration, locking his arm around the Corporal’s forearm as they clapped each other on the back. “He lives!”

“Not too bad, old man,” Spider called out, trying to hide the smile on his face.

Miles’ ears flattened as his eyes narrowed and tail swished, “don’t call me old.”

Jiniraa clicked her tongue and lightly smacked a hand against Miles’ arm, “be nice.”

She lent into Miles' side, feeling his hand boldly wrap around her waist and settle on her hip, not caring about the group watching them. They all knew what was up, so there was no point in trying to hide it. If he could trust them with his life, they could be trusted with this.

Miles would never admit to it, but he was scared shitless as he fell through the sky and grabbed onto the ikran like his life depended on it. Well, his life did depend on it. If he died trying to take that fucking ikran, he would be abandoning the entire team. He would abandon Spider, the boy he was just starting to make headway with. Most of all, he would abandon Jiniraa, the woman who he just started to accept his feelings for. His grip tightened on her waist - if he got any rougher, he would be leaving imprints in her flesh.

“Well,” Miles boomed as Cupcake roared in the background, “who’s up next?!”

Next: Fourteen - Your Fault

●●●

its 3am est and i have my history of medcine class at 8am. victorian surgery on three and a half hours of sleep here i come <3

i know i keep saying this, but i have a lot planned for the next three chapters. i keep wanting to rush into it and get to the exciting stuff, but it's important to lay the scene and build everyone up before delving into the nasty enjoyable things

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